210. Buttered Baby Spinach (p. 578)

It doesn't get much easier than this recipe. Melt some butter, add some baby spinach and toss for a couple of minutes until slightly wilted, bright green, and coated with the melted butter. Add a little salt and pepper to taste, and that's it.

This is exactly what you want from a vegetable side dish. I served this with some Chicken Piccata that I'll blog about soon. It was tender and tasty, not at all soggy or bitter. And the amount of butter was just right. A nice coating without overpowering the spinach.

I forgot to take a photo of this dish, so please enjoy this picture of Popeye instead. "I fights to the finish, 'cause I eats me spinach!"

Date Cooked: January 31, 2010
Degree of Difficulty: Very easy
Rating: A-

208. Honey-Glazed Wax Beans (p, 523)

This summer's CSA was a non-stop parade of fresh vegetables, and my (and my wife's) challenge was to find interesting ways to use all of the vegetables that Farmer Dave could cram into the weekly box. Every day this summer was like an episode of Chopped. Just try to make a menu using beets, dandelion greens and purslane.

Sure, we could have just steamed, grilled and sauteed the vegetables. But that would have gotten old pretty quick.

So, that's why I was glad to find this recipe for an easy, but somewhat unusual treatment for the one-pound bag of yellow wax beans that I found in the box one week. There's not much to it. Just boil the beans for a few minutes until tender, and then immediately toss with a tablespoon of honey, and a little bit of lemon zest and salt.

Now, my prior experience with wax beans is limited to memories of bland, wiggly yellow-gray wax beans from the lunch line at St. Monica's grammar school. These beans are nothing like those cafeteria beans of yore. They are crisp and sweet (but not too sweet) with a bright zip from the lemon zest. Well done!

Date Cooked: September 12, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

196. Twice-Baked Potatoes with Basil and Sour Cream (p. 570)

Continuing with the left over theme from the last post about Tarragon Lobster Salad, here's a recipe for Twice-Baked Potatoes with Basil and Sour Cream that I made using some baked potatoes also left over from the Labor Day shindig.

This was another easy recipe made even easier by the fact that I didn't have to bake the potatoes first.

I cut each of my leftover potatoes in half and, using a spoon, I scooped out the flesh, leaving a shell. I put the shells on a baking sheet, brushed them with some melted butter and put them in the oven until they turned golden and crisped up a bit. Meanwhile, I mashed the potato flesh together with some butter, milk, salt and pepper, and some chopped fresh basil, and warmed it up on the stove. Then the potato shells were ready, I spooned the mashed potatoes into the shells and put them back in the oven for a few minutes more. To finish off the dish, I topped the potatoes with a dollop of sour cream and some more fresh basil.

These potatoes were pretty good. (They're potatoes, after all. How could the not be good?) I liked the combination of potatoes and basil, a pairing that I don't think I've had before. But, even so, these weren't the best twice-baked potatoes I've had. To me, twice-baked potatoes are all about melted cheese, and lots of it. But there's not one bit of cheese in this recipe ... a glaring omission from my perspective.

If you read this recipe carefully, you'll note that the potatoes actually go into the oven three times, not two. First, you bake the potatoes, next to bake the empty shells, and finally you bake the filled shells. So, a better name for these spuds would probably be "Thrice-Baked" Potatoes. Maybe in the next edition of The Book?

Date Cooked: September 6, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B+

186. Grilled Summer Vegetables with Pesto (p. 591)

When you're on vacation at the beach, staying at a rental house with a deck and a grill, you just have to grill something, right? Of course you do!

Before we left, I flipped through The Book, picked out this recipe* and packed up all of the zucchini and squash leftover from the week's CSA box, and looked forward to an easy, tasty dinner.

Well, at least it was easy. Tasty, not so much. And it was probably the least attractive thing I've ever cooked. But, the dish's shortcomings were all my fault. I should have known better than to leave the veggies unattended on an unfamiliar grill. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is really a very straightforward and simple way to prepare grilled vegetables. First, I sliced each of the following in half lengthwise: an eggplant, a zuchini, a yellow squash, and for good measure, a cousa squash. I also cored and seeded a red bell pepper and cut it into quarters. I marinated all of these veggies in a simple marinade of garlic, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, oregano, thyme and salt and pepper. Then I put the veggies on a pre-heated gas grill.

The Book says to cook the veggies for a total of 18 to 22 minutes, turning once during the cooking. So, I figured that I could leave them alone for a few minutes while I went back into the house. Big mistake. Apparently, even though I turned down the heat, the grill was still way too hot. By the time I came back, the veggies had a pretty good char on them. The poor red peppers were incinerated beyond recognition. I was able to salvage the situation somewhat by scraping off most of the burned parts, but the veggies were still overcooked.

