marinara-simmered chickpeas with feta

on june 1,

four years ago,

larry and i moved into

our first place together.

we had been a couple

for almost three years and

this move, while a long

time coming, was a huge

decision for me.

i'm someone who takes every

possible outcome very seriously.

it had taken a little soul searching

to settle on this old two bedroom,

two bathroom, two parking spot

space, two blocks from the

george washington bridge,

instead of the brand new

one bedroom

facing the hudson river,

but as soon as we were in, it

felt like the right move.

the movers came on a friday

and it started pouring the second

they left. i quietly thanked someone

for that stroke of good luck, even

though the cable guy was not so lucky

and brought huge puddles onto our

hardwood floors. we grabbed dinner out

that night, and the next night,

my family came and we ordered pizzas.

by sunday, we were unpacked

enough to live. the kitchen, in fact, was

the only thing perfectly

assembled, and i vowed to cook our

first proper meal in our first proper home.

i'm not sure why, but something

made me dip into my someday

stash of recipes. it was a pile i started

making in college, and continued to build

while living with my mom again between

jobs. even though, in college we cooked,

at my mom's house, i cooked, and while

living in my studio, i cooked, it just felt

like the time that i had unknowingly

been saving these recipes for.

i'm not even sure what the big deal was.

none of them were that hard to make.

and, because it was june and hot,

and let's face it,

we were tired from a weekend of work,

i chose a very simple recipe for

feta and chickpeas

simmered in tomato sauce

and served over orzo.

larry sat with me as i cooked.

we both realized, we both live here, now.

no one's going anywhere.

when it was time to serve the pasta,

i was bummed. i wanted our first meal

to be perfect - a hopeful symbol of the time

to come in this apartment that was ours.

but this one wasn't.

the feta kinda, sorta melted,

creating a granular sauce.

the flavor was ok, i guess.

i promised myself that i would

recreate this very fast dish. make it

into something that was secondhand

and delicious. i would make it my own.

but, things happen. and, sometimes

i forget my promises to myself.

we were too busy learning how

to be a couple who lived together,

who shared responsibilities and each

other's lives.

we were busy working,

and when i unexpectedly,

(in life, not in the moment -

i really never make impetuous choices)

decided to go to culinary school,

we were busy getting me through,

emotionally. we stayed together in the kitchen,

night after night of my first couple

weeks as i peeled potatoes and desperately

tried to cut them into perfect little cubes,

crying most of the time.

and on sundays, after a full weekend of

class, when i couldn't even think of

stepping in the kitchen, larry

would make dinner -

usually a marinara sauce,

which he perfected by the time

i graduated.

we were busy,

both quitting our jobs

- mine of six years -

and starting new ones,

in a very scary two week period.

two years later, i can say it was

a good decision.

and we were busy,

getting engaged one friday

on the floor of our dining room,

too excited to do anything,

but stay on the floor, calling

our family and friends.

a year and a half later, we were

busy, leaving our home as

brooke and larry and coming back

two days later as well, still

brooke and larry, because i could

not decide if i wanted to change

my last name. but we were married.

and one day later, we left for

our honeymoon, coming back after

a week of rainy barbados weather,

to our home.

we were busy,

as i started this blog and a normal

night of making dinner, eating dinner

and watching how i met your mother,

turned into a night of taking a million

pictures as i make dinner, downloading

pictures, editing and uploading pictures,

blogging, and now, tweeting.

and most recently,

we've been busy, making another huge

decision that took us a long time to arrive upon:

to move out of what has very

clearly become our home. we're moving

over an hour away to a house that does

not remember us learning how to live

together, my culinary school trials,

our engagement or the first

year and a half of our marriage.

but, it is much, much closer

to my family, it has enough

rooms to make new memories

without suffering overcrowding

from my large pocketbook collection

or williams-sonoma boxes, like some

places i know. it has a kitchen with

a lot of natural light, which the camera

will love if i actually get home before

sundown to use it.

because, yes, i'm keeping

my job up here. my job,

that sometimes keeps me way later

than i think i'll be staying when i start

my day. and my job, that last week,

on one of these crazy days, for some

reason reminded me of that

pasta dish with chickpeas and feta.

