Grilled pizza with ricotta, zucchini & scallions

Like the trash and anything involving tools, somewhere along the way the grill became my husband’s domain.

But a couple weeks back I decided to stop being a wimp about what is really just an outdoor stovetop.

Actually I’ve been doing all kinds of husband tasks lately. I used the drill to hang curtains and made whiskey sours with fresh orange and lemon juice. What has come over me?

Oh yeah. This little person who runs our lives now.

Usually when we’re grilling dinner on a week night, I prep what I can and wait impatiently for my husband to commute downstairs (he works at home) and fire up the grill.

But now dinner must be ready by 6 pm, or 7 pm bedtime gets thrown off. And then we have an overtired, hyper toddler on our hands and it takes him an entire hour – sometimes more – to fall asleep.

Add this to the growing list of things I didn’t understand before I had a child. I used to say I’d make my kid adapt to our schedule. “Oh, we’ll just continue our leisurely, wine-swilling meander towards a 9:00 pm dinnertime,” I’d think, “That will make for a well-adapted child who doesn’t think he’s the center of the universe”. Ha. Ha.

When I decided to make this pizza, it dawned me that I could actually turn a few knobs, make a surface hot and put foodstuffs on it. And have dinner ready by 6.

The grilled dough came out great – chewy on the inside, crisp on the outside. I love this combination of mild, creamy ricotta with the smokey grill flavor of the scallions and zucchini. It needed some kind of fresh herb right at the end but I didn’t have any on hand. Oregano? Marjoram? I’ll try one next time and let you know.

If you’d like to try homemade pizza dough – it’s really pretty easy –  make sure you plan for the 2 1/2 hours the dough needs for sitting around.

☞ Grilled pizza with ricotta, zucchini & scallions

from Real Simple - makes four small pizzas (we polished them off with the little one’s help)

  • pizza dough, 1 pound, at room temperature (recipe below – or use store bought)
  • zucchini or yellow squash, 2 medium thinly sliced lengthwise
  • scallions, 2 bunches
  • olive oil, 4 TBS
  • salt & freshly ground pepper to taste
  • hot pepper flakes for serving

Heat the grill to medium.

In the mean time, put the sliced zucchini and the scallions into a large bowl. Drizzle a couple tablespoons of oil over them and add salt and pepper to taste. Toss them to evenly coat with olive oil.

Grill the veggies, about 4-6 minutes a side for the zucchini and 1-2 minutes a side for the scallions. Chop the scallions into 2 inch pieces and set them and the zucchini aside.

While they’re grilling you can shape the dough into four small pizzas (see below).

Next you’re going to grill the pizza dough. It’s going to take some practice before we all master this one. Here’s what worked best for me.

I placed the sheet of prepared pizza dough right next to the grill. Then one at a time I lifted the dough from one edge with my finger tips and quickly laid it on the grill by first catching the far end of the dough on a rung of the grill, then pulling and laying the rest of the dough across.

Cook the pizzas until they’re nicely puffed and browned on that first side, about 2 to 3 minutes, then flip them carefully. I used tongs and a grill spatula for this. Grill the second side another 2 to 3 minutes.

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Don't worry if you can't make a round pizza - I can't.

Once they’re done, smear each pizza with a nice serving ricotta cheese, and pile on the scallions and zucchini. Give them each a pinch of good salt and freshly ground pepper.

☞ Pizza Dough

This recipe is from the no-knead bread guy, Jim Lahey, and yields about 2 pounds – so use half for the grilled pizza recipe above.  You can freeze the other half for another time.

  • bread flour, 3 3/4 cups
  • instant dry yeast, 2 1/2 tsp
  • table salt, 3/4 tsp
  • sugar, 3/4 tsp plus a pinch
  • room temperature water, 1 1/3 cups
  • extra virgin olive oil for the pan and brushing onto the pizzas
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Like flour and wine, except it's flour and beer.

In a large bowl, whisk together the bread flour, yeast, salt and sugar.