I cut the eggplan, zuchinni and squash into pieces, and put them in a large bowl and tossed with some store-bought pesto. The Book suggests using homemade pesto, and refers to the recipe on page 889. I have made this pesto before, and it's far superior to store-bought pesto, but for the sake of simplicity and convenience while on vaction, I opted for store-bought.

I served the veggies with some grilled Italian chicken sausage and some potato wedges I cooked on the grill, with a little extra pesto on the side. It tasted fine, even though the veggies were too soft and a bit smoky from the overcooking. If my execution had been better, and if I had used some fresh-tasting homemade pesto, this dish would have been much better. I'm sure that I'll try this one, or some other variation of it again some day when I'm looking for something quick and easy to go with some grilled chicken or steak.

Well, my vacation is over, and it's back to reality. We had a great week of wonderful weather, and I was so glad to have the opportunity to make some great family memories of my son's first trip to the beach.

Date Cooked: August 20, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B-

*This recipe isn't on epicurious.com.

180. Sauteed Purslane with Garlic and Balsamic Vinegar (p. 573)

A few weeks ago, I had a UVO in my CSA (an unidentified vegetable object in my community supported agriculture share). Thick reddish stalks with chubby dark green leaves and tiny little buds. It almost looked like seaweed. Was it a mistake? Did some wayward farm kudzu find its way into my CSA box?

Well, after a little bit of good guessing and some internet research, I positively identified the green as purslane, a leafy green common in European, Asian and Mexican cooking. I also learned that purslane is known by another name, portulaca, and is considered by many to be an invasive weed. And then it hit me. When we moved into our house almost ten years ago, these little weeds were running rampant among the shrubs. After about two or three years of dogged weeding, I finally eradicated the portulacas. And now, a big bunch of purslane/portulaca was staring up at me from my CSA box. I'm supposed to eat this stuff?

Always up for something new, I went to The Book's index, and, sure enough there is a single, solitary recipe* for purslane. The recipe is very simple, and has only four ingredients: olive oil, garlic, purslane, and balsamic vinegar (take that, Michelle!). All you do is heat the oil, sautee the garlic, and then add the purslane, and cook if for just a few minutes, turning it with tongs until just wilted. Add the vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste, and that's it.

This was just OK. I liked the texture. Purslane is a pretty sturdy green. The stalks are crisp, and the leaves are plump and tender. The flavor was not my favorite, though. Purslane is a little on the bitter/astringent side, and I think that the balsamic vinegar enhanced the bitterness and gave the dish a pickled vibe. It wasn't awful, but not great, either.

The next week, I got another bunch of purslane in my CSA box. This time, I decided to make this recipe from the August 2008 issue of Gourmet for Purslane and Parsley Salad. I liked it a lot better. The purslane had a much fresher taste and crunchier texture as an uncooked salad green. It reminded me of watercress (which I love). I also never think of using fresh herbs as more than a garnish. Here, the parsley gets equal billing with the purslane. And it's great. Fresh, hearty and grassy tasting. The tomatoes (I used little grape tomatoes) were sweet and delicious, and the dressing (just a little olive oil, lemon juice and chopped shallot) was simple and light.
Date Cooked: July 11, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: (Sauteed Purslane) B- (Purslane Salad) A-

*This recipe isn't on epicurious, but there are a handful of purslane recipes there, including the recipe for the Pursland and Parsley Salad.

175. Braised Radishes with Raspberry Vinegar (p. 574)

If you're like me, you usually eat radishes raw, either sliced up in salads or with a little butter and salt, like the French eat them. But when I got a nice big bunch of fresh radishes in my CSA box, I decided to try this recipe* for braised radishes.

First, I washed and trimmed the radishes and arranged them in a single layer in a skillet. I mixed together a little sugar, some water, raspberry vinegar, and a little bit of salt and olive oil (The Book calls for a tablespoon of butter, but I used olive oil instead because my wife still can't eat dairy. I don't think the substitution harmed anything.) I poured the mixture over the radishes and brought it to a boil. Then I reduced the heat, covered the pan and simmered it for a little while. I took off the cover and simmered for a bit longer until the radishes were tender enough to pierce with a fork. I removed the radishes from the skillet and put them in a bowl. I boiled the cooking liquid until it was quite reduced and then poured it over the radishes. I seasoned them with a little bit of salt and pepper and sprinkled some finely chopped garlic scape tips on the top. The Book calls for chives, but I was looking for things to do with the garlic scapes I got in the CSA box, and the fine, tender tips of the scapes reminded me of chives in flavor and appearance.