it had come back to me a few months

ago, when a coworker talked about and

ultimately made, one of her favorite dishes,

chickpeas simmered in marinara sauce.

a little bell went off in the back of my head.

but then, last week, when i was running late

and my plan for a potato and eggplant curry

flew out the door two hours before, i remembered

the dish, my promise to make it right,

and knew i could make it fast.

and it was fast.

i got home after 8pm and by 9pm,

dinner was ready. i had made a very

quick sauce, simmered with canned chickpeas,

stirred in beautifully-melting

goat cheese, and tossed the whole thing

with pasta. it was not so pretty. it tasted kind

of gummy. it didn't work.

four years of keeping

a dish lodged firmly in the back of my mind,

for this?

i was going to make it right.

and soon. we're on borrowed time in

fort lee and i am not letting another couple of years

go by. so, i started with dried chickpeas,

which i soaked and cooked with a few cloves

of garlic on sunday.

monday night, i remade the white wine-laced

tomato sauce, stirring in the chickpeas to

simmer for about 25 minutes, while

i made a pot of israeli couscous, halved

a lemon, plucked basil leaves and crumbled feta.

yes, i went back to feta.

because, yes, i loved the idea of the cheese

making the whole sauce a little luxuriously creamy,

but there's something pretty amazing

about crumbles of feta

occasionally finding their way onto your

fork, too. the only difference, was that i splurged

and bought my favorite, very creamy,

sheep and goat feta, which when warmed,

is lovely.

when the sauce was ready,

i squeezed in lemon for brightness

and dropped in torn basil leaves for freshness

and much needed color.

two very worthwhile additions.

after spooning the whole thing

atop couscous - seemingly

much more appropriate than pasta -

i sprinkled on some of that crumbled feta.

and, i felt very good about that decision.

marinara-simmered chickpeas with feta

i've added red pepper flakes in with the onions before sauteing to give the entire dish a little heat and the lemon and basil really add another dimension to this otherwise potentially predictable sauce. all three could be increased or decreased according to your taste. i wish i could tell you how i cooked the couscous, which i ultimately tossed with a bit of lemon juice and grated parm, but something was absolutely lost in translation between my memory of making israeli couscous and the execution. if anyone has a foolproof method for the toasting-absorption method, please let me know.

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 large sweet onion, peeled and diced

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

5 large cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped

1/3 cup white wine

1 can (32 ounces) plum tomatoes

1 1/2 cups dried chickpeas, soaked and cooked* or 2 cans (14 ounces each) chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1 large juicy lemon, halved and seeded

25-30 large basil leaves

cooked couscous or orzo for serving

4 ounces sheep and goat feta, crumbled

grated parm

in large skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat; when hot, add onions and red pepper flakes. season with salt and black pepper. cook 2 minutes. reduce heat to medium-low and cook 10 minutes, or until softened. increase heat to medium and cook 5 minutes more, or until just starting to turn golden. add garlic. cook 1 minute more, or until tender, stirring constantly.

add wine; increase heat to high and boil 2 minutes, or until mostly reduced, stirring occasionally. add plum tomatoes, breaking them up with your hands as you add them to the skillet; add juice from can. season with salt and pepper. bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes. add chickpeas; simmer 25-30 minutes, or until the chickpeas are tender and the mixture has thickened. adjust seasoning.

squeeze lemon juice into sauce; stir to combine. working quickly, tear basil leaves into small pieces and add to sauce. cook 30 seconds more, or until basil is wilted. serve over cooked couscous or orzo. sprinkle with feta. serve with plenty of grated parm for sprinkling at the table.

*to cook dried beans: rinse chickpeas. place in large bowl and cover with several inches of cold water. let sit at least 8 hours. drain beans and rinse. place chickpeas in a large saucepot. add three cloves smashed garlic. cover with 8 cups water; bring to a boil. reduce heat; cook at a bare simmer 1 to 1 1/2 hours, or until tender. if not using chickpeas right away, let cool completely in their cooking liquid; store in the liquid, in the fridge, until ready to use.

snapshot: spicy clam and garlic pizza

the first time i had

clam pizza, i was in high school

and for a reason

that escapes me,

i went with my family to lunch

(on a weekday, i think...

