hopefully, a salad worth waiting for

i really debated not posting this recipe.

one of the main ingredients isn't even in season anymore,

for goodness' sake.

but, i really have been working on this post for months -

writing here and there,

editing the pictures,

occasionally adding one here -

and i decided that the only way that i can move on

and start posting, is if i get this mountain of a post

out of the way. so, i'm going for it.

***

over the summer,

i was on a work trip and i was

asked if larry and i go out

to dinner.

my answer: yes, more than we

probably should, actually.

the response: based on your blog,

it doesn't seem like you do. i feel like

restaurants are a really good place

for inspiration.

i've been thinking about that a lot.

we do go out to eat - at least once a

week, on most saturdays.

but, we often go out for sushi,

or for food that i'm not so quick

to create at home. or, when

larry really just wants a steak.

that's not to say

that we don't sometimes go out

for dinner,

just because i'm craving something

or i've heard about a new restaurant,

or we're bored of all the other

places we regularly visit.

and, for all three reasons,

that's how we ended up

at porta, in asbury park,

in november.

porta is a newish restaurant,

factory and loft-like,

loud and packed,

drafty and somewhat threadbare

with picnic style seating and

wine served in juice glasses.

and, somehow, it's just right.

through first unfortunate,

and then, fortunate circumstances,

we nabbed a table within three minutes

of walking in, in spite of a 45 minute wait.

we were asked if we preferred to sit

next to each other, or across,

and even though the couple nearest

us had chosen the very close together option,

we decided to face each other.

i ordered a glass of red,

larry, surprised by the selection, and excited,

ordered a dale's pale ale.

in. the. can.

pizza, we knew, was dinner.

that is dinner at porta.

i ordered one with arugula and truffle oil.

larry's decision was made easy when he read

about the carbonara, whose star was the

egg baked into the cheese on top.

for an appetizer,

we debated between a few,

but i pushed hard for the

cavolo nero:

kale salad

with shaved watermelon radishes

and roasted sunchokes.

when it came out,

i was initially disappointed.

the plate was large - huge, i

might argue - but the salad seemed

small tossed into a messy

pile, somewhat off center on the dish,

somewhat, uncared for.

i divvied up most of it between two plates.

and, then, i took a bite.

this salad was fantastic.

the kale, not at all tender,

was full of character. the sunchokes

were golden, the radishes a slightly bitter

foil. the strips of toasted bread

seemed so much more than croutons,

garlicky and spicy. the teeny, tiny cubes

of pecorino were firm and salty,

and worth fishing off the bottom of the plate.

but the thing that i loved about this

salad, the thing that made me wish i had

ordered my own and the thing that

made me decide that i absolutely

had to make this at home,

was the bright lemony dressing,

way more acidic than i would have

ever had the nerve to serve.

i was sad when it was over.

my pizza - it was good.

the wine - i enjoyed.

but that salad.

it was an appetizer to

put all other appetizers to shame.

that tuesday,

i looked online and found

this recipe from

101 cookbooks.

it seemed so similar that i wondered

if porta had used it as a jumping off point

when creating theirs. heidi used breadcrumbs

instead of croutons, and her pecorino

was grated into shavings. but it seemed

like a good place to start.

once made,

it was pretty clear that,

save for adjusting for personal taste,

this was the only recipe i needed.

i had toasted croutons,

and cubed the pecorino into

teeny tiny pieces, just like we

ate at porta. when we sat down

to eat the salad, i was thrilled

with the results.

tart,

garlicky,

acidic,

slightly spicy

and a mouthful to eat.

this is food that you are forced

to chew, forced to experience

and, if you're larry, forced to embrace

several more times.

lemony kale salad with pecorino

adapted from 101 cookbooks

i've made this salad several time since, adding roasted mushrooms, roasted halved shallots, roasted tomatoes, and most often, roasted delicata squash that has been seasoned with cayenne. i wish the salad in this picture featured any of the other options, because it's true: i took these pictures so long ago and started this blog post so long ago (i'm pretty sure i made this particular salad the same day i made cashew brittle for holiday gifts), that one of the main ingredients is no longer in season. don't fret - just add your favorite veggie to roast.

on the pecorino: i'm torn. the first few times i made this salad, i cut the pecorino into the teeniest tiniest bites. each time, they fell to the bottom of the salad, along with tiny pieces of garlic. each time i stabbed one with my fork, it was a gamble - would i end up with a mouthful of salty wonderfulness or a mouthful of garlic? so, this time, i made it with larger cubes and it was delicious, but much more salty. since making this salad, several kale salads have been posted online here and here. both involve grating the cheese. maybe an option?

last thing: leftovers are really, really good. maybe even better than the first time.