Add the water and with your hands or a wooden spoon, combine the flour and water mixture. Stir it for somewhere between 30 seconds and a minute. It will be kind of shaggy and sticky and messy looking. Just do your best to keep it all together, then cover it with a tea towel or plastic wrap. Let it sit at room temperature for 2 hours, or until the dough about doubles in volume.

With a spatula or some other scraping device, scrape the dough onto a floured work surface. Work it for just a few seconds, into a ball shape. Then cut it in half with a knife, and work each piece into a ball shape. Cover both with a damp (clean) dish towel and let them rest for half an hour.

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After their final half hour rest.

Now you’re ready to shape the dough, and you’ll just need one ball for this recipe. First cut it into four roughly equal sections for your four small pizzas.

I’ve found the easiest way to work with pizza dough is to follow Lahey’s method. Take a cookie sheet or half sheet baking pan and smear olive oil all over it. Then place the dough on it and slowly press, pull and moosh the dough flat until it’s about 6 inches in diameter. You want it to be as evenly thick throughout as possible. Once they’re done, brush the tops with olive oil.

Lentil & quinoa salad

I’m still on a lentil kick.

This recipe is humble. So humble I have but one mediocre photo to offer.

It also seems super hippie-ish. Can you get any more hippie than lentils and quinoa?

But I love it. Believe me, I am not one to force down food just because it’s healthy. This little salad may get you a ton of protein, fiber and whole grains, but it’s also tasty and satisfying.

I like to have this lounging around in the fridge. We eat a side of it with a sandwich or a bowl of soup. Or next to a steak or some roasted chicken. Even next to some scrambled eggs. The flavors get better as it marinates.

We happen to have some amazing red wine vinegar. We’ve been making it ourselves for a few years now, from the “mother” that was handed down from my great aunt. If you’re lucky we may give you some to take home.

☞ Lentil & quinoa salad

adapted from Mark Bittman, How To Cook Everything Vegetarian

  • green lentils, 2 cups dry – rinsed, drained and cooked according to package directions, just until tender, before they begin bursting
  • red quinoa, 1/2 cup dry – rinsed, drained and cooked according to package directions
  • red wine vinegar, 1 TBS – plus extra splashes to taste
  • extra virgin olive oil, 4 TBS – plus extra splashes to taste
  • half a shallot, minced
  • 1 large carrot, minced
  • 1 celery stalk, minced
  • fresh thyme, the leaves of several sprigs
  • salt and freshly ground pepper to taste – don’t be shy

Mix everything together in a medium sized bowl. I keep tasting and adding salt, pepper, oil and vinegar until it seems just right. Even better the next day.

A note on lentil preparation. I’ve learned that to avoid mushy, peeling lentils you just have to stay on them. Keep checking for tenderness. Stay vigilant. As soon as you wander off, they will overcook and be mushy.

I’m sure there must be some delicious ways to adapt this recipe. Any ideas?

Falafel for the burbs

I thought I’d miss city living more.

After 12 years in Boston and Seattle, we now live in a small town in a part of Jersey that I’ve learned most Jersey people have no idea exists.

We’re surrounded by gorgeous hills and valleys, farms and forests. We can walk downtown and enjoy the ever-changing Delaware River. There’s never a line at the post office. My mom is 15 minutes away.

However. Our takeout options are as follows: pizza, Thai or pizza from the other shop.

I long for those cheap, delicious foods like Vietnamese pho and bun, burritos and falafel.

So when I saw this recipe I thought it was worth an attempt.

Definitely worth it. This was delicious, healthier (baked, not fried) and the yogurt sauce is better than the stuff at the falafel joint. I had to make more of it because I ate half with tortilla chips while the falafel were baking.

A word about the pita we used. My uncle finds this at a specialty shop in Tallahassee. It’s the real deal – thick, moist, chewy. If you live in the Bucks County/Hunterdon County area, help! I need to know where I can find such delicious pita. Yes, I know I can google this. I just love word of mouth, okay?

Also, is the plural form falafels or just falafel?

And finally, do you have any takeout favorites you’ve mastered at home?

