In the Kitchen: Chard Galette

On New Year's Eve, my friend Kay (my oldest and dearest) came up to spend the night, cook, watch "Rocky Horror Picture Show" (which I'd never seen).

She opted to make a dish from Better Homes and Gardens magazine: "Rustic Swiss Chard and Mozzarella Tart." (At the site, you'll have to sign in to see the recipe).

It was delicious! And, I thought, could be even better with a little futzing here and there. So tonight I engaged in said futzing. Result? Magnifique! (If I do say so myself. Although I hasten to add that I started with a good recipe.)

Essentially this is a galette, which I typically make in the summer with fresh fruit. I have to admit that I'd not thought about the possibilities of a savory galette, but hey! Now that that I have, well, yeah, baby! (That link to the Wikipedia entry for galette is a bit limited. See this for a better image and recipe.)

Basically the recipe consists of cooked vegetables spooned onto a round of pastry. Fold the pastry and bake. Voila! (See commentary about pastry below.)

So:

• 1-1/4 c. flour
• 1/4 t. salt
• 1/2 c. (one stick) unsalted butter, very cold/frozen
• 1/4 c. ice water
• 1 bunch of Swiss chard (you could use kale or spinach)
• 1 c. chopped onion (see note below)
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• half pound of mushrooms, sliced
• handful of Kalamata or other brined olives, pitted and sliced
• 1 t. dry thyme
• 3/4 c. shredded mozzarella (see note below)

Pastry: This is not rocket science. All you're doing is mixing butter and flour using either your fingers or a machine. The main thing is not to overdo it. Don't worry if you see butter bits in the dough. No problem. If you're persnickety about it, after you've added the water and made a "dough," put it on the counter and use the heel of your hand to mush the butter deeper into the flour. But really, it's not necessary. The "trick," such as it is, is to make sure you add enough water. Most recipes say to add a couple of tablespoons. Trust me: that's not enough. A quarter cup does it.

The onion: the original recipe called for leeks, which are so expensive. So. Expensive. So I just chopped an onion. But I had some shallots, so I also diced two of those. 

The mozzarella: the original recipe called for "mozzarella." I decided to try some fresh mozzarella, along with some provolone I had in the fridge. Worked fine.

Make the pastry: Whisk the flour and salt together. Cut the butter into bits. Using your fingers (or a food processor, if you have one), cut/mix/meld the butter and flour. The usual recipe calls for "pea-sized bits" -- but really, just mix the stuff. Add the ice water and use your fingers to mix all of it into a dough. Flatten it into a circular disk, cover with plastic wrap and chill in the frig for an hour or more. (If you're using a food processor, google for some tips. I've never made it with anything other than my hands.)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

De-vein the chard and chop the leaves. Heat some olive oil in a large pan (a 12" if you have one). Add the mushrooms and cook them over high heat for three or four minutes. Add the onion and cook another minute or two. Add the garlic and ditto. Add the chard and olives and some salt and pepper. (Be careful with the salt. If you're using brined olives, they add plenty.)

Cook till the chard is more or less wilted. I left the pan on the heat for several minutes more so as to cook off the water.

Let the mixture cool for five or ten minutes and add the cheese and, using a large fork, toss gently to mix.

Flour a work surface and your rolling pin. Unwrap your dough and have at it. Don't worry if it's not a perfect circle. You're aiming for a twelve inch circular piece of dough, more or less. If it's too sticky, put more flour on your pin and the surface. 

Move the dough to a baking sheet, preferably one lined with parchment paper. You can grease the sheet, but parchment paper is so much easier.

Using a large spoon, move the chard mixture from the pan onto the center of your dough, leaving at least a two-inch border of dough. Then fold the dough over the filling, leaving the center open and exposed, pleating the dough as you go.

Into the oven for 30-40 minutes, until the mixture is bubbling and the crust is golden brown. (Took 32 minutes in my oven, which runs a bit fast.)

Amazing!

Need A New Year's Resolution? Save Money! Cook.

By way of saying farewell and adieu for another six months (at which time I surely will have written "The End" to my work-in-progress), allow me to get on my  high horse for a moment about one of my favorite subjects: food.

As food relates to money. Which, yes, it does. Consider this:

Several years ago, I was in Oregon visiting family and had dinner with my cousins at a "nice" restaurant: entrees in the $25.00 range. Good food. I enjoyed it. Drinks, dinner, wine, dessert. 

Expensive? Yes, it was. But my cousins ate there often. If I remember correctly, they'd already been there once that week. (This was, for them, a "neighborhood" restaurant.)

During the course of the conversation, one of the cousins complained about money, or the lack thereof. In his words, it was hard to "keep the wolf from the door," and if only he could earn about $10,000 a year more, he said, everything would be just dandy.

