Main Course

Creamy Lemon Chick Peas with Garlic Polenta

- Elspeth 1 Comment

 

I know it will be hard, but try not to be too jealous of this awesome meal I just consumed. I can feel your efforts straining across the world wide web, and I pity you.

I felt inspired by a friend’s description of his Tuscan dinner as the best dinner this year, so I decided to grab that metaphorical bull by his gnarly horns and craft my own. It almost proved impossible as my cupboards are fairly dismal, but being resourceful and so fabulous, I made the most of what I had. The result?

The Odd But Delicious Creamy, Lemony, Chick Pea, Spinach, and Arugula over Garlic Polenta. That is the full title.

If you know me at all kitchen-wise, you know it’s very difficult for me to use recipes. Cooking is like Jazz music, baking is like Classical. There is a time to improvise and a time to follow the rules, and cooking with rules is like drinking non-alcoholic beer: where’s the fun? Tonight was no different: I looked at what I had, closed my eyes, and ate the result.

Half-way through this experiment I was thinking it might be one of those nights where I try and feed my cat one of my failed attempts at genius, but I was so very wrong. My thinking all along was to have a creamy, garlic-y polenta with some form of chick peas on top. To make it saucy I mashed up about half of the peas and added lemon juice, wine, and cream. The greens gave it color and a good bite from the arugula. And it all took about 10 minutes. If you’re into meat then I would add some grilled chicken, possibly marinated in some garlic-rosemary-buttermilk.

For the chick pea extravaganza:

1 shallot, diced
2 T olive oil
1 15oz can chick peas, drained and rinsed
4 artichoke hearts, cut in half
1 handful spinach
1 handful arugula
1/4 c white wine
1/4 c lemon juice
3/4 c cream

Mash about half of the chick peas.

If you want this to be really smooth I would recommend blending them with the lemon juice. Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over med-high heat.

Saute shallots until translucent and add the chick peas.

Cook until hot, then add the wine and reduce a bit. Toss in the lemon juice and continue cooking until everything “comes together”; ie when it starts to look like a cohesive mass and not separate ingredients, about 3 minutes. Add the cream and artichoke hearts and let cook until thickened.

Turn off the heat and add the greens, mixing until it’s one dreamy mass of delicious.

For the polenta:
3/4 c dry polenta
2 cups hot water
1/2 c cream
1 head garlic
Salt to taste

Cut the top of the head of garlic off (a few millimeters worth, just to expose the meat inside), drizzle on some olive oil, and wrap in foil. Bake at 400 for 20 minutes.

Pop them out of their little sleeves, then mash with some salt and olive oil until it forms a paste.
Bring the water and cream to a boil in a medium sized pot. Reduce the heat to a simmer and slowly whisk in the polenta.

Simmer and stir constantly until it is thick and creamy, 3-5 minutes. You’ll know that it’s done when you look at it and say, “wow, I want to eat that right now.”

Stir in the garlic paste.

Dish up some grub and dive in.

NOM…NOM NOM!

Boot and what now?

- Elspeth 2 Comments

Boot and Shoe Service (duh).  No, it is not a cobblers or a place to find really cool antique cowboy boots that John Wayne wore in some Western movie eight thousand years ago (that’s about how old he is, right?).  It is the sister restaurant to Pizzaiolo that serves appetizers, salads, and pizza and yes, has a weird name.

My friend Jeffrey is one of the chefs there and at risk of sounding like a preteen who just received some juicy gossip she just HAS to pass on to her bffs via text, OMG. This place knocked my socks off, and I wasn’t even wearing any.

Let’s start with the ambiance, shall we? It’s got this sort of mood lighting, casual but frisky atmosphere with a touch of devil-may-care around the edges (the backside of their upstairs loft office is visible from the dining area). From hanging bunches of dried chilies to the light fixtures that look like they came out of some old Victorian that recently got renovated, it’s got lots of great touches. Watch the cute chefs in action, mingle with your fellow diners at the back bar, or knock back a couple of shots. Or do it all!