This isn't a bad way to eat radishes. They look beautiful. The braising rounds out the sharp edges of the radishes' flavor. The raspberry vinegar give the dish a bit of a sweet and sour effect but they tasted a little pickle-ish. Not my very favorite dish, but certainly not bad.

Not part of the recipe, but I thought that I'd mention that I made a little salad from the radish greens. (Thanks for the tip, Ryan!) Since I knew the radish greens would be pretty bold (peppery with some bitterness), I wanted to pair them with a substantial dressing. So, I adapted the blue cheese dip I made for the buffalo wings I made a while back. I made it more of a dressing and less of a dip by adding extra yogurt. It was delicious. The creamy tang of the dressing was a nice pairing for the greens, and made for a nice change of pace for lunch.

Date Cooked: July 3, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B+

* This recipe isn't on epicutious.com

141. Roasted Cauliflower with Garlic (p. 530)

I've been hearing a lot about Twitter lately. It seems like just about everyone's on it. Now, I've jumped in with both feet into blogging (obviously), and I'm a fan of Facebook for keeping in touch with friends and family. But, I just don't "get" Twitter. Well, today, I came across an interesting article in the New York Times about a woman in Ireland who's come up with an entertaining, if not entirely practical, use for Twitter's 140 character posts: micro-recipes.

Maureen Evans condenses her favorite recipes down to their barest essentials and somehow manages to get all of the measurements and directions crammed into just a few words. For example, here's her recipe for biscotti:

Biscotti: mix 1/3c sug/3T oil/egg/t anise flavr; +c flour/t bkgpwdr. Roll log to fit bkgpan; pat down. 30m@375/190C. Slice~14; brwn+6m/side.

So, I got to thinking, could I "tweet" this recipe? Here goes:

Roasted Cauliflower: Toss 6lb cauliflower florets/ ½ olive oil/ 4 cloves garlic/ s&p; spread on baking sheet; Roast @425F ~30m.

Nothing to it! 127 characters. In case you didn't get all of that, I cut 3 pounds of cauliflower (I halved the recipe) into florets. Then I tossed the florets with some olive oil, garlic and salt and pepper. I spread it all out on a baking sheet and roasted it for about a half hour. It really was that easy.

This was an excellent vegetable dish. The flavor was awesome. Nutty, sweet, garlicy, and buttery (even though there's not butter). Even if you think that you don't like cauliflower, you've got to try this one. It's that good!

Date Cooked: April 26, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A

121. Artichokes with Garlic Pimento Vinaigrette (p. 519)

A little while ago, when I blogged about Asparagus with Tarragon Sherry Vinaigrette I said that it was exactly the kind of dish that I'd make if I ever had a fancy dinner party where one would serve a "first course." This recipe* is another contender. Just like the asparagus dish, this artichoke dish is elegant, delicious and can be made in advance.

As elegant as this dish looks on the plate, there's no way to look sophisticated and highfalutin while you're eating it, and when you're done, your plate looks like you've just finished ripping an armadillo apart. But, every now and then it's great to have a little fun with your food and not take yourself so seriously. Come to think of it, a lot of "fancy" foods are pretty messy to eat and require a little bit of disassembly: lobster, oysters, escargots, what else?

To make this dish, I cut the stem and top half-inch off the artichoke. I clipped the pointy tips off the outer leaves with some kitchen shears. I scooped out the choke with a spoon, and rubbed lemon juice on all of the cut edges. Then I boiled the artichokes in some salted water for a little while. When they were done, I transferred them to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. Finally, I drained them upside-down on a baking sheet lined with a clean kitchen towel.

While the artichokes drained, I made the vinaigrette. First, with the side of a heavy chef's knife, I mashed some garlic and Kosher salt together into a paste. I whisked this together with some white wine vinegar, olive oil, chopped bottled pimentos and chopped parsley.

To serve, I put an artichoke on a plate and drizzled the vinaigrette over and around the artichoke. That's it. And the taste? I really like artichokes ... always have. They have a very unique flavor that I really can't describe. Kind of lemony, kind of sweet, and maybe a little peppery. The vinaigrette was perfectly suited to this dish. It was substantial, and that pimento gave it a nice sweet flavor. This somewhat heavy vinaigrette wouldn't work on a light salad, but it could also be used on green beans or raw spinach.

The Book intends for this recipe to be made using those big, giant globe artichokes, one per person. I used baby artichokes to make this recipe, and we ate them two at a time. They worked out just fine, but if I had it to do over again, I'd use the big ones. The babies don't have the big nasty choke and the prickly points that the big ones do, but there isn't as much meat on the leaves, and the tiny baby artichoke hearts left me wanting more.

