Roasted Asparagus with Yogurt Dressing

If you just skim the last few entries on this blog, you may very well assume that we eat nothing but dessert around here.  Truth is, my favorite summer meals involve freshly baked breads, creamy cheeses, and whatever seasonal vegetable the garden has to offer.  

It's been summer out here in the East Bay for quite some time (and then winter again quite suddenly, but what can you do?), so asparagus seems a little passe.  It comes in our CSA box every week in April and May, and I scoop up even more bundles of the thin, green stalks everywhere I see them.  Asparagus is a celebration of spring, and by June, it doesn't quite belong on our table anymore.  We wait patiently for tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, and corn.  We watch the sunset past eight and wake up to a sun-filled room at six, we go to the beach, we break out the light ales and white wines.  We don't give asparagus a second thought.

But we should.  Because if we dress it up for summer, if we pour on generous helpings of smoking dressing and hard boiled eggs, if we roast it until caramelized and crispy, asparagus just might surprise us.  It may provide the perfect early summer meal, along side some bread and a dish of fresh cheese.  We need to fill our dinners with something as we wait for the hot sun to ripen summer fruits and vegetables, and asparagus - this creamy, sweet, crispy, spicy, dressed up asparagus - fits the bill.

Roasted Asparagus with Yogurt Dressing
Serves three

For the dressing:

1 c yogurt
2 T lemon juice
1 t smoked paprika
1 clove garlic, minced
pinch salt

For the asparagus:

2 T olive oil
1 1/2 lbs asparagus, trimmed
salt and pepper

To serve:

3 eggs
squeeze lemon juice
drizzle olive oil

Whisk all dressing ingredients together.  Cover, and chill in the fridge until ready to serve.

In the meantime, hard boil your eggs.  I like to cover them with water in a pot, heat the pot over high heat, and bring to a boil.  Then turn down the heat to simmer the water for 10 minutes.  Immediately drain and shock eggs with cold water.  Let coo, before peeling and slicing.

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium high heat.  Add asparagus, and cover.  Cook asparagus for 3 to 5 minutes, depending on the thickness of your spears.  Remove lid, increase heat to high, and season with salt and pepper.  Cook for another 5 to 7 minutes.

To serve, pour dressing over asparagus, and top with sliced eggs.  Squeeze some lemon juice and drizzle some olive oil over the whole dish.

Waffles with Warm Cherry Sauce

Have I mentioned my slight obsession with German food?  I make German and Mexican food so often that my wife has suggested I write a German/Mexican fusion cookbook (with recipes including Kale and Potato Enchiladas and Five Alarm Goulash).  It's partly an interest in the foods of my wife's childhood and heritage, but it mostly has to do with the fact that German food is mostly butter and cream (see also: my obsession with French food).

My wife has been asking me to recreate this dish for some time.  In Northern Germany, pastries are an art and an essential part of life.  Most afternoons, friends and family gather at bakeries or in each other's homes around cakes stuffed with marzipan or prune butter (everything topped with whipped cream, obviously).  If you happen to be out for a walk along the beach, you need a mobile sweet afternoon snack.  For this, you have several choices: ice cream, crepes, or waffles.  The latter is often topped with warm berries, known as rote grutze (literally red porridge, or similar).  Since the cherries are going crazy right now, I thought it would be a good time to give this Northern German treat a go.

The tricky thing about this particular dish is that you can't just go and dump some normal cherries on normal waffles.  German cherries are sour, and German waffles are so incredibly light (nothing like what sits next to  your bacon and sausage, waiting to be topped with maple syrup).  They are thin, airy, and crispy, resembling the delicate cookies known as eiserkuhen.

I had to adapt for my American kitchen.  The cherries were not sour, the waffles perhaps not so thin.  But they were delicious and were granted approval from the expert who has eaten waffles in Germany for many years.  I had the pleasure of spending some time in Germany two years ago (which is good, since these islands may not exist in a few decades).  I miss the wind worn landscape, the cold North Sea, the green meadows, and the endless beaches.  But mostly I miss the pastries.  So making these waffles is a little like bringing some of Germany home, so I can close my eyes, smell the salt, feel the wind, and taste the butter.

German Waffles with Warm Cherry Sauce (Rote Grutze)
Serves 4

For the rote gruzte:

1 c cherries, pitted and chopped
2 c water
2 T corn starch
dash red wine (optional)
sugar

Place cherries and water in a saucepan over medium heat.  Bring to a boil, and cook for half an hour, stirring occasionally.  Add wine a few minutes before the half hour.  Dissolve corn starch in a little water, and add it to the mixture.  Stir until there are no lumps.  Add sugar to taste (I need a few tablespoons).  Remove from heat, and let cool slightly before serving.

