VEGETABLES, SAVORY FRUIT DISHES, PICKLES & PRESERVES
COOKING WITH FRESH, SEASONAL VEGETABLES, WHETHER THE FIRST CROWD-pleasing asparagus or the first underheralded onions of the year, is an irresistible delight. The annual rediscovery of perfumes, flavors, and textures makes this branch of the repertory endlessly seductive. The daily ponder over what we shall eat seems not a bother but an opportunity when gorgeous, knobby winter squashes chase the last tomatoes from the market stalls, or when, for a few months, fresh shelling beans unseat the staple, taken-for-granted dry ones~which we then rediscover and reappreciate as we turn back to them in the late fall.
What follows is a collection of some of my favorite vegetable dishes. A few we make nearly year-round~those with spinach, chard, potatoes, dried beans~but the majority are dishes that explode with particular charm in peak season. Most are simple, versatile dishes that may require careful shopping but call for minimal planning or labor~although a few do involve some affectionate ritual. Also included here are some pickled vegetables and a few preserved fruits, all of which we use constantly, to bridge the harvests, and to add spark and heart to many dishes. I adore them. Suggestions for when to bring out these larder treasures are among the most frequent of cross-references in this book.
To supplement this collection, here is an index of other vegetable preparations that appear elsewhere in the book, as part of another dish, or playing a different role in the meal.
Grilled Asparagus {Grilled Asparagus with Pistachio Aïllade}, here
Roasted Figs {Prosciutto with Warm Roasted Figs and Hazelnut Picada}, here
Artichoke Caponata, here
Chestnuts in Sage Oil {Prosciutto with Chestnuts in Sage Oil}, here
Pappa al Pomodoro, here
Wilted Spinach {Shrimp in Romesco with Wilted Spinach}, here
Spicy Broccoli and Cauliflower {Pasta with Spicy Broccoli and Cauliflower}, here
Warm Parslied Potatoes {Coppa with Warm Parslied Potato Salad and Roasted Peppers}, here
Preserved Celery Root {Coppa with Catherine’s Celery Root}, here
Fried Potatoes {Carpaccio with Fried Potatoes and Truffles}, here
WINE & VEGETABLES
ANY VEGETABLE GARNISH OR SIDE DISH SHOULD BE CONSIDERED when choosing wine for a main course. With buttermilk mashed potatoes, for instance, roast chicken would be a good foil for a rich Alexander Valley Chardonnay. But the same chicken with any kind of bitter greens would show a lively young red from Touraine~a Chinon or a Bourgueil~or a California Cabernet Franc to far greater advantage. Grilled and lightly charred vegetables served hot or cold as a separate course can be good with either a light, fruity red or an aromatic white~especially a young German Riesling. Its acidity will keep the palate alert while the touch of residual sugar, though barely perceptible, will enhance the natural sweetness of young vegetables and bring out their flavor. The cream or béchamel sauce of a vegetable served au gratin as a course on its own can make a wine seem thin. So choose a fleshy Chardonnay or a substantial Riesling. If red is preferred, and there’s enough cheese in the sauce or crust to support it, choose a Syrah from a warm region like Paso Robles.
BUTTERMILK MASHED POTATOES
IAM ALMOST AFRAID TO RUN THESE MASHED POTATOES AT ZUNI, BECAUSE WHATEVER I pair them with will outsell all other main courses four to one, roast chicken included. The cook who has buttermilk mashed potatoes on his main course looks upon his fortune with vague dread~he will be “slammed” all night. We always prepare an extra ten pounds’ worth for side orders. I offer the recipe to the home cook with no apologies for how popular it will be with diners.
These mashed potatoes are rich in flavor but light, and slightly tangy. Sweet gold-fleshed potatoes, such as Yellow Finnish, Bintje, or German Butterballs are delicious mashed~and may not need as much dairy enrichment as white-fleshed russets. We sometimes add a handful of torn sorrel leaves and a few scrapings of nutmeg to these mashed potatoes. Or we infuse the melted butter with chopped sage before stirring it into the warm potatoes.
FOR ABOUT 3 CUPS {4 SERVINGS}:
1-1/4 pounds peeled potatoes {scant 1-1/2 pounds whole}, preferably Yellow Finnish, Bintje, or German Butterballs {but russets are fine as well}, cut into rough 1-1/2-inch chunks
Salt
2 to 3 tablespoons milk, half-and-half, or heavy cream, heated until hot
2 to 3 tablespoons buttermilk, at room temperature
About 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, just melted and still warm
Place the potato chunks in a 2- to 4-quart saucepan and add cold water to cover by an inch or so. Stir in salt until you can just taste it clearly {I use a scant teaspoon sea salt per quart of water}. Bring the potatoes to a boil, uncovered, and cook until very tender, 8 to 15 minutes, depending on the variety.
Drain and rice or mash while the potatoes are piping hot, then beat in the hot milk, half-and-half, or cream, and then the buttermilk. Finish with the butter. {Warming the enrichments is a restaurant necessity, so they won’t cool the large batch of mashed potatoes, which would be a lot of trouble to get really hot again without scorching. Since it works just as well at home, I suggest it. But don’t heat the buttermilk~it will separate.} Whip vigorously, taste for salt, and serve immediately, or keep warm, covered, in a double boiler, for up to 30 minutes.
Note: Generally, I don’t encourage making extra anything with potatoes. Leftover cooked potatoes usually don’t improve in flavor, tending instead to pick up a mineraly or musty taste in the refrigerator. However, the buttermilk in this recipe seems to stall their demise, and I find these mashed potatoes to be delicious baked atop leftover beef stew, à la shepherd’s pie, or thinned with rich chicken stock to make a simple soup.
ROSEMARY-ROASTED POTATOES
THE SECOND MOST EFFECTIVE WAY TO SELL A MAIN COURSE AT ZUNI, AFTER Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes {here}. As always, I recommend a rich, yellow-fleshed potato, such as Finnish, Bintje, or German Butterballs, but you can use Yukon Golds or even russets for this recipe. We usually prepare this recipe with olive oil, but in the winter we sometimes substitute duck fat, when serving the potatoes with poultry, or rendered beef fat, to accompany beef.
FOR 3 TO 4 SERVINGS:
About 1-1/2 pounds peeled yellow-fleshed potatoes {scant 1-3/4 pounds whole}, cut into irregular 1- to 1-1/2-inch chunks
Salt
A leafy sprig of fresh rosemary
About 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Preheat the oven to 400°.
Place the potatoes in a 4-quart saucepan and add cold water to cover by a few inches. Salt liberally, stir to dissolve, and taste~it should be well seasoned {we use a scant 1-1/2 teaspoons sea salt per quart water}. Bring to a simmer over high heat and stir again, then reduce the heat just to hold the simmer. Cook until the potatoes are soft on the edges and tender inside, 6 to 12 minutes, depending on the variety of potato and exact size of chunks. Drain well. Taste. The potatoes should be perfectly seasoned and delicious already. Place in a bowl while still warm.
Strip a palmful of leaves from the sprig of rosemary, then smash and bruise them with the back of a knife blade to release their perfume. Add them to the bowl of warm potatoes and drizzle with the olive oil to coat liberally. The slightly overcooked potatoes will both soak up and shed into the fat. Some of the edges or smaller pieces may even crumble, which will produce crunchy bits and pieces everyone will reach for.
Transfer the potatoes, clad in their potato-laden oil, to a wide shallow roasting pan. {If roasting potatoes for a crowd, use more than one pan, rather than pile the potatoes.} Roast until golden, rotating the pan as needed so they color evenly, 20 to 25 minutes. Because they were so moist, the potatoes may stick to the roasting pan in spots~use a metal spatula to loosen them.
Once golden, the potatoes hold well, or even improve from holding in a 275° oven. To best preserve their crunchy mantle, don’t stack or pile them; leave them on their roasting pan.
BRUISING
“BRUISING” IS A GOOD WAY TO DESCRIBE WHAT WE DO WHEN WE crush something enough to burst some cells, but without pulverizing it or necessarily bursting its skin. The usual goal is to encourage the release of a maximum of aromatic elements without spreading tiny bits of debris throughout a mixture {which is why we twist a lemon zest, rather than chop it, before we drop it into a martini}. On other occasions, you may first bruise, then chop a leaf, seed, branch, or clove, in order to maximize both flavor extraction and distribution of solids. Sage, rosemary, garlic, and fennel seeds are among the things I frequently bruise before adding them to a dish. I use whatever is handiest~the back or side of my chef’s knife, a pestle and mortar, a meat pounder, or a rubber mallet.
ROASTED FINGERLING POTATOES
FINGERLING POTATOES ARE ELONGATED, DIMPLED TUBERS WITH SILKY SKINS AND dense, fine flesh. Some types tend to grow a few stubby “thumbs.” This charismatic feature makes them harder to pack, so they may never find widespread commercial appreciation, but they seem to have favored status at farmers’ markets. Russian Banana, Austrian, German, French, Ruby Crescent, Rosefir, Ozette, and other fingerling-type potatoes vie for my potato dollars, and it is hard to resist any new variety I encounter~but French Fingerlings are a consistent favorite. Fingerlings seem best suited to a moist cooking method~dry-roasting can leave them parched. Moreover, I think their flavor responds well to some teasing~hence this simple formula that bathes the cut tubers with wine, which combines with their starches to make a subtle, silky glaze.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
1-1/2 pounds fingerling potatoes
Salt
About 3 tablespoons dry white wine
About 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil or melted unsalted butter
A branch of fresh thyme {optional}
Preheat the oven to 350°.
Scrub the potatoes, pick any dirt from the eyes, and trim any green parts. Cut lengthwise in half, to expose as much of the inside of the potato as possible. Toss with a teaspoon or so of salt, the wine, and oil or melted butter. If using, strip the thyme leaves from the branch and toss with the potatoes.
Crowd the potatoes in a shallow roasting pan in a single layer, cover tightly, and bake until very tender, 20 to 30 minutes, depending on variety and size. Serve promptly.
Note: You can reheat these potatoes on a grill; just set them cut-side-down over a medium fire. They will set a golden crust with nice grill marks in just a few minutes.
SALT-ROASTIES
THIS IS A SIMPLE METHOD THAT MAGNIFIES FLAVOR. Salt-roasted potatoes are moist and, except for the frosted skins, not at all salty. “Salt-roasties” are rich and delicious plain, with the usual baked potato condiments, or with a spoonful of Rich Balsamic Mayonnaise {here} or mascarpone. Choose regularly shaped yellow-fleshed potatoes~Finnish, Bintje, German Butterballs~about 2 inches in diameter. Look for potatoes that are free of sprouts and green spots~since they are to be buried in salt, you don’t want to have to trim away the protective skin.
You can reuse the rock salt several times.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
1-1/2 pounds creamer potatoes, such as Yellow Finnish, Bintje, or German Butterballs, about 2 inches in diameter
Rock salt to cover {about 10 cups}
Preheat the oven to 400°.
Scrub and dry the potatoes. Spread a 1/2-inch-thick layer of salt in a 2- to 3-inch-deep baking dish. Arrange the potatoes on the salt, spaced at least 1/2 inch from one another. Add rock salt to barely cover the potatoes. It’s convenient to leave a spot of each potato showing so you can locate and retrieve them easily.
