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.

pasta with ricotta, peas and basil

we've always been committed

to home cooking,

but since we've moved,

i feel like we've strengthened our resolve.

we were always strict,

sunday to thursday,

but on friday and saturday it was

so easy, and so nice, to just go out,

get out, be somewhere else.

but, we knew that when we moved,

we'd give up a lot of that up,

using time at a restaurant as a

special treat, not a given.

so, we've been in the kitchen quite a bit.

but, instead of the very involved

dinners i used to take on without

a thought, now that we wake up very early

and both of our commutes are taxing,

i feel like we're not really cooking.

we're stirring some ingredients

together, turning on the oven and loving

the quick boil option on our range.

but, except for a handful of things -

larry's addictive guacamole,

a salad with scallops and watermelon,

boursin-stuffed turkey burgers we made

for father's day -

i can't really remember most of

what we've eaten. and that obviously means,

there's not so much to write about.

but this dish?

this is one i should have told you

about a year ago.

it's by no means a

company's coming meal.

but, it's fast, it can be made without an oven -

vital right now in this 100 degree heat - and uses

no more than a pot, a bowl and a spatula.

and, i think it tastes pretty darn good, too.

i usually save it for a day in which we

need dinner pretty quickly, or one in which

it's too hot outside to muster up much else.

but this time, the day started out as neither

and i wondered if i was wasting it on a

pleasantly warm easy-going day. but then,

fate stepped in and kept me at work

one hour later than expected for something

i never would have expected and once i

finally got out of there, i crawled in traffic

for almost two hours. suddenly, pasta

tossed with ricotta, peas, lemon and basil

seemed perfect.

i quickly said hello to larry

who was outside,

trimming a hedge.

after i put a pot of water over the flame

and then remembered that the precious

rapid boil also means that i have to

prep quite fast, i pulled out the ingredients.

ricotta,

a good hunk of parm,

a lemon,

basil,

salt,

pepper,

and this time,

a clove of purple garlic.

purple garlic.

i'm usually content with

run of the mill cloves, but

last week i saw purple garlic

at the market and snapped

it up the same way i had

pink lemons a year earlier.

but, like the pink lemons whose

flesh was like that of a pale grapefruit,

but boasted the flavor

of typical everyday lemon,

i felt duped. purple garlic

is sheathed in a purple skin,

but on the inside, it's just as

cream-colored as the next.

here's the one difference though -

purple garlic is significantly stronger

and sharper. i used only one clove,

albeit, one that was certainly larger

than usual, but still nothing crazy.

as soon as i tasted the creamy mixture

for seasoning, i knew we were in

trouble. it was garlicky.

really, really garlicky.

but, back to the pasta.

i usually turn to shells,

or something else that

acts like a vessel for

creamy dollops of the lemony ricotta

and the still firm peas.

once they're in the water - or maybe

a little before - i grate lemon zest and

parm into the cheese. i roll basil leaves

into a cigar and trim them thinly

into a chiffonade. i chop a clove of garlic.

i add them, along with kosher salt,

a healthy dose of black pepper and

a large squeeze of lemon juice,

to the bowl. i mix. and i taste.

then, i adjust. some days the

mixture is screaming for another hit

of lemon, other times it's lacking

black pepper or another pinch

of salt. sometimes (but, no,

not this time) it needs more garlic.

this night, the culprit was basil.

and i didn't have any left.

so, in went chives, which we took

from our pot of chives outside

on the deck. the tiny snips were

a new, but welcome, addition.

it was then that i looked at the clock

and saw that there were 4 minutes left

of boiling time. lucky. i poured peas

into the pot of pasta and let them

simmer away, bobbing in time

with the bubbles breaking on the

water's surface.

and soon,

the timer was beeping,

the pasta and peas were drained.

i poured them,

with a little water still clinging,

into the ricotta and mixed.

we haven't had this dish in over

a year and as soon as i tasted a

piece of pasta for final seasoning,

i was transported back to our apartment,

last may, when it was sweltering outside,

and inside as well. i remembered that last

year, even though the only heat came

from the steam of the boiling water,

when we ate, on the floor and at

our coffee table,

i was too hot to enjoy.

this time, i portioned two bowls,

sat down with larry

at the dining room table and was

thankful for no frills meals

on crazy days.

and, for my chive plant outside.

and, for the deck.

and, for the air conditioning.

pasta with ricotta, peas and basil

this is really good with homemade ricotta (you can find the recipe, here), and really it doesn't add that much more hands on time. but, if cheesemaking is not in the cards for your evening, i will not give you even a second of grief for buying a container. if there are fresh peas in the market, it's your lucky day. but, again, if it's not springtime and you buy frozen, as i did this time, no grief. just remember to mix, taste, adjust and taste again until it's perfect for you.

1 pound pasta (i like medium shells)

1 pound fresh or frozen peas

1 pound ricotta cheese (i usually use part-skim if i buy)

3/4 cup freshly grated parm

1 lemon, zested and halved (seeds removed)

1 large clove garlic, peeled and chopped

1/2 cup fresh basil

20 chives

in large pot of salted water, cook pasta according to package directions, adding frozen peas to the water when there is still 4 minutes left of cooking time. (i like mine still with a little pop, but if you prefer yours softer, adjust accordingly. also, if you are using fresh peas, 2-3 minutes should work.)

meanwhile, in bowl, combine ricotta, parm, lemon zest and chopped garlic. stack basil leaves, roll stack into a tight cigar shape and thinly slice with sharp knife (you may need to make two stacks); add to bowl. using scissors, snip chives directly into the bowl. remove seeds from lemon halves and squeeze in juice. season with salt and pepper. taste and adjust.

add hot pasta and peas to ricotta mixture and stir gently to combine. taste and quickly adjust seasoning, if necessary. divide among bowls and top with chopped chives, if desired.