☞ Falafels with cucumber-yogurt sauce

from some old issue of Cuisine at Home

prep time: about an hour

For the falafel:

  • olive oil
  • chickpeas, 1 can drained and rinsed
  • onion, 1 cup diced
  • garlic cloves, 3
  • fresh cilantro, 1/4 cup packed
  • fresh parsley, 1/4 cup packed
  • zest of one small lemon
  • kosher salt, 1/2 tsp
  • ground cumin, 1/2 tsp
  • red pepper flakes, 1/2 tsp
  • baking powder, 1/2 tsp
  • all-purpose flour, 1/3 cup
  • egg, 1 beaten
For the yogurt sauce:
  • plain yogurt, 1/2 cup
  • cucumber, 1/4 cup seeded and minced, squeezed dry
  • fresh lemon juice, 2 tsp
  • garlic, 1 tsp minced
  • salt and cayenne pepper to taste
To serve (all we had was the pita and the cukes):
  • grilled pita wedges
  • diced tomatoes
  • shredded lettuce
  • cucumber slices

Coat a 9 by 13 metal baking pan with olive oil and place inside oven – preheat to 375.

Put the following in a food processor and pulse until it’s minced but not a paste: chickpeas, onion, 3 garlic cloves, cilantro, parsley, zest, salt, cumin, pepper flakes and baking powder.

At this point in the recipe I realized my aunt and uncle’s 20 year old cuisinart had finally died. So, we mashed it up by hand.

Transfer the falafel mixture to a large bowl and stir in the flour and egg until it’s fully mixed in.

Shape the falafel into golf ball sized things and drop them onto the hot baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes.

Next, remove the sheet and brush the falafels with the rest of the olive oil, flip them over, and bake them until they’re golden brown on both sides, about 15-20 minutes more.

To make the yogurt sauce, combine the yogurt, cucumber, lemon juice and minced garlic in a bowl and season to taste with salt and cayenne.  Do your best not to devour immediately. It helps to keep all chips and other dipping tools far, far away.

Next time I make these I plan to double the recipe and freeze an uncooked batch.

 

Toby’s Chili

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Dinner is usually served on the big butcher block counter top. Grab your dish and find a seat.

Last month we went to visit my aunt and uncle in North Florida, where my maternal roots go deep. Think sprawling oak trees with Spanish moss.

This time of year the snakes sleep and my aunt grows tender collard greens and herbs. In the evenings we grab Heinekens and take walks on their property.

My uncle started this chili one afternoon and let it cook slowly into the evening. We ate it over rice. Our one year old gobbled it up.

Toby’s Chili

  • 3 pounds hamburger cooked over low heat – remove the fat (the incredible beef he uses is from his friend Charles’ organic farm in nearby Thomasville, Georgia)
  • chopped garlic to taste
  • onion, 1 1/2 cups – chopped medium
  • carrot, 1 1/2 cups – chopped medium
  • celery, 1 1/2 cups – chopped medium
  • canned tomatoes (chopped, diced, whatever) – 4 24-oz cans
  • beans (dark red kidney, light red kidney, chick peas, any combo you want) – 4 15-oz cans, rinsed and drained

Saute the garlic, onion, carrot and celery in 1/4 cup olive oil over medium-low heat.

Dump in the tomatoes and beans, mix.

Raise the heat, top it off with a bottle of red wine that you would drink.

Cook, stir occasionally, for 1/2 an hour.

Then add curry and paprika to taste (about 1/8 cup of spices),
and a pinch of cinnamon.

Dump in the meat, mix.

Cook over medium-low heat for 1/2 hour or 45 minutes until done.

Add chopped parsley, fresh ground pepper and salt.

Devour on rice.

I interviewed my uncle for the first of my “Cooks I ♥” series – see that post here.

Toby

“Everyone should organize a black tie dinner party at least once in their lives.”
–My Uncle Toby

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That is Albert, Toby's pet parrot, who is about 34 years old. He bites.

My Uncle Toby taught my brother, sister and me to appreciate art and music, and how to play the card game “Pounce” and curse like a drunken sailor. He’s also fed us well since we were wee things.

It’s because of Toby that I’m not afraid to taste anything once. And thanks to his sense of humor, I’m pretty unfazed by crudeness or vulgarity. It would take a lot to shock me.