The wait staff was incredibly nice and seemed to like what they are doing. Why wouldn’t they? This place really embraces the local and organic element that is swiffering the nation right now. They are a people after my own heart, whose sole purpose is to deliver really, really good food.

After getting a drink at the bar and waiting for about 20 minutes for a table (this was a Wednesday night, and they were very full.  They are just that divine) we were escorted to our table.  I had, of course, studied the menu online and decided that throwing caution to the wind was the best plan of action. We asked our waitress to bring us two appetizers and a pizza of her choosing (after specifying that I loath, with a passion, anything akin to a mushroom), whichever she thought best.  This, we found out as we stuffed our faces with delightful yumminess, was an excellent idea.

The lovely lady brought us the arugula and shaved fennel salad, friend rock shrimp with onions (a gift from her to us, she said), and the sea scallops with roasted endive and avocado.

The salad was perfect.  It had the bitey bitterness of arugula and big shaved pieces of parmiggiano, topped with roasted nuts and sweet balsamic vinegar.  Even the texture blew my mind since they added frisse. The rock shrimp was perfectly salty and had the awesome addition of what were essentially bits of onion rings tossed in, with a nice dipping mayo sauce delight. The scallops…were incredible. The endive was lemony and roasted to this great softness so that when you put a bit with the avocado and scallop, you basically went straight up to heaven.  I am pretty sure I shook hands with god that night.

At this point, Emma and I were stuffed to the gills. I could have waddled out of there completely content, but B&S had other plans. Allow me to introduce…

The nettle pizza. With an egg. And fresh ricotta. And oh, yes, some of my drool.

Now, if you’re anything like me, when you hear “nettles” you think: angry European plants that jump out and try and kill you with their painful pokey things. Suffices to say, I was a little hesitant. Unnecessary. If I was not raised by a mindful mother who taught me table etiquette and common decency, I would have knocked Emma off her chair and eaten the whole thing myself. The nettles had this anchovy-ish taste that was addictive and went perfectly with the egg and crispy crust. I had heard of plopping eggs onto pizza when I was in Italy, but this was my first live-action experience with the little buggers.

Boy oh boy, Aunty Em, it is completely worth the initial odd feeling of asking someone to put an egg on your pizza to enjoy this ambrosia. We broke off hunks of the pizza and dipped them in the broken egg, licking our fingers and groaning under the sheer weight of how much we were consuming. A-mazing.

Oh! Did you think we were done? Heavens, no! Just as I unbuttoned my top button (the laws of physics state only so much stuff can fit in a certain amount of space, and I was exceeding that space) when along came…

Burnt caramel pot de creme with whipped cream. As you can see by the chunk already removed from this bit of nirvana, I couldn’t wait to dive in. It was this thick, almost ice cream-like texture with small studs of salt mixed in and an intense caramel flavor. So, so good. I got the pastry chef’s email so I could beg him for the recipe!

This place is magnificent. If you want good quality, unique ingredients, and a mound of love with every bite, go to this place. You will not regret it!

As always,
NOM NOM NOM!

Pesto Lasagna

- Elspeth 1 Comment

Yes.  Yes I am.  Ever since I lectured myself on the beauty and wonder that is a perfectly crafted lump of pasta-sauce-cheese, I just can’t get enough of the stuff.  I found myself sneaking (who am I hiding from? my cat?) into the refrigerator late at night (grandma here considers “late” to be about, oh, 8:45pm) and snarfing spoonfuls.  I had to hide it in the freezer.  Whew! Dodged that bullet.

But now the guns are blazing again, ready for round two.  AND I’m going to finish it off with a lavender (there it is!) cheesecake with a lemon glaze.  What’s the number for Jenny Craig…? Get it on my speed dial, STAT.

MMmm calories.

I was feeling particularly crafty this morning.  Probably something to do with the full moon, but my brain didn’t seem to want to settle on one simple ingredient to focus on today.  It jumped from basil to pesto to lasagna to squash and then to kale.  ???? Hey! why not? Sometimes you need to go a little cray-cray (that’s slang for “crazy pants,” in case you’re not hip and cool like me).

So here is my helter-skelter, creamy pesto lasagna with kobocha squash and dinosaur kale (rawr!).