i know that i was wearing shorts,

so it must have been summer. and,

i also remember that a few minutes

after we returned home,

my (older!) (ok, 1 1/2 years older)

ex-boyfriend from summer camp

(who was already an ex-boyfriend

and lived an hour away),

pulled up unexpectedly in his car (his car!)

and i could not decide if i wanted

to run away or skip in his direction.

and, i remember wishing that

i didn't just eat clam pizza).

the circumstances

are somewhat foggy

but that pizza is not:

a bit doughy, but still crisp

on the bottom and the edges,

it was clam-heavy,

slightly spicy and full of garlic.

it was so good, that i can taste

it right now.

the restaurant is long gone,

but thankfully, several years

ago, when i wasn't thinking

about the pizza, i came across a recipe

on epicurious* and knew that i had to

make it. clam pizza is in the rotation,

which in this house means that i make

it about once a year, and never regret it.

and, like all my favorites, at this point,

i don't measure a thing. instead,

using floured hands, i stretch out out dough

(my favorite recipe**, or if i'm in a pinch,

prepared fresh dough), to fit as squarely

as possible in a rectangular rimmed baking

sheet that i've coated with cooking spray

or a mist of olive oil.

once the flat dough

has been covered with a towel

and given a 20-minute rest,

i sprinkle it with

6 large cloves chopped garlic,

and press lightly to adhere.

next, i top with

2 cans chopped clams, drained well,

a handful or two of grated parm,

a healthy sprinkling of red pepper flakes

and a couple drizzles of olive oil.

sometimes i add oregano.

then, i pop the pan into a 425˚f oven,

for 12-16 minutes,

or until the bottom is golden brown.

i pull out the garlicky pie,

transfer it to a cutting board and

cut into squares.

every time, it reminds me of my

first clam pizza. and summer.

and when i still wore

shorts. but, usually, not

what's-his-name.

*original recipe here.

**for this pizza, i leave out the rosemary in the dough.

snapshot: tofu with spicy scallion and sesame sauce

i spend a lot of time cooking

intricate, million-step dishes that

make me very proud,

and usually, very tired.

the other times? i want quick

and simple options, that allow

me to sit for a few minutes when

i get home from work, and not

have to run into the kitchen,

crossing my fingers that we

eat before 10 pm.

this korean tofu is exactly

that - the longest part comes

from draining and blotting

the block of firm tofu,

which involves patience,

not skill or good form.

that's when i usually rest

(i.e. change my clothes

and watch ellen on dvr).

next, the tofu can be pan-seared

or boiled gently in water.

it's up to you and your mood.

while that's happening,

i sprinkle 2 large cloves garlic with

a large pinch of salt and let it sit 5 minutes,

before mashing them together until a paste forms.

then, in a small bowl, i whisk the paste

with 2 teaspoons of toasted sesame seeds

that have been crushed with a heavy knife,

1/4 cup thinly sliced scallions,

3 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce,

1 tablespoon asian sesame oil,

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

and 1/2 teaspoon sugar.*

when the tofu is ready, i spoon the spicy,

garlicky and nutty sauce over the tofu

and serve it next to some greens or

brown rice. if i'm feeling ambitious,

both sides make it to the plate,

but really, that's not what nights

like these are about.

*this sauce is yet another reason - on a very, very long list - why i am so sad to lose gourmet. the original, unadapted version of this recipe can be found here.

rushing the seasons

i am very programmed, when

it comes to tomato buying,

to wait.

until the peak of august,

the beginning of september,

when tomatoes are at their

ripest,

juiciest,

most flavorful,

most beautiful.

sure, i pick up pints of

grape tomatoes

year round, but for gorgeous

heirlooms? i stick to summer's end.

usually.

recently, while running

quickly to pick up a few things for

dinner, i stopped short at the crate,

reading:

heirloom tomatoes - first crop.

and they were not at all expensive.

it seemed a little unreal.

i walked by three times, before

deciding to break my rule.

once i started

picking them up

examining the globes

choosing the prettiest,

i realized something:

i was alone.

no one was pushing me

out of the way, or

even gently nudging me

to the side.

no one was fighting me

for the perfectly round

purple fruit i had just found

in the back.