I’ve learned loads of food-related things from Toby, like how to:

  • properly wield a knife
  • prepare risotto
  • enjoy a progressive meal (appetizer at one restaurant, entree at another, dessert at yet another)
  • love Pimm’s Cups

At times I wish I could embody his attitude of, “You don’t like the food I made you? F*#k you.” But I’m more like, “Oh no, I’m sorry! Can I make you something else?” (And I can’t even bring myself to print the f-word on my blog.)

So I’m very pleased that Uncle Toby will be the first in my “Cooks I ♥” series.

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The view of Toby and Aileen's kitchen when you enter their home.

How’d you learn how to cook?

I took a cooking class with a man named Herb Ross, who was a very good cook.  And back then, it cost $5 per person per meal with wine.

So how old were you?

Twenty something, maybe twenty-five. Before that I was absolutely the worst cook in the universe and believed in overcooking and burning everything. I just ate out all the time. I realized in order to socialize properly and to groom prospective painting buyers, art buyers, I needed to learn how to cook and have a reasonable dinner at home.

Did your parents cook?

Both my mother and father hated cooking, my mother especially.  She was the most indifferent cook in the world. She burned the fish sticks every Thursday night for ten years. There was no money, we couldn’t afford to eat out. Zero [his father] was blacklisted. So Kate [his mother] cooked, God save us. Zero on the other hand, because he felt that he was a genius as an actor and an artist, assumed that he was a genius in the kitchen. At least two times when he was cooking, neighbors called the police or the fire department who let themselves in by the window or the door as necessary. One neighbor thought Zero was burning a body of somebody that he had killed. He was the worst cook in the universe. So I inherited all their lack of talent and it wasn’t until I realized that I had to know how to do this that I took the cooking class with Herb Ross.

Then I had two friends, Dr. Steven Konstadt and Frank Guiterman, both were wonderful cooks, especially Frank, and they used me as an assistant and I learned how to pay attention from beginning to end of a meal, from cooking through preparing, eating and cleaning up. And I formed a supper club. We had very extravagant meals, and because the price of French wine hadn’t skyrocketed yet, we were able to have fabulous rare wines with our meals for very reasonable rates.

We made a sit-down dinner for 30 for my father’s 60th birthday. This was held in my loft, which had a very uneven floor and we could barely hold 15 people, much less 30. We cooked on my stove and the stove of Speed Vogel, whose studio was downstairs. My mother generously allowed us to cater it so we got tables and china and all that stuff from a catering company, and we were able to set it up so that it looked elegant and beautiful and I demanded that all the guests come in black tie. So they did, they were wonderful people.

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Another view of the kitchen.

There was an appetizer first, mushroom caps poached in bouillion, stuffed with escargot with parsley butter sauce, made by Frank. The second course was chicken breasts cooked in a cilantro sauce, made by Steve. The third course was lobster bisque, made by Frank. The fourth course was filet mignon with green beans and garlic and boiled potatoes, made by Frank. The fifth course was salad. And the dessert was Frank’s famous chocolate mousse with champagne zabaglione sauce.

(I forgot to ask if Toby had made any portion of this meal.)

So Frank was making the lobster bisque, which we actually used real lobster for, and ground up the shells, which is what you’re supposed to do for real lobster bisque. And we had already changed into black tie so he was standing at the stove in black tie, and he was adding a spice to the sauce and was puzzled by the fact that it wasn’t getting saltier, it was getting hotter, and he emptied this whole bottle of stuff into the sauce, perfectly baffled as to what he was adding. It turned out to be cayenne pepper.

So now we had a gigantic mistake to get past. So the first guests to arrive were Ring Lardner Jr and his beautiful wife, Frances. He wrote “Mash” and “Cincinnati Kid”. And we said Ring, you gotta go to someplace and get 15 quarts of cream. Ring did this, in the most noble and gentlemanly way possible. And when he came back, by which time most of the guests were there, we were able to save the bisque with the addition of 15 quarts of heavy cream.

The wine was Chateaux Calon-Segur 1961. There was 100-yr-old port and madeira. That was a great meal. I think everyone should organize a black tie dinner party at least once in their lives.

