vegetarian recipe – THEFRANCOFLY

Picture a Pita

I have been on a bit of a bread-making kick lately. As of now, I have not whipped up anything to give the four boulangeries on my block a run for their money. Most everything has been a bit doughy and heavy-handed like all amateur homemade bread. However, I came across a terrific recipe for pita on one of my favorite foodie sites, Gilt Taste. (Check it out here at http://www.gilttaste.com/stories/4806-make-perfect-pita). ‘Pita, you say? How granola of you to make,’ you must be thinking. ‘You might as well start making your own Windex and growing your own flaxseeds.” But at the end of the day, it’s something a bit less traditional to mess up, right? To my chagrin, it’s more or less the same recipe as pizza dough. But with the dough, there is more rolling than the Harlem Globetrotter-twirling pizza treatment.

And what’s the greatest part about homemade pita? Although there is no instant gratification in bread-making, there will be instant gratification when it hits the table. And I can attest for a lot of friends who have minimal NYC and/or twenty-something kitchens. Pita can be cooked either in an oven or in a skillet. Alongside some store-bought hummus, tabbouleh, and other Mediterranean accoutrement, it’s an instant party!

Even thought the winters in Paris are a moderate step up from the brutal winters I have known in Chicago and New York, there is still nothing more comforting than a hearty bowl of soup. This is one of the things my mom always whipped up on weeknights when I was a kid. A leftover chicken would make a rich tortilla soup. Or a few pantry basics would inspire an avgolemono. Even if the soups were quick, she would always steal a few moments to make her famous cheese muffins. Turns out the trusty recipe was found in the recipe booklet of our avocado green blender. Or we would quickly whip up some baking powder biscuits together. My American friend Catherine just returned from the States gifting me with a jar of apple butter. This brought me back to the Midwestern winters of my childhood. With no further haste or nostalgia, I had to make biscuits and an accompanying soup.

C is convinced that soup is strictly an appetizer. But if I dress it up with some homemade quick bread, he doesn’t complain. I can see why he feels this way though; I’ve noticed that soup in France is usually pureed. We don’t have a blender, one of the wedding gifts that never transpired. So I have to dig back into my mental archives for other ideas. I never ate much lentils growing up. But when slowly stewed with leeks, celery, and garlic, they could have easily been in my mom’s soup repertoire. Recipe to come… Bisou!

C has tapped the secret of scrambled eggs. Not even just the secret of making them, but the secret revelation of what they can be. I have never had the best pastime of scrambled eggs. They have always been a bit lost. Somehow the rich sensuousness of the yolk is lost in the technique. The dowdy other-half to bacon. More of a showcase of salt and pepper. I have become arrogant in my omelet abilities and have always attempted scrambled eggs with the same high-heat, pan-moving treatment. However, they are always too dry and half of the final product gets lost to the pan. I love the instant gratification of eggs, but sometimes a little added technique and patience can reintroduce something so simple and satisfying!

Low and slow is the way to go! Turn on the stovetop to its lowest setting. Beat best-quality eggs with a splash of milk, a small drizzle of water, and a generous amount of salt and pepper.

Throw a hearty nob of butter into the pan, about one teaspoon per egg, pour in the eggs, and be prepared to stir! Much like a risotto, these eggs need both affection and attention. Keep stirring

Cooking the eggs at the lowest temperature creates smaller, silkier curds and a creamier, velvety final product. Once you can draw a smiley face on the bottom of the pan, BRAVO! You are almost there.

Depending on the temperature of your stove, it can take anywhere from 5-15 minutes. Keep stirring until they are just barely set. When done right, they will have a a custard-like texture. Serve with chopped chives and crème fraiche, or with a tranche of smoked salmon. Serve them however you would normally serve scrambled eggs. However, they do not need much more than a sprinkle of sel de fleur and a piece or two of toast to sop up all the delicious creaminess. Or reunite these made-over scrambled eggs with their other-half, bacon.

Zucchini & Mozzarella

I’m back in Paris! Much to my dismay, the city is a ghost town in August. I’m on a perpetual search for an open boulangerie!
Fortunately, C welcomed me with open arms and full refrigerator. I needed to crank out a light, simple dinner one evening. I found inspiration in two staples: zucchini and fresh mozzarella. I picked up a trick by using a vegetable peeler to slice the zucchini into transparent ribbons which develop charming cross-hatching when hit on a grill pan. Tossed with a healthy dose of olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice, salt & paper, and a chiffonade of fresh mint from the garden, the zucchini ribbons are sensuously silky while showcasing the nutty quality of zucchini I often forget. The ribbons are elegantly presented piled high topped with a crown of sliced fresh mozzarella.