Date Cooked: March 1. 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

*The recipe on epicurious.com has the cook, and not the diner, do all of the heavy lifting in terms of disassembling the artichoke.

115. Roasted French Fries (p. 568)

I made this recipe to go along with the Chicken Club Sandwiches I made a few weeks back.

I was skeptical about these fries, just like I was skeptical about the Baked Potato Chips. But just like with the chips, The Book proved me wrong: You can get great taste and crispiness from your oven. It's not exactly the same as a fry-o-later, but it's pretty darn close.

Not only were these fries good, they were easy to make, too. The Book calls for russett potatoes, but I was in the mood for antioxidants (or something like that), so I opted to use sweet potatoes. They came out great, but I will try this recipe again with "regular" potatoes, too. I sliced the potatoes and then cut them into sticks. I tossed them with some olive oil, salt and pepper, and then I roasted them in a very hot oven for a little while, turning them once.

The taste? Great! Pretty crispy on the outside (some of the larger ones were a little bit wiggly, but I think that had to do with the fact that they were sweet potatoes) and nice and soft on the inside.

Date Cooked: February 21, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

113. Asparagus with Tarragon Sherry Vinaigrette (p. 520)

I've never had the kind of fancy dinner party where the host serves a "first course." But I will, and when I do, I'm going to serve this recipe, or something like it.

This dish is elegant, delicious, and best of all, it's pretty easy to make and can be done ahead of time. Basically, it's poached asparagus, served cold with a light vinaigrette and garnished with some grated hard-boiled egg.

The notes in The Book say that recipes like this were a mainstay on the menus of the grand hotels in a bygone era. A dish like this would have been called by the poetic name "Asparagus Mimosa" because the fluffy grated hard-boil eggs resemble mimosa blossoms.

Like I said, the preparation couldn't be easier, and so the taste return on the minimal time investment is pretty good. All you do is poach the asparagus for a few minutes in some boiling water and then plunge it into some icy water to stop the cooking. I cooked mine for just a minute longer than I should have, so even though it was a bit softer than I wanted it, it was still vibrantly green and flavorful.

While the asparagus cooled, I whisked together the vinaigrette of minced shallots, olive oil, sherry vinegar and a healthy helping of chopped fresh tarragon. I tossed the asparagus with a little bit of the dressing just to coat it, and then I served it by putting some of the asparagus on a plate, drizzling on a bit more of the dressing and topping it off with some grated hard-boiled egg. (I used The Book's fool-proof method for hard boiling an egg to produce a perfetly-set egg with a vibrantly yellow yolk and not a trace of green. Check it out.)

This was a really delicious dish. The interplay of the crunchy asparagus (I imagined what the asparagus would have tasted like if I hadn't overcooked it) with the fluffy cloud of grated egg was nice. The flavor of the vinaigrette was excellent, and could easily be put to use in a variety of other chicken or egg dishes. Tarragon (also called "dragon herb," who knew?) is one of the most singular and nearly indescribable flavors. It's also one of my favorites.

Believe it or not, this dish even stood up reasonably well to a few days of refrigeration (each of the elements stored in its own container).

Date Cooked: February 15, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

110. Sauteed Potato Balls (p. 565)

The Book contains several recipes for elevating the pedestrian potato to something impressive. The Parsley Leaf Potatoes are one example, this recipe is another.

There really isn't much to this recipe. Just take a couple of russett potatoes, peel them, and, with a melon baller, scoop out as many balls from the potatoes as you can. As you scoop out each ball, plop it in some cold water to keep them from turning brown as you work. Once you're done, par-boil the potato balls. (I also turned the Swiss-cheese-looking scraps into mashed potatoes that I stashed in the fridge for another day. Waste not, want not!) To sautee the potatoes, melt some butter in a skillet, add the potatoes and cook until they are crispy and browned, shaking the skillet back and forth frequently to keep them moving.

I served these potatoes with my Fish en Papillote. It was a nice pairing. The potatoes were crispy and buttery on the outside and soft and creamy on the inside. They were pretty, too, I guess. I was kind of hoping for perfect little potato spheres, but, either my melon baller isn't sharp enough or the potatoes I used were too hard. I could only manage to get the potato balls to be somewhat spherical. This recipe is somewhat similar to a potato preparation in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, but Julia Child would have you whittle baby potatoes into little ovals: a lot of work. The melon baller makes for much easier preparation. The other nice thing about this reciepe is that you can do some of the work in advance. You can cut out the balls and par-boil them a day in advance, and sautee them right before serving.

Date Cooked: February 14, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

77. Ratatouille (p. 586)

I made this recipe as a vegetarian alternative to the beef bourguignon that I made when some friends came over for dinner a few weeks ago.



