Kids

I recently read the book Hungry Monkey about a food writer here in Seattle and his daughter. The subtitle says it all: A food-loving father's quest to raise an adventurous eater. I found myself buoyed by his success, but also wishing him harm.

I have been trying to come up with and stick to a rational and realistic family dinner philosophy. (Have you noticed that I am all about philosophies? I missed my calling. After getting A's on all of my philosophy papers, how could I not become a philosopher? That has to be one arena without a glass ceiling; it just wouldn't make sense for one to exist. Existentially.) Anyway, I decided that we would eat at the table together, and eat mostly the same things, at least three times per week. Gradually, I want to work up to a special Sunday night dinner and eating together five nights a week. Also, Sam should have something to try nearly every night. "Trying" means he chews and swallows. Bribing is not off the table during the initiation phase.

I launched into my new plan with vigor.

To get him to try potstickers (not from scratch), I told him that he had to chew and swallow or he wouldn't have yogurt raisins for dessert. "That's okay," he told me. "I can have more tomorrow." Foiled! "No," I said. "No more raisins ever. Never ever. I will eat them all now." See, when you have a child and you decide to threaten, you must be prepared to follow through. I am not a huge yogurt raisin fan, but there weren't that many in the bag, so I was totally ready to see this threat to the end. I got the yogurt raisins out and grabbed a handful, dramatically bringing my fist to my gaping maw. In horror and desperation, Sam bit his potsticker and proceeded to gag and whimper as he chewed. "I want to spit it out," he said. "No," I hissed. "Swallow it." And I brought some raisins to my mouth again. Sam swallowed and declared, "I like it. That's delicious." He is nothing if not polite, because this was a blatant lie.

So one night I make this lovely noodle salad with tofu fritters on the side. I decide that Sam will try a fritter for his dinner, expecting that I will be eating his serving later. Lowered expectations have the potential to make you happy! He liked the fritter! He actually liked it. So, naturally, I am flooding the boy with fritters. I made a second batch a couple nights ago and snatched a couple out of Josh's mouth because "if Sam will eat these, then, by God, your portion will be strictly controlled." Josh begrudgingly gave up a couple.

The above noodle salad makes a lovely summer meal.

Noodle Sauce

3T sesame oil, 3T soy sauce, 1T sugar, 4tsp. rice vinegar, dash of chile oil, 1 tsp. grated ginger. Make some noodles and cut up a ton of veggies. I like cabbage, bean sprouts, radishes, celery, and shaved carrot.

Tofu Fritters

16oz. firm tofu, 2T minced green onion, 2 tsp. minced ginger, 1T sesame oil, 1T peanut oil, 3T miso paste of your choice (I like white or yellow). Saute the green onion and ginger for a couple of minutes over med-low heat in the peanut oil. Add the sesame oil for the last 20 seconds. Crumble tofu in a food processor; add the onion-ginger mixture and the miso. Blend until smooth. You can fold in edamame if you like. Heat your peanut or canola oil to 350. Then scoop little fritters into cornstarch to coat. Immediately (otherwise the cornstarch sinks into the tofu) add fritters to either a deep fry at 350 or a shallow fry of peanut or canola oil. Fry until GBD.* Drain on paper towels. These can be reheated later and last for a couple of days without loss of flavor.

*Golden-brown and delicious

Red Meat

Josh, Sam and I took a little trip to Orcas Island a couple weeks ago. We had a right lovely time, even though it rained all weekend. We still paddled out in the kayak, threw rocks in the water (Sam's new favorite), and got in the hot tub.

True to form, I was the event planner. That meant that among my packing duties for Sam and I, were also the duties of kitchen supplies. I almost packed pans and tongs and the whole nine yards, but decided against going that far. I went with simply foodstuffs and a roll of foil. Turns out there was lots of foil there already.

In my effort to use up the remainder of our steer (so that I can get another one this fall AND a pig ... and maybe a couple of ducks), I planned some red meat meals. First was sirloin steaks with quinoa and spring vegetables. The quinoa dish doesn't look like much, but it was quite tasty. I'll put the recipe below.

I was quite distraught because the steaks were not searing. The barbecue was fancy, and was a combination of wood and gas. That meant I could set the temperature and still have wood flavor. Josh noted that it was set up for smoking. I didn't really understand what that meant until I cut into my steak. I should have taken a photo of the inside. I cooked them, by the miracles of my bbq timing sensibility, to a perfect medium. With nothing but salt and pepper and the smoke from that strange barbecue, the steaks were imbued with flavor.

I took my searing and temperature lesson from the first night and applied it to burger night. Again, all that went into the burgers themselves was salt, pepper, and celery seed. I put the burgers on rolls with melted havarti and tapenade. Delicious! I thought I was not a big fan of tapenade, but accompanying the burger and the cheese, it was perfect.

Sam's meals were less amazing: macaroni and cheese with strawberries. Since he doesn't eat vegetables, except for the occasional raw carrot, I figure fruit is better than nothing. I keep thinking and hoping that three will be the miracle age where he will relish in trying new things. How weary I am of hearing the phrase "I don't like that."

Quinoa and Vegetables

1.5 cups quinoa

1 cup vegetable broth

2 cups frozen peas, thawed

5T fresh mint leaves

1 garlic clove, peeled

3T butter

1 large leek, halved and thinly sliced (just white and light green parts)

3/4 cup sliced shallots

8oz mushrooms

1 bunch asparagus, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces

(If you can't find quinoa, couscous is a good substitute. The couscous to liquid ratio in a 1:2, or 1:1.5, depending on how dry and separated you want your grains.) Bring 2.5 cups water to boil in a small saucepan. Add quinoa and 1 tsp. salt; bring back to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook until quinoa is tender, 15-17 minutes.

