Butternut Squash Gnocchi

Every time I sit down to write here I come back to the same thing. Most of the time I just want to write about the way that I try to appreciate and be in the good moments, the often fleeting minutes, hours or days when things are almost just exactly right. The times when I feel even a little bit of balance between the tasks of daily life and finding a little bit of time for my creative work. But it's not just these times, it's the contrast between the good and the hard and the way that I have learned to so much better appreciate the moments knowing how quickly they will pass.

I guess I just can't help but return to these thoughts again and again. I have recently been asking myself how I can possibly do everything I want to do creatively along with everything else in my life that I need and want to accomplish. I have been wondering if I should let go of some of the many directions that my creative pursuits pull me towards but I can't yet imagine losing any one of them. So I continue to wobble and circle and wander the way that feels and works best. Some days I feel accomplished and fulfilled, most other times I feel like I have no idea what I am doing.

Returning to the kitchen, as I do daily, is a way to feel more grounded and focused on the basic tasks at hand. For the most part, standing at the counter, I do know what I am doing. There is room for endless creativity but my endeavors in the kitchen are straightforward and mostly practical and I always appreciate the results. I can't let go of the other ways that I want to create but I am so glad to return to cooking again and again. 

I've been wanting to share this butternut squash gnocchi recipe for a while. When I came across a recipe for ricotta gnocchi this fall, I had to try it. I was amazed at how easy it was to make these soft pillows of pasta and I hoped they could be made with squash, too. I know that in the blogging world this recipe should appear in October when squash is on everyone's mind but squash is still delicious in January and usually still available from local farms even when everything else outside is frozen.







Butternut Squash and Ricotta Gnocchi
This recipe makes about 4 servings but you can freeze the uncooked gnocchi until you are ready to eat it, just take it out of the freezer and add it to the boiling water. The gnocchi is best when tossed with garlic butter and sage just before serving (instructions for the butter etc are below). I also enjoyed adding a handful of arugula to the pan when I was tossing the gnocchi with the garlic butter.

8 ounces ricotta cheese
7 ounces butternut squash, cooked and pureed
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese (+ more for serving)
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Butter
minced garlic
dried or fresh sage

Mix all the ingredients together to form a wet dough. Scoop a heaping teaspoon of dough onto a floured surface and shape the dough into a ball. Place the ball of dough on a floured baking sheet. Repeat until all of the dough has been used. 

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add the gnocchi and cook for 5-6 minutes (6-8 minutes if cooking from frozen). 

While the gnocchi are cooking, place a saute pan over medium heat. Add 1 tablespoon of butter for every serving of pasta you are cooking. Add 1 clove of minced garlic for every serving of pasta and about a teaspoon of ground dried sage or chopped fresh sage per serving. Reduce the heat as needed to keep the garlic from burning. When the gnocchi are done cooking, gently remove them from the water and place them in the saute pan. Toss to coat with garlic butter and sage. Serve immediately topped with grated Parmesan if desired.

Brussels Sprout Hash

When I think about cooking, I often dwell on the transformation that occurs by combining ingredients, heat, stirring, blending or chopping. I suppose transformation is at the heart of most cooking. Sometimes it is dramatic, like making mayonnaise, caramelizing onions, turning juice and zest into curd. Other times it is simple and there is nothing stunning about it. I recently discovered that humble, often maligned, brussels sprouts can be transformed from orbs of tightly bound leaves into a simple hash that brings out their flavor and glorious green-ness.

As I mentioned on Monday, there's not much nothing growing around here this time of year. The brussels sprouts that I bought at the co-op are California natives, but after enjoying a brussels sprout hash as part of a restaurant meal, I couldn't resist trying it in my kitchen. There are certain foods and flavors that just taste nourishing. Not in a oh this must be healthy because it tastes awful sort of way but in a way that makes me physically feel good, and nourished as I eat it. When fresh vegetables are less abundant it is easy to not eat enough of them and to gravitate toward foods that I crave regardless of whether they are good for me. Then I rediscover those nourishing tastes and now lovely these little sprouts can be.