Bake until tender, usually about 40 minutes, although I recommend you check the doneness after 30 minutes. To do this, press on an exposed potato “dot.” {Much of the roasting time is spent heating the salt.}
Wait for 5 minutes before you try to excavate the potatoes, then scoop deeply underneath each one to unearth it. They will be humid as they emerge, and will turn dusty white as they dry. Brush off any whole grains of salt that stick to the potatoes.
You can keep the potatoes warm piled on the salt for a while, but they are never as delicious as when freshly dug from the salt.
HASHED SWEET POTATOES
A TRICKY DISH TO DO IN VOLUME, AND HENCE, I RARELY MAKE IT AT THE restaurant, but it is easy for the home cook. An obvious friend to bacon and eggs, these lacy cakes are also good with almost any roasted meat or bird. The sweet-salty flavor and crispy texture are irresistible and appeal to those not usually fond of sweet potatoes. These hash browns are also very pretty made with a combination of starchy yellow sweet potatoes and a little bit of orange yam. {Don’t use all yams; by themselves, they would form a wet, dense mass, not a lacy cake. They don’t have enough starch to stick together and form a crust. They do, on the other hand, try to stick to the pan.}
FOR 4 INDIVIDUAL “CAKES,” TO SERVE 4:
Just over 1 pound yellow sweet potatoes or a combination of mostly sweet potatoes and a little bit of yam
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
Salt
Peel, then grate the potatoes on the widest face of your grater or in a processor.
Melt 1-1/2 teaspoons of the butter in an 8- to 9-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add about one-quarter of the grated potatoes, to cover the bottom of the pan in a 1/2-inch-deep tangle~you should barely be able to see the bottom of the pan. They should sizzle on contact. Season evenly with salt. Swirl the pan to urge the potatoes into a mass without compacting them, and cook for 5 minutes or so, then check gingerly at the edge of the tangle to see if the bottom has set a golden crust. Once it has, swirl the pan again to make sure the cake is not sticking, then flip the mass of potatoes like a pancake, or lift and turn it over with a spatula, in halves if necessary. Don’t be tempted to “neaten-up” or compress the potatoes; their charm lies in the irregular, lacy, crispy texture~and overhandling them makes them steam and will produce a dense, uninteresting patty. Add another 1-1/2 teaspoons of the butter to the edge of the pan, tilt in all directions to ensure it coats the whole surface, then leave it to brown the other face. This should take about 4 minutes. Serve immediately, or keep on a parchment paper–lined sheet pan in a warm oven while you make the remaining cakes. Don’t overlap the finished cakes.
Note: You can certainly make a larger cake in a larger pan, although it will be trickier to flip. If you have a griddle, you can free-form the cakes and then turn them with a spatula.
MARINATED ROASTED BEETS & TRUFFLED BEETS
MERCILESS COMMERCIAL CANNING PRACTICES HAVE MADE BEETS AN UNLOVED vegetable in many homes, but home-cooked, nutty-tender beets are a different matter. For the best flavor and texture, choose small beets, 1-1/2 to 2-1/2 inches in diameter. I always try to roast and marinate the beets a day in advance; they seem to taste sweeter and richer after a night in the refrigerator.
Satiny roasted beets are delicious with just a little salt, oil and vinegar, to be enjoyed by themselves, in salads, as part of an antipasto, or with grilled or roasted birds or beef. But they are stunning paired with black truffles; they absorb the truffle flavor as their own. Biting into a nutty slice of truffled beet is like biting into a thick slice of warm truffle. Truffled beets are especially good with air-dried beef, or roasted squab or duck.
FOR 4 TO 6 SERVINGS AS A SIDE DISH OR IN A SALAD:
12 golf ball–sized beets, stems and leaves removed {about 1-1/2 pounds total}
Salt
1 to 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar or black currant vinegar
About 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Preheat the oven to 375°.
Scrub the beets, trim the stem ends flat, and cut off the tails. Place in a wide baking dish, about as deep as the beets are tall, and add 1/4 inch of water. Cover tightly and bake until they feel barely tender through, about 25 minutes {figure more or less time for larger or smaller beets}; don’t overcook. To test for doneness, use a cake tester, bamboo skewer, or the tip of your skinniest paring knife and stab to the center of a beet. Remove from the oven and leave covered for 5 minutes to finish cooking.
Uncover the beets, rub off the skins, and trim the ends again. Cut into slices or wedges and taste; they should be nutty-tender with a subtle, mineraly sweetness. Place in a bowl, season lightly with salt and about a tablespoon of vinegar, and fold to distribute. Fold in olive oil to coat well. Taste again. The seasonings should flatter, not overwhelm, the subtle beet flavor you first tasted.
Stir and taste again just before serving. The beet flavor tends to become stronger as the beets cool, and they seem sweeter. If not serving the same day, cover and store refrigerated. The beets will keep for up to a week.
TRUFFLED BEETS
Roast and peel as described above, then slice 1/8 inch thick. Sprinkle with salt and only a teaspoon of vinegar, in deference to the truffle to come. Drizzle liberally with olive oil and fold gently. It should seem like a lot of olive oil, but you will be glad for this once it is truffle-scented. Taste for salt.
Thirty minutes to 4 hours before serving:
Preheat the oven to 275°, then turn it off.
Thinly slice up to 1 ounce black truffle, then layer it with the beets and their marinade in a small baking dish. Cover tightly and place in the oven to warm through, 15 minutes or so. Keep, still covered, in a warm spot, or in the oven if it is available, until serving.
To serve, spoon some of the fragrant oil over each plate of beets and truffles.
GRILLED EGGPLANT
A QUICK, SIMPLE DISH TO SERVE HOT, WARM, OR COLD, WITH GRILLED OR ROASTED meat or fish or in combination with other grilled vegetables. Offer Salsa Verde {here}, Green Olive-Lemon Relish {here} or Roasted Pepper Relish {here} on the side. This easy dish is a great way to show off sweet, tender eggplant, however, identifying that sweet eggplant is tricky. I do know what not to buy: withered or overripe specimens, where you can feel “hollows” when you press the sides. Incomplete coloration can mean underripe, and eggplant that feels really light for its size may be underripe as well. But unequivocal “buy” guidelines are scarce. I have tried to sort out reliable rules, studying color, shape, size, and condition of the blossom end, but nothing consistent has emerged. And I can’t smell a good eggplant from a mediocre one.
What matters quite a lot are climate, soil, farming practices, and stage in the harvest cycle; unfortunately, these are hard to ascertain at the market. In general, full-grown specimens from early in the season will be sweeter than the last ones plucked from the plant at the end of the season; making seeds triggers unpleasant flavor and texture changes in the fruit. But since eggplant is grown and ships well from many regions, and year-round, factoring in harvest cycle can be impossible. Buying locally grown eggplant, especially at the farmers’ market, is one good way to crack that nut.
The above notwithstanding, knowing the characteristics of specific varieties is very useful. For example, long, slender Chinese eggplant is predictably mild, thin-skinned, and delicate, the flesh very tender and velvety~great for grilling. Slender, curved Japanese eggplant {which, like its Chinese cousin, has an inky purple calyx} and rotund Italian varieties {whose calyx is green} run the range from very tender to a little coarse in texture, and from sweet to somewhat bitter, with the Japanese usually a safer bet. As long as they are not too mature and seedy, both are nice grilled. Unfortunately, the gorgeous streaky purple and white varieties, the pure white ones {some of which, appropriately, you might mistake for duck eggs}, and the lovely slender, pale Green Goddess eggplant are all frequently bitter. All miniature specimens I have tasted have been tough-skinned, seedy, and bitter, making them difficult to use in traditional Mediterranean preparations.
That said, I confess I choose eggplant by tasting it raw, and have done so regularly for years. This method, while it may seem impractical or unappetizing, is foolproof. First, because you get to see the flesh~the nicest eggplant has flesh that is dense, vaguely humid, and tender. It is glowing creamy white with a green tint~and it won’t discolor rapidly. It may have a few barely formed seeds, or no seeds yet at all. But the most compelling information comes from the tasting itself~when a nibble of the raw tender flesh is sweet, not unlike a soft, bland apple, and it often is, I buy a case or more.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
About 1 pound eggplant
4 to 6 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
Salt
Prepare a hot fire in a grill.
Just before grilling, slice the eggplant 3/8 to 1/2 inch thick, brush lightly on both sides with oil and sprinkle lightly and evenly with salt. I don’t salt eggplant in advance, whether to tenderize it, or to purge it of bitterness. I like the fleshy texture of freshly seasoned grilled eggplant, and as for drawing out the bitterness, I have never found this ritual very effective. It does draw out liquid, but where the eggplant was truly bitter, I’ve never found the treated vegetable to be much mellowed as a result.
Spread out the glowing orange coals and set the grill rack a few inches above to preheat. Just as the orange begins to fade, arrange the eggplant in a single layer on the grill. It should sizzle discreetly~if the grill and fire are not hot enough, the eggplant tends to bake and dry out rather than set a crispy-smoky crust. Cook for about 1 minute, then turn over and grill the other side. Bold black grill marks promise a pleasant charry flavor and give the fleshy slabs a great surface texture. Cook for another minute or so, until the eggplant is tender, moving it away from the hottest spots if the elegant black char marks threaten to grow into fully blackened faces. Serve right away, or arrange on a wide platter to cool. To preserve their texture, avoid stacking or overhandling the slices.
GRILLED ZUCCHINI OR SUMMER SQUASH
SIMPLE, INEXPENSIVE, AND VERSATILE. Grilled zucchini tastes best straight off the grill; it can become dull and soggy after cooling.
Choose freshly picked firm medium-sized squash; baby ones usually lack flavor, and large ones will be busy nourishing seeds. If possible, taste the squash raw. Zucchini doesn’t have to be bland; it should be sweet, and some varieties are reliably sweeter than others. I look for pale-green “old-fashioned” varieties, such as Lebanese, French, White, or Grise {gray}, and the tennis ball–sized Rond de Nice squash. I am glad the charismatic tromboncino {“little trombone”} is usually sweet; it is fun to buy, cut, grill, and serve. And costato zucchini, with little ridges from end to end, is reliably tasty. On the other hand, I find that showy banana-yellow zucchini and “starburst” squash usually disappoint flavorwise. But yellow crookneck squash can be quite sweet and is delicious grilled. So are pale green patty pan squashes.
FOR ABOUT 4 SERVINGS:
4 to 5 medium zucchini {about 1 pound}
Salt
4 to 6 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
Build a small grill fire and let it burn down to glowing coals.
Slice the zucchini lengthwise or on a steep angle into 1/2-inch-thick slices. Salt lightly and evenly and set aside for 5 to 10 minutes to soften. {This encourages the squash to cook more evenly and rapidly, retaining its delicate sweetness.}
Spread out the coals, position the grill rack about 3 inches above them and preheat. Brush the squash on both sides with olive oil. Arrange in a single layer on the grill. Grill for a few minutes per side, until nutty-tender. Move farther from or closer to the fire if any slices of squash threaten to char or are not coloring at all.