Puree broth, 1 cup peas, 4T mint, and garlic clove until smooth.

Melt butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add leek and shallots; saute until soft and light brown, about 4 minutes. Stir in mushrooms for 2-3 minutes, until just beginning to get tender; then add asparagus for 3-5 minutes, until tender but still bright green. Mix in puree and the leftover peas; stir until heated through, about 2 minutes.

Serve vegetable mixture over quinoa and garnish with leftover mint.

The Zen of Roasting

I will be the first in line for a kick in the rear if the question is Would you like some steamed broccoli or a kick in the rear? I have complained before that I find the vegetable offensive. Bitter and offensive. I don't mind it in a stir fry and I don't mind it raw dipped in ranch dressing. But steamed or sauteed - gross.

And then I found roasting.

I could eat broccoli all day with this recipe: 1 lb. broccoli, 3T olive oil, 1/2 tsp. each of salt and sugar, yes, sugar. Put a sheet pan in the oven as you preheat to 500. Mix the broccoli with those flavorings, settle onto sheet pan, and roast on the bottom rack for 9-11 minutes depending on how large your broccoli chunks are. You can dress it up with minced garlic, fennel seed, a squeeze of lemon once out of the oven, too.

Naturally, the broccoli stem is immune from contempt. That is the best part of the broccoli. Peel off the outer skin and munch on it raw. I don't understand how the flowerets can be so bitter while the stem is sweet and mild. Hm. Actually, it has to do with the nutrients collecting in the head where the flower will form, doesn't it. All that bitterness is an indicator of the stuff that is good for your body. I do find it offensive when I see all those poor, severed broccoli heads at the market. Where are the stems? Please don't tell me they were thrown out.

Ditto for the cauliflower - the fact that I find it offensive, that is. The only way I used to accept cauliflower was raw and with ranch dressing. Now, I roast it.

Preheat to 425. Put flowerets on sheet pan, pour over 3-5 T olive oil, sprinkle on some salt and pepper, and roast for 25-35 minutes depending on the size of your chunks and how roasted you like your cauliflower. I like mine a very dark brown.

Tart Time

I swear I have all these great ideas, witticisms, and transcendent musings while I cook. I can't wait to type them out for my blog. ... And then I sit down days later and they are gone. Like we don't all know that we should write ideas down as they occur to us. I just keep thinking I'll remember. Again and again ... after I forget. Maybe I need a 12-step plan. "Hi. My name is Jen. I keep thinking that I don't need to write things down."

I was on a tart kick. I made erbazzone twice in a week's time. The first time, I served it with a root vegetable soup, and it was good complement. But the second time! I found a magical combination with a lentil and chard (with truffle oil!) dish. Magical. I believe I usually skimp on the chard in my erbazzone, but this time I used two humongous bunches and that was the ticket.

You simply must invest in truffle oil and drizzle it on lentils. It is divine.

My second tart looks like a mess, and sounds odd, but is quite good, I promise.

Fennel and Leek Tart with Poppy Seeds! It's more like a quiche. With the erbazzone the eggs just bind everything together with breadcrumbs and cheese. But with this one, there is a custard and the vegetable are in it.

I used frozen puff pastry for each crust - so quick and lovely. I was going to use frozen pie crust, but the ingredient list is way too long and has way too many unknowns. This crust is butter and flour. Nothing your grandmother wouldn't recognize.

Box o' produce

I was talking with my dad about the delivery items we're getting these days: milk and produce. They both come on Tuesday and it is simultaneously marvelous and terrible to see a cornucopia on your doorstep. Marvelous for obvious reasons, I think; those being that, huzzah!, someone else did your shopping. Terrible because you have to unpack, clean, wrap in plastic or paper towels, or whatever, while rangling your toddler and fighting back tears because, Christ!, you have so much stinking work to do and you are still a fulltime wife and mother, and tell me again why I shouldn't eat pasta with sauce from a jar every night?

No jars. I made, instead, lentils with beet greens, and a side of roasted beets.

Then there were the chard cakes with a side of pasta with sausage and tomatoes from our garden! Tomatoes from the garden, that is. Maybe pigs in the future. Ha. I have shared the chard cake recipe before and I must say - you think you can eat 20 when you start out, but cheese is so rich. Huh. And I never remember this. Each time I make these I look at the paltry plate of 6 patties and think: I can eat all of them! Then I push back after one and a half.

So Dad was saying that when he was a boy they got the milk delivery, in glass jars. I don't know why this image is part of my understanding of his childhood - where did I get this mental picture of a milkman and those jars? TV, probably. What I didn't know was that the produce guy would come down Dad's block once a week too! What? A farmers market come to your door? Surely you jest. I'm sure there was no arugula or squash blossoms, but still! Oh yes, the ice man too. I have that image as well: big calipers grasping ice. No, that can't be right. I need to replace the calipers with a medieval hook of sorts. Yes, that works.

My dear blogger-friend wanted my meatloaf recipe. Ah, Charlene, you honor me with your request.

Meatloaf with brown sugar-ketchup glaze:

Glaze: 1 cup ketchup, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 3T cider vinegar. Mix all the ingredients in a small saucepan and set aside.