Brussels Sprout Hash
I always want to call this recipe a slaw but because it is cooked, it must be a hash. I recently purchased a fairly cheap and slightly dangerous mandolin and used that for shredding the sprouts. A knife will work fine, just slice them as thinly as you can. This recipe is loosely based on one from Epicurious.

1 pound of brussels sprouts
2 small shallots
3 tablespoons butter
balsamic vinegar
salt and pepper

Rinse the brussels sprouts, remove any obvious yellow leaves or bad spots. Slice them very thinly so that the leaves become very thin short ribbons.

Thinly slice the shallots. Place a skillet or saute pan over medium-low heat and add a tablespoon of butter. When the butter has melted, add the slices shallots and let them cook, stirring occasionally until they are caramelized. If they stick to the pan or start to burn, like mine did, add a splash of balsamic vinegar and scrape everything off the bottom of the pan. When the shallots are caramelized, remove them from the pan.

Turn the heat to medium-high and add the remaining butter and the shredded brussels sprouts. Stir the sprouts so they cook evenly. They should brown and caramelize slightly over the heat but not become overcooked and soggy. When they are becoming a bright, cooked, green (3-4 minutes) add the cooked shallots, another splash of balsamic vinegar and salt and pepper. Stir to combine, taste to adjust seasoning and serve immediately.

Glorious Transformation

On a chilly winter's evening, get a cutting board and stand near your stove. Cut the stem and root end off two or three medium sized yellow onions. Slice them in half from stem to root and peel off the skin. Cut each hemisphere of onion into thin strips along its latitudes. Warm a skillet or saute pan over medium-low heat. Pour in a glug of olive oil and add the pile of sliced onions. They are pungent, crisp and pale in color. They make your eyes sting and cry. This temporary torture is the unfortunate price, but you will be rewarded soon. As they begin their quiet sizzle, stir the onions every few minutes to distribute the heat and cook evenly. They will begin to change color, at first a hint of  golden then darker. The goal is not to brown them, but to let them melt and become their better selves.

Add some salt, stir when you think of it, and then go about your business as though nothing truly magical was happening on your stove. The onions will let go of their stiff pretense and start to relax, becoming soft and flexible. Stir. Ignore. Stir again. After 15 or 20 minutes they will have changed color entirely, but don't stop too soon. They need to stay on the heat to realize their true potential. This warm weather vacation will turn them a deep golden brown and bring out all of their sweetness. Keep stirring and checking them until they have become the color of caramel and are soft, limp and unrecognizable as the vegetable you chopped minutes ago.

Now enjoy. Use them to top pizza, focaccia, stir them into risotto, use for soups, add to sandwiches (grilled cheese, anyone?), toss into salads. I have a jarful the fridge to ensure that I can enjoy their flavor as often as possible. It is a glorious transformation.

Coming Together

 

Years ago, I lived in an old farmhouse with three other women. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen of that house, even once spent an afternoon scrubbing the floor that was layered with grime from previous inhabitants. When I wasn't in the kitchen or swimming in the lake or sitting on the porch where we often grilled on summer evenings, I worked in the market garden of the farm. Most mornings I would walk or ride my bike past the woods and fields and cows, enjoying the ever changing views of the mountains, far across the lake. 

I lived a simple life there working hard all day, dreaming of which vegetables I would cook for dinner and spending a lot of my evenings and weekends making food. I baked bread and made baba ganoush from the excess eggplants in the garden. Living on this farm I became acutely aware and deeply appreciative of knowing where each ingredient in a meal came from. When my housemates were around we would all contribute to cooking our meals. We also worked together on more involved cooking projects like making ravioli and canning jam. I often remember that when something turned our really well or was especially beautiful Jessica would suggest taking a picture of it. I'm sure I took a few pictures of our food and I have lots of pictures of the garden, but this was before food blogs were abundant and before I had an inkling of the beauty and challenge that I could discover in trying to capture what was on my plate. 