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The juicer that C. and I covet.

What kind of stove do you have?

That dinner for 30 was cooked on two two-burner gas stoves. Later on I got an electric stove that was part of a combination on wheels that consisted of a four burner stove top, a sink, a refrigerator and an oven. You could plug it in and wheel it around. It was only four feet wide, it was very small.

Then there was a sale on Garland stoves in New York and my mother bought one for herself and one for me, a beautiful six burner gas stove with a salamander. A salamander is the separate grill that puts out a huge amount of heat, you see them in restaurants. I gave a series of banquets to break in the stove, feeding maybe between a dozen and three dozen people every night for a month.

It was at one of those happy meals that I met my wife at. I called up Charlotte [the future wife's aunt] and I said, yeah, bring your niece, $5 and a good bottle of wine and come at seven o’clock. They did and the rest is history. The next day I took Aileen on a walk around New York and we basically have been together ever since.

What do you cook on now?

That is an Imperial gas range, 6 burners. Each burner puts out 25,000 BTUs. No apostrophe or I’ll kill you. And a good oven. And I use heavy duty restaurant ware because there are plenty of times that I’m cooking for that many people, I have to have pots that will hold everything.

Do you enjoy cooking?

If I won the lottery I would never cook again. I would hire a chef, and discuss meals. Since I have done this every night of my marriage for the past 30 odd something years it’d be fine with me if I never cooked again. But since I do cook every night, I try to be good at it. And I want people, when they come to my house, to have a good time. And therefore we eat like pigs and drink like elephants.

Any advice for someone learning to cook, like me?

Be bold with spices. The reason that spices are measured out in quarters or eighths of teaspoons and stuff is because at one time spices were very expensive. They came around the world on sailing ships that sank half the time. Now they’re not, so use them boldly.

If you were stranded with three foodstuffs, what would they be?

Garlic, lemon and olive oil.  And I’d go fishing.

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The spice, the spice! (Said in creepy voice from Dune.)

Stay tuned for Toby’s chili recipe, coming soon.

Jewish Apple Cake


I have small things around the house that remind me of Janice and my grandmother. Janice’s vintage Hall pitchers and teapots. My grandmother’s linen hand towels.

I feel their presence the most in the kitchen. C. has finished work, come downstairs, and taken the boy off my hands, so I can think and feel more clearly. In the kitchen I’m surrounded by their things. My grandmother’s Florida Gators mug. Her whisk. Her little glass bowls. She was a terrible cook. But she fed us – burgers from White Castle or those little boxes of cereal – and that was love.


Janice, my Jewish stepmother, was an excellent cook. Whenever we were eating at her table, she was content. I put on her striped apron and use her big, colorful Pyrex mixing bowls. We eat our meals on her set of butter-colored dishes from the 60s.

Breastfeeding my son over the past year I’ve thought a lot about being fed and feeding others. Giving and accepting. Nurturing and being nurtured. What a gift on either side.


When I saw this Jewish Apple Cake recipe on Poor Man’s Feast, I knew making it could bring me some healing. Also, we were headed out for the weekend to meet a 12-day-old baby girl and afterwards visit a dear friend whose mother died this past year. What better way to nourish tired, new parents, as well as someone whose heart aches with emptiness.

Get the Apple Cake recipe from Poor Man’s Feast.

 

Better Lentil Soup


I believe winter has finally settled in these parts. Or maybe not. Oh wait, yes it has.

At any rate, I want soup these days. Most days, really. I know lentils are healthy, but I’ve always struggled to incorporate them into my diet. I think that plain ole lentil soup is blah.

But I love this Italian style version from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian. It doesn’t take long as far as soups go and is so good. Especially served with a drizzle of good olive oil and freshly grated parmeggiano.

By the way, I love Bittman’s book. I read disparaging remarks about it once from some foodie critic, something about it being joyless and rote. Well I don’t care. It is my go-to book when I have a random vegetable that I don’t know what to do with. I’ve liked 95% of the recipes I’ve tried. And the variations on dishes that he offers have helped me learn how to experiment more.