GRILLED ARTICHOKES
GRILLED RAW, IMMATURE ARTICHOKE “BUDS” HAVE A SUBTLE NUTTY FLAVOR AND present a lovely mantle of crispy, bronzed outer petals, surrounding layers of silky inner leaves. You need a very hot fire to virtually fry the outside and to cook the inner leaves before they dry out. Less-aggressive heat will merely wilt the artichokes; they will discolor and have a disappointing flavor. Grill the artichokes at the last minute. They turn leathery with time.
Choose tightly closed small artichokes, about 2 inches in diameter. They should feel heavy for their size and feel resilient when you squeeze them.
Serve as a side dish with grilled fish or meat garnished with lemon and olive oil, freshly made mayonnaise {see Aïoli, here, or Rich Balsamic Mayonnaise, here}, or with an anchovy-based sauce, such as Chopped Lemon Bagna Cauda {here}. Or serve them with white beans, shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano, and a splash of extra-virgin olive oil.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
16 young artichokes {about 1-1/2 to 2 pounds}
4 to 6 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
Salt
Prepare a hot fire in a grill.
Remove the dark green outer leaves from each artichoke to reveal the pale green heart. Trim off the thorny tips and stem, then “turn” the artichoke, trimming around the base. Cut the artichokes in half from stem to tip and toss with olive oil and salt. Make sure the artichokes are well coated, rubbing the cut faces in the oil to encourage them to accept the seasoning. Thread the artichokes on slender wooden or metal skewers, arranging them so the cut faces will lie flat on the grill.
Spread out the coals and set the grill rack 3 to 4 inches above them to preheat. Just as the orange coals begin to fade, place the skewers cut face down on the hot grill. You should hear a very faint sizzle, and within a few minutes, they should have golden grill marks. Turn them over to grill the rounded side. Grill until the outer leaves are golden and crispy, another minute or so. Squeeze one of the artichokes; it should be soft. If not, grill for another minute or so, a few inches distant from the hottest part of the fire. Slide the artichokes off the skewers and serve immediately.
GRILLED RADICCHIO
RADICCHIO IS MY FAVORITE VEGETABLE FOR GRILLING. The sizzling combination of charred and bittersweet and papery-dry layered with fleshy-moist is one I never tire of. For a stunning display, grill a combination of familiar red Chioggia radicchio, some of the speckly ruby and green Castelfranco variety, and Medusa-like heads of Treviso, along with wedges of frisée, and/or Belgian endive. Serve grilled radicchio with balsamic vinaigrette as a first course, or as a side dish with grilled birds, fish, beef, or lamb. It is also good at room temperature or cold, again with balsamic vinaigrette, or with Rich Balsamic Mayonnaise {here} or Toasted Bread Crumb Salsa {here}. Once the radicchio is cooked, take care not to crowd or stack it, or its extraordinary texture will turn heavy and sodden.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
3/4 to 1 pound radicchio {about 1 large head}
Salt
4 to 6 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
Build a fire in a grill. Spread out coals while they are red hot. Position the grill rack a few inches above them to preheat.
Meanwhile, remove damaged or wilted outer leaves from the radicchio, then shave any discoloration from the root end of the radicchio, leaving the core intact so that all the healthy leaves stay attached. Cut into 1-1/2-inch wedges. Toss and drizzle with salt and olive oil to coat. If your radicchio is especially dense, oil and season it at least 10 minutes before you grill it. This will soften it so the heat can penetrate quickly and evenly.
Set the radicchio cut face down on the hot grill. Turn when the first side is mottled with bronze and sparsely flecked with black, usually 3 to 5 minutes, and cook another 3 or 4 minutes on the second side. The leaves will tend to fan out as the radicchio cooks. The wedges will become pliable~but don’t fuss with them, or you will compact the steaming inner leaves and crumble the fragile outer ones. Left alone, the outer leaves will grill to a nice slightly charred delicacy, with a sweet, pipe tobacco-y aroma and taste. The protected inner leaves will be steamy warm and tender. The flavor dances from smoky-bacon to grapefruit-bitter.
Note: If charcoal grilling is not an option: Cook the radicchio under a preheated broiler. Space the wedges an inch or so from one another, and raise or lower the broiler rack during the process if, instead of charring, the radicchio begins to merely fade and wither or if it threatens to catch fire.
GRILLED BROCCOLI RABE
TOSSING BROCCOLI RABE WITH A LITTLE WATER, ALONG WITH THE OLIVE OIL, before grilling, means it will steam as it sizzles. This helps the tough branches cook through before they dry out.
Grilled broccoli rabe is easy to prepare and good next to grilled fish, poultry, or meat, or as part of a platter of grilled vegetables. It is tasty at room temperature.
FOR ABOUT 4 SERVINGS:
About 12 ounces broccoli rabe, trimmed
3 to 4 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
About 1 tablespoon water
Salt
Build a small fire in the grill and let it burn down to glowing coals.
Split any stalks of broccoli rabe that are more than 1/2 inch thick. Toss the rabe as you would a salad with the olive oil, water, and salt. Leave to soften for 5 to 10 minutes at room temperature.
Meanwhile, spread out the coals and position the grill rack about 3 inches above them to preheat.
Arrange the broccoli on the hot grill and cook for about 1-1/2 minutes per side, allowing the leaves and flowerets to char slightly as the water steams the thicker stems to tenderness. Serve immediately, or slide the broccoli rabe to a cool spot on the grill or onto a warm platter to keep until needed. Don’t stack, or you will compromise its pleasant papery-fleshy texture.
CHARD with LEMON OIL
A SIMPLE, FRAGRANT SIDE DISH, ESPECIALLY GOOD WITH FISH AND CHICKEN.
Choose very fresh green chard, just mature enough to issue a comforting scrunch when you squeeze the leaves. Very young chard is too limp, grassy, and thin tasting for this dish. Bigger leaves have a mellow, earthy flavor and a satisfying fleshy texture, which is perfect here.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
About 2 pounds green Swiss chard, damaged leaves trimmed
Salt
3 to 4 tablespoons Lemon Oil {here, or see Sources and Resources, here}
Wash the chard leaves in several baths of cold water, then use a paring knife to strip the leafy green parts from the white stems. Set the stems aside for another use {see below}.
Prepare a basin of ice water large enough to hold the cooked chard leaves.
Drop the chard into 4 quarts or more of boiling, lightly salted water {I use 2 teaspoons sea salt per gallon}. Taste a bit of leaf as soon as the water returns to a boil~it will be tough and slightly mineraly or metallic. Continue to taste every 15 seconds or so until the chard is al dente, with no trace of metallic rawness, usually within 1 minute of boiling. The leaves should be soft but not limp; they should hold their shape and be a rich, dark green.
Lift from the water and drop the leaves into the ice water to stop the cooking. Drain and layer between towels to dry. Remove any white veins that turn gray as they cool.
Place the chard in a 3-quart sauté pan or 12-inch skillet. Drizzle with the lemon oil and set over medium-low heat. Stir and fold until the chard is warm and coated with lemon oil. It will wilt a little, but it should remain al dente. Salt to taste. Serve hot, warm, or cold.
TURNING CHARD STEMS into CHARD FRIES
If the stems are in very good condition, try this: Trim the ends and any discolored or damaged sections. Coat each stem first with beaten egg, and then with all-purpose flour; re-dip in the beaten egg, and finish by dredging in fine fresh bread crumbs {here}. Refrigerate for about 30 minutes to set the crust, then deep-fry at 365°, or shallow-fry in 1 inch peanut oil until golden. Drain on towels and serve with freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. See Piccolo Fritto {here} for detailed information on deep-frying.
WILTED ESCAROLE
FLESHY OUTER ESCAROLE LEAVES~TOO TOUGH FOR SALAD~MAKE A DELICIOUS “what-is-this?” side dish. Slowly wilted, the sturdy leaves fall into gorgeous, satiny folds with a long, earthy, sweet flavor. Don’t be tempted to use the pale escarole hearts~they usually turn brown and lack sweetness; save them for salads. Good with fish, poultry, pork, or beef.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
8 to 12 ounces dark green outer escarole leaves, limp and discolored spots trimmed
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil or 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
Zest of 1 lemon, removed with a zester
Up to 1/4 cup water
Salt
Wash the escarole leaves in several baths of cold water to remove every trace of grit. Tear the leaves into 3- to 4-inch lengths. Drain well, but don’t spin-dry.
Place half of the oil or butter, lemon zest, water, and escarole in a 3-quart sauté pan or 12-inch skillet. Sprinkle with salt. Cover and set over medium heat. As soon as the water begins to steam, uncover, and then stir every 10 seconds or so until all of the leaves are uniformly wilted and vibrant, glistening green. If the water evaporates before the leaves are cooked, add a few more drops at a time, just enough to keep the escarole from frying. The bright flavor and texture depend on quick cooking in even, steamy heat, not boiling water.
Transfer the leaves to a warm plate. Add the remaining butter or oil, lemon zest, and escarole and water as needed to the pan and cook as described above. Serve promptly, spooning the syrupy oil or butter that remains in the pan over the leaves. If the liquid is watery, not syrupy, raise the heat and simmer briefly until it has some body, then spoon over the escarole.
LONG-COOKED ROMANO BEANS
THE FIRST TIME WE SERVED THESE BEANS, MORE THAN A DECADE AGO, I WONDERED if they would be too homey for contemporary tastes. I should not have worried. They are hours from bright green and al dente, but, perfectly prepared, they have a velvety texture and long flavor that are very satisfying. You can also use mature Blue Lake or Kentucky Wonder beans, which are inexpensive and abundant all summer and well into the fall. Choose beans that are just beginning to bulge with seeds but are still tender. Don’t substitute yellow wax beans or yellow romanos.
Serve with beef, pork, or birds and soft or Roasted Polenta {here}.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
About 2 pounds romano beans
About 1/4 cup mild-tasting olive oil
Salt
A few pinches of chili flakes, to taste
2 to 4 garlic cloves, lightly crushed
Break or snip the stem ends off the beans. Unless they are badly shriveled, I leave the tail ends intact. Place in a 6-quart Dutch oven or crowd in a 4-quart saucepan. Drizzle and fold with olive oil to coat all the beans generously, sprinkling with salt and chili flakes as you go. I use my hands to do this. Drop the garlic cloves on top, cover, and place over very low heat. You should barely hear a faint sizzle. Stir a few times during the first 30 minutes, to make sure the beans on the bottom don’t scorch, covering the pot again quickly each time so the little steam the beans produce doesn’t evaporate {don’t add water~the flavor and texture will suffer if you do}.
Once the beans begin to soften, usually after about 45 minutes, stir again. Taste for salt. Once they have started to soften, you should notice the oil pooling shallowly on the bottom of the pot. Now check on the beans every 30 minutes or so, but stir only once more, and gently, to avoid crushing the beans. Cook until the beans are utterly tender and limp and have a rich, concentrated flavor, usually about 2 hours total cooking time {smaller beans may take less time than fleshy romanos}. Waiting for this degree of doneness will require a leap of faith for anyone trained to favor al dente vegetables. The beans at the bottom of the pot may color a little during the last 30 minutes before the whole pot is ready, but they will still be delicious.