1 medium delicata squash, halved lengthwise, seeded and sliced

4-5 ounces bread (my favorites for this: sourdough and multigrain), cubed into 1/2-inch dice

1/4 cup olive oil, divided

4 large cloves garlic, peeled, finely chopped and divided

1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for seasoning

pinch or two cayenne pepper, if desired

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, divided (or more to taste)

salt and pepper

1 large juicy lemon, juiced (you want at least 3 tablespoons)

2-3 ounces pecorino romano, cut into small dice

1 large bunch tuscan kale, stemmed and torn into 1-inch pieces

heat oven to 375˚f. in bowl, combine squash, 1 tablespoon olive oil, cayenne pepper, kosher salt and black pepper, if desired. place squash in single layer on aluminum foil-lined baking sheet. bake 12 minutes; flip. bake 8-12 minutes more, or until tender and slightly golden. set squash aside.

meanwhile, prepare croutons: in same bowl that you used for the squash, combine bread cubes, 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1 clove chopped garlic and a couple pinches red pepper flakes; season with kosher salt and black pepper, if desired. when the squash comes out of the oven, arrange croutons on baking sheet in single layer. bake 6-7 minutes, or until golden. flip and bake 5-7 minutes more, or until golden brown and crunchy throughout (if the croutons are not completely crunchy and you have leftovers, they will be soggy the next day. believe me: it's a bummer.)

meanwhile, place remaining garlic on cutting board. sprinkle with salt. let sit 5 minutes. cut and mash with sharp knife to form a chunky paste. transfer to a small bowl; add lemon juice and a remaining red pepper flakes. drizzle in olive oil, whisking constantly. add pecorino to dressing.

place kale in bowl (i use the same one that i used for the squash and croutons). top with squash and croutons (if you're going to save some of the salad for the next day, save some of the croutons, too). top with dressing and toss; let sit at least 10 minutes before serving.

grilled scallions and scallion vinaigrette (with a sunny side up egg)

since changing jobs,

i've imagined all the things

that i'm going to do,

all the things that i'm going

to cook,

all the things that i'm

going to see and change

about my life.

i thought maybe i'd

finally get around to

making zuni chicken - and being

the kind of person who remembers

to buy chickens two days ahead

of time -

and rick bayless' 27-ingredient

mole. i thought that i'd just make

quick breads and muffins on the

weekends and spend my days

making stock. maybe i'd finally

start canning.

and, i did do some things

that are new, determined to

somehow show my appreciation

that i've regained several hours

each week.

i made a torte for

dinner (a torte! on a

weeknight!) and even added

the two tablespoons of mint

that i usually would have left

out because, ew, mint. i figured,

i'm trying to be a different

person in many other ways,

why can't i make myself be the kind

of person who likes mint?

it was ok.

but, still, i tried.

i stopped myself from insisting

that we go grocery shopping,

like we normally do on sundays

and instead, went to the beach

to walk along the boardwalk on

a surprisingly beautiful day.

and when we walked outside

to catch a dinner reservation,

i took the time to wait as larry

ran back in the house to get the

camera, so that i could snap a few

pictures of the gorgeous sunset.

but, i've remembered something.

i love cooking, probably more than a lot

of people i know. i love devoting time

to making crazy things that most people

would rather buy. i love serving food

to my family and my friends.

but - sometimes.

i'm not a cooking robot with one button

always set to cook. i want to be like other

bloggers i read and those on twitter who

cook from friday night to sunday night,

but i'm not. i still have a job that requires

energy, i still have a family that i want to

see, errands that i have to run, pictures

that have to be hung on the walls of the

house that we've lived in for a year and season

finales that i want to watch sometime near

when they originally aired.