Meatloaf: 2tsp. veg oil; 1 medium onion, chopped; 2 medium garlic cloves, minced; 2 large eggs, lightly beaten; 1/2 tsp. dried thyme; 1 tsp. salt; 1/2 tsp. ground black pepper; 2 tsp. Dijon mustard; 2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce; 1/4 tsp (or more) hot sauce; 1/2 cup plain yogurt; 2 lbs. meatloaf mix (1lb. ground beef; 1/2lb. ground pork; 1/2lb. ground veal - I usually don't get veal, I just use more beef or lamb); 2/3 cup oats OR 1 1/3 cups fresh bread crumbs; 1/3 cup minced fresh parsley

Procedure:

1. Heat the oven to 350 (medium). Heat the oil in a medium skillet over medium-low heat. Add the onion and garlic and sweat until translucent, not browned, about 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.

2. Mix the next eight ingredients in a medium bowl. Add this mixture to the meat in a large bowl. Then add then crackers, parsley, and onion mixture. Mix to blend with a fork or hands. I like hands because if I gently squeeze the ingredients while mixing, they get incorporated well. The mixture will be slightly sticky, but shouldn't stick like glue to the bowl. If it does, add milk, a couple tablespoons at a time until you get a good, cohesive, not-too-sticky mass.

3. Turn the mixture onto a sheet pan lined with heavy duty foil (easy cleanup), and shape it into loaf form, 9x5 inches.

4. Remove about 1/3 -1/2 cup glaze from the saucepan and brush it over the meatloaf. (Some people add bacon to the top of this!)

5. Bake the loaf until it is 160 degrees, about 1 hour 20 minutes.

6. Meanwhile, simmer the remaining glaze over medium heat until it thickens slightly. Serve alongside.

-America's Test Kitchen recipe

Deception

Things that look good, but aren't. Parmesan flan, for example. Sounds delicious; looks lovely. Tastes like gunk from between your toes, mitigated by the lovely tomato-basil topping. Topping? I tend to think chocolate sprinkles with that word, but it works here, technically.

And then we have the deception I engage in to get my son to eat vegetables. Recently we had a doctor's appointment, and I asked about vegetables. I was looking for assuaging. I was looking for something like, "Don't worry, lots of kids do this. A year or two without a single vegetable won't kill him. He will not die of scurvy or other weird 16th century sailor diseases. It will all even out by the time he is 10, provided he eats vegetables then." I got nothing of the sort. Instead, Dr. S told me that I can hide veggies in many things, like pizza! So I screamed, "I don't need recipes! I have a blog about food! I am a veggie-hiding genius! He doesn't eat them!" Only, I screamed that on the inside while smiling and thanking the doctor on the outside.

I took this beautiful cauliflower and I made a puree and called it "cauliflower yogurt." Sam always asks for yogurt, honey and O's for dinner. I was happy to oblige. Unfortunately for me, this particular veggie has a distinctive smell that alerted Sam to its non-yogurt-like nature. He refused to try it. I did what any mother would do and proceeded to mix 1:1 puree to yogurt, and gave him O's thinking that they would dull the cauliflower taste even more.

This was the reaction. As in, "Get this out of my mouth! What have you done to my beloved yogurt? You can't fool me, you witch!"

Josh and I happily ate it with our dinner because it was soooooo good. I opted for no O's in mine.

Cauliflower puree:

1 head cauliflower

1-2T unsalted butter

2-4T creme fraiche

1/4-1/2 cup cooking water

salt and pepper to taste

Add cauliflower to pot of boiling water and cook until soft, but not mush, 8-10 minutes. Drain, reserving some cooking water. Puree cauliflower with everything else, adding just a bit of water to start and adjusting for your desired texture.

Creme fraiche makes life worth living, so add a lot!

Veggies

My parents came to visit and I made a couple veggie dishes that were quite good, if I do say so myself. One was sauteed bok choy. We all know that this vegetable can be bitter, but if you sear it over high heat and use the right sauce - given that you have chosen young enough specimens - you get something great. I managed to make this dish great. It makes me extra happy when that happens for guests. I just hate it when I mess something up when people are coming over. I want to ensure everyone that I am better than that, really.

Bok Choy: 1lb. baby bok choy, cut into quarters; 2 T chicken broth, 1T oyster sauce, 1.5 tsp. soy sauce, 1.5 tsp. cornstarch, 1/2 tsp. sugar, 3T veg oil, 2 ginger slices (optional), 1 clove crushed garlic. Procedure: Combine broth, oyster sauce, soy sauce, cornstarch, and sugar. Heat a wok or large skillet over high heat until definitely hot. If using ginger, add half of the oil and ginger, and fry for 10 seconds until fragrant. Add the rest of the oil, bok choy and garlic. Let the bok choy sear before stirring for 2-3 minutes total until leaves are limp but still green. Add sauce and let thicken for 1-2 minutes. Note: you can double the sauce, but only use 2 tsp. cornstarch.

The other dish was out of Bon Appetit. There was a glut of greatness in the last issue. The current one looks promising too. This is green beans and zucchini in a sauce verte. I don't normally like zucchini, but if you caramelize and cover it in a nice sauce, what's not to like?

Sauce verte: 1/3 cup basil leaves, 1 green onion, 1T parsley, 2 T capers, 1T lemon juice, 2tsp. Dijon, 1 garlic clove, 3T e.v. olive oil. Puree the first 7 ingredients, adding the oil slowly.