BRAISED PEAS with ONIONS, SAGE, & PANCETTA
NO CONSPIRACY OF NATURE AND CLEVER FARMER HAS EVER DELIVERED A BUSHEL of evenly sized, tiny, sweet English peas that stay that way for even twenty-four hours, so we began making this dish, which calls for those inevitable “culls” {oversized, “gone-starchy,” day-old peas}. This recipe flies in the face of my long-held prejudice for just-cooked spring vegetables, but the result is delicious, and preparation easy. It is a rich dish, so serve it with lean poultry or fresh pork, rather than rich duck or squab, cured pork, or red meat. Braised peas are also good with Ricotta Gnocchi {here}. This dish is delicious made with fava beans; choose fairly large ones and double-peel them raw {see here}. You can leave out the pancetta if you feel like a meatless dish.
FOR 3-1/2 TO 4 CUPS, OR 4 TO 6 SERVINGS:
2 cups finely diced yellow onions {8 ounces}
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 cups large and/or starchy green peas
A sprig of fresh sage
2 to 3 ounces pancetta, finely minced {1/3 to 1/2 cup, packed}
Warm the butter in a 2-quart saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the onions with a little salt, stir, and cook slowly until they begin to soften. Add the peas, sage, and pancetta, and salt again conservatively. Stir to coat everything, cover tightly, and cook over low heat for 30 minutes to 1 hour, depending on the size of the peas. You should hear a very quiet sputtering. Don’t try to rush the peas~you will spoil their velvety texture or, worse, scorch them. Stir occasionally, but don’t leave the pan uncovered for more than a moment~the only moisture in the dish is that in the vegetables themselves, and you don’t want it to escape as steam. Don’t add water; it would change the flavor and texture.
The peas are ready when they are uniformly drab green and velvety tender but still intact. Don’t cook them so long that they begin to shed their skins en masse; once they do, they quickly fall into purée and become heavy and pasty. The juice should be rich and velvety. If at all thin, simmer gently, uncovered, folding once or twice with a rubber spatula, until it thickens. Taste and serve.
SUGAR SNAP BOATS
THE SUGAR SNAP PEA IS A BRILLIANT HYBRID THAT HAS SEVERAL ADVANTAGES OVER old-fashioned English peas. Primarily, you have a good chance of finding sweet ones and getting them to the table that way. And, as with snow peas, you can eat the whole pod, but it is fleshier and crunchier than the parent stock, and sweeter as well. As long as they are firm and bright green, and the pods neither distressed nor bulging, you can largely count on perfect yield, great flavor, and minimal labor.
I like to cook sugar snaps cut into little “boats”~they cook evenly and rapidly, scoop up what they are cooked in, and stay on your fork. They present a pretty clutter of saber-shapes, dots, and half-dots. They are tasty and charming tossed with Ricotta Gnocchi {here}.
Always cook sugar snaps just before you plan to eat them. Their improbable sweetness shows best fresh from the fire; it can turn mineraly tasting if you try to keep them warm or reheat them.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
12 ounces sugar snap peas
1 to 2 tablespoons unsalted butter or extra-virgin olive oil, or as needed
Water
A fresh basil leaf, a few fresh tarragon leaves, or a sprig of fresh chervil, chopped {optional}
Salt
String both edges of the snap peas~the inside curve will yield a real filament, the outside one may be less bothersome, but check for it anyway. Cut lengthwise in half, not along the seam, but across the rounded face: one piece will be a half-almond shape, and the peas and half-peas inside will easily fall out. The other piece will look like a canoe with the bottom shaved off; its half-peas will stay attached to the pod.
Place the peas in a shallow pan that holds them in a single layer. Add the butter or oil and water to come to a depth of 1/4 inch. Turn the heat to high, cover, and bring to a boil. Check every 15 or 20 seconds and add a little more water, but not enough to come to more than 1/8 inch deep now, whenever the pan gets close to dry. After a minute or so, taste a pea pod. They are best when they have just lost their grassy raw taste but still have crunch~depending on the peas, your burner, and the pan, plan on 2 to 4 minutes. Don’t overcook.
Uncover, add the optional basil, chervil, or tarragon, and boil off nearly all of the water. Add an extra nut of butter or splash of oil if you like. Salt to taste.
CREAMED CORN
SIMPLE AND VERY RICH. A spoonful with a few grilled or sautéed shrimp makes a nice appetizer. Pick out the youngest ears of corn in the bin, those with small, juicy kernels. They are fairly tender to start with and need little more than heating through.
This recipe includes a basic technique for shaving fresh corn kernels from the cob. Your goal is to harvest the rounded tips of the kernels, leaving most of the tough kernel casing behind, while still capturing all the sweet juice.
You can substitute crème fraîche for the mascarpone; the result will be silkier and a little less sweet. {See “real” crème fraîche, here.}
FOR 4 SERVINGS AS A SIDE DISH, 6 TO 8 AS PART OF AN APPETIZER:
3 cups scraped corn kernels and their milky juice {see method below} {6 to 12 ears young corn, depending on size and condition}
Scant 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
Salt
A little water, as needed
Up to 1/2 cup mascarpone, at room temperature
Freshly cracked black pepper
Scraping the corn: Shuck the corn and remove all the silk. Trim the tip of each cob, but don’t break off the stalk~it makes a convenient handle. Holding the cob at an angle, position the knife blade flat against each ear and slide it smoothly down the length of the ear~don’t cut too close to the cob. Rotate the ear a little after each swipe, until you have harvested all of the tips of the kernels. Now, scrape the whole cob, this time with the dull side of the knife, to force out the milky juice at the base of each kernel. Since the corn tends to fly and the juice splatter as you scrape, you may want to contain this inconvenience by setting up the operation in a wide bowl, tub, or shallow roasting pan. Holding the dull side nearly flat against the stripped cob will direct most of the juice into the vessel instead of onto your kitchen walls.
Melt the butter in a 12-inch skillet over medium-low heat, add the corn and a pinch of salt, and stir with a spatula as you slowly heat the corn through. If the corn is at all dry, flick in a little water with your fingertips and stir as it steams. Taste a kernel of corn~if it isn’t very tender, add water by the spoonful and stir as the corn cooks to tenderness. Once the corn is tender, stir in mascarpone, a few spoonfuls at a time, to taste. Serve just as it tries to bubble at the edge of the pan. Top with pepper.
BRAISED FENNEL
WE ONCE MADE THIS EASY RECIPE FOR A BENEFIT FOR 400 PEOPLE, WHICH translated into gently browning 1,200 wedges of fennel in two hours’ time on the only two burners we weren’t using for lunch service that day. It was, in kitchen parlance, “a nightmare,” but the fennel was so good that the trauma was soon forgotten and we still make it regularly. This is very easy to make for 8, 12, or more people.
Choose plump fennel bulbs that feel heavy for their size. I don’t use the lovely bright green baby fennel that is popular these days. It tends to be fibrous, tough, and more “green” tasting than sweet. And I avoid bulbs, large or small, that are loosely layered and “scrunchy” rather than firm. Good with birds, lamb, and especially pork.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
3 fennel bulbs, trimmed {about 8 to 10 ounces each}
2 to 3 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
About 1/2 cup dry white vermouth or dry white wine
About 1/2 cup Chicken Stock {here}
Salt
Pinch of sugar, if needed
A splash of pastis, such as Pernod or Ricard, if needed
Preheat the oven to 375°.
Cut the fennel into 1- to 1-1/2-inch wedges.
Warm a film of olive oil in a 10- or 12-inch skillet over medium-low heat. Make a crowded mosaic of fennel wedges in the pan and cook until delicately golden on the bottom, about 5 minutes, then turn and gild the other side. Salt lightly. Remove the cooked wedges, add more oil as needed, and repeat until you have browned all of the fennel.
Arrange the wedges in a flameproof baking dish that holds them in a single very crowded layer. Add vermouth and chicken stock in equal proportions to come to a depth of 1/2 inch. Bring the dish to a simmer, then transfer to the oven and bake until the fennel is tender, 20 to 30 minutes. Taste the pan juices~if they are thin tasting or too acidic, tilt the dish to one side until the juices puddle and stir in the optional sugar and/or pastis to balance the flavor. Set the baking dish over low heat until the juice bubbles. Serve promptly.
Note: This dish is good reheated. Cover very loosely and heat in a 350° oven.
BAKED ARTICHOKES with ONIONS, LEMONS, BLACK OLIVES, & MINT
I LOVE THIS DISH FOR ITS EARTHY, SATISFYING TEXTURES AND FLAVORS THAT MELD so well. It is based on the gorgeous, satiny baked artichokes that crowd the windows of Roman groceries in the spring. It is also delicious made with crisp green olives and fresh rosemary leaves.
For general notes on choosing artichokes, see Artichoke Caponata {here}. For this dish you will appreciate big blooms with meaty “bottoms.” Thick stems are a good indication of that. I suggest sweet yellow onions here; if you can’t find them, use regular yellow onions, and plan on adding a little water if they don’t throw off enough juice.
FOR 4 OR 8 SERVINGS:
2 pounds thinly sliced sweet yellow onions {about 8 cups}, such as Granex, Vidalia, Walla Walla, or Maui
3/4 to 1 cup mild-tasting olive oil
Salt
4 garlic cloves, slivered
1/3 cup Niçoise or Gaeta olives {about 2 ounces}, rinsed
A dozen fresh mint leaves, very coarsely chopped
1/2 lemon {cut lengthwise}
About 6 tablespoons dry white wine
4 bright green, tightly closed arti-chokes, 3-1/2 inches in diameter
A little water, as needed
Preheat the oven to 375°.
Toss the onions with about 1/2 cup of the olive oil and about 1-1/2 teaspoons salt {if using kosher salt, use a little more}. Add the garlic, olives, and mint.
Trim off one pithy end of the lemon, then slice it as thin as possible into half-moons, stopping when you hit pith at the other end. Remove seeds as you encounter them. Toss the lemon slices with the onion mixture, add the white wine, and set aside to let the onions soften and “weep” their moisture while you trim the artichokes.
Trim the bottom of the stem of each artichoke and carefully peel the stalk. Remove badly damaged or dry outer leaves. Trim the thorns with scissors or slice them off with a sharp paring knife. Cut the artichoke in half, then use a stainless steel spoon to carve under and remove the thistley choke, leaving the meaty bottom intact. Rinse in cold water; don’t drain well~a little water between the leaves helps ensure that the artichokes cook thoroughly and evenly.
Sprinkle the artichokes with salt, squeezing and folding them so some salt falls between the leaves. Drizzle and rub with olive oil to coat thoroughly, then squeeze the halves so you can trickle and rub some oil between the leaves.
Spread the juicy onion mixture about 1-1/2 inches deep in a large, flameproof baking dish {I use a 10- by-14-inch lasagna pan}. The liquid should be about 1/2 inch deep; if not, add a little water. {This puddle will generate steam to keep the artichokes moist as they cook.} Nestle the artichokes cut side down in the bed of onions. They will be crowded.
Heat gently over a low flame until the puddle is bubbling, then cover tightly~first with parchment paper, then foil, dull side out~and bake until you can easily pull out a second-tier leaf and the pulp at its base is tender. This usually takes about 1-1/2 hours; the exact size of the artichokes, as well as the baking dish and oven performance, will affect the cooking time. Be aware that the outermost layer of leaves will emerge a little leathery, which I like.