these things - these are things i've

struggled with. i've always felt like if

i was truly as passionate about food

as i claim to be, i would want to live

my life in the kitchen, always. but, i'm coming

to understand that there are different

ways to love cooking and ingredients

and technique. and sometimes, that

means embracing the most simple of

recipes and appreciating them for what

they offer, too.

i've let myself buy store-made turkey

sausages, that larry tossed onto the grill

along with ears of corn. and last night,

when i got out of work way later than

i was supposed to, i embraced

the quick sandwiches that i made with

peppadews, shallots, capers, feta,

oil-packed tuna and lemon, instead

of the more elaborate dinner i had planned.

and, that's why i was drawn to this recipe

from the may issue of bon appetit.

it looked so simple, but so lovely.

and, i'll admit, even though i'm a little

embarrassed by it, i was intrigued

by the idea of microwave-poaching

the eggs. i'm not sure why i even considered

it - i'm a good egg poacher.

(lest you take me as insanely sure of myself,

let me explain -

i'm a pretty poor producer of

runny sunnyside up eggs,

eggs over easy,

pretty-looking hard-cooked eggs,

or even, fluffy scrambled eggs.

but, i can poach eggs, and i wave that flag, proudly.)

however, a lot of people struggle

with poaching eggs and i thought,

hey, if this mug in the microwave version works,

maybe it could be poached eggs

for everyone.

so, i chopped up two scallions, which

i whisked together with lemon juice and the really

exceptional olive oil that we hadn't used since

we bought it on our trip to temecula last year.

i tossed the rest of the scallions on the grill

and placed slices of a baguette under the broiler.

and, then, i cracked an egg into a mug filled with

1/2 cup water. i microwaved for 1 minute, just like

the recipe said. when it beeped, i checked the egg,

which was clearly still liquidy. i gave it 25 seconds

more and tried to gently pour the egg onto a slotted

spoon, before watching the white, still liquid, start

to slither out. i gave the mixture 25 seconds more.

again, still liquid, but i could see that the yellow

was more than set.

there was egg in the sink.

i had an egg ready to go in another mug

of water. for some reason, the egg shells

were on the counter. the scallions - charred

and on plates - were getting

cold and i was cursing. without thinking,

i turned the grill pan back on, and tossed fresh

eggs over the ridges, watching the whites run,

and continuing to curse. but, then, the whites

set and i gently lifted the bottom to make sure

it wasn't sticking. this "quick" dinner was

actually going to be ok.

i arranged the scallions on two plates.

i smeared a bit of ricotta over the toasted

bread and placed them next to the scallions.

when the eggs were ready, i carefully removed

them from the impractical cooking device and

used them to top the bread. and then i drizzled

both plates with a bit of the vinaigrette.

even, after all the cursing, they looked quite pretty.

pretty enough that i

insisted that we go outside,

so that larry could hold the plate

while i snapped pictures,

ignoring the neighbor's dog

barking up a storm at his

crazy new neighbors

who step outside in the evening

to take pictures of their dinner.

and, while as usual with eggs,

i could take or leave

the surprisingly set whites

surrounding a runny yolk,

i loved the seared scallions and the really simple

vinaigrette. i think that i

would enjoy them even more,

under a thick piece of pan-roasted fish.

but, that?

that would have been too complicated.

grilled scallions and and scallion vinaigrette (with a sunny side up egg)

adapted from bon appetit magazine

i think the stars of this recipe are the grilled scallions and the vinaigrette. the eggs were fine, but i think we all know how to make an egg. even though i coped by cooking the eggs on the griddle, feel free to make them in a pan, poach them or, i would think, even scrambled and served over toast would be nice. besides cooking the eggs on the griddle, i made a few changes: i increased the quantity of chopped scallions in the vinaigrette from one to two and used half a lemon, instead of just 1 teaspoon of juice.

also, i chose to toss a few pieces of a baguette under the broil for a couple of minutes (checking on them occasionally), until just golden and firm and then smeared them with fresh ricotta that we had in the fridge. the eggs sat nicely on top - but that's your choice.