Vegetables: 1T olive oil, 1lb. green beans, trimmed; 12 oz. zucchini, in strips; 3 T water (optional - see below), 2 T parsley. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add veggies and stir until coated in oil. Sprinkle salt and water over and cover. Cook about 4 minutes, until crisp-tender. Uncover and cook through to tender, about 2 minutes more. Alternately, you can omit the water and simply saute the veggies until seared and tender, about 5 minutes. Stir in sauce, season to taste, and garnish with parsley.

Chipotle Pork with Beet and Cabbage Salads

My sister gave me a subscription to Bon Appetit magazine for xmas. I have decided that I am going to do as many recipes as possible (and desireable) from the magazine in the month I receive it. This is revolutionary because my old tack was to read the thing, then rip the recipes I liked out and put them in a folder. This folder grew and grew to such proportions that I became overwhelmed and finally threw the whole thing out when we moved because we were already moving quite a bit of crap and 17 years' worth of ripped out recipes? No. So, for the upcoming week, I looked to BA and my old Cooking Light mags. They inspire me for spring. Which is a month old, I realize, but we stay pretty cool and gray in these parts for well into it. As I previously mentioned, I am done with the heavy meat cuts, like short ribs and lamb shanks. I feel ready and able to move into more fish and, hey, pork tenderloin!

Pork tenderloin is a delight to cook, isn't it? Easy and pretty quick, too. Lean, as far as meats go, to boot. And the perfect foil for so many flavors. It just gives and gives, that swine.

This is a recipe I make a bit, from one of those accumulation magazines, like The Best Winter Recipes from Sunset, or something like that. I could get up and look, but I don't feel like it. I like to have something light beside this recipe, due to the spice. I spotted the cabbage and beet salads in BA and went for it.

Speaking of which, we have some beets planted now, and I have plans to plant more in the fall so that we have them for winter. What I really want is to grow all my own root vegetables and cabbage and hard squash and then have a root veg "cellar" of sorts. I have had a design in my mind's eye that would use a wood frame and fill it with sand. I would keep it somewhere in our clogged workroom (the final frontier of move-in mayhem; yes, that was nearly a year ago!). I have lots of goals like this for my home garden. I tend to soar in imagination, making lists, drawing up plans ... then I get overwhelmed and deflated by all I haven't done. Arg. I need to think step-by-step and not go haywire when I can't reach the moon on the first jump. From my 35th birthday to Mother's Day, I've been really good at beating myself up and measuring myself against all the things I haven't done. No root cellar? Fail. No chicken coop? Fail. And where, oh where, are the espaliered pears and apples? Fail.

Wasn't I talking about pork? Right.

Chipotle Pork:

1-1.5lb. pork tenderloin (or, really, however big you want) - Trim off all the gross silverskin and fat. Heat a pan over med-high, add some canola oil, and sear the pork on all sides, about 2 minutes per. Then toss into a baking dish or onto a sheet pan and roast at 425 for about 20 minutes, depending on the size of the loin and how cooked you like yours. I like mine rare; the one pictured is medium.

Sauce: 2/3 cup maple syrup; 4 T chipotle chiles and sauce; 2 T dijon mustard. Whisk or blend together and serve on the side.

Options: I am thinking of a couple things I want to try with this. (1) Barbequing the tenderloin and basting on the sauce near the end. (2) Heating the sauce in a small saucepan and adding a cornstarch slurry to thicken.

Salads: These go quite well with the spiciness of the pork.

Beets: 2T Sherry vinegar, 2 tsp. dijon mustard, 5 T safflower or canola oil - Whisk together and pour over 3 large red beets, grated. OR, what I did was buy pre-roasted beets from Trader Joe's and slice them.

Cabbage Salad: 1/4 white vinegar, 1 T soy sauce, 1 T sugar, 5 T safflower/canola oil - whisk and pour over 6 cups shredded cabbage and 2 T chopped mint.

Happy Birthday to Me! (and Rick Schroeder and Thomas Jefferson)

I attempted to post this on my birthday, the 13th, but was foiled first by iPhoto, then by our internet connection, finally by travel plans. So, without further ado, it's Jen's birthday menu: pizza, artichokes with bagna cauda, and ice cream.

I started with the ice cream a of couple days before My Big Day because, of course, you have to chill the mixture overnight, then again after you make the ice cream because it's like soft serve out of the ice cream maker and I just like it a little harder.

I chose "burnt cream" ice cream, and had to make a caramel for that. I knew that once it started to caramelize, I wasn't supposed to touch it. I'm not sure what happens if you do touch it, but I wasn't planning on finding out. The instructions say to go ahead and stir it until it melts. I figured out, after I had stirred it several times, that that is not such a good idea. The whole thing clumped and then I had to let it get far too brown in order to get all the sugar to melt.

AND, the whole process of melting probably took 30 or 40 minutes. Too long. Step two took even longer. You are supposed to add warm milk to the caramel while stirring. The instructions give a couple scenarios resulting from this mixing: foaming, bubbling, hissing, clumping. Mine did all of the above. The clumping was the worst part because I had a solid block of caramel on the bottom of the pan that took an hour to "melt" into the milk. In the end, it's a good ice cream with a very creamy texture. In the future, however, I will simply buy Ben and Jerry's Creme Brulee when I have the hankering. How do they do those chunks? I suppose I could pour caramel onto a silpat, let it harden, then break it up. Yes, that's the ticket. It was nice to have homemade dessert on my birthday, though. I was going to pair the ice cream with chocolate souffles, but couldn't for lack of time. Ice cream was certainly enough.