Cute, cartoon rodents notwithstanding, ratatouille, or ratatouille niçoise, as it is more properly called, is a traditional Provençal dish that, like beef bourguignon and coq au vin, has made the transition from peasant comfort food to haute cuisine.

There are numerous variations of the recipe for ratatouille. Some recipes omit the eggplant. Some recipes, like Julia Child's, calls for layering and and baking the vegetables. Other recipes call for cooking the vegetables all together. The Book's recipe is pretty fussy in that it calls for cooking each of the vegetable elements separately.

First, I peeled four large tomatoes. I actually don't mind peeling tomatoes as long as I'm not too pressed for time. I think it's pretty cool that you can plop a tomato into boiling water for a minute or two, then plunge it into ice water, and just slip the skins right off. Then I coarsley chopped the tomatoes and simmered them in a pot with some garlic, parsley, basil, and olive oil to make a basic tomato sauce.

While the sauce was simmering, I cut a large eggplant into one-inch cubes. The Book says to toss the cubes with salt and let them sit in a colander for 30 minutes. I don't know if this step is really necessary. I didn't have any room in my sink to set down the colander, so I put it on a tray on my kitchen table. When the half-hour had passed, only a very small amount of liquid had drained from the eggplant. So, I didn't really see the benefit to this step.

Here's where the recipe gets really fussy, and for no clear reason. First The Book says to cook the onions in three tablespoons of olive oil for ten minutes, remove from the pan and set aside. This step is repeated with the peppers, zucchini, and eggplant. Cook with three tablespoons of olive oil for about ten minutes. I'm not quite sure why the vegetables need to be cooked separatly, other than the fact that there are a whole lot of them, and it would be difficult to cook such a big quantity of vegetables all at once. I can't see any other reason for doing it that way, especially since once they've all been given their 10 minutes in the saute pan, all of the vegetables are combined with the tomato sauce and stewed together for an hour. And it's not just me, Teena thought that this recipe was curiously fussy, too.

Even if it was fussy, there is no denying that this dish was delicious. It was hearty, comforting and flavorful. The tomato, garlic and basil in the sauce was a great base for the slowly stewed vegetables. The Book says that it can be served warm or at room temperature. I actually preferred it hot, but to each his own.The recipe calls for a lot of olive oil, and while I didn't find the dish to be overly oily, the amount of oil could have been cut significantly without harming the dish too much. The Book says that this recipe serves 8 to 10. That must mean 8 to 10 very hungry people. This recipe filled my big stock pot, and we enjoyed this for lunch for the entire week after I made it.

Date Cooked: November 16, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Not hard, but a lot of steps
Rating: A-

63. Mashed Potatoes with(out) Six Variations (p. 563)

I can't think of anything better than mashed potatoes to go with meatloaf.

There really isn't too much to say about this recipe.* It's a classic, basic recipe for mashed potatoes. Peel and cut your potatoes (I used Yukon Gold), cover with water and bring to a boil. Cook until tender, drain and mash together with butter, milk, salt and pepper. Couldn't be easier.

This being a Gourmet recipe, the quantity of butter is a little higher than other mashed potato recipes I've seen, but it's not outrageous, and of course, the result is delicious.

The Book supplements the basic recipe with six variations, including horseradish, goat cheese, and others. I decided to make the basic recipe this time. I'm sure that I'll revist the variatons from time to time as I need a side to go with other dishes. I'll let you know how they turn out.


Date Cooked: October 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

*The recipe I found on epicurious.com is similar enough to the one in The Book.

60. Parsnip and Apple Puree (p. 554)

I wanted something a little different, a little more sophisticated (but still easy), to serve with my Roast Chicken, and this recipe* was just the thing I was looking for.

There's not much to it: all you need to do is cook peeled and chopped parsnips and Granny Smith apples along with some onions in simmering water until it's all soft and tender. Then whiz it all up in the food processor with a little bit of sour cream and finish up with salt and pepper. That's it.

The result looks an awful lot like mashed potatoes, but this dish isn't like any mashed potatoes you've ever had. The texture is smooth and creamy, thanks to the pureeing and the sour cream. The flavor is great, too. It's got the earthy starchiness of the parsnips balanced by the crisp sweetness of the apples. This was a great change of pace, and a really nice compliment (along with some simple steamed fresh green beans) to the Roast Chicken.

Date Cooked: October 4, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

* This recipe is not online.

51. Roasted Butternut Squash and Spinach with Toasted Almond Dressing (p. 579)

Well, Fall is here, and for me, that means squash, pumpkins and apples, so expect to see a lot of them over the next few weeks.