Once a test leaf is tender, raise the oven temperature to 400°, uncover, and bake for about 15 minutes longer to concentrate the flavors and lightly brown the tips of the vegetables. Serve hot, warm, or cold, as is, or with homemade mayonnaise flavored with lemon, garlic, or a few chopped anchovy fillets {see Lemon Mayonnaise, here}.
Cover any leftovers tightly and refrigerate; they will be silkier and sweeter the next day. Bring to room temperature before serving, or heat slowly, loosely covered, in a 300° oven.
TOMATO SUMMER PUDDING
MODELED ON THE TRADITIONAL ENGLISH DESSERT OF JUICY BERRIES ENCASED IN tender white bread, this dish is fine way to show off really ripe tomatoes and day-old bread. Carefully layered like a dish of baked lasagne, it is uncharacteristically orderly for Zuni. Unlike the homey chopped tomato and bread salads of Tuscany, this is a tidier panzanella, contrived to display colorful heirloom tomatoes. Different regions, farms, or backyards will favor certain varieties, but my favorites for this dish are Brandywine, Marvel-Stripe, and Granny’s Gold. I intersperse these sweet types with a few citrusy Lemon Boys, sweet, piney Evergreens, and tart-rich Purple Cherokees or Black Krims. Whatever their names, choose tender tomatoes with silky, thin skins. Avoid refrigerating tomatoes~even very ripe ones. Being a semitropical fruit, tomatoes are ill equipped for the cold; it damages the cells, leaving them less fragrant. Warming them up doesn’t seem to revive the scent. And the refrigerator always seems to make tender tomatoes turn mushy.
Choose herbs and other ingredients with a view to the rest of your meal and then add them sparingly; they should flatter the tomatoes, not compete with them. Garnish with red Sweet 100s, orange Sungolds, or sprigs of tiny currant tomatoes.
Make the pudding an hour or more in advance to allow the flavors to mingle and the bread to fully soften. Serve as a first course, or as a supper dish on a hot summer night, with a plate of cured meats or cold roasted chicken.
Wine: Würzburger Stein Silvaner Spätlese Trocken, Weingut Juliusspital, 1999
FOR ABOUT 6 SERVINGS:
About 8 ounces day-old, chewy, peasant-style bread, sliced about 1/4 inch thick
A few garlic cloves, peeled
Scant 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
About 2-1/2 pounds very ripe tomatoes, preferably several flavors and colors of heirlooms
About 1/4 cup fresh basil, parsley, or cilantro leaves, very coarsely chopped
1 medium shallot {about 1/2 ounce}, finely diced, or a scant 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
1/2 small cucumber {about 3 ounces}, peeled and diced
1 cup Sweet 100, Sungold, or currant tomatoes, to garnish
Preheat the broiler. Crisp and brown the bread lightly on one side only. Rub the crispy side of the bread with the raw garlic; set the garlic aside. Brush the soft side with water. Stack the bread and place in a plastic bag to steam and soften as it cools.
Combine the oil, vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste to make a mild vinaigrette.
Core the tomatoes. Cut in half from stem to blossom end, then slice crosswise into half-moons about 1/4 inch thick. Capture all the juice and add it to the vinaigrette. Pick out the bottoms and shoulders of the tomatoes. Coarsely chop them, salt lightly, and scrape into a strainer. Set this over the vinaigrette, smash and press the tomato bits with a spoon, and leave to drain.
Build the pudding in a soufflé dish, wide bowl, gratin dish, or other comparable vessel with a capacity of about 1-1/2 quarts; it should be at least 3 inches deep. Rub the dish with the raw garlic. Cutting the bread into appropriate shapes, carpet the bottom of the dish~leave only small gaps, but don’t overlap the slices. Next, make a solid shingled double layer of tomatoes. Scatter with a little of the shallot or red onion and cucumber and the herb. Whisk, then drizzle a few tablespoons of vinaigrette over all. Add another layer of bread, then press with the back of a spoon or fork to encourage the tomatoes to release their juice. Repeat the sequence two or three more times, finishing with a layer of tomatoes. You may not use all of the ingredients, and you should have a few spoonfuls of extra vinaigrette as well. Save both for garnishing. Poke the pudding randomly with a skewer or a meat fork.
Cover with parchment paper or plastic, then choose a flat-bottomed dish that will fit just inside the pudding dish. Place on top and press down firmly. Add a weight~some kitchen item that will fit on the plate and weighs a couple of pounds {I use my heaviest mortar}. Set aside at room temperature.
After an hour or so, remove the weight and plate and check to see if the pudding is juicy enough by sliding a knife down the side of dish; angle the knife to pry the pudding away from the dish. The pudding should ooze. Taste the juice. If the pudding seems dry, drizzle a little more vinaigrette over the top, adjusting its balance first if you thought the ooze was either too acidic or too oily. Press the pudding again until ready to serve.
To serve, slide a knife around the edge of the pudding, then place a platter upside down on top of the the dish and carefully turn them over together. Holding both the platter and dish tightly, rap the platter firmly on the counter to release the pudding. Ease the dish off the pudding. Present whole, then cut into wedges. Garnish with the little tomatoes, and remaining sliced tomatoes, cucumber, and/or herbs. Spoon extra vinaigrette onto each serving to taste.
ROASTED APPLESAUCE & SAVORY APPLE CHARLOTTE
ROASTED APPLES PRODUCE A CHUNKY, FLAVORFUL APPLESAUCE. We serve it hot or warm with poultry or pork. Baked in bread-lined custard cups, roasted apple charlottes make an elegant side dish.
Use crisp eating apples for this recipe, rather than soft, fine-textured baking varieties. We use Sierra Beauties, Braeburns, Pippins, or even Golden Delicious and Galas.
FOR ABOUT 3 CUPS:
3-1/2 to 4 pounds apples
Pinch of salt
Up to 2 teaspoons sugar, as needed
About 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
A splash of cider vinegar, as needed
Preheat the oven to 375°.
Peel, core, and quarter the apples. Toss with a little salt and, unless they are very sweet, a bit of sugar to taste. If they are tart enough to make you squint, add the full measure of sugar. Spread in a shallow baking dish that crowds the apples in a single layer. Drape with slivers of the butter, cover tightly, and bake until the apples start to soften, 15 to 30 minutes, depending on your apples.
Uncover, raise the heat to 500°, and return the pan to the oven. Leave the apples to dry out and color slightly, about 10 minutes.
When the tips of the apples have become golden and the fruit is tender, scrape them into a bowl and stir into a chunky “mash.” Season with salt and sugar to taste, then consider a splash of apple cider vinegar to brighten the flavor. {Try a drop on a spoonful to see if you like it.}
SAVORY APPLE CHARLOTTE
MAKE THESE CHARLOTTES IN STRAIGHT-SIDED 6-OUNCE RAMEKINS OR CUSTARD CUPS.
FOR 4 SERVINGS:
A chunk of day-old, chewy, peasant-style bread {4 ounces or more~you won’t use more than 2 ounces, but you need plenty to work with in order to get the right shapes}
About 2 to 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
About 1-1/3 cups Roasted Applesauce
Preheat the oven to 350°.
Slice the bread 1/8 inch thick. {Partially freeze it if necessary to get even slices.} Avoiding the crust, cut 8 circles sized to fit the bottom of your custard cups, then cut 4 long rectangles to line the sides. The side piece should rise about 1/8 inch above the rims. {Cut paper templates first to make this easy.} A snug fit and even edges will make your charlottes prettiest. {Save scraps and rejects for bread crumbs.}
Brush the bread evenly, on one side only, with the melted butter. Line the custard cups with the bread, pressing the buttered faces against the dishes. Set the 4 extra circles aside. Fill each cup with roasted applesauce. Set the remaining bread circles, buttered side up, on top, held in place by the surrounding bread. Press down lightly.
Bake until golden brown on top, about 30 minutes. To serve, slide a knife around the edge of each charlotte, then turn out onto warm plates. If the bottom circles stick to the dish; retrieve them by sliding a salad fork under the edges. The charlottes should be golden all over, with tasty caramelized spots where the applesauce bled through the coarse-textured bread.
FRESH SHELLING BEANS
FRESH SHELLING BEANS ARE MORE TROUBLE TO FIND THAN THEY ARE TO COOK. During their too-short season, they are a cheerful, tasty change from the staple dried beans we cook the rest of the year. Mottled cranberry beans seem to be the most popular fresh shelling beans, but fresh white beans and fresh flageolets are my favorites. I’ve found fresh chickpeas too few times; they yield a pretty, bright green “pea” and they are delicious.
Buying shelling beans is much like buying fresh peas; you pay a premium for the inedible pod, and yields can be a surprise. For the best flavor and yield, poke around the bin and pick out medium-sized, fleshy pods that are swollen with beans and heavy for their size. Keep the beans in their protective humid pods and refrigerated until you are ready to cook them~they discolor readily once they are shucked.
We use fresh shelling beans in soups and pastas, and simmer them with tomato and herbs {See Fagioli all’Uccelletto, here}. But they show particularly well in simple presentations. Freshly cooked and tossed with excellent olive oil, salt, pepper, and slivers of raw sweet red onion, they make a good side vegetable. Or, for a simple hors d’œuvre, garnish that same mixture with shavings of pungent tuna bottarga {see here}, or flank it with a few thin slices of cured meat. At room temperature, shelling beans make a lovely salad with a few leaves of arugula, a little chopped shallot, mild red wine vinaigrette, shavings of aged pecorino or Manchego cheese, and freshly cracked black pepper.
FOR ABOUT 2 CUPS:
1 to 1-1/2 pounds shelling beans in their pods {about 2 cups shucked}
1 carrot, peeled, split lengthwise, and cut into a few chunks
1 small yellow onion, quartered
1 bay leaf
Water, to cover
Salt
About 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Shuck the beans and rinse in cold water. Discard any discolored or shriveled beans.
Place the carrot, onion, and bay leaf in a 2-quart saucepan and add cold water to cover. Cover and simmer over low heat until the vegetables have softened and flavored the water, 25 minutes or so.
Add the beans and enough water to barely cover them. {A few varieties of beans~cranberry beans and black-eyed peas in particular~may turn the cooking water an unappetizing gray, you can avoid this by parboiling them separately before you add them to the vegetable brew.} Bring to a simmer, then tilt the pot and skim any foam that floats to the surface.
Simmer gently uncovered until the beans are tender, 5 to 20 minutes, depending on the variety and maturity. Stir a few times to ensure even cooking, and add water as needed to keep everything just covered. To test for doneness, spoon a few beans and their liquid into a shallow dish and set to cool for a minute in the freezer. Eat a cooled bean. If there is no raw taste or feel, it is ready. If you are unsure, cut a second bean in half. You can usually read doneness in the cut face: it should be moist and tender through, with no pale, chalky core. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in salt to taste. Since it will take a while for the beans to absorb the salt, taste the liquid, not the beans, for salt. Stir in the olive oil and leave the beans to cool completely in the cooking liquid.
Cover and refrigerate, still in their liquid, until needed. They should hold well for up to 4 days.