I thought I was going to be much more melancholy about the fact that I was making dinner and cleaning and packing on my birthday. I was kind of freaking out on the 12th. I didn't really make a big deal out of 30 - and I recall Josh being surprised by this - but 35 carries more psychological weight, for whatever reason. I found myself thinking down a path that was very Western, goal-oriented, and linear. I guess those adjectives are all pejorative because, really, if the follow-up to that is "and it made me feel bad," then, well, I need to find another way of looking at things.

Did someone say something about pizza earlier? I think I remember that.

I made the dough and proceeded to top it with pesto, roasted red peppers, roasted garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and spicy sausage ... oh, and cheese, naturally. I highly recommend this combination.

I hand stretch my dough (as opposed to using a rolling pin) and don't make it enough to be good at it. It's never quite round, I always need to patch a couple of holes, and I usually have one really thick end, or arc, since it's a circle. I used my pizza stone for this, thinking that that is best, as opposed to the sheet pan I have been using, but I definitely don't do this often enough either. What I need to have the knack for in order to properly utilize the stone is transporting my packed pie from the cutting board to the oven on a peel. I just don't have the wrist flick and bravado to pull it off quite yet. So I build the pizza as fast as I can directly on the stone, pulling it out of the oven to do so. I can then use the peel to transport the cooked pie to the cutting board to slice. Kind of clunky, but it works.

Finally, the artichokes. So, I'm from California and we Californians love our artichokes. I always liked them, but they fell out of favor with my palate about mid-1998. I guess what I didn't like were my dipping options: garlic butter or mayonnaise. And I certainly was not going to eat them straight up.

Enter the bagna cauda.

A specialty of Piedmont, Italy, it means "hot bath." And what a tasty bath your vegetables will get with this sauce. Quite easy and quite delicious. It makes the artichoke experience nearly sublime. But it's not for the feint of heart.

Bagna Cauda:

3 heads of garlic, cloves separated and UNpeeled

3T butter

one 2oz. tin anchovies, drained and chopped

1/2 cup e.v. olive oil

Put the cloves in a medium saucepan and cover with water by one inch. Bring to a boil, then turn heat to low, cover, and simmer until the cloves are soft, about 25 minutes. Drain. When cool enough to handle, squeeze the cloves out and mash to a smooth paste. Melt the butter in a small saucepan, over medium heat. Add the chopped anchovies and cook, while mashing into the butter, for one minute. Add the garlic and the oil, stir to sort of combine (it won't emulsify) and let simmer for 10 minutes to let the flavors meld. Serve with artichokes or other veggies. Or, hey, use it as a pizza sauce!

Chard Cakes

This is a Lydia Bastianich recipe. I borrowed a cookbook from the library (Lydia's Italy) and took only two recipes from it. I adore her show because she shows footage from various regions in Italy, and the stories behind the food she cooks - travel plus food? What beats that?

But, true to Lydia, these are not lo-cal cakes. I suppose they are good for you because you can't adulterate greens so much that you start to cancel out the health benefits in them, right? Please say, Right.

They are a pain to make because they don't hold together at all, in my experience, but you can make it work. Also a pain because there are so many steps. But quite delicious. I used kale in the ones above because that is what was cost-effective. I was going to make these for our Easter feast. I doubled the recipe so Josh and I had these two nights in a row.

Chard Cakes:

4T olive oil

2lb. chard (or kale)

1 small onion, sliced

1/2 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. pepper

3 T butter, cut into pieces

1 egg, beaten lightly

1/2 cup shredded Montasio or Pecorino cheese

Clean chard and wilt in boiling water for two minutes until cooked, but still green. Drain thoroughly, and chop into shreds. Heat olive oil in a large saute pan and add the onion, cooking until browning, about 5 minutes. Add the chard, salt, and the butter. Stir until the mixture is dry but not browned. Lay it out on a sheet pan to cool a bit before handling. Transfer to a bowl, add pepper, and stir in the egg. Form into small patties, sticking cheese to the outside. Heat a nonstick skillet and lay the patties in, cooking until GBD, 1-2 minutes per side over medium heat.

Alternately, if you are like me and can't really get the patties to stick together in the first place, I heat the pan and have my cheese and chard mixture in separate bowls next to my stove. When the pan is ready (dry, no need for lubricant, as long as it's nonstick), I sprinkle cheese in the pan, then lay a glob of chard over and flatten with a spatula. Then I sprinkle cheese on the exposed side, flipping when ready. This seems to work pretty well for me.

You get about 6 patties, depending on how large you make them, of course.

These are surprisingly rich ... because of the butter, I suppose. I was thinking that I might try to cut the oil and butter in half next time to lighten it a bit. They would still be covered with a salty cheese, so I don't think the recipe would suffer much.

Broccoli

I may have spoken to you about broccoli before. I can't recall. I detest broccoli. A sure-fire way to torture my taste buds would be to serve me a plate of steamed broccoli. Yuck. Growing up, I learned to eat it with mayonnaise as the only palatable way to make it go down.

But it's so good for you. You should eat broccoli every week, at least once. That's how good it is for you.

And it's Josh's favorite vegetable.

I have found a way to love broccoli, thanks to the Best Recipes series! Yeah. My marriage is saved.

This week, I roasted broccoli two ways. The dishes were so good, I actually wanted more when I finished my serving. But there was no more. And I was sorry for it.