The Downtown Manchester Farmer's Market will close soon, but not before the vendors have a chance to offer some great looking butternut squash. This one came from, of all places, Butternut Farm, in Milford, New Hampshire (the farm is named after the tree, though, and not the squash).

This recipe starts with roasting cubed butternut squash. While the squash is in the oven, it's time to make the dressing. Coarsely chopped almonds are cooked in oil over low heat for a while, presumably to toast the almonds and, at the same time, to infuse the oil with almond flavor. If that was the goal, I don't think it was fully achieved. It either needed more heat or more time. The almonds are strained out and reserved, and some lemon juice is whisked into the oil for the dressing. Finally, the squash, almonds and dressing are tossed with raw spinach.

I liked this dish a lot. The squash was excellent. The roasting brought out its caramely sweetness. The cool crispness of the spinach and the crunch of the almonds gave the dish textural interest. The dressing was pretty good, too.

When Teena made this dish, she wasn't a fan of the combination of the lukewarm squash and the raw spinach. This combo didn't bother me at all, but the next day, I had some leftovers and I threw the whole thing in the microwave, and I thought that it was much better hot with the spinach cooked.

Date Cooked: September 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

50. Zucchini "Carpaccio" (p. 591)

I never thought that I'd be able to get my wife to eat carpaccio, but I did it. Who cares if the main ingredient was zucchini instead of raw beef, I can still say that I served my "no-red-meat-thank-you-very-much" wife carpaccio, and she liked it.



With the end of summer quickly approaching, I wanted to take full advantage of the last few weeks of the Downtown Manchester Farmers Market, so I've been paying particular attention to The Book's "Vegetables" chapter. I decided that this recipe* would be an excellent use for the zucchini that is plentiful these days.





This recipe is a unique vegetarian take on the traditional dish of thinly-sliced raw beef, veal or tuna, which has been pounded flat and served with dressing and garnish as a fancy first course. According to Wikipedia, carpaccio has a storied past. Two restaurants, Harry's Bar in Venice, and Savini Restaurant in Milan, both claim to have invented the dish. Curiously, both restaurants' stories of the dish's creation are oddly similar, and involve a wealthy woman instructed by her doctor to eat only raw meat. (Why a doctor would do that is beyond me. Maybe she wasn't getting her recommended daily allowance of e. coli and salmonella?) Both stories also attribute the dish's name to the Italian Renaissance painter Vittore Carpaccio. In the Harry's Bar version of the story, the colors of the dish reminded the chef of Carpaccio's paintings. In the Savini story, the prim-and-proper patron found it unladylike to order "raw meat" in a fancy restaurant, and so a Carpaccio painting hanging near by inspired her to choose the artist's name as a "code word" for the dish.

The recipe calls for slicing zucchini into paper-thin slices on a mandoline. I used my as-seen-on-TV Super Slicer, with great success this time to get pretty thin slices. I arranged the slices in a pretty pattern on a serving plate and topped them with some fresh arugula. I drizzled on some extra virgin olive oil and white balsamic vinegar. Finally, I finished it off with some shaved Parmigiano Reggiano, pepper and fleur de sel.

This was a pretty good dish. It was very light ... but maybe too light. The Book says that the balsamic is optional. I think that it's essential, and in fact it could have used more. I really love arugula with it's peppery bite, and the zucchini was good too. You have to understand, that means a lot coming from me. As an ardent foodie, there aren't too many foods I don't like. Sea urchin roe is one, and raw zucchini is another. I love zucchini grilled, baked, sauteed, stir-fried, steamed, and tempura-style, but there's just something about the taste and texture of raw zucchini that I can't stand. That is, until now. This dish just may have turned the tide of my raw-zucchini aversion.

Don't expect to see me eating sea urchin roe any time soon, though.

Date Cooked: September 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B

* The ingredients in the epicurious.com recipe are almost identical to the recipe in The Book, but the presentation is completely different.

49. Crunchy Fried Green Tomatoes (p. 585)

When my sister-in-law gave us some green tomatoes from her garden, both my wife and I immediately had the same thought: Fried Green Tomoatoes. She, of course, had in mind a recipe like this one inspired by Fannie Flagg's book Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe and the movie that followed. I was, of course thinking of this recipe* from The Book.


The Whistle Stop recipe and the Gourmet recipe are similar in that both start out with sliced green tomoatoes. That's where the similarities end. The Whistle Stop tomatoes are coated in a thick milk, flour and cornmeal batter and are deep fried in two inches of hot oil. The Gourmet tomatoes, on the other hand, are lightly dredged in a mixture of flour, salt, sugar and cayenne pepper, then dipped in a mixture of egg and milk, and finally coated with a crust of crushed Corn Flakes before being pan fried in just the slightest amount of oil.