For the waffles:

1/3 c water
2/3 c flour
2 eggs
1/3 c sugar
1/2 c melted butter
1/2 t baking powder

Mix all ingredients well, stirring until there are no lumps.  Heat your waffle iron, and cook waffles according to your iron.

Serve waffles topped with rote grutze and powdered sugar.

Mexican Chocolate Gelato

I recently had the opportunity (and the good sense) to take a week break between finishing one job and starting another.  Some people would take a week off to sleep in, watch TV, maybe go to the gym or long walks, and generally spend time lounging about in vacation mode.

I painted cabinets.  And I sewed curtains, hung up curtains, decorated walls with art from Goodwill, set up shelves, planted a garden, trimmed trees, and cleaned this house until the kitchen sink was actually white again (I don't want to talk about what color it was before).  And I still felt lazy.  There were projects I didn't finish and others I never even started.  Now two days into my new job, I look back on last week with the realization that perhaps my goals were too lofty, and my relaxation was too slight.  But some people kick back by pulling up weeds.  I can't help it.

Another thing that makes me feel lazy is making ice cream.  I've talked about my ice cream maker before, and honestly, I was not kidding that I never regret buying the thing.  I even have a wife who doesn't like ice cream, so I don't make it as often as I might, and it still gets enough use to be worth it.  One use would be worth it.  There are some foods for which homemade and store bought don't even compare.  Ice cream just happens to be one of them.  The homemade stuff is in a different world.  You don't have time to make homemade ice cream?  That's where the lazy comes in.

As kids, we filled an ice cream maker with ice and salt and took turns cranking the handle until we were rewarded with the perfectly creamy result.  These days, I just keep the container in the freezer and throw in ingredients when the mood strikes.  An hour or two later, I have a quart frozen dessert that cost about as much to make as just one scoop at the local shop.  And I can control the process, experiment with flavors, and ensure my ingredients are fresh and humanely raised and sold.

Mexican chocolate really just means chocolate with cinnamon.  I am a huge fan of the intensity that cinnamon brings to any dish, and I add it by the spoonful.  Kick it up a notch if you really like spice, and take it down if you want a subtle flavor.  As always, use the highest quality chocolate you can find for the best results.  But churn it by hand or do it the lazy way, and you'll pretty much end up with the same gelato.

Mexican Chocolate Gelato
Makes a quart

2 c whole milk
1 c heavy cream
1/2 c unsweetened cocoa powder
4 oz bittersweet chocolate
4 large eggs
3/4 c brown sugar
1 t cinnamon

Combine milk and cream in a saucepan over medium-low heat.  Stir occasionally, and cook until mixture is 170 degrees.  Turn off the heat, and whisk in cocoa powder.  Add the chocolate, and stir until completely melted.  In another bowl, whisk eggs and brown sugar together until thick.  Temper the mixture by adding a ladle of the chocolate mixture, and then add the egg mixture to the saucepan.  Cook over low heat until you have a thick custard.  The mixture should be around 185 degrees.

Cool the mixture completely by leaving in the fridge for a few hours.  Add cinnamon, and prepare gelato according to your ice cream maker's instructions.  Transfer to an airtight container, and freezer for several hours before serving.

Sweet Plantains

This dish, like most good things in life, started with a Sesame Street segment.  As part of its liberal, hippie indoctrination, the show was always showing how children of different cultures sleep, go to school, dance, play, and eat (hey, everybody does it).  During one such episode, a mother made a dish that looked so good, I wanted to recreate it immediately.  Unfortunately, my younger self had never come across a plantain before, and I took the fruit on the television to be a banana.  Simple enough mistake, but bananas do not fry up the same way as plantains, and the result was, well, not exactly what I had expected.

Flash forward fifteen or so years, and I discovered my first plantain.  I immediately remembered my Sesame Street induced disappointment and knew that I had finally found my answer.  That mother wasn't frying up bananas - she was frying up their much starchier cousin, the plantain.

There's a Cuban restaurant near my old workplace that is famous for its plantains.  They make them two ways: garlicy and sweet.  The sweet plantains are so perfectly soft and syrupy, and I knew I had to recreate them at home.  I mastered the basic fried plantain long ago (fry, squish, fry again, salt), but I had never tried to make them sweet.  And so, with a Sesame Street memory in my head, I went for it.

These are as easy, if not easier, than their salty counterparts.  No need to squish and refry - simply cook them down in a sugary, cinnamon mess.  Then serve them up with a side of rice and beans (or in my case, shrimp and beans).  But I'm not so sure Sesame Street would approve of all the sugar (things have changed in that neighborhood since I was a kid).

Sweet Plantains
Serves 3-4 as a side

2 ripe plantains, cut into pieces
4 T butter
2 T brown sugar
1/2 t vanilla
pinch cinnamon

Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat.  Add the plantains, and cook until soft, about 10 minutes.  Make sure to flip them over half way through to brown both sides.  Add the sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon, and continue cooking for another two minutes.  Stir to coat the plantains, and serve immediately.