Italian Style Lentil Soup

From How to Cook Everything Vegetarian, by Mark Bittman

Prep time: about 1 hour

  • dried lentils, 1 cup – picked over and rinsed
  • carrot, 1 medium – diced into 1/2 inch pieces
  • celery, 1 medium – diced into 1/2 inch pieces
  • bay leaf, 1
  • dried thyme, few pinches – or a few sprigs fresh
  • vegetable stock or water, 6 cups
  • salt and pepper
  • extra virgin olive oil, 2 tablespoons – plus more for serving
  • onion, 1 – chopped
  • garlic, 1 teaspoon – minced
  • arborio rice, 1/2 cup
  • canned tomatoes, 1 cup – chopped
  • parmeggiano

Place the lentils, bay leaf, thyme, carrots, celery and stock into a soup pot and add salt and pepper to taste.  Bring it to a boil, then reduce the heat and let it simmer.

After about 15 minutes, stir the arborio rice into the lentils.  Let everything simmer for about another 15 minutes or until the lentils and rice are tender.

While the lentils are cooking, saute the onions separately until they soften (about 5 minutes) and then add the garlic and stir for a minute.  Then stir in the tomatoes and let it cook for another couple minutes.

Stir the onions and tomatoes into the soup.  With each serving, add a drizzle of olive oil and some freshly grated parmeggiano. Enjoy and stay warm.

Power pancakes

pancake1
perfection

As a child, I resented my mom for denying us junk food and making us eat whole wheat bread. In our weird home, ginger ale was considered a special treat.

But my mom’s pancakes were a frequent, admissible indulgence – seasoned generously with cinnamon and nutmeg, a dollop of whole milk yogurt on top and swimming in as much maple syrup as we wanted. I think I recall actually slurping syrup off my plate. Once in awhile we got the ultimate treat – pancakes for dinner.

It wasn’t until I was in college that I found out we had been duped. She’d been making them with half whole wheat flour.

Well, I think these pancakes would make my mom proud. These were so hearty that we had enough energy to tackle the flea market for several hours before even thinking about lunch. They were delicious. And I got my sugar fix.


Multi-grain blueberry pancakes

Adapted from Joy of Cooking (JOC) and Mom

Note: If you want to use milk instead of buttermilk, just substitute it and take out the baking soda.

Ingredients

  • whole wheat flour, 1 cup
  • all-purpose flour, 3/4 cup
  • cornmeal (preferably stone ground), 1/3 cup
  • old-fashioned or quick-cooking rolled oats, 1/4 cup
  • flax meal, 2 tablespoons
  • baking powder, 2 teaspoons
  • baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon
  • sugar, 2 tablespoons
  • salt, 1 teaspoon
  • ground cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon
  • freshly grated or ground nutmeg, a generous pinch
  • ground ginger, a generous pinch (optional)
  • buttermilk, 1-3/4 cup
  • unsalted butter, melted, 4 tablespoons (1/2 stick)
  • honey, 2 tablespoons
  • large eggs, 3
  • blueberries, frozen or fresh, 3/4 cup
  • yogurt and real maple syrup for serving

Start heating your griddles and check them once in awhile as you mix up the batter. I use two cast iron pans with canola oil and JOC’s instructions have served me well. Shake a couple drops of water into the hot oil – if the drops jump around a couple times before sizzling, it’s ready to go.  If the drops immediately vaporize, it’s too hot. If the drops don’t do anything, it’s not hot enough.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, cornmeal, oats, flax meal, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger.

In another medium bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, melted butter, honey and eggs.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry, and stir just until they are mixed.  Fold in the blueberries.

After making sure the griddles are hot, pour 1/4 cup of batter into each. When you see bubbles popping closer to the middle, flip the pancakes over. The cooked side should be a nice dark brown. Cook the other side until it’s a paler brown, not quite as long. Add oil as needed and cook up your cakes.

To keep pancakes warm, I place them on a large plate and wrap a tea towel around the plate, sealing in the warmth and moisture.

Enjoy them with maple syrup and plain whole milk yogurt.  Make them for dinner sometimes.