I was a little suspicuous of the Corn Flake step, since it gave the recipe the look and feel of the kind of recipe that you find on the side of a package of processed food or in the Sunday paper cupon circular. Don't get me wrong, sometimes these recipes can be great. For example, you can't do much better than the Toll House Cookie recipe on a package of Nestle chocolate chips, and I've been making the pie recipe on the canned pumpkin label for Thanksgiving ever year for as long as I can remeber. But, generally speaking, recipes printed on processed food packaging are usually not haute cuisine. Case in point: any recipe ever printed on a Cool Whip container. All I'm saying is that "corn flakes" is not an ingredient I expected to find in a Gourmet recipe.

That said, I thought that these fried green tomatoes were excellent. True to their name, these tomatoes were crunchy. And the healthy amount of cayenne mixed into the dredging flour gave them a nice bit of heat that I wasn't expecting. I was really impressed that the crust stayed on through cooking, despite the flipping, and the transferring from pan to tray to plate. They stayed wonderfully intact. I really liked the fact that they weren't drowned in a thick batter and deep fried beyond recognition. My wife, I think, was a little dissapointed, but only because she had it in her mind that I was making a more traditional battered version. The tomatoes themselves were cooked through, but still firm, and they had that nice sour tang that is unique to green tomatoes.

I was also pretty impressed that the leftovers reheated well in the microwave and still retained most of their crunch.

Date Cooked: September 1, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

* As Teena noted, the recipe on epicurious.com uses more oil than the one in The Book. Also the tomato salsa accompaniment on the epicurious recipe is omitted from The Book. (A wise choice in my opinion. Tomatoes with a side of tomatoes?)

45. Swiss Chard and Chickpeas (p. 542)

A small constellation of stars all aligned to get me to make this recipe.* First, I just finished reading In Defense of Food (listening to an audiobook in my car counts as "reading," doesn't it?). Second, Melissa made this dish last week. And third, we didn't have plans for dinner on Friday night. How does that all combine to equal Swiss Chard and Chickleas? Well, I'll tell you.

In his book, In Defense of Food, Michael Pollan sets out his simple philosophy of eating: "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants." This credo really struck a chord with me. My wife and I have always ascribed to the first part of the rule, "eat food," which sounds pretty obvious until you stop and think about it. Most of the things that Americans put in their bodies is not food, but rather, over-processed food-like substances. The Gourmet Cookbook is all about eating food. With a few exceptions (e.g., the Kellog's Corn Flake crust on the Crunchy Fried Green Tomatoes I made this weekend - check back soon for the post), The Book uses fresh, basic ingredients combined to make real food ... really good food, that is. The rest of Pollan's edict, "not too much, mostly plants" is a bit harder to live by, for me at least. Portion control is always a challenge, especially when The Book is involved. Overeating is a hazard of The Project. And while my wife is an avowed "flexitarian" - eating only plants, dairy and eggs, with the occasional bit of fish or poultry thrown in for good measure - I am a flexitarian by default only, since I rarely cook red meat for myself, but I almost always get it when we go out. So, I'm looking for creative and delicious ways to incorporate the "mostly plants" part of Pollan's rule into my own eating life.

That's where the other two stars in the constellation come in. As I was driving home from work on Friday, I called my wife from the car, and we had our usual Friday-night conversation. "What should we have for dinner?" "I don't know, what do you want?" We go round and round for a while until we finally land on pizza or Chinese take-out from one of the places at the end of our street. Our regular Friday-night meal may be a great many things, but it's proably not food, or at least, not the kind of food we should be eating. But, this Friday, my wife changed it up a bit and said, "I want to have something healthy," which is usually code for frozen Veggie Burgers. (I'd have to take a closer look at the list of ingredients on the box, but I suspect that even though they're "good for you," Veggie Burgers might not be food).

And then it hit me. Melissa raved about this recipe, writing that it was easy, tasty, and substantial enough for a meal. Problem solved! I had my wife find the recipe in The Book and read the ingredients to me over the phone as I took a detour to the grocery story. (I haven't yet taken to keeping The Book in my car like other Gourmet cook-through-ers. Not that there's anything wrong with that, since I'm sure that eventually I'll start doing the same.)

I brought the ingredients home and got to work. And dinner was on the table in about thirty minutes (take that Rachel Ray!). This dish is great! The sliced onions were tender and sweet (I used a medium Vidalia instead of the two small regular onions called for by The Book). The single clove of sliced garlic was just enough to give flavor without overpowering. The diced tomatoes, lemon juice and olive oil melted into a subtle sauce. The chickpeas were soft and stacrchy, almost like little gnocchi. But the real star of the dish was the Swiss chard. This green is substantial without being chewy; flavorful without being bitter.