First I made a giant batch of pesto.  I hate to say it, but I don’t know how to write.  Obviously, that’s a lie, BUT I don’t know how to write down things while I’m cooking.  Ergo, vis-a-vis, etc, I can rarely repeat a recipe because I forget how much of this or that I put in it.  I am learning and improving though, so stick with me and have some faith.  My pesto went something like this (I’m using terms that I’m assuming only those among the Appalachians still keep alive):

4 large handfuls of basil, washed and dryed (be careful with basil, it is delicate and bruises easily)
4 handfuls of spinach
2 cups chopped toasted almonds, walnuts, pine nuts, favorite nut
2 cups grated parmesan
1 head garlic, peeled
ground pepper
olive oil (I don’t put an amount in because some people like their pesto more liquidy, some like it more hearty.  for this recipe I put in a minimal amount since I didn’t want oil pooling on the lasagna.  Icky gross).

Toss everything but the oil into a cuisinart, or if you’re old school, chop it all very fine and mix by hand.  Don’t judge– I had to do that before I got my fancy machine.  I had some nice hand muscles because of it (jealous?).

Stream the olive oil while the motor is running until you get the desired consistency.  Now grab a cracker or your favorite finger and try some out.  Give yourself a high-five, transfer pesto to a bowl, and cover with plastic wrap.  Grab another cracker.

Now, I hope you’re ready to be annoyed by must infuriating vegetable I have yet to come across.

The Kabocha squash.  It looks all cute and innocent, like a fat little cherub or something equally as inoffensive.  Do not be deceived, you poor bloggers.  Now, admittedly, I’ve had some run-ins with other squash relatives (butternut and I have a long history) but this one took the cake.  I think it’s flat-yet-round physique combined with an incrediblyhard peel/skin/metal casing thing made it near impossible to attack with a vegetable peeler.  So I had to go at it with my fancy knife.  And this is how it went down:

 
I had to leave the room for a few minutes and meditate with some Prince in my earbuds before I could return to the scene of the crime.  Just remember, party people: patience is a virtue.  Find your chi and center the hell out of it before purchasing a Kabocha.
I bought two of these little monster and cut them into thin slices.  For the Kale, one bunch was sufficient for this lasagna.  Just rip the greens off the “rib”, rinse, and chop into smaller pieces.
 
Lovely!  If you don’t feel like giving yourself a high five again for such excellent work, go ahead take a shot of vodka, eat a tub of ice cream, or whatever it is that makes you feel like a man.
Onwards: to the Bechamel! Same story as last time:
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup flour
4 cups warm milk
Salt and Pep
I didn’t add garlic this time because I think you’ll be able to ward enough a herd of vampires with the amount of G that’s in the pesto.  But feel free to add it to the bechamel if you’re feeling inadequate.
So melt the butter, add the flour, stir it around, add the milk a little at a time.  Yes, this is the clifsnotes version.  So sue me.
Don’t get discouraged if your mixture looks like this when you add the milk:
Just keep whisking, just keep whisking.  It won’t look like unappetizing curdled goat cheese for long, and it definitely won’t taste like it, either.
Now comes the fun part!  I added the pesto (probably about 4 cups) to the bechamel and stirred until smooth:

So pretty.  And you’re in the home stretch, ladies and germs. It’s hammer time.
So you have:
Lasagna noodles
creamy pesto sauce
squash
kale
Start with a layer of sauce, then:
1) noodles
2) sauce
3) squash
4) kale
Repeat 3 more times.  Because of the kale, my lasagna was about an inch higher than the pan.  BUT since squash and kale reduce in size as they cook, worried was I not.
Looks like a hot mess, right?  Never fear, comrades.  It was DELICIOUS!  It’s nice to have spin on regular lasagna, and this one stole the show.  It wasn’t greasy like most pesto lasagnas can be and the veggies were a good complement.  Bravo.  It might be interesting to mix up the type of pesto (perhaps using all spinach for a milder flavor, walnuts paired with butternut squash and a sage cream sauce…possibilities are endless!)  I can see goat cheese being deeeeelightful in this.  Nom nom!