There is so much lettuce in the apartment already that I refuse to harvest what’s in the garden. Our CSA has been flush with greens this year, and we’ve been all about ways to use ’em up in a way that doesn’t feel like we’re eating salad, and nothing but salad, all the time.
That feeling isn’t restricted to the lettuce haul. I can’t be the only shopper whose eyes want more than the fridge can hold. Though I’ve gotten much more restrained over the years, I do still tend to find myself mid-week, staring at shelves filled with green veggies but no protein nor grains and trying to figure out how to make a produce-based meal that’s fit for a human, not a bunny rabbit.
Since this winter, I’ve been browsing Anna Jones’s A Modern Way to Eat for help solving this dilemma. Like another of my go-to vegetarian cookbook authors, Deborah Madison, Jones knows just how to transform a crisper full of cellulose into a hearty meal. Today’s gorgeous salad-slash-noodle bowl takes its inspiration from one of her creations. Thanks to creamy miso dressing, rich avocado, and hearty sweet potatoes (my addition), you barely notice that you’re making a welcome dent in your lettuce collection.
Though this dish looks the prettiest when first made and arranged carefully in big bowls, you can also toss all the ingredients together and portion the salad out for brown bag lunches.
I love a good carrot cake, spicy and chock-full of carrots, covered with a cream cheese frosting that’s just the right amount of sweetness. Baking gluten-free, without any expensive flours, can be tough. But almonds…almonds we tend to have around.
And they can be made into a simple substitute for gluten-free flour with just a few pulses of your food processor.
A springform pan is ideal for this recipe since it releases in a snap, but a regular cake pan will work, too. The frosting is fluffy and and the recipe makes a generous amount so you can eat a few spoonfuls as you go. This cake is a good keeper on the counter, but if it’s crazy-hot, I’d recommend keeping it in the refrigerator so the frosting doesn’t melt. Quick tip: If you don’t want to shred carrots yourself, buy a 10 ounce bag of pre-shredded carrots in the salad aisle and this cake will bake up in no time at all.
Natalie of Good Girl Style joins us each month to share incredible desserts with Big Girls, Small Kitchen readers–desserts that are entirely gluten-free, but not like obviously gluten-free. That means no specialty flours or hard-to-find ingredients, just stuff like cream cheese and almonds and carrots.
I first made this back in not-very-pasta-salad weather. I was intrigued by the ingredients in the pasta with boiled vegetables recipe, which I found while browsing Serious Eats during vegan week. Specifically, one ingredient: potato.
Though I’m not quite a Harold McGee-level food nerd (though I do keep On Food and Cooking on my desk), when I hear of a technique that’s never before been seen in my kitchen, I bump the recipe to the top of my list.
I guess I already knew about how potatoes can transform during cooking. They secretly transform baked goods, especially hamburger buns. As themselves, they can turn into anything from crispy latkes to perfect hash browns to mashed or smashed potatoes. I once read a whole treatise on the right kind of potatoes to use for mashed potatoes. The author couldn’t believe anyone wouldn’t grasp the nuances of starchiness that foretold whether a tater ought to be mashed with butter and cream.
Still, even knowing all that, it’s hard not to say to yourself skeptically: potatoes in pasta? But there it was, a recipe called “Pasta with Melted Vegetable Sauce,” inherited from a chef who’d mastered Italian peasant-style cooking, and presented as a magical way to make a creamy, rich, and hearty sauce from nothing more than boiled vegetables.
It’s not just the potatoes that make this recipe strange and irresistible. This recipe abandons browning in oil. Instead, everything–veggies and pasta–go into a pot of boiling water, though not all at the same time. This builds up both starch and flavor in the water, so that by the time the pasta goes in, it’s essentially simmering in broth. The final touch
And why make this into pasta salad? Well, back in the winter, I made a huge batch. It was great-tasting when hot, but the leftovers were arguably even better. Which made me think “pasta salad!” and stash the gem away until the right time of year–now.
There are so many food companies in New York City. Artisanal goodies, from mayo to shortbread, have been booming since I moved back here after college.
We hear news about just-launched foodstuffs, their origin stories drawn in flour, butter, hops, or brine. But it’s less fun to read about how the cookie can sometimes crumble into nothing, leaving food entrepreneurs in a pickle despite their delicious efforts. So, for my latest Crain’s New York Business cover story, I listened to more than a dozen local makers–many of whom aren’t making it–to find out what it’s really like to seek success in the local food biz.
Read the piece here.
(Photo by Buck Ennis)
When was the last time you made yourself a milkshake?
If the answer is, “when I was a kid,” I think it’s time you got out your blender.
The only ingredients you need are ice cream and whole milk. The only tip you need to know is not to overblend: the goal is to combine ice cream (about 3 scoops) and milk (just 1/4 cup or so) without liquefying them. Blenders can get really hot, so you’ll want to pulse in short bursts, just until you’ve got a thick but smooth texture.
Of course, that’s just the basic milkshake. You can go crazy with flavors–whether from ice cream, syrups, or mix-ins like oreos–and with garnishes.
Ordinarily, I’m a chocolate or coffee or black-and-white milkshake person, but for this experiment, I branched way out of my comfort zone with strawberry. Whizzing a handful of ripe berries with a teaspoon of sugar in the blender before you add the dairy results in a bright pink, fruity shake that I dare you to resist.
For the full story–including my interviews with the milkshake masters at Black Tap and OddFellows and the recipe–check out my piece on First We Feast.
I got to interview Dorie Greenspan for an article about chocolate chip cookies, and the whole experience–emailing with the lovely Dorie, learning new tips about a treat I imagined I’d mastered, and then baking the best chocolate chip cookies of my life–provided one of those moments where my odd career made sense.
Between researching and writing, Dorie’s best baking wisdom sent me sprinting to the kitchen. (FYI, her forthcoming book, Dorie’s Cookies is going to have absolute tons of cookie wisdom, delivered in Dorie’s signature sweet style). For hours, I had flour and sugar flying through the air as I experimented with changing the proportions of brown sugar to white sugar and considering how much to reduce the overall amount of sweetener when I swapped in milk chocolate for semisweet.
One of the most thought-provoking ideas Dorie shared with me was this: you could add spices to chocolate chip cookies. Though I love cinnamon in my oatmeal and cardamom in my lassi, when it comes to cookie baking, I only reach into my spice rack to grab the vanilla. Not so on that day of extreme baking.
These cookies are one of the experiments, a foray into increased butter, decreased brown sugar, and spice. I love how they turned out. They’re small, thin, crisp, and buttery (you can see the difference next to the pile of more traditional cookies on the right. Recipe here.) They’re sweet but sophisticated. The sophistication, I think, owes much to their mystery: the combination of brown sugar, cinnamon, and milk chocolate has echoes both of gingersnaps and of the best crispy chocolate chip cookies in the Tate’s tradition.