Strawberry Shortcake

When it comes to food, I make plans.  As illustrated last week, I know what's for dinner each night, and I have a list when I go to the store.  Every item that makes it into my grocery cart has a purpose.  I can be derailed, however, by the produce at Berkeley Bowl.  For those of you unfamiliar, Berkeley Bowl is a grocery store with an enormous produce section.  It was even featured on an episode of Radiolab about choice, in which Jad and Robert talk about selecting an apple from among dozens of varieties.  Not only is the diversity of options incredible, but everything is ridiculously cheap.  It's not the rare occasion that some figs, asparagus, or plums make their way into my cart unexpectedly.

Or, in the case of this week, strawberries.  Intellectually, I know what they're playing at.  They stack them so beautifully, boxes filled with vibrant red berries.  You try to pass them by, but the air is filled with the scent of early summer.  And there's a giant sign that informs you those four pounds of strawberries can be yours for only $2.50.  And so you make them yours.

I don't even like strawberries; I don't really like any berries at all.  I was the kid you wanted to take berry picking.  As my brother shoveled handfuls of blueberries in his mouth, each and every one of mine went straight into my bucket.  I've warmed up to them over the years, but I am not strawberries' biggest fan.  But if you put it on a cake and serve it with whipped cream, I will eat it.  There's something so quaint, so delightful about strawberry shortcake.  And it's a pretty good way to eat four pounds of strawberries before they start to rot, which seems like a physically daunting task.

I went for a traditional biscuit because if there is one thing I love, it's biscuits.  I don't know when I made my first batch, but it was young enough to develop aspirations of becoming a cook at a logger camp.  Yes, I wanted to make biscuits for lumberjacks all day long.  I maintain that I would have been extremely successful if I had chosen that career path.

These biscuits are topped with turbinado sugar to give them a sweet crunch, but other than that, I try to leave all the sweetness to the strawberries.  It's such a simple dessert, but it looks impressive and tastes even better.  The strawberries start to form a syrup that permeates the biscuits, and each bite is a little bit soft, a little bit crunchy, a little bit juicy, and a little bit creamy.  Strawberry shortcake is the ultimate way to usher in the summer, and it's fashionable both before and after Memorial Day.

Strawberry Shortcake
Makes eight servings

For the biscuits:
1 1/2 c flour
3/4 c cake flour
3 T sugar
1/2 t salt
6 T butter, cold, plus 2 T butter, melted
1 c heavy cream
1 1/2 T turbinado sugar

For the strawberries:
2 pints strawberries, sliced
2 T sugar

whipped cream, for serving

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Whisk flour, cake flour, sugar, and salt together.  Blend the cold butter in with your fingers, until you have a breadcrumb consistency.  Move quickly so as not to warm the butter too much.  Stir in the cream until completed mixed.

Turn out the dough, and knead until it comes together.  Roll out to a 3/4 inch thickness.  Stamp out biscuits using a biscuit cutter, drinking glass, or mason jar.  You should have eight biscuits, give or take.

Transfer biscuits to a baking sheet, and brush them with melted butter.  Sprinkle turbinado sugar evenly, and bake for 25 minutes.  Let cool.

Toss strawberries with sugar, and let sit for 15 minutes.

Whip enough cream for the number of shortcakes you will be making.  I used about a cup of cream for three servings, and I whipped it with the zest of one lemon.  The amount of whipped cream was probably excessive, but it's up to you.

To serve, split each biscuit in half.  Top each bottom half with strawberries and whipped cream, and replace the tops.  Spoon more berries and cream on top, if desired (always desire!).

I made the full recipe of biscuits, since they keep for a few days (rewarm them in the oven for a few minutes before serving).  You'll only want to make the amount of strawberries you'll be eating right away, since the won't keep for long.  Just eyeball it, and sprinkle some sugar on top.

Cornflake Cookies

I'm not one to jump on the cooking trends that sweep the internet.  I've never made Jim Lahey's No Knead Bread and, although tempted, I did not try the Jacques Torres Chocolate Chip Cookie, mostly because I don't like to wait 24 hours to eat the cookies I have just made.

But there's one trend that even I cannot ignore.  Perhaps you have heard of Momofuku Milk Bar?  It's a bakery in Brooklyn beloved by hipsters and sugar junkies, and it's the home of cinnamon bun pie, crack pie, compost cookies (made with potato chips), and any number of cereal inspired sweets.  I'd heard about their famous chocolate chip cookies with cornflakes mixed in, but I didn't give them much thought until last night.  I can't quite handle it when there are no baked goods in the house, so I always keep ingredients for chocolate chip cookies on hand, and I have a go-to recipe for such occasions.  A proper husband always packs a cookie with his wife's lunch.