DRIED BEANS
THIS IS A GOOD BASIC METHOD FOR COOKING MOST TYPES OF DRIED BEANS~IT forces you to get the doneness and salt right. You can double, triple, or quadruple the quantity of beans, as long as you use a larger pot, watch the liquid level, and stir regularly. Exact cooking times and yields vary with the size and dryness of the beans. Different batches of the same type of bean from different sources, or in different years, may cook differently. Soaking will always reduce cooking time and, in my experience, sometimes helps to keep the skins from splitting during cooking, but it is not obligatory, and with really freshly dried beans, can cause problems. My cooks and I struggled for weeks with one batch of cannellini beans that shed their skins completely and cooked to mushy before they’d lost their starchiness; finally, when we skipped the soaking step, they came out perfectly. Consequently, we now only soak batches of beans we’ve had success soaking before, and we never soak lentils or tiny “rice” beans. They are so small they cook in less than 30 minutes anyway. Since most types of cooked beans become creamier after a day or so in the refrigerator, and often the flavor improves, I usually try to cook them in advance. Cooking beans tightly covered does tend to give them a suave texture, but it doesn’t improve the flavor the way the passage of time can.
Most of the other ingredients in the recipe are negotiable; you can use more, less, or different aromatic vegetables, including garlic or leeks, for example. You can add herbs, like fresh thyme or sage; spices, such as chili pods or peppercorns; or a scrap of prosciutto or bacon rind if you want. For more character, use a little stock in place of some of the water. The natural and added salts in stock will slow down the cooking and toughen the beans slightly, but the resulting depth of flavor makes it worth it. When cooking beans for confit-based dishes, finish with a spoonful of duck fat in lieu of olive oil.
Buy dried beans where they sell a lot of them. All other things being equal, this year’s harvest will taste better and have a nicer texture than last year’s. And pass over those attractive packets of mixed beans; they promise a confusion of under- and over-cooked.
FOR 2 TO 3 CUPS:
1 cup dried beans
Water to cover by an inch or so
1 small carrot, peeled, split lengthwise, and cut into a few chunks
1 small yellow onion, peeled and trimmed, leaving the root end intact, and halved
1 bay leaf
Salt
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil {or duck fat, if using with, or in, confit dishes}
Rinse the beans and place in a 2-quart saucepan. Add cold water to cover by about an inch and bring to a simmer. Skim any foam. Stir, then add the carrot, onion, and bay leaf. Maintaining a very gentle simmer, cook the beans uncovered until tender but not mushy, anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours, depending on the variety of the bean and how dry it was. Stir occasionally early on, especially if you are cooking larger quantities, so those on the bottom are not crushed, and add water as necessary so that the beans remain just covered. To test for doneness, place a few beans and a little cooking liquid in a cup and set in the freezer for a minute to cool a bit. {If you drain and taste one straight from the pan, piping hot, you won’t get an accurate read on tenderness}. Taste one. If it is tender through and shows no trace of raw starchiness, pull the pan from the heat and add salt to taste, gently stirring to make sure it will be evenly absorbed. Taste the bean liquid for salt, not the beans, which will take a while to absorb it. Stir in the olive oil {or duck fat}.
If you serve the beans immediately they will be nutty and their cooking liquid watery and clear, making them ideal for salads, brothy soups, or pasta dishes. Otherwise, let the beans cool in their liquid, then store, still in their liquid, covered and refrigerated for up to 4 or 5 days. They will tend to be silkier and, depending on the variety, may have a sweeter, rounder flavor by the next day. The cooking liquid will gradually thicken and become cloudy.
If you choose to soak the beans: Up to about 8 hours in advance, rinse, then soak the beans in double their volume of cold water. If soaking more than a few cups of beans, swish them around after a half an hour to loosen the pile, so the beans on the bottom of the pile don’t get crushed as they soften. When ready to cook, drain and rinse the beans. Notice how much they have swollen, and squeeze one: if they are already quite soft, expect them to cook rapidly, in half the normal time for that type of bean. Place in the pan, add water to just cover, and cook as described above.
FAGIOLI all’UCCELLETTO
“FAGIOLI ALL’UCCELLETTO ”SOUNDS MORE CHEERFUL THAN “BEANS WITH HERBS and tomato,” and I stopped pondering years ago whether cooking beans this way really makes beans {fagioli} taste like a little bird {uccelletto}, or whether I’d ever had little birds cooked like this in Italy. This version of the Tuscan staple presents a light dish of creamy beans in a silky liquid flecked with bits of tomato, rather than the usual beans saturated with tomato sauce. Look forward to occasional whole peppercorns, which soften as they simmer with the beans; I think they are exciting to bite into~but you can substitute cracked pepper if that sounds disturbing to you. Wild mushrooms, fresh or dried, are a good addition to the bean stew. We use fresh shelling beans or dried beans at Zuni~mottled cranberry beans, any sort of white bean, flageolets, or pea beans. Black-eyed peas, purple crowders, and limas are all nice cooked this way as well. The texture of the dish is best if you start with beans cooked a day in advance. And the flavor is best if you let the finished dish cool completely, then carefully reheat it just before serving.
These beans are good with little and big birds, and with beef, pork, or lamb. I like them with meaty monkfish and with salt cod too. Or make them the center of a meatless meal, paired with grilled eggplant, summer squash or porcini mushrooms. Any leftover beans are a good start on tomorrow’s, or the next day’s, soup.
Wine: Chianti Classico, Geografico, 1999
FOR ABOUT 3-1/2 CUPS, OR ABOUT 4 SERVINGS:
A small scrap of prosciutto~skin or sinewy shank meat {optional}
1/2 cup diced ripe red or gold tomato {about 4 ounces}, or chopped drained canned tomatoes
Salt
1/2 cup diced red or yellow onions {2 ounces}
About 1/4 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
A leafy sprig of fresh sage
A leafy branch of fresh thyme
A small sprig of fresh rosemary
A sprig of fresh flat-leaf parsley or a few parsley stems {optional}
A few garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 to 1-1/2 ounces cleaned wild mushrooms, preferably porcini or chanterelles {see here}, chopped, or 1/4 ounce dried wild mushrooms, rinsed in cold water, then chopped {optional}
2-1/2 cups cooked beans with their cooking liquid {see here or here}, preferably cooked a day or two in advance
Place the prosciutto scrap, if using, in a small pot, add a few cups of water, cover, and leave to simmer while you begin the sauce. {Alternatively, simmer it with the beans when you first cook them.}
Season the diced fresh tomato, if using, with a pinch of salt and leave to drain in a strainer.
Warm about half of the olive oil in a 3-quart sauté pan or a 4-quart saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the onions, stir, and cook until just translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the peppercorns. Crush the herbs with the back of your knife so that they will release their flavor, then tie in a bundle and add to the onions. Stir in the garlic and the wild mushrooms, if using. Raise the heat slightly, stir, and cook until the onions at the edges of the pan are just threatening to color.
Reduce the heat to low and add the rest of the olive oil and the beans, with most of their cooking liquid. Add the tomatoes and the softened prosciutto scrap, if using. The beans should be just covered; add a little more bean liquid if they aren’t. Bring to a bare simmer and cook for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. The herbs will go quite limp but the tomato should not break down. Taste.
Remove from the heat and cool to room temperature, uncovered. Cover and refrigerate the beans if you need to hold them for more than an hour. Either way, the tomatoey sauce will have more body if you let the beans cool thoroughly. If the beans seem at all shy on sauce, or if the sauce seems pasty, add more bean cooking liquid or a splash of water.
About 10 minutes before serving, reheat the beans, stirring gently once or twice over low heat. Don’t boil, or the sauce may become grainy or pasty. Retrieve the bundle of herbs and squeeze out any sauce it tries to take with it. Most of the leaves will have fallen off; if not, let the bouquet cool and use your fingers to strip them off into the sauce.
Provide the remaining extra-virgin olive oil to garnish.
LENTILS BRAISED in RED WINE
HERE IS SIMPLE DISH FULL OF CHARACTER. If it suits your taste, and the rest of the meal, you can elaborate on the basic recipe by adding bacon rind or prosciutto scraps, or a branch of thyme or a bay leaf, all at the beginning. The stingy-with- liquid method, which will remind you of risotto-making, keeps the flavors concentrated. We use tiny, plump black lentils or dark green French lentils, both of which are about the size of a peppercorn. If you use flat olive green lentils, they may cook more rapidly and require less liquid. In either case, using chicken stock will slow the cooking a little, but will give the dish a more complex flavor.
We serve red wine lentils with game birds, sausage, and red meat. They are also tasty with grilled salmon and meaty fish like monkfish and eel. And they are delicious with fried eggs and bacon, or spooned onto crostini {here} and topped with a strip of anchovy and julienned roasted peppers.
If you prepare them in advance, cool, and then reheat them, they will have a mellower flavor and creamier texture than a freshly cooked batch.
FOR ABOUT 4 CUPS, OR 4 TO 6 SERVINGS:
1/4 cup mild-tasting olive oil
1/2 cup finely diced carrots {about 2 ounces}
1/2 cup finely diced celery {about 2 ounces}
3/4 cup finely diced yellow onions {about 3 ounces}
Salt
1 bay leaf
1-1/4 cups lentils {about 8 ounces}, preferably tiny French lentils or the black lentils sometimes sold as “Beluga” lentils
1 or 2 sprigs fresh thyme {optional}
1 cup medium-bodied red wine, such as Sangiovese or Pinot Noir
2 to 2-1/2 cups water, Chicken Stock {here}, or a combination
2 to 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Warm the olive oil in a 3-quart sauté pan or 4-quart saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the carrots, celery, onions, and a few pinches of salt. Stir for about 5 minutes as the vegetables release their moisture and begin to hiss, then add the lentils, bay leaf, optional thyme, the wine, and about a cup of the water and/or stock. Raise the heat slightly to achieve a gentle simmer, then cook uncovered, stirring as needed, as you would risotto, and adding more water or stock as the last of each batch is just about absorbed, until the lentils are nutty-tender and just bathed in their cooking liquid. You may not use all of the liquid. Allow about 30 minutes. Taste. If using water or unsalted stock, the lentils will need salt; if using lightly salted chicken stock, they may need none.
Add the extra-virgin olive oil to taste and simmer for a minute longer to bind it with the cooking liquid.
ZUCCHINI PICKLES
THIS IS ONE OF THE DAY-GLO PICKLES WE HAVE SERVED NEXT TO EVERY HAMBURGER at Zuni, and with the Union Hotel hamburger before that. The basic recipe can be found in older editions of Joy of Cooking, but I learned this version from Mark Miller, whose technique produces intense, saturated flavor and nutty texture. Both qualities owe to careful purging and cold brining.
Use firm, medium-sized dark green zucchini, or pickle a combination of these and pearly pastel green patty pan squash. Avoid big, seedy zucchini; they can be pulpy and have a starchy flavor. And don’t bother with “fingerling” baby zucchini; though hardly more tender than more mature squash, they rarely have fine flavor, and aren’t worth the premium in price.
FOR ABOUT 2 PINTS:
1 pound zucchini or patty pan squash
1 small yellow onion
2 tablespoons salt {a little more if using kosher salt}
For the brine:
2 cups cider vinegar
1 cup sugar
1-1/2 teaspoons dry mustard
1-1/2 teaspoons crushed yellow and/or brown mustard seeds
Scant 1 teaspoon ground turmeric
Wash and trim the zucchini, then slice 1/16 inch thick on a mandoline. Slice the onion very thin as well. Place together in a large but shallow bowl, add the salt, and toss to distribute. Add a few ice cubes and cold water to cover, then stir to dissolve the salt.