Being a polite midwesterner, I refrained from pointing out the obvious: He already HAD that "extra" $10,000 a year. Indeed, he was chowing down on part of it that moment.

Namely, all that money he spent (or threw away) every month going out to eat. I did a rough mental calculation and concluded that he and his family spent in the neighborhood of $800 a month going out to eat. By my math, which admittedly sucks, 800 times twelve equals $9,600 a year. Pretty damn close to ten thousand.

So. Looking for a new year's resolution? How about saving yourself some money (and time!) by doing some basic cooking?

That's the point of a lovely and practical essay by Mark Bittman in this week's New York Times Sunday opinion section.

Bittman writes about food for the Times and is the author of a number of cookbooks. His take on food is basic and practical: Cooking is not rocket science. Pretty much anyone can make a good meal.

EVEN WHEN YOU THINK YOU'RE 'TOO TIRED' TO DO SO. (In all caps because I want to make sure you get the point.)

He's dead right. When I'm tired at the end of the day, the last thing, and I mean the. last. thing. I want to do is drag my tired ass out to a restaurant. Get in the car or walk to a place, wait to be seated, wait to order, wait for the food, etc.

It's sooooooooooooooo much easier on my tired body, and so much more relaxing, to fix something at home. And, yes, it's cheaper!

What I especially appreciate about Bittman is his non-preachy approach to the matter: Keep some basics on hand. Learn a few (basic) skills. You're good to go!

(Unlike, in other words, the approach taken by the Food Scold In Chief [aka Michael Pollan], whose idea of cooking begins with a trip to the back yard to plant your garden. "It's not a meal, you fool! It's a political statement! Save the fucking planet first! And THEN you can eat.")

So. Do yourself a favor: read his essay, try one of the recipes. Please.

Here's my addition to his message: The smartest purchase I ever made (well, okay, the husband paid for it) was our small freezer. (If I remember correctly, it's ten cubic feet.) At any given moment, it's full of food I've cooked. Which means that at any given moment when I don't feel like cooking, well, hey, all I gotta do is trot down to the basement and pull something out, let it sit on the counter for a few hours, and voila! Dinner.

Whaddya waitin' for? Get cooking! Your brain, and your bank account, will thank you.

In the Kitchen: Oven-Roasted Chicken Cacciatora

This arrived in my in-box courtesy of the fine folks at Splendid Table. It's truly scrumptious and so easy that it could be called Dummy Chicken.

The recipe comes from The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper. I'm probably violating a copyright law by posting the recipe, but . . . . On the other hand, it's a short recipe, so maybe I'm not. (Fair use allows free use of limited text.)

Oven-Roasted Chicken Cacciatora

• 2.5 to 3 pounds of chicken thighs or chicken breast bone-in
• 1/3 c. pitted Kalamata olives
• 4 - 6 thin slices of cacciatore, Genoa, or hard salami, cut in 1-inch squares (I used Molinari brand.)
• large red or green pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces (original recipe calls for red; I had a green one on hand)
• 1 large fresh tomato or 3 drained canned ones, chopped coarse (I used an entire can; didn't want to waste it)
• 1 medium to large red onion, chopped coarse
• leaves from two 4-inch sprigs fresh rosemary (didn't have any; used dried)
• 10 fresh sage leaves, torn (ditto)
• 4 large garlic cloves, minced
• 1 t. fennel seeds, lightly crushed (or not, see my note in text below)
• 1/4 c. dry red wine
• 1/4 c. good olive oil (this is the time to use the GOOD stuff; bold and fruity is best)
• salt, pepper
• juice of one lemon (which I forgot)

Preheat oven to 400.

Note: Since I didn't have fresh herbs, I just chopped up the sage, rosemary, and fennel with the garlic. Made a nice paste, it did, which served its purpose deliciously.

Arrange the chicken on a large shallow pan. The original suggested a half-sheet pan, but I used my 3 quart, shallow, round enameled cast iron pot. 

Scatter all the other ingredients, except the lemon, over the chicken. Roast for 30 minutes. Baste with pan juices, turn the chicken pieces over, and roast another 10-15 minutes. NOTE: the timing is predicated on using thighs. I used breast meat and adjusted the timing accordingly. It's done when the meat temperature reaches 180. If you wanted "browned" chicken, turn on the broiler for a minute or two. Squeeze the lemon juice over all just before serving.

Swoon. Swoon again a couple of nights later when you eat the leftovers. (Put dish, covered, in a cold oven. Turn the temperature to, I dunno, 250? 300? Heat for fifteen or so minutes.)

In the Kitchen: Curried Lentils With Sweet Potatoes and Chard

I found this recipe in the New York Times. It's staggeringly delicious and so simple. The original recipe regards it as a stew, to be served in a bowl. In my opinion, it cries out for a dish of good rice. This freezes well, so don't worry about having too many leftovers.