The first time I made this dish, I was a little quick to over-season with too much lemon juice and the half-hearted addition of shaved cornichons. C, my taste tester, had no words for the dish; something was off. Surely he thought it was too acidic. I’m realizing I have a taste for strong flavors. However, at the same time, anything can taste like lemon juice! But when food is prepared well, it should taste like a celebration of whatever it is. I have challenged myself by living out this French food philosophy. Furthermore, with respect for good ingredients, even a meal inspired by the remnants of a fridge can be wildly satisfying. Now if only I could find that baguette…

JUST ZUCCHINI & MOZZARELLA for 2

2 medium zucchini, sliced thinly with a vegetable peeler

1 ball fresh mozzarella, cut into 1/4 inch slices

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for grill pan

1 teaspoon fresh mint, sliced finely to a chiffonade (roll up leaves like a cigar and chop finely)

salt & pepper to taste

1.) Heat a grill pan over high heat. Add 1 tablespoon oil and twirl pan until it is well-covered with oil. Add zucchini to the grill pan, being careful not to overlap the slices. Flip slices after 10-15 seconds when light grill marks appear. When both sides have nice hatching, place in a bowl. Proceed by grilling the rest of the slices, adding more oil to pan as needed.

2.) When all the slices have been grilled, toss with lemon juice, the tablespoon of olive oil, mint, salt, and pepper. Pile zucchini high onto serving plates and top with several slices of fresh mozzarella. Serve as a first course or with baguette for a light lunch.

Cassoulet

When I moved back to the States, I was awfully thankful to have moved back to a food-centric city like New York. It certainly helps having a distraction from all I left behind in France. But these days, I’ve been eating on dime. Fortunately, I recently started working in a sleek little tapas restaurant, which gives me enough culinary thrills to make it through with my weekly pot of beans at home. (Pickled ramps do wonders for my morale!) Nevertheless, I had a bag of dried beans lying around (gulp) and had the ambition to recreate a rustic French dish by the name of cassoulet. It is a slow-cooked stew of white beans with the hearty addition of various meat parts, which can include duck legs, sausages, and pork pieces. I have never actually made this dish for myself. But like most time-starved French home cooks, a delightful version can be found in the prepared food isle at the local Monoprix in Paris. But this time around, I was nostalgic for some French comfort food this rainy week in New York. Although I had aimed for a traditional meat-centric version, I was discouraged my local Greek bodega does not carry any of the duck fragments traditionally used in the recipe. So I took the challenge to make it sans meat, which turned into a tasty abomination of the classic. Since I had the luxury of an afternoon off, I was hoping to cook it slowly until it attained the same silky hearth of my fond food memory of the dish. And I was quite pleased with what I came up with! As soon as the thyme hit the sautéing carrots, celery, and onions, France was all up in my face. It made me nostalgic for the sunshine in the South of France and the lazy nights C would reheat a jar of this French favorite. I’d recommend to serve with baguette, but that’s one bit of nostalgia still to be satisfied…

1 16oz. bag of white beans, soaked in water overnight and drained

1 medium red onion, chopped

12 oz. chopped carrots

1 cup chopped celery

2 tomatoes chopped finely

5 stalks of thyme tied together with string (bouquet garnis)

1 handful chopped Italian flat-leaf parsley

2 cloves garlic, chopped

1 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon black pepper

zest of 1 lemon, minced

1.) Sautee onions, carrots, celery, salt, and pepper for 8 minutes until caramelized and tender. Add chopped garlic, thyme, and tomatoes. Stir until fragrant.

2.) Add the soaked beans and 5 cups of water to the mixture. Let come to a simmer.

3.) Cook over a low heat for 60-90 minutes until the beans are soft and the broth thickens. Add more water if needed.

4.) Pull out thyme bouquet. Stir in lemon zest and parsley. Season to taste! And enjoy!

Barley Risotto…An Accidental Delight

Continuing my post-France cleanse, I’m still attempting to be a vegan as much as possible, give or take the Girl Scout cookies that have miraciously popped-up in New York City these days. Nevertheless, being a veggie has not been as restricting as I have always imagined…although I do get a few groans from friends when making dinner plans. Although I often lack the discipline to resist those delectable afternoon Tagalongs, being a vegetarian has challenged me to explore new ingredients and think creatively about all those stockpiled beans and whole grains in my cupboard. Needless to say, let’s talk about barley! Plus or minus the mushroom barley soup of my childhood, the grain was more or less foreign to me. I picked up a Goya bag of it from the market, cooked it up, and was hooked. It can be mixed with soymilk milk and sugar for breakfast, mixed in with soups, or as a perfect addition to a chopped salad. And it’s a nutritional powerhouse! Amino acids! Fiber! Antioxidants! And let’s not forget that it has a similar texture of pasta! What’s not to love?

This afternoon, I had planned to do my own take on the classic mushroom and barley medley by just cooking the barley as instructed and giving it depth by adding sautéed mushrooms. I started by sautéing the mushrooms with shallots and onions. In the meantime, I had some homemade vegetable stock simmering away next to me. To my chagrin, I had all the components of a risotto at my fingertips. Since barley has the same rounded shape as Arborio rice, why not give it a try as a risotto? I threw the barley in with the nicely caramelized vegetables and added a half-cup of broth. I stirred the bubbling barley mixture until the liquid evaporated then added another half-cup of the broth. Continue stirring in the broth one half-cup at a time until the barley plumps up and the risotto begins to develop a creamy texture. But be prepared to stir; elbow grease is the only fool-proof ingredient added to risotto. I added a splash of red wine to give it a touch of depth and sweetness. And added a little brightness with a handful of chopped parsley and a small squeeze of lemon juice. And top it off with a handful of parmesan cheese (controversial for a vegan, but necessary for a risotto) and a little drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil. And voila! Your accidental dinner is done!