2 bunches scallions

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 large juicy lemon, juiced

eggs, cooked to your liking (how many? i ate one, larry ate two - your choice)

toasted baguettes slices topped with ricotta cheese (if you like that kind of thing)

using sharp knife, thinly slice 2 scallions; run your knife over the sliced scallions a couple times to chop a bit smaller. place in bowl; whisk in olive oil and lemon juice. season gently with kosher salt and cracked black pepper. set aside.

place remaining scallions on a plate; drizzle with remaining olive oil and toss to coat. season gently with kosher salt and cracked black pepper. heat a grill pan (or skillet) over medium-high heat. place scallions on hot pan and cook 5 minutes, or until tender and slightly charred, flipping occasionally. divide scallions between two plates.

place eggs and bread (if using) on plates, if desired. drizzle with scallion vinaigrette.

grape leaf pie

i think it's fair to say

that this may be one of the

oddest things i've made in

a long time. and you know,

i make some odd things.

--

six years ago, i was working

at the magazine, living by myself

in a tiny studio apartment and

needed to make a little more money.

i thought about it for a few months,

hesitant to add another job to

my busy schedule. but, when i found

out that the gym i already frequented

five days a week was in search of a

part timer, i jumped at the chance.

the job helped in two ways:

it gave me extra money.

it gave me a free gym membership.

at first, i struggled with my two

identities. it was hard waking up

early to go to the gym for myself,

come home, shower,

pack a bag, go to work,

drive as fast as i could back to the gym

and then dash into the small changing

room that i entered in heels

and dresses and emerged in sneakers,

workout pants and an old camp t-shirt.

but, before i knew it,

it was two years later. i was living

with larry in our two bedroom

apartment, enjoying the relationships

that i had made with the people who

attended the gym and still resenting having

to wake up at 7am every sunday morning

to open the gym, just as much as i disliked

not getting home until 9pm on monday

and tuesday nights.

and then, i decided to go to culinary school

full time and still keep my monday to friday job.

and, i made the decision that in spite of

the fact that i was putting myself into

thousands of dollars of debt, i had no choice

but to walk away from the little bit of money

that helped bridge the gap between

scared and making it.

i was quitting the gym.

telling my never-there boss was a breeze.

it was the gym-goers, who i had formed real

relationships with, that i was dreading addressing.

but, the gym goers, the ones who had spent

two years working out

while discussing recipes with me,

were wonderful

and supportive.

and one of them, linda, asked me a question

that i had never really thought of before,

but has stuck with me everyday since:

can you taste the recipe before you make it?

she elaborated, can you look at a recipe,

read the ingredients, the techniques

and know what you will

be tasting at the very end?

and, i know it sounds strange,

but every time i think of those two

weird transitional years in my life in which i

was food editor by day/gym something-or-other

at night, i think about linda and how

in the end, her question, forcing me to always

critically examine a recipe before making it,

made it all worth it.

--

and that's why i had to make this

grape leaf pie. i read the headnote provided,

discussing how unusual of a recipe it was.

i read the ingredients,

a combination of:

greek yogurt,

shallots,

toasted nuts,

herbs,

lemon zest,

lemon juice

and

rice flour.

i read that i, the recipe-maker, was to

line the bottom of a dish with soaked

grape leaves, spread them with the

yogurt paste, cover them with more grape

leaves and after brushing with oil and

topping with panko, i was to bake the pie

and then cut it into wedges.

and i, for the life of me, had no idea

what i would see when i peered into that

savory cake.

would it be firm? a solid piece that

cut into beautiful wedges? or would

it have only firmed slightly, still

holding onto some of that squish

that yogurt is famous for, the filling

oozing out of the sides of the slices? or,

after 40 minutes in the oven,

would it be a scoopable mess?

i didn't know. i didn't understand it.

the directions were easy enough.

just before throwing the cake pan

into the oven, i compared my pie to

the picture: it was the spitting image,

just unbaked. 40 minutes was perfect -

the pie came out with a crispy golden

brown top; the house smelled like

a greek restaurant. i stared at it for

10 minutes.

and then, i started to cut.

the top leaves crackled

and lifted from the filling. the bottom

leaves, more tender, sort of clung better.

the filling was sturdy, handling the knife

like a champ.

and still, i don't know how to describe it.

instead, i'll tell give you

this random collection of thoughts:

-the center of the pie was very firm.