Roasted Broccoli: Preheat oven to 500! AND put a sheet pan in there on the bottom rack to heat up. Meanwhile cut up your lb. of broccoli into florets, preferably cut in halves themselves so that you have a flat side for each piece of broccoli. Sounds weird, but trust me, you want it that way. If you are using the stalk, peel it so that you are left with the soft(er) core, minus the bitter and tough skin. Toss your florets with 3T extra virgin olive oil and 1/2 tsp. each of salt and sugar. (Optional: also toss in 1T minced garlic for garlicky roasted broccoli at this point.) When the oven is ready, pull out the sheet pan and, working quickly, lay out all broccoli in one layer, with the flat sides of the florets facing down. Roast for 9-12 minutes. Serve with lemon. Really, serve with lemon; it's good.

Roasted broccoli with shallots and fennel seed: Do all of the above (no garlic). While the broccoli is roasting, slice two shallots. Pan saute them in 1T e.v. olive oil until browning, then add 1tsp. fennel seed, slightly crushed or chopped and stir for two more minutes or until the seeds are fragrant and the shallots are caramelized to your liking. Toss this with the final roasted broccoli, and grate some Parmesan over. Serve with lemon. Really.

The second recipe is one of the best veggie dishes I have ever had. Dare I say Restaurant Quality III?

Restaurant Quality II

Well, the recipe is from a restaurant, so I guess that makes sense. I will still pat myself on the back for proper execution. Thank you.

What makes these mushrooms patties restaurant quality is all the prep and the two different sauces. But the steps really didn't take that long, and you can overlap a couple to save time. I was still able to make a main course protein and a grain.

First, I made the red pepper sauce. I needed to blacken the peppers over a gas flame or under the broiler. I chose the burner open flame because I love charring peppers, and something about an open flame increases that affection. You would think, what with my aversion to peeling garlic because of the sticky skin et. al., that I would also find charring, peeling and seeding peppers to be wretched. I don't know what it is ... charring peppers is just cool. And don't be tempted to rinse them under water to get all the blackened skin off. I once watched Bobby Flay peeling his roasted peppers and he said that you wash away the good char flavor with the water, and why would anyone want to do that? A few pieces of carbonized skin won't kill you.

Then, while the peppers were sitting in a bowl with plastic over them to steep off the skins, I rinsed and chopped my mushrooms. You better believe I bought pre-sliced button mushrooms because I could! And oh, ugh, the shiitakes I got (Oh! Shiitake!) were so tiny that I was washing and pulling out stems forever. Also, I was convinced that removing portobello gills was unnecessary, but I wanted restaurant quality, so I did what the directions directed. After the mushrooms cook, it's really just throwing all the patty parts into the food processor for processing.

Your processor gets a serious workout with these guys, by the way. I used the small bowl for the pepper "coulis," which may be an abuse of the term. I used the big bowl for the mushroom patty ingredients. I then reused the freshly rinsed small bowl for the avocado "pesto."

Then, of course you have to shape the patties and brown them. Oh, and you must save making the pesto for shortly before serving because brown, mushy, oxidized avocado is gross.

Josh asked why this should be considered a pesto and not a guacamole. I realized that it's both because they are one in the same. That is, "pesto" means "pounded," and pestos are traditionally prepared with a mortar and pestle. "Mole" is from Nahautl and means "concoction," but "moler" is Spanish and means "to grind." Moles can also be made with mortar and pestle. I'm going to go ahead and believe that it all works out, etymologically, and definitely culinarily so that what is a pesto in Italy may just be a mole in Mexico.

The instructions even tell you how to plate. To wit: spread an even layer of pesto on the plate, top with two mushroom cakes, and top that with pepper coulis. The combination of all three elements was awesome. Was more than the sum of its parts. Was restaurant quality.

The aforementioned main dish was halibut with raisins and almonds. The fish was dredged in corn flour and baked just that like. The sauce was made in a skillet with butter, wine, lemon juice, raisins, with the parsley and almonds added at the end. Simple and quite good.

Lest I get too big for my britches, I should mention the wild grain rice. I have always been afraid of making rice in a pot - it never goes well for me ... like bechamel. But I tried. And failed. This looks cooked and normal, but there is a puddle at the bottom. The rice had a gross, undercooked, chewy layer, and a gross, overcooked, soggy layer. I tried to get Sam to eat it. No dice. He also refrained from trying the mushroom cakes. "Refrained" being a euphemism for "spitting them out and making yelping, pained sounds while sticking his tongue out."

Braised Vegetables

I tend to make the same vegetables over and over. Who doesn't, I guess. So I opened my Best Recipe and chose Braised Leeks and its variations, endive and fennel. Above, we have the first I chose to execute: the endive (pronounced ahn-DEEV, naturally). I respect the endive. It must be hard growing up in complete darkness and then being transported to an open air market or a grocery store. I did have my doubts as I selected the pale little guys. I liked them in my Winter Salad (from the Morgan dinner, yes, you remember!), so I thought I would probably like them carmelized, then braised in butter, wine, and chicken broth. I didn't have the sauce technique down yet, this being my first attempt with the recipe, so it was a bit runny, but good. Endive is bitter, but the steps and ingredients really mellow that out, and it went well as a side dish to Lamb Ragu.

A bit about bitterness here. I should disclose that I am a supertaster. This is not a secret identity that comes with a cape; it's a real thing. Supertasters have more taste buds per square tongue then the average taster. Of course, this does not mean that I have any more taste, per se, but I suppose the potential is there. What this means on a daily tasting basis is that what one experiences as slightly bitter, like endive or broccoli, I think is so bitter as to make me wonder how anyone could possibly enjoy said bitter item. For example, I forgot the vinegar with our collards the other night and I almost spit my bite across the room.