in fact, no one even seemed

to be glancing in their

direction.

to me, this said one of two

things:

either i was a fool for buying

these in june

or

no one else cared/understood/

paid any attention

to what they were seeing.

deep down, i was going with (A),

but i really wanted to

believe in (B).

so, i picked my favorite five,

took them home for a

photo session and then

stared at them for a week,

deciding how they would

be best utilized.

by the time i decided

on a panzanella salad,

it was a sunday and i wanted

it with dinner that night.

isn't that the problem with bread

salads? they were created as a

way to use up extra bread, yet

often they require actually

buying the bread in the first place.

so, i went out and bought a loaf.

when i came home, i cubed half

of it and spread the bread out on

a sheet pan, letting them dry out

or become stale on their own

in a low temp oven.

after looking at several recipes,

i decided to wing it

(i know.

this can either turn

your dish into

the most delicious, ever,

or be a

disaster.)

i set to work cubing the

tomatoes, almost sad

to cut through them.

ultimately, i made the decision

to seed the pieces.

this is something i never

would have done before

culinary school.

to me, it was always a waste

of time,

a bigger mess,

an obvious disposal of good tomato.

but, in school we experimented,

making

salads

sauces

pizzas

with the seeds and without.

it's true that the ones with seeds

had less flavor

were watery

didn't pop.

so now, a lot of the time, i take

out the seeds.

but what i did next, surprised even

me. i made the decision to

seed all the tomatoes into one

bowl, rather than into the garbage.

once seeded, i poured them into

a fine-mesh strainer over the

toasted bread and pressed all

the juices out. i had planned to use

water to moisten the cubes,

but at the last minute i thought,

this is how to maximize the flavor.

this was pretty much enough

to wet the bread,

but i tossed

a few sprinkles

of water in, just in case.

the rest was easy.

i stirred together a vinaigrette

of olive oil

red wine vinegar

lemon juice

oregano

red pepper flakes

salt

garlic

and

slivered onion.

after i tossed together the

bread

tomatoes

vinaigrette

and freshly torn basil,

i let the salad sit for about

3o minutes to meld.

the salad tasted like summer

and a little bit like cheating.

besides buying

bread the day i was planning to

make the panzanella,

i bought heirloom tomatoes in

june. june! but that night,

when we sat down,

you could have told me it

was august. and i may

have believed you.

heirloom tomato panzanella salad

i used a loaf of paisano, a rustic bread. it was just slightly crusty on the outside, but when i squeezed, it had a little give. you can substitute for whatever bread you enjoy or would like to use up. also, i made the decision to keep the crusts on - faster, more rustic, prettier - but, feel free to trim them if you think they will bother you. if the bread is fresh, simply cube it and spread out on a baking sheet. toast 3-7 minutes at 225˚f, or until the pieces feel "stale." oh, and with the basil leaves, don't bother to count out 30 (unless you want to). instead, just tear them up and toss them in until it seems like the right amount.

1/2 loaf paisano (about 1 pound), cubed into 1" pieces

5 heirloom tomatoes of varying shapes, sizes and colors

1/4 cup red wine vinegar

1/2 lemon, juiced

1/2 small sweet onion, very thinly sliced and chopped

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

kosher salt

cracked black pepper

3 tablespoons olive oil

30 fresh basil leaves, torn

place bread in medium bowl.

on cutting board, core tomatoes. cube tomatoes; then over bowl, remove seeds. once all tomatoes are seeded, place fine mesh strainer over bowl of bread cubes. pour in seeds, pressing to extract all juices; discard seeds. toss bread cubes with tomato juices to moisten. if they don't feel quite moist enough, run your hands under running water and flick bread a few times with water, tossing after a few flicks. you want the bread to be moist enough to absorb the dressing, but not soggy.

in bowl, whisk together red wine vingear, lemon juice, oregano, red pepper flakes, onion, garlic, salt and pepper. slowly drizzle in oil, whisking constantly. taste the vinaigrette - if there's anything you're not crazy about, change it or fix it now.

place the tomatoes in bowl with bread; drizzle with vinaigrette. toss mixture together until completely coated. add basil; toss to combine. season with salt and pepper, if desired. cover; let sit at room temperature 20-30 minutes.