Since starting this blog I have often thought of Jessica's long ago suggestion to capture our edibles on film (I didn't have a digital camera at the time). Back then I brushed off the idea, but in the past few years I have taken many pictures in my kitchen. It has been a very slow process of learning little bits here and there but barely making a dent in my knowledge of photography. I often feel more rooted in the process than in being able to come up with a perfectly presented final product.

Like the disparate ingredients of a salad coming together in a transcendant bite, my past experiences marinate and mix to bring me to where I am today. Taking a moment to look back reminds me to I appreciate that where I have come from is just as important as where I will someday end up.

 

Raw Kale Salad with Parmesan Date Dressing

Adapted from Cook this Now by Melissa Clark

Citrus and dates transform the hearty kale into a lighter tasting winter salad. The orginal recipe uses anchovies but I used parmesan instead. The kale benefits from some marinating so you can make the salad a few hours ahead of eating. It keeps well  for a few days. I used a mix of lacinato (also called tuscan or dinosaur) and red russian kale.

6 large medjool dates, pitted

1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese (or 6 anchovie fillets, finely chopped)

3 garlic cloves, minced

Zest of 2 oranges

Zest of 2 lemons

1/2 cup olive oil

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon red wine vinegar

2 bunches of lacinato kale, washed and dried

Sea salt, to taste

Chop the dates very fine and mash them into a paste. In a small bowl, mix the dates with the parmesan (or anchovies) garlic, orange and lemon zest. Stir in the olive oil and vinegar.

Remove the stems of the kale by ripping the leaf part off. Thinly slice the ripped leaves and place them in a salad bowl. Toss in the dressing and add salt to taste. 

 

White Bean Spread and Rosemary Focaccia

Sustenance. Food that nourishes our body, work that nourishes our souls. Conversations and friendships that help us grow, spaces and places that fill our need for beauty, wonder and delight.

On dark winter days, I seek out warmth and light wherever I can. At my sunny kitchen table, in a seat next to the radiator. Piling on layers and heading out for a walk or huddling under a down comforter late in the day. As a great aficionado of coziness, I am prone to dinners in our warm kitchen and cooking at home as often as I can. That doesn't mean that I will turn down an evening out.

On the first day of 2012, Ray and I left the house in the dark of evening, bundled against the wind and harmlessly fluttering flakes of snow, to meet friends for dinner. The place we ended up was spacious but glowing with warm candlelight. The exposed brick walls and golden brown wood floors and tables exuded a toasty feeling. We relaxed into our chairs and ordered from the simple menu. Wine arrived in small juice sized glasses. The white bean dip that we ordered as a starter was silky but substantial, warm with hints of lemon. It didn't take long for me to want to recreate it at home.

Our rental kitchen rarely comes close to the glowing atmosphere of a comfortable restaurant. I try to ignore the dusty corners and dishes in the sink and come back to the feeling of arrival. We are here at the table, we will be taken care of, we will be fed. To find this sense of well being and sustenance, I planned a few hours ahead. Beans soaked in a cast iron pot while focaccia dough rose in a ceramic bowl on the counter. I cooked the beans in the pre-heating oven and then pureed them into a velvety spread while the bread baked into a golden sheet of chewy springy dough.

A simple meal for a cold winter evening, bringing warmth home in so many ways.



This is the ideal lazy Sunday meal, which soaks, cooks, and rises while you are enjoying other things. There is very little active cooking time but requires some planning ahead.

Creamy White Bean Spread
There is very little hands on work with this recipe, most of time is soaking and cooking the beans. If you prefer to use canned beans, warm them up a little bit first. This spread is quite fine when cold, but best when warm. I used great northern beans, but I suspect that cannellini beans would be very good (here's a little bit about the differences)

1 cup dry white beans
1 small head of garlic
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus a little for drizzling
salt and pepper

Place the beans in a large bowl or pot (a dutch oven works well for cooking them, but any pot will do) and cover with a few inches of water. Leave the beans to soak for 4 hours or more.