After about 1 hour, taste and feel a piece of zucchini~it should be faintly salty and softened. Drain, making sure to remove any remaining ice cubes. Dry very thoroughly between towels, or spin, a few handfuls at a time, in a salad spinner. {Excess water will thin the flavor and spoil the pickle.} Rinse and dry the bowl.
Combine the vinegar, sugar, dry mustard, mustard seeds, and turmeric in a saucepan and simmer for 3 minutes. Set aside until just warm to the touch. If the brine is too hot, it will cook the vegetables and make the pickles soft instead of crisp.
Replace the zucchini in the bowl and add the cooled brine. Stir to distribute the spices.
Transfer the pickle to jars, preferably ones that have “shoulders” to hold the zucchini and onions beneath the surface of the brine. Cover and refrigerate for at least a day before serving to allow the flavors to mellow and permeate the zucchini, turning them a brilliant chartreuse color. These keep indefinitely refrigerated.
RED ONION PICKLES
THESE ARE DELICIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL. Customers regularly request them, by the quart, to go. We serve them with our hamburger, but they are also good with sausages, smoked trout, or pâté.
Use firm round or flat red onions~mild torpedo onions are too tender and the layers of flesh are too thin to make a crunchy pickle. Make sure to cook the brine in a stainless steel pot and use stainless steel or wooden tools to stir and remove the onions~aluminum would turn the onions an unappetizing bluish mauve. Age these pickles for at least a day before serving. They keep indefinitely refrigerated.
FOR ABOUT 2 PINTS:
1 pound firm red onions {about 2 medium onions}
For the brine:
3 cups distilled white vinegar
1-1/2 cups sugar
A cinnamon stick, broken into a few pieces
A few whole cloves
A few allspice berries
A small dried chili
A star anise pod {optional, but it will impart a very distinctive licoricey flavor}
2 bay leaves
A few whole black peppercorns
Combine the vinegar, sugar, cinnamon, cloves, allspice, chili, star anise, if using, the bay leaves, and peppercorns in a 4-quart saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, cover, and simmer for about 3 minutes. Turn off the heat and let stand to allow the spices to infuse the brine.
Peel the onions, trim the ends, and slice 3/8 inch thick. Separate the slices into rings, discarding any green sprouts and thin, leathery outer rings.
Uncover the brine and bring to a boil over high heat. Immediately add about one-third of the onion rings and stir them under. They will turn hot pink almost instantly. As soon as the brine begins to simmer around the edges, about 20 seconds, stir them under again and slide the pot off the heat. Immediately remove the onions with a slotted spoon, skimmer, or tongs and spread on a platter or jelly-roll pan to cool completely. The onions will still be firm. Repeat with the remaining onions, in two batches.
Once the onions have cooled {you can refrigerate them to speed things up}, repeat the entire process, again in three batches, two more times, always adding the onions to boiling brine, pulling them promptly as the brine begins to simmer again, and cooling them completely after each bath. After the third round of blanching, thoroughly chill the brine, then add the pickled onions. This slightly tedious process saturates onions with fragrant brine without really cooking them~they should still be crunchy. It also guarantees that the volatile purple color sets to a charismatic fuschia pink. {Simply simmering the onions in the brine makes a soft, dull pickle~we’ve tried.}
Place in jars, preferably ones with “shoulders” to hold the onions under the surface of the brine, cover, and store refrigerated.
CAROL’S PICKLED ONIONS
CAROL BEVER, A VETERAN ZUNI CHEF WHO COOKS WITH LIGHTHEARTED PASSION, came up with this diminutive pickle. Crunchy and complex, but not too sweet, they are good as a foil for grilled birds or fried fish; as a condiment with Pot-au-Feu {here}; or as a surprise tucked into a sandwich of grilled skirt steak and smashed white beans with arugula. Or add a few rings to your next BLT. We serve them with New Year’s Eve Gougères {here}, and with Crostini with White Beans and Sardines {here}.
This easy pickle tastes best made a day or more in advance. It is versatile and inexpensive, and it keeps indefinitely refrigerated and becomes more complex and dramatic, so it makes sense to make more than you need for a given meal. Small onions, no more than 2-1/2 inches in diameter, make a prettier pickle.
FOR ABOUT 1-1/2 PINTS:
12 ounces firm yellow onions, preferably no more than 2-1/2 inches in diameter
For the brine:
1-1/4 cups Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar
1-1/4 cups water
2 generous tablespoons sugar
2 bay leaves
1 small dried chili
A few whole black peppercorns
Salt
Peel and slice the onions into rings about 1/8 inch thick, discarding the end cuts; a mandoline will make this job very easy. The slices will tend to fall into rings on their own, but you may need to separate the tight centers. Discard any green sprouts or pithy or discolored rings.
Combine the vinegar, water, sugar, bay leaves, chili pod, peppercorns and a few pinches of salt in a small saucepan. If you like things spicy, break the chili pod in half before you add it. Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat, then turn the heat up to medium and add the onion rings. Gently stir the crowded onions as they return to a simmer. Simmer for a little less than 1 minute.
Pour the hot onions and brine into a wide bowl or directly into jars. The skinny rings will turn glassy as they cool. Cover and store refrigerated.
ROSEMARY-PICKLED GYPSY PEPPERS
A GYPSY PEPPER IS A THIN-SKINNED SWEET PEPPER HYBRID. I choose ripe red or orange gypsy peppers for salads and for grilling, but this is a good recipe for the pale chartreuse gypsies that always seem more abundant, and less expensive, but are not so flavorful on their own. If your gypsy peppers are red-ripe, you may want to reduce the amount of sugar here.
Serve with hamburgers, with sausages and fried potatoes, or as part of an antipasto along with salami or coppa, olives, and deviled eggs. We also serve them with Manchego, the hard sheep’s milk cheese from Spain, serrano ham, and toasted almonds. Fleshy slabs of the pickled peppers are great on Egg Salad Crostini, topped with ribbons of smoked prosciutto {here}.
This pickle tastes best after a few days in the refrigerator~the peppers lose their grassy taste and the brine mellows. It keeps indefinitely refrigerated.
FOR ABOUT 4 PINTS:
3 pounds gypsy peppers {6 to 8 peppers}
About 2 teaspoons mild-tasting olive oil
Salt
For the brine:
3 cups Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar
1-1/2 cups sugar
A handful of fresh rosemary leaves
Combine the vinegar, sugar, and rosemary leaves in a small saucepan. Simmer covered for about 3 minutes. Set aside.
Preheat the broiler and position the oven rack about 8 inches from the element {or prepare a hot grill}.
Wash and dry the peppers and cut lengthwise in half. Cut away the seed clusters and trim any soft spots. Drizzle with the olive oil and salt. Toss and rub gently to coat all the surfaces.
Arrange on a baking sheet and broil just long enough to slightly soften the flesh and slightly blister and color the skins, about 10 minutes {or grill for 3 to 4 minutes per side}. Pack the warm peppers into jars and add the still-warm brine.
Cool, then cover and store refrigerated.
PICKLED GLASSWORT
THIS UNPROMISING-SOUNDING AND -LOOKING MARSH SUCCULENT MAY BE SLIGHTLY overrepresented on Zuni’s menu, owing to my sentimental attachment to what Jean Troisgros referred to as “les algues.” Everyone in his extended family seemed to love pickled glasswort, and a jar was always brought out anytime you might be expecting cornichons {French gherkins}. The Troisgros brothers garnished their famous Poulet au Vinaigre {Chicken with Vinegar} with pickled glasswort.
Glasswort is actually an algae. It is a naturally briny salicorn that the English used to call “chicken claws” {which the fleshy, leafless stems resemble, sort of}. It is always a hard sell, hopeful marketing names like “sea beans” notwithstanding. Discovering that it owes its common name to a high alkali content, making it useful in the manufacture of glass, hardly enhances the romance. “Marsh samphire” is another name that provokes no understanding, or appreciation. The French have called it pousse-pied~“sprout-foot”~not a revealing concept to me or a pretty phrase in English, so this name is not very helpful in America.
On our coast, the glasswort harvest starts in early May, in the coastal marshes of southern Oregon. I look for tender small sprigs, bright green, with little or no budding at the tips. When it is abundant, we serve glasswort fresh, sautéed in butter and deglazed with vinegar as a garnish for the local sand dabs, rex sole, or skate wing {See Sand Dabs with Shallots, “Sea Beans,” and Sherry Vinegar, here}. This is a delicacy. And then we pickle a few gallons to use the rest of the year as a condiment with Pot-au-Feu, or chopped into salsa verde, stirred into brown butter sauces, or with potato salad~in short, anywhere we might use capers.
To pickle glasswort, you need only good white wine vinegar and patience. Go through the glasswort sprig by sprig, checking for woody stems. Only the nibs and stems that are so young that they are truly “succulent” will be tasty. Discard mature branches that have a tough fiber running through them, after harvesting any tender branchlets. Discard also any desiccated or discolored sprigs. Rinse the glasswort, then pack in jars {with “shoulders,” to keep the glasswort submerged} and add vinegar to cover. I sometimes tuck 1 small, peeled garlic clove into each pint jar. Cover and age the pickles for 2 weeks in a cool, dark place, then refrigerate for long-term keeping.
A note on finding glasswort: If you don’t live near a salt marsh where it grows, ask about glasswort at produce markets that offer a good selection of wild mushrooms from the Pacific Northwest. Since it is abundant in the same region, glasswort is often shipped by the same brokers who handle wild mushrooms.
PRESERVED LEMONS OR LIMEQUATS
A GOOD CONDIMENT TO HAVE ON HAND. Its distinctive flavor is unmistakable and makes everything it touches seem exotic and special. Chopped preserved lemon is good in relishes, sauces {see Preserved Lemon-Caper Butter, here}, stews, and pastas. Use fully ripe unwaxed lemons. Limequats are lemon-yellow, look like kumquats, and are in season at the same time. Although not traditionally prepared this way, preserved limequats are delicious. They can be used in as little as one week, retain their firm texture, and present pretty coins when sliced. Rinsed, slivered, and generously moistened with extra-virgin olive oil, preserved limequats are delicious smeared on grilled fish or chicken while still hot from the grill. Our experiments with other types of citrus have been little more than entertaining, with results ranging from odd to awful.
FOR ABOUT 2 PINTS:
About 1-1/2 pounds lemons or limequats
For the brine:
2 to 3 quarts, plus 2 cups water
About 3 tablespoons salt
1 cinnamon stick
A few whole black peppercorns
A few coriander seeds
1 bay leaf
A few tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
Add the lemons or limequats to 2 to 3 quarts boiling water and simmer for about 4 minutes for lemons, 2 minutes for limequats, to soften the skin. Drain and rinse in cold water. Pack into jars that have “shoulders” to keep the fruit submerged. You can cut some of the lemons into wedges, or slash them deeply, to make for an easier fit.
Combine the 2 cups water, the salt, cinnamon stick, peppercorns, coriander, and bay leaf in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Cool slightly.