Next up were the leeks as a side dish to the Poulet. I did the sauce quite well and got nice color during the carmelization process. These were better than the endive and got two stars to the endive's one. A bite that combined chicken and leek with sauce - divine.

Insert diatribe re: leeks. Why are they so expensive? It's not like they are grown in complete darkness through a labor-intensive process! I feel quite upset by the fact that you buy a huge leek with all this green that you are gong to cut off anyway. Yeah, yeah, you can use it for stock. I have never used it for stock, so I'm just saying that if I can buy broccoli crowns (when the stem is the best part!) why not just buy the part of the leek that I am actually gong to use. I am seriously considering bringing my scissors next time I buy leeks.

They are good, though, aren't they?

I had my doubts about this dish, too. I cannot stand raw fennel. I have had roasted fennel before and thought it was good and fun, but still somewhat objectionable. But this! Braised fennel is to die for, people! This also went with the poulet and made a lovely combination to boot. I carmelized both sides for extra flavor ... oh, I highly recommend this dish. I suppose I could also complain about all those fronds I have to cut off the bulb, but I won't.

Recipe: Braised Leeks, Endive, or Fennel

Ingredients: 3 T unsalted butter, 1/2 tsp. sugar (1tsp. for the endive), 1/4 tsp. salt, 4 large (1in. diameter) leeks OR 4 heads endive OR 2 fennel bulbs, 1/4 cup dry white wine, 1/4 cup chicken broth, 1/2 tsp. minced fresh thyme, 1T minced fresh parsley (optional), 1 tsp. lemon juice (1/2 tsp. for the endive)

Prep for veggie: For the leeks, you want only the white and pale green part. Be careful to only trim the very end of the root end because you want the layers to hold together during cooking. Slice the leeks in half lengthwise. For the endive, trim the very end and split in half, lengthwise. For the fennel, trim the bulb, removing the fronds and stalks. Halve them and cut each half into four wedges. (Don't core the bulb because you want it to hold together while cooking.)

Procedure:

1. Melt 2T butter in a 12-in nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Sprinkle the sugar and salt evenly over the bottom of the pan. Add the veggie, cut side down, in a single layer. Cook, shaking the skillet occasionally, until golden brown, about 5 minutes. (For the fennel, you can flip the wedges to brown on both sides, and increase the browning time to 8-10 minutes.)

2. Add the wine, broth, thyme. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer until very tender, about 10 minutes for the leeks, 12 for the endive and 15-18 for the fennel. Check with a paring knife.

3. Gently transfer the veggie to a warmed plate, leaving the liquid behind. Return the liquid to a simmer for 1-2 minutes until it is reduced to a syrupy consistency. Off the heat, whisk in the remaining T of butter, the lemon juice, and the parsley, if using. Season with salt and pepper to taste and serve over the vegetable.

Simplicity

This stir fry was disappointing. Boo. Disappointing because I normally make a mean stir fry. I have a repertoire of sauces and, naturally, the methodology down pat. This one went horribly awry because it had to sit for too long. All the vegetables decided that they had had enough and released all their liquid, completely drowning the sauce out. Yuck. Why did they sit? Do I plan poorly? Sometimes. But last night was definitely Sam's fault for not wanting to go to bed. Grrrrrr. Your sympathy flows when your child calls your name a couple of times. But when he won't calm down and just go to sleep at 8:45 when you haven't had dinner yet, enough is enough.

You'll note the brown rice - oven-baked. What? You don't bake your brown rice in the oven? Oh, you must. Put 1.5 cups of short grain brown rice in a glass 8x8 baking dish. Bring 2.5 cups of water to a boil with 1T butter or oil and 1 tsp. salt. Pour it over the rice after it boils. Wrap the dish up with (heavy duty, if you've got it, normal if not) foil, and pop it in the 375 oven for 1 hour with no touching. Take it out and fluff. Perfect every time ... except when I don't make my measurements precise. Soggy rice is nasty.

Perhaps I will try arancini with the leftovers.

During the time when the veggies ruined their own sauce, I decided that I could make the aforementioned Simply Ming's Zucchini-Tofu Fritters. And I don't know that I will put the recipe out there because, although you see His Highness indulging, they are a serious pain. When you use lots of recipes, you come to appreciate well-written ones and despise their opposite. This recipe is not horribly written, but it lacks the appropriate specifics. For example, the corn flour that one should roll the quenelles in should be finely ground. I like the crunch on the medium grind, but it is clearly wrong. Second, had I not watched this recipe on TV, I would not have known that the quenelles do not hold together. This is the kind of thing that makes me come unglued in the kitchen - and I've been doing so well in the swearing department, you'll be happy to hear. In that, I'm not cursing, of course ... not that I am doing better in the sense that I use the words incredibly well. Mark Twain said that sometimes curses are the only appropriate words for the occasion (paraphrase), and I do think that's true, but who wants to hear a kid - my kid - dropping F-bombs with aplomb? Yeah. Not me.

Darn. I digressed again. So, the quenelles are blobs and you just scoop and drop with two spoons. It worked fine, but not superbly. Third, and last, WHAT ARE QUENELLES?! I mean, that's what simply Ming put in the recipe! What is the adverb "simply" all about? I happen to know what quenelles are because I watch way too much food TV, but come on! They are not simple.