Instead of turning to my usual recipe, I found myself craving something with a little more crunch than an unadorned cookie.  Because I live in a household that consumes cornflakes at an alarming rate, my mind drifted to those famous cookies.

The original recipe calls for "cornflake crunch" - basically sweetened cornflakes, or Frosted Flakes, if you will.  I opted to use just plain cornflakes, and I'm glad I did; these cookies are sweet enough as is.  They also contain more butter than I have ever put in a cookie, causing them to spread considerably while baking (and to burn easily, so be careful).  But now I get what the hype is all about.

You can make these as they do at Momofuku and use 1/3 of a cup of dough per cookie.  But I decided that, while we enjoy dessert around here, we probably should opt for cookies the size of cookies, not cookies the size of a human face.  But your choice.

I'll probably stick with my plain old chocolate chip cookies; you can't go wrong there.  These cookies were good, and they certainly met my craving for some crunch in my cookie.  It was a nice experiment, and now I can say I've tried, just like every other food blogger on the planet.  But I'm still going to knead my bread.

Cornflake Cookies
 Makes two dozen normal cookies or 15 enormous cookies

1 c butter (2 sticks), softened
1 1/4 c sugar
2/3 c packed brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 t vanilla
1 1/2 c flour
1/2 t baking powder
1/2 t baking soda
1 t salt
3 c cornflakes
2/3 c chocolate chips
1 1/4 c mini marshmallows

Beat the butter with the sugars for a few minutes.  Add the egg and vanilla, and beat for 7-8 more minutes.

Add flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Mix until dough just comes together.  Scrape down the bowl.

Mix in the cornflakes, chocolate chips, and marshmallows by hand.  Try to mix them evenly, and do not over mix.

Cover dough, and chill for an hour, or up to a week.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Form cookies in your desired size, and place on a greased or lined baking sheet.  Place cookies at least four inches apart; they really spread!

Bake for 12 minutes.  Check your cookies at this point to see if they have begun to brown.  If so, remove from the oven and cool.  If not, keep checking on cookies every minute until they are done.

Meal Planning

So perhaps you are wondering where I get all the recipes on this blog, how I decide what to make, how I make a shopping list, where I shop, and how much time and money this all takes me.  Maybe you're not.  But I'll tell you anyway, because it's a process that I have fine tuned for about three years now, and I think I've got it down.

We subscribe to a community supported agriculture (CSA) project through Full Belly Farm.  We get a box of fruit and vegetables weekly, which seems like a pretty good place to start.  Each week, I take a look at what we're getting in the CSA, make a list of vegetables still remaining in the fridge, and take inventory of other ingredients to use up.  Then I come up with seven meals that make the most efficient use of everything.

For example, if the CSA contains broccoli, potatoes, carrots, lettuce, onions, spinach, and chard, and I still have sweet potatoes and beets in the fridge, plus some whole wheat pasta, couscous, lentils, and black beans, I'll probably come up with some roasted root vegetable dish, a pasta dish that involves broccoli, potato and chard enchiladas with black beans on the side, and a few simple dishes that can be served with a side salad.  That's a good starting point.  I'll fill in with recipes that I've been sitting on for a while, as I mark whatever makes it onto my radar as a delicious dish to try.  I go through my cookbooks, cooking magazines (I got a huge pile of old issues of Food and Wine for free a few months ago), and my favorite food website, Taste Spotting, which is like a run down of all the best food blogs.  I'll also click the "Surprise Me!" button on Smitten Kitchen if I'm in need of some real inspiration.

Once I have a meal plan, I make a list of ingredients and cross off the ones we already have.  What I'm left with is what I'll need to cook for the week.  The rest of the list will be things I buy every week (corn flakes, milk, orange juice, yogurt, seasonal fruit for lunches and snacks, bread) or things we don't go through every week but run out of on a fairly regular basis (butter, cheese, salami, coffee, olive oil, flour, sugar, etc.).  Bright and early on Sunday morning, I head out to Trader Joe's for dairy, bread, cereal, etc. and Berkeley Bowl for produce and bulk.  I don't know what I would do without bulk food; it makes buying things like flour, grains, legumes, nuts, teas, and spices dirt cheap.  All told, I attempt to spend $80-100 each week on groceries, which does not include the $16 for the CSA box.  For three adults, it's not that bad.

This is the system that works for us, and it's been perfected over many years.  It demands planning, but the result is no wasted food, as I only purchase ingredients that already have a recipe waiting for them.  Each week, I write out a menu on the kitchen chalkboard, which serves several purposes.  It means that the diabetic in the house can program her pump accordingly, and it means the person who does not appreciate surprises knows what she'll be eating all week.  It means I have a visual reminder of what's for dinner and a sense of accomplishment for feeding three adults healthy food relatively cheaply.  We out out sparingly and spend dinnertime together as a family, which is a habit that has been linked to lifelong health.