About an hour before you want to eat, place the beans and their water in an oven-proof pot (make sure there at least two inches of water covering the beans). Turn the oven to 400 and put the pot, covered, in the oven. Meanwhile, take the head of garlic and cut off the stem so that the very top of each clove is removed. Peel off most of the outer skin, but leave the skin around each clove intact. Put the head of garlic in a small oven proof dish and drizzle some olive oil to cover the top. Roast the garlic in the oven for about 20 minutes or until each clove is very soft (they will be burning hot, so poke them with a fork to check them). Let the garlic cool.

After one hour, check the beans. They should be completely soft, but not falling apart. Carefully remove the pot from the oven and let cool for a few minutes.

Spoon the beans into the bowl of a food processor. Squeeze the roasted garlic out of each clove and add to the beans. Pour in the lemon juice and olive oil. Puree for several minutes until smooth. If the mixture is too thick, add some of the cooking liquid from the beans to thin it to a smooth, spreadable consistency. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve while warm.

Makes about 2 cups.

Rosemary Focaccia Bread
Adapted from the Bread Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum
This dough can rise for nearly as long as the beans are soaking. If you can't leave the dough rising for four hours, let it rise in the refrigerator overnight and take it out an hour or two before shaping the dough. As always, you can use just all purpose flour, but I like the added texture and flavor that comes from the whole wheat. I used my stand mixer to mix this, but I think it would work fine to stir by hand.

2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
3/8 teaspoon yeast (active dry or instant)
2 cups minus two tablespoons room temperature water
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon sugar
olive oil
2 teaspoons fresh rosemary (or 1/2 teaspoon dried), chopped
1/4 teaspoon salt for sprinkling on top

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or in a mixing bowl) place the flours and yeast. With the paddle attachment running on low speed, combine the flour and yeast. Keep the mixer running and slowly pour in the water. Mix until the dough comes together and then increase the speed to medium. Mix until the dough becomes smooth and shiny, about 15-20 minutes. If stirring by hand, stir until the dough is smooth and shiny, ideally for 15 to 20 minutes (the stirring helps develop the gluten). Add sugar and salt and mix well to incorporate.

Oil a bowl or container with olive oil and pour the dough into it. Cover so that it is airtight and let rise for about 4 hours, or at least until it has doubled. About an hour before you are ready to bake the dough (around the time you put the beans in the oven) coat a sheet pan with olive oil (parchment paper may also be helpful to keep the bread from sticking while it bakes). Pour the dough onto the baking sheet and gently stretch it until it covers the pan. Let the dough rise for about an hour.

If you are cooking the beans then the oven is already preheating for the bread. If you haven't turned the oven on, preheat to 475' while the dough is in its final rise. Place a rack on the lowest level in the oven and put your baking stone (if using) on the rack while preheating.

When the oven is ready and the dough has risen for an hour, drizzle a table spoon of olive oil over the dough. Sprinkle on the rosemary and salt.

Bake the bread for 12 to 14 minutes, until the top is golden brown. Remove from the oven and drizzle on more olive oil if desired. Cut or rip into smaller pieces and serve immediately.

Quick Caramelized Onions
For topping the white bean spread or the focaccia

1 medium red or yellow onion
olive oil
salt

Slice the onion into thin strips. Heat a skillet or saucepan over low heat and add a small amount of olive oil. When the pan is hot, add the onions. Cook over low heat, stirring every so often and making sure they don't burn. Cook for about 15-20 minutes or until the onions darken to a rich brown. Add salt, if desired. 