Quenelle: a light, delicate dumpling ... formed into small ovals and gently poached in stock.

Or deep fried, apparently. And, please note, you use two spoons to adroitly caress your mixture into said ovals. Not simple, Ming. Not simple.

But they came out pretty good. My oil temperature dropped and I think that is when the oil seeps into your food instead of immediately forming a nice crust around it. This results in some soggy fritters that taste like oil, which is not yummy, especially at the end of the frying when the oil is full of detritus.

According to the recipe, I was supposed to mix balsamic and Chinese "black" vinegar (made from seaweed and mushrooms), boil it down to a syrup, and drizzle. I bought the black vinegar, but decided to go with tempura sauce for simplicity.

Veggie Patty and Mac and Cheese

Why do I even bother? When veggies meant nothing but roasted and pureed whatever, they went down pretty smooth. Sam loved sweet potatoes, especially. But now ... what the what? I made root vegetable chips the other week. Chips, for goodness sake! They were delicious. And they were rejected. I have also made the best veggie burger ever, from Best Recipe. The bulk of the burger is mushrooms and bulgar. It was awesome, especially with catsup. Rejected. Tempura? No, thank you. Straight up vegetable X, steamed and seasoned? Heeeeeck no.

So I turn to yet another vegetable patty here. I can be called a pessimist when it comes to many things in life - human nature, mother nature, the nature of Seattle drivers - but with vegetables and Sam, I keep on it. I got this recipe from a book I am not even going to mention because I have found nothing that Sam likes in it yet. These patties are simple: grate a couple carrots, a zucchini, a small potato; let them lose some water for 20 minutes, then squeeze; mix with some flour; throw in an egg or two to make everything stick. Then you make patties and fry. I find them delightful with tempura sauce. Sam finds no delight in them whatsoever. Arg.

Next vegetable up is something I saw on Simply Ming, whom I cannot stand, by the way. What is with the way he talks? And he always calls his audience "guys." Yuck. Anyway, he made deep-fried tofu-zucchini pillows. I love frying, so I'm game.

The thing is, you have to be ready to eat or throw away what your child does not take to. Oh, and that crap about giving it to them eight times? Yeah, crap. I can't stand wasting food, yet, I also can't stand a bulging waistline. So there's the rub. When it's veggies, no biggy, but you have to watch all those extras. A little flour here and phyllo-wrapped something there, and we're not just talking a few calories anymore.

Among the frozen options that have failed are spanikopita, mushroom-a-kopita, Trader Joe's samosas (I forgot they were spicy, and Sam was not amused.), Preager's vegetable patties of all sorts (they used to be fine!), and succotash. Every now and then peas are okay, but heaven forbid you try to give this kid the same thing two days in a row.

So mac and cheese. I hear your sniggers. This is Annie's and my genius friend EB taught me how to sneak vegetables in. Instead of using milk and butter, you use pureed vegetables. In this particular batch we find cauliflower, rutabaga, tofu, and white beans ... although the serving size is infinitesimal.

I once made real macaroni and cheese, but something about a bechamel just doesn't click for me. That was the second time I tried and the second time I failed. I was left with a grainy cheese sauce. Gross. I cried a little as I dumped the whole thing out.

Halibut with Green Bean and Shiitakes

I highly recommend the book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. In it, the main character, Oscar, uses the word "shiitake" to curse. Say it out loud. Go ahead. It works, and it's funny.

So halibut is a lovely, meaty fish, low on the "fishiness" scale. I have a frozen bag of fillets in the deep-freeze, which is definitely not as good as fresh, but hey, it works. It works especially when your fishmonger isn't a hop, skip and a jump away. I recently discovered that there is a halibut season, which I should have figured out on my own because there are salmon seasons for the various species, aren't there? The season for wild halibut ended about a month ago. That would be an instance where my fishmonger - whom I have maligned in the past for not offering advice on fish substitutes - offered interesting, useful and unsolicited information that I appreciated. So he's just at -1, instead of -2.

You make the cilantro sauce there and roast everything else together. It's simple and delicious. And a good example of a meal made for two that comfortably serves just two. I haven't been including recipes because they can be tedious to type out, especially when someone still has to look at her hands to type. What?! I took Art instead of Typing in high school. I can recognize the Impressionists' work, but I don't stick to my homerow. Sue me.

Sauce: Blend/mini-cuisinart together 2 cups cilantro, 2 T lemon juice, 1 green onon, 1/2 jalapeno, 3 T veg. oil, 1 tsp. sesame oil, and 1 tsp. soy sauce. That's your sauce to serve over the fish.

Fish-veg. bake: 2 -8oz. halibut fillets, 1 lb. green beans, 1 lb. shiitakes. Prep those, like you normally would. I put them in a glass baking dish and nestle the halibut in among the veggies. The original recipe says to place everything on a baking sheet in a single layer. Then pour over the following all blended up with a whisk: 2 T veg. oil, 1 tsp. sesame oil, 2 tsp. soy sauce. I pour a bit over the halibut and the rest over the veggies. Then I mix the veggies around a bit to make sure they all have sauce on them. Sometimes I get a little overzealous with my veggies and include over a lb. of each, so I double the sauce here.

Bake at 450. The time to bake depends on the thickness of the fish. If yours are only 3/4in. or so, then 10 minutes might be enough. My fillets here were fat and they needed 15-17 minutes. I like to remove the fish when it's done, mix the veggies, and send them back for about ten minutes more.

Serving with rice is advisable.