Pour over the prepared citrus to cover it completely. Coat the surface with olive oil, and screw on the lids.
Age lemons for about 4 weeks, limequats for 1 week, in a cool, dark spot. To preserve the texture of the limequats, refrigerate after that 1 week.
Note: Always use clean tongs or a fork, not your fingers, to remove the citrus from the jar. Taste a sliver. Rinse briefly under cool water if they seem intolerably salty. Refrigerate after opening.
SPICED ZANTE GRAPES
WE SERVE THESE “AS IS” OR BRIEFLY ROASTED, WITH PORK, GAME BIRDS, OR sausage, or as a garnish for pâté or cured meats. The individual berries are nice tossed into frisée salad with walnuts and crumbles of Gorgonzola, Roquefort, or Stilton cheese. Scatter a few over a warm Savory Onion Tart with Apples and Bacon {here}. Or add to a pan of sizzling sautéed chicken livers and onions about 1 minute before serving.
If you can’t find Zante grapes, use small, very ripe Red Flame grapes, fleshy wine grapes, or very small, amber-ripe Thompson seedless grapes.
FOR 2 PINTS:
1 pound Zante grapes or other very ripe, small grapes
For the brine:
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar
1 cup dry white wine
A few allspice berries
1 bay leaf
Wash and dry the grapes, then cut into small clusters. Cut away any cracked, bruised or moldy grapes, but leave naturally “raisined” fruit in place~it will take the brine well. Place in wide jars with “shoulders” to keep the fruit from floating above the surface of the brine.
Combine the sugar, vinegar, wine, allspice and bay leaf in a small saucepan. Bring to a simmer, stirring, then cover and adjust the heat to a bare simmer for about 1 minute. Taste. The brine should be tart but should not make you squint; add sugar or vinegar, as needed, to correct. Leave until barely warm to the touch.
Pour the cooled brine over the grapes. {If the brine is too warm, it will cook and soften the fruit, spoiling this elegant pickle.} Seal and store refrigerated for at least 1 week before using. Keeps indefinitely.
PRUNES PRESERVED THREE WAYS
MAKE ANY OF THESE RECIPES AT LEAST A DAY, BUT IDEALLY A FEW DAYS, BEFORE you want to serve them; the prunes will mellow in flavor and develop a suave texture. And they will keep and improve for months. Store in the refrigerator~processing these for room-temperature storage cooks the tender prunes and ruins their texture. For the same reason, the syrup mustn’t be too hot when you combine it with the prunes, or it will cook the fruit.
Pitted prunes will soften more rapidly than whole prunes and emerge more uniform in flavor and texture. They ultimately absorb more syrup. But I prefer the meatier result you get with whole unpitted prunes, and I like to chew on the pits.
SPICED PRUNES
Serve as a condiment with pâté, cured meat, roasted duck or squab, confit, braised goose, or roasted brined turkey {here}.
FOR ABOUT 2 PINTS:
1 cup Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar
1 cup water
1 cup sugar
1 cinnamon stick, splintered
4 allspice berries
8 whole black peppercorns
1 bay leaf
1 pound prunes~about 2-1/2 cups with pits, closer to 3 cups if pitted
Combine everything except the prunes in a small saucepan and simmer for 3 minutes. Cool the brine until it is not quite too hot to touch, about 130°, if using unpitted prunes. For pitted prunes, it should be just warm to the touch, about 100°.
Place the prunes in a jar or jars and add the brine to cover completely, distributing the spices evenly. Cool completely, then cover tightly and refrigerate for at least 24 hours, or up to several months. Shake the jar{s} occasionally to redistribute the seasonings.
PRUNES in BLACK TEA
These barely sweetened prunes are delicious for breakfast, or with roasted duck, quail, or squab. We usually use English breakfast tea, but I once made these with jasmine tea when I had nothing else in the house; the result was delicate and floral.
FOR ABOUT 1-1/2 PINTS:
2 cups water
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon loose tea leaves
About 2 tablespoons sugar
1 pound prunes~about 2-1/2 cups with pits, closer to 3 cups if pitted
3 strips orange or lemon zest, about 1 inch long and 1/2 inch wide~removed with a vegetable peeler
Bring the water to a simmer, pour over the tea, and infuse for about 8 minutes. Strain. Stir in sugar to taste. Cool until not quite too hot to touch, about 130°, if using unpitted prunes. For pitted prunes it should be only warm to the touch, about 100°.
Place the prunes in a jar or jars, a narrow bowl, distributing the zest evenly. Don’t pack. Pour the tea over the prunes to just cover. Cover, or, if storing in a bowl, weight the prunes with a small plate to keep them submerged. Cool completely, shaking or stirring under once or twice, then store refrigerated.
PRUNES & CRANBERRIES in TEA
Prepare Prunes in Black Tea, making an extra 1/2 cup of tea syrup. Spoon the extra syrup into a small saucepan, add sugar until it is candy sweet, and bring to a boil. Add about 1/4 cup fresh cranberries. Swirl the pan over the heat until the skins split, then pull from the heat and leave the cranberries to cool and absorb the syrup.
Drain the cranberries, discard the pink syrup, and fold the berries into the softening prunes. Cool, cover, and refrigerate. Makes a generous 1-1/2 pints.
BRANDIED FRUIT
DURING MY FIRST YEAR AT ZUNI, I PUT UP MASSIVE STOCKS OF THESE BRANDIED fruits. Recalling the image of my mentor Pepette’s tiny, timbered dining room in rural Southwest France, its walls ornamented with rows of the translucent amber-, ruby-, and plum-colored jars, I imagined the whole of urban Zuni thus transformed. This proved to be colossally expensive, given my choice of brandy, and not terribly practical, given the size and layout of the restaurant. The resulting oversupply provoked a lot of invention, and we found that the fruits were a stunning addition to savory dishes as well as sweet ones. Each time I show a cook how to souse cherries, raspberries, figs, red currants, grapes, prunes, Italian plums, or greengages, I still fight the urge to make more than we will use. {Fortunately, this year’s batch of brandied fruit will still be good next year, as long as you keep it refrigerated.}
Basic Method:
Choose sound, just-ripe fruit with no blemishes or soft spots. Time will magnify every flaw, so inspect each piece of fruit carefully. Rinse the fruit and leave to drain on a clean towel. Gently pack in sterilized jars with shoulders that will keep the fruit submerged in the brandy.
Dissolve the sugar in the spirits with a small measure of water. The ideal amount of sugar will vary according to the sweetness of the spirit and the type and ripeness of fruit in question. Remember to take into account the flavor of skins~the flesh of a grape or a plum may be supersweet, but some have tart, tannic skins, which require lots of sugar to tame. In that case, you may want to use more than the recommended dose of sugar.
Pour the sweetened liquor over the fruit to cover. Seal the jars and tap gently to release air bubbles. I record the amount of sugar and spirits {or at least a ratio} on the jar when I label it with the date and type of fruit.
Store the jars in a cool, dark place for a few weeks to allow the fruit to exchange flavor with the liquor, then refrigerate. {You can also place them directly in the refrigerator, but this will slow the flavor-mellowing process.} If serving the brandied fruit raw, open the jar a few hours before using and poke gently once or twice to encourage some of the alcohol to evaporate, or pour the desired amount of fruit into a wide bowl.
Here are guidelines for making and serving some of the most versatile fruits.
BRANDIED CHERRIES
Crisp red Bing or Van cherries are the best choice for brandying. Firm Queen Ann and Rainier are also good, but they aren’t the best choice for really long keeping, since the brandy eventually overwhelms their delicate flavor~plan to use them within a month.
FOR ABOUT 1 PINT:
About 8 ounces cherries
Scant 1 cup good-quality inexpensive brandy
6 to 7 tablespoons sugar
About 2 tablespoons water
Wash and dry the cherries. Leave the stems on, but clip the very ends. Pack according to the Basic Method {above}.
Serving suggestions:
Serve with pâté and wedges of raw fennel.
Roast briefly and serve with quail or squab, along with a salad of bitter greens and toasted hazelnuts.
Sauté and add to braised duck, or serve with sautéed duck breast, cooking the cherries briefly in the pan juices before pouring them over the sliced breast.
Serve in a pretty bowl with biscotti and chunks of dark chocolate on the side.
Pit and sauté briefly in butter with a splash of the syrup, and serve with ice cream and crêpes.
Preserve in bourbon instead of brandy and use about 2/3 cup sugar, then substitute for maraschino cherries in a Manhattan cocktail.
BRANDIED RED CURRANTS
Sprigs of raw red currants are beautiful but frustrating. The fruit is not very tasty in this, its most beautiful form. Brandying them allows you to showcase the lovely fruit en branche, knowing that it tastes as lovely as it looks.
FOR ABOUT 1 PINT:
About 8 ounces red currants on branches
Scant 1 cup good-quality inexpensive brandy
7 to 8 tablespoons sugar
About 2 tablespoons water
Rinse the currants, drain, and leave to dry. Snip off damaged fruit. Prepare according to the Basic Method {here}, taking care to handle very gently. These are ready to use in a week.
Serving suggestions:
Serve with pâté or rillettes {see Rabbit Rillettes, here}.
Serve with Rabbit Sausage {here} or as part of a Rabbit Mixed Grill {here}.
Serve as a condiment with lamb chops or Roasted Leg of Lamb {here}.
Pick off the branches and mix with fresh berries in a traditional English summer pudding.
Serve with bread pudding, rice pudding, or Panna Cotta {here}.
Here are two more fruit conserves I keep on hand to serve with cheese. {For suggested pairings, see here to here.}
DRUNKEN RAISINS
Place raisins in a narrow container and add enough brandy, grappa, or Port to barely cover, then top off with a little water. Cover, shake, and set in a warm spot. Taste in about an hour and sweeten with sugar or honey to taste. Cover, shake again, and leave at room temperature for a few days, then refrigerate.
You can serve these raisins as soon as a day after making them, but they only improve as they become swollen with syrup. In any case, leave uncovered for an hour or so before using. Once refrigerated, they keep for ages, eventually becoming very suave and mellow.
DRIED FIGS in RED WINE
This condiment is easy to put together and keeps for months. Make it at least a few days before you plan to serve it, to allow time for the figs to swell and the flavors to mellow. Dried figs vary in dryness; the ones I use are chewy-moist~like the paste in a Fig Newton. They are fairly tender to begin with and absorb most of the scant wine syrup after a few days. If your figs are really dry, rinse them quickly under water before combining with the wine.
FOR ABOUT 1 PINT:
1-1/2 cups red wine {you can use a light, medium, or full-bodied red here}
2 bay leaves
A wide, 1-inch-long strip of orange zest, removed with a vegetable peeler
8 ounces dried Black Mission figs {about 20 large or 36 small figs}
About 1 teaspoon honey
Place the wine in a small saucepan with the bay leaves and simmer to reduce to a scant 1/2 cup. While the wine is reducing, cut the figs in half and place in a 2- to 4-cup storage vessel with a tightly fitting lid. Drop the orange zest in with the figs.
Add the honey to the warm reduced wine, stir, and pour over the figs. It won’t seem like enough liquid. Cover and shake. Leave to swell for a few days, shaking or stirring a few times to redistribute the scant wine syrup, then refrigerate. Serve at room temperature.