Two Bean Chili

All summer I dreamed of making this chili. Well, not this chili exactly or any chili actually. But as I was canning and freezing as many vegetables as I could get my hands on, this was what I was waiting for. Remember all those posts I wrote about preserving food this summer? And how during those hot sweaty evenings, humid from the air outside and the large pot of boiling water on the stove, I would think about how my hard work would pay off during the bleak months of winter?

Well, hello winter. Although I wasn't snowed in and the temperature was actually above freezing on Sunday, I was determined to make a pot of what seemed like an ideal hearty winter meal. It would be even better on a day that was frozen with snow and wind, when leaving the house seems like a terrible idea and staying inside near a bubbling pot of chili is the right place to be. I had nearly all the ingredients in my pantry or freezer. Tomatoes, tomato paste, bell peppers, onions, garlic, and jalapenos were all canned, frozen, or stored from the farm and farmers markets. I usually have dry beans in a jar in the cupboard. The only think I had to buy was the chili powder and since I was at the store, I picked up some cilantro and cheddar cheese for garnishing.

Of course even in a blizzard I probably could make it to the store, which is a block away, but happily my time in the kitchen this summer is providing for us now. In 2011 and I could get by without working for anything but dollars to buy my beans, tomatoes and chili powder. Instead I chose to put in all that time preserving because it is work that is more satisfying to me than swiping my debit card and carrying the groceries home.

When filling jars and our freezer this summer, I didn't anticipate finding a recipe that used so many of the things we already had preserved. I flipped open to this very chili in Cook This Now, Melissa Clark's newest book. I made her cornbread for Thanksgiving and I love reading her beautifully written recipes notes that give a bit more insight into the origins, taste, and place of each one. In describing her three meat chili, Melissa Clark mentions that she tries her best to avoid meat-less chili. I felt bad going against the author's taste, but I adapted her recipe to make a chili with beans instead of meat.

The recipe makes a lot of very hearty chili. I know that you are probably busy planning holiday meals and activities and the thought of a day with nothing to do but cook chili and stay warm inside is far away. Save this one for January (when you can dream of the summer preserving you will do for next year's chili making). Or make a pot of chili now for all of the times in the next few weeks that you won't have time to cook so you can feed your family and friends when they stop in for some holiday cheer.

Two Bean Chili
Adapted from Three Meat Chili in Cook This Now by Melissa Clark
You can use a variety of beans, I just happened to have black and red beans, so I made two bean chili. You can, as always, adjust the spiciness to taste by adding more or less jalapenos and chili powder.

2 cups dried beans (I used black and red, but you could use kidney, pinto or others)
3 teaspoons salt
1 medium green bell pepper
1 medium red bell pepper
1 medium onion
3 garlic cloves
1 to 2 jalapenos
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 quart jars (or 2 28-ounce cans) of whole or crushed tomatoes 
2-3 tablespoons chili powder

Cook the beans: place the beans in a dutch oven or other oven-proof pot with a lid. Cover the beans with plenty of water add 1 teaspoon of salt. Put the lid on the pot and place in the oven at 400 degrees for 1 hour. After an hour, check the beans to see if they are completely soft (but not mushy). If they are not fully cooked, add more water if needed and continue cooking until they are soft. OR cook the beans using your preferred method. When the beans are cooked, drain them.

Seed and dice the bell peppers. Finely chop the onion and garlic. Seed and finely chop the jalapenos. Place your soup pot over medium heat. Add the tomato paste and cook, stirring frequently, until the paste turns golden brown. Add the bell peppers, onion, garlic and jalapenos. Cook for 7-10 minutes until the vegetables are softened. Add the chili powder, stir and cook for about a minute. Pour in the tomatoes, beans and the rest of the salt. Add 1-2 cups of water for your desired thickness. Let the soup simmer for at least 30 minutes.

Serve with a side of brown rice or cornbread and the garnishes of your choice such as chopped fresh cilantro, lime wedges, chopped scallions, sour cream or grated cheddar cheese. Serves 4-6 heartily.