-every time i think of something to compare it to,

i want to say that i reminded me a little bit of tempeh,

but i know that that would turn off people who are

anti-meat replacement products and possibly infuriate

tempeh lovers who once they try it, may think

that this pie is nothing like tempeh.

-if i didn't make it, i wouldn't have known that

there was yogurt inside, holding it all together.

-i wish that i had used more herbs.

-even though i thought that the perfect large

grape leaves would look beautiful on top, next

time i would use smaller ones. i think that they

would cover better and not be so hard to cut.

but, still, i liked it.

i know that's hard to accept,

what with me not really able to give

you any information and all.

but i did. it was light and filling

and unusual and actually reheated

pretty well the next day for lunch.

but, i maintain my stance:

this really may be one of the

oddest things i've made in

a long time.*

grape leaf pie

adapted from plenty

i followed the concept completely, but i did make changes based on what i like and what i had in the house: eliminating tarragon and parsley, keeping the mint and adding basil, throwing in two cloves of garlic, switching in chopped walnuts for pine nuts and reducing the oil and butter used. the original instructions said to make and bake in a shallow bowl. i opted to use an 8" cake pan, which worked well. i think.

also, the recipe calls for 20-25 grape leaves. i ended up using 12. i wish i had used more on top because as you can see in the picture, as they baked and shrunk a little bit, they exposed the filling. but, i still think the most i would have used was 16. use your judgement.

last thing. because it's so creamy, i always use fat-free greek yogurt. even though i'm sure the recipe intended for a full-fat yogurt to be used, i wanted to go with my normal pick, but i did have my doubts that it was the wrong move. luckily, the store was out, so i opted for 2%, which i think was fine.

15-25 grape leaves (see headnote)

3 tablespoons olive oil, divided

4 shallots, peeled and finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1 container (7 ounces) greek yogurt, plus more for serving (see headnote)

1/3 cup chopped walnuts, toasted

3 tablespoons thinly sliced basil

3 tablespoons thinly sliced mint

1 lemon, grated and juiced

1/2 cup rice flour

3 tablespoons panko

salt and black pepper

heat oven to 375˚f.

place grape leaves in bowl; cover with boiling water. let sit 10 minutes. drain; dry well. using scissors, trim and discard any hard stalks on the bottom of the leaves.

in small skillet, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium heat; add shallots. cook 7 minutes, or until just starting to turn light brown, adjusting heat, if necessary and stirring occasionally. add garlic; cook 1-2 minutes more, or until the shallots and garlic are both golden brown, stirring occasionally. remove from heat; let cool.

whisk together melted butter and remaining olive oil.

cover bottom and sides of 8-inch cake pan with grape leaves, overlapping slightly. using pastry brush, gently brush bottom of leaves with butter-oil mixture. set aside.

in bowl, stir together shallots, yogurt, walnuts, herbs, lemon zest, 1 tablespoon lemon juice and salt and pepper; taste and adjust, if necessary. stir in rice flour. using offset spatula, spread yogurt paste evenly in serving dish, making sure to get the filling all the way to the edges.

fold grape leaves evenly over top of filling. top with remaining grape leaves, overlapping slightly and covering well. brush gently with butter-oil mixture. sprinkle with panko; drizzle with remaining butter-oil mixture.

bake 40 minutes, or until leaves crisp and the breadcrumbs are golden brown. let sit at least 10 minutes. cut into wedges. serve with dollops of yogurt, if desired.**

*just as i finished writing this, larry came in and asked what i was blogging about. when i told him grape leaf pie, he said, that was good. when i looked at him, he said, yes, in retrospect, i liked it a lot. it's not that he hadn't eaten it or even complained about it. he just originally had the same what-is-this? reaction that i did.

**i picked up an extra 7 ounce container of yogurt to serve on the side. while i planned to just dollop it, i had a last minute change of heart, squeezing in lemon juice and adding chopped mint and basil. i'm very glad i went that route. i think it added a very necessary something to the pie.