I'm always paranoid that links will go dead, so I'm including the recipe here:

• 2 T. oil, olive or whatever
• medium onion, chopped
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 1-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and grated (I just chopped it)
• 1-1/2 t. garam masala (*)
• 1-1/2 t. curry powder
• jalapeno pepper, or other hot pepper, seeded and minced (or, if you're that kind of person, leave the seeds in)
• 4-5 c. vegetable broth (I used chicken)
• 2 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled, cut in 1/2 inch cubes (s. potatoes are the ORANGE ones)
• 1-1/2 c. dried lentils (I used basic brown ones)
• bay leaf
• pound of chard, ribs removed, leaves sliced thin
• 1 t. or more of kosher salt, ground pepper to taste
• 1/3 c. chopped cilantro
• grated zest of one lime
• juice of half a lime (I added the juice of the whole thing)
• 1/3 c. chopped almonds for garnish (optional; I opted out)
• 1/4 c. chopped scallions for garnish (I forgot them)

In a large saucepan (I used a large skillet), heat oil over medium heat. Add onion, saute until translucent. Add the garlic, ginger, garam masala, curry powder, and hot pepper. Cook, stirring, for a minute.

Stir in 4 c. of broth, the potatoes and lentils and bay leaf. Increase heat to high and bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium or lower, and simmer, partially covered, for 25 minutes. (If the lentils look too dry, add more broth.) Add chard, salt, and pepper, and continue cooking until the lentils are soft and chard is cooked.

Just before dishing, add the cilantro, lime zest and juice. Garnish with almonds and scallions. Or not.

* I make garam masala using the recipe in Julie Sahni's Classic Indian Cooking.

• 1.5 T. of black cardamom seeds
• 1.5 cinnamon sticks
• 1/2 T. whole cloves
• 1/8 c. black peppercorns
• 1/4 c. cumin seeds
• 1/4 c. coriander seeds

Crush the cinnamon sticks with a mallet or rolling pin (or the nearest hard-headed person you can find). Put all the spices in a small, heavy saute pan and roast them over high heat for a minute or two, until the scent fills the room! (Watch them. You don't want to burn them.) Grind the mixture. Store in an airtight container in a dry, cool spot.

Bah . . .

And humbug. No, I did not finish the manuscript. Not even close. Which, okay, I knew would be the case back in October. But I gave it a good shot. 

The new deadline date (chosen by my editor, who apparently has an absurd amount of faith in me) is June 1. Now that I think I can manage.

So what does this mean? Well, alas and alack, the book won't come out in 2011. Which means, ugh, it will come out during an election year, which is precisely what I was trying to avoid.

(Because elections function as media sponges, absorbing every. last. bit. of media attention there is to be had. Leaving people like me out in the cold. Which, okay, is where I'd be anyway because I'm neither Famous nor Important so my books, which are neither Sexy, nor Groovy, and contain neither sex nor vampires, get little attention.)

But I'm one of those stupidly optimistic people for whom hope springs eternal, so hey, I'm gonna give all this my best shot. My 150%, all-in, all-out, pedal-to-the-metal shot at both a June 1 completion and a reasonably successful publishing experience. (Do me a favor: don't ask me to define a "reasonably successful" publishing experience. The reality is too damn depressing.)

So. I'm going to post some recipes (been cookin' up a stormy heaven in my new kitchen), and then create another hiatus post in which I shall bid you, dear friends, farewell for another six months.

And yes, I have missed blogging to an extent that I'm embarrassed to admit. 

On Hiatus Until I Finish the New Book

I'm well past the half-way point on the new manuscript, and still determined to finish it by December 31. I mean, okay, if I DON'T finish it, it's not like I'm gonna throw myself off the roof or anything. Still --- it would be nice.

That means I'm down to the wire. I've still got three chapters to research and write. That's a lot of work in three months.

And to that end, I'm no longer pretending that, okay, I can post the occasional blog entry. Believe me, the temptation is there. I read something that other day about doing history in the digital age that launched me straight into a diatribe. But I could tell it would turn into another of my multi-part series, so I backed away. Set it aside. Maybe later. 

The fact is that a substantive blog entry takes me several hours to write. At least. And that's several hours taken away from the main task at hand.

So. No. More. Blogging. Until I finish this manuscript. No more. Period. No "In the Kitchen." No rants. No beer-world updates. Nada.

Now if you're desperate to read my brilliant prose, please, be my guest! There are more than a thousand entries here. And three previous books. Have at it.

But nothing new until I finish the project at hand. I'm still taking my coffee/water cooler breaks at Twitter, and I peruse Facebook once or twice a day. But those are quickie breaks, just to remind myself that there's a world out there. 

Otherwise, however, I'm in the cave.