We enjoyed this dish with some nice crusty bread, and we ate the whole potful. So much for the "not too much" part of Pollan's rule. But, hey, two out of three ain't bad.

Date Cooked: August 29, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

* The epicurous.com recipe is almost the same as the one in The Book.

41. Summer Vegetable Succotash (p. 582)

I've been wanting to make this recipe ever since I came across it in The Book's Vegetables chapter. The only thing stopping me from making it is the fact that it calls for pattypan squash. And while I've been keeping my eyes peeled for pattypans at the grocery store and the farmers market for weeks now, they never seem to have it. So, I decided to just go ahead and make it while fresh corn (the other key ingredient) is still in season and plentiful, and I'd just substitute regular yellow squash for the pattypans. I'm glad I didn't wait any longer. This was an excellent dish.

The Book departs from the traditional succotash recipe by substituting edamame for the usual lima beans. The two beans are pretty similar in size, color and texture, but The Book notes that limas are starchier than edamame. That, and the edamame has a milder flavor which I think is a good change, not to mention the fact that edamame has more cache than limas. (Hipsters eat edamame; grandmas eat limas.)

The recipe is pretty straightforward. You start by simmering a pound of baby Yukon gold potatoes until tender and then cut them into bite-sized pieces. (Why do they need to be baby potatoes if you're just going to cut them unto little pieces? I'm just asking.) Then, and this is the brilliant part of the recipe, you saute the potato pieces in a little bit of butter and oil until they're nice and brown and crispy. Remove the potatoes and cook the squash and kernels from three ears of fresh corn in some butter until "crisp-tender." Add the edamame (which you've cooked according to the package instructions) and cook until warmed through. Add the potatoes and serve.

The finished dish is great. It's buttery and flavorful with lots of great textures from all of the different elements. The sweet, crisp fresh corn and the tasty fried potatoes are the real stars of the dish.

The Book doesn't say how this dish fits into a menu. Is it a side dish? If so, what do you serve it with? We ate it as a vegetarian entree (along with the Watermelon, Tomato and Feta Salad as a first course) and it was very satisfying.

Finally, I have to mention that the whole time I was cooking this dish, I couldn't stop thinking about Sylvester the Cat and his catchphrase, "Sufferin' Succotash!" I came across this clip on YouTube. It's a cute spoof on Iron Chef (they call it "Aluminum Chef") in which Sylvesyer is pitted against Aluminum Chef Chinese "Twee-Tee" in a battle with the secret ingredient: Corn! What do you think Sylvester made?



Date Cooked: August 10, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

36. Parsley-Leaf Potatoes (p. 568)

The Book calls this recipe a "party trick." The essence of this dish is a simple recipe for basic roasted potatoes. But a clever twist and a few minutes of extra work turns them into something that will impress the pants off the guests at your next dinner party.

The "trick" is a single parsley leaf fused onto each potato half. It doesn't add anything to the flavor of the potatoes (not that they need it, they're buttery and crispy on the outside, and soft and creamy on the inside), but the individual leaf is like a little golden seal on each potato. What a neat way to turn a lowly side dish into something really fancy!

I made sure that I selected a bunch of parsley with large, pretty, flat leaves. I washed and dried the parsley, and plucked off the appropriate number of leaves. I also lined them up in little rows and took this picture. That part's not in the recipe. I'm just a little bit obsessive-compulsive, that's all. Then I melted the butter (Six tablespoons! I guess I take back what I said about the Gourmet folks using sensible amounts of butter.) and poured it onto a foil-lined jelly-roll pan.

Working on a couple of potatoes at a time, lest they turn brown from being exposed to air too long, I sliced the potatoes in half, pressed a parsley leaf onto each half and put it cut-side-down onto the buttered pan. I roasted the potatoes for about 45 minutes. As the potatoes cook, the parsley leaves fuse onto the potato halves, so when they're done, and you transfer them to the serving dish, they're just so impressive to look at. And they taste great, too.

The Book calls for eight russets for this recipe to feed eight to twelve. But, we were in the mood for red potatoes, and so I used most of a three-pound bag of baby red potatoes. The result was a bit more labor-intensive than what The Book has in mind (There are 16 potato halves if you do it their way. I had about 40 potato halves my way.) But I was really happy with the result.

Of course, if your in a rush, you can skip the parsley leaves and just use this as a basic go-to roasted potato recipe.

Date Cooked: August 3, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium (Easy without the parsley leaves)
Rating: A