spanikopita, not veronica's finest work

Years ago, my last roommate and I threw a small holiday party where we prepared ethnic dishes from our motherlands. Dan is Greek and one of his delicious contributions was spanikopita. I remembered that they were incredible, but seemed like an awful lot of work. You had to squeeze spinach! And apparently phyllo is a very delicate ingredient, vulnerable to the drying properties of air. Jeez. Anyway, it's taken me many years to psych myself up to the challenge. But here I am.

So, I found and prepared this recipe.

Aside from the phyllo situation, spanikopita is refreshingly straightforward to prepare. Wilt spinach with some onions! Squeeze it!! Add crumbled feta and some other stuff! Piece of cake. The mixture that remains seems like it would be delicious as is. But since it had a raw egg in it I didn't test this theory.

The next step, of course, was to bring out this week's daunting compulsory ingredient: phyllo. As Jamie mentioned, phyllo (sometimes spelled filo - weird) is frozen. A stack comes rolled up in a plastic pack to protect it from the drying air. Once you open the pouch, you have to keep the stack covered with a damp tea towel.

The recipe calls for two sheets to be stacked, each brushed with melted butter. And I don't want to discourage anyone, but if you do this for 8 servings you end up going through an entire stick of butter. That really blew me away. Anyway, once your buttered filos are ready, you glob some of the filling onto the bottom center of the rectangle and fold the sides in. Voila! A filo tube ready to be flag-folded up and - eek! - buttered at every turn. The finished products are cool-looking, shiny triangles that take to freezing well, so I placed them straight onto a cookie sheet in the freezer.

I kept the last two out (the very last one was mini) and popped them into the oven. It was not until they came out that I realized something had gone awry: spanikopitas aren't puffy! WTF. And even though I bet I could've used even more spinach, the flavor was pretty solid.

If I had to guess what went wrong, I'd say maybe each triangle needed only one sheet of phyllo. I mean, you fold it into itself so many times you get plenty of layers. I think the additional sheet provided more space for air to get in and puff it up. This is just a guess, though. I'm no scientist.

Anyway, try cooking some spanikopitas! They keep well and are not nearly as scary to make as you think.

another farro & cabbage casserole!

Who knew there were so many (at least two) farro & cabbage casserole recipes?  For mine, I turned to gojee.com and it suggested these farro-stuffed, prosciutto-wrapped cabbage rolls.  Although the recipe was kind of vague in parts and there is absolutely no way that the end product could look like their photo (um, you put tomato sauce and mozzerella on top), it was delicious.  And due to my inferior cabbage rolling skills, much more casserole-y than I had originally envisioned.

I started out by trying to make Thomas Keller proud with a super-organized mise-en-place.

mise-en-place

Basically, this recipe involves a lot of chopping and waiting.  Once things were prepped, I got the farro going in one pot while blanching the cabbage leaves to make them "easy" to work with in another.  And this is where I had my biggest problem with the recipe.  The author claims to prefer working with the outer cabbage leaves for their color.  After deciding to use inner leaves as well (I really did not want to buy four cabbages), I quickly learned that they are difficult to peel off and get wonky and cook much quicker than the outer leaves.  So when it came time to roll them, they were kind of a mess.  If I make this again (and I think I will--tasty!), I think that I'll turn to another source to better learn the fine art of cabbage rolling.

outer leaf - piece of cake!

After stuffing and rolling and topping, the casserole went in the oven for 35 minutes and came out delicious.  And the recipe provided enough food for K & I to get 4 meals out of it (without suffering farro casserole fatigue).

before

after

the best meal veronica probably won't make again

For this week's farro challenge I wanted to make something I saw a Top Cheftestant cook many seasons ago: farrotto. I think that is a stupid word, but since I'm a fan of both risotto and farro, I decided to try it anyway.

After taking an inventory of my foods and scouring the internet, I chose to prepare farro risotto with kale and roasted acorn squash.

Even though the dish was very delicious I doubt I'll ever make it again. It took SO long to cook, I thought I would pass out from hunger! Basically, you have to a) peel/chop/roast an acorn squash, b) boil water and blanch some kale, c) season and roast farro, d) chop aromatics, and, finally - ha! - e) cook the farro in a risotto-like fashion. I'd say it took me about an hour and a half to get to step (e) and then about an hour to stand around like a chump, ladling broth into the cooking farro.

Once the farro(tto) was cooked, I added all the other prepped components and tossed around with some nice parmesan and butter. Boom, finally. And for all my wah-wah-ing, it really was very delicious.

I think it's a bit of a stretch to call it farro risotto, though. Risotto calls to mind that beautiful starchy-creamy business that make great risottos great. Farro doesn't really bleed much of its starchiness, so in the end this dish relies on butter and cheese to mimic that texture. And while it was tasty, it was definitely not risotto. Two days later, though, I would come to appreciate this.

Risotto doesn't keep well. That starchy-creamy whatever just gets all gelatinous and nasty. This is apparently not an issue with farrotto. For brunch a couple of days later I heated up the little I had left over and dropped a poached egg on top. I am a genius!

Getting two excellent meals out of this dish almost makes up for all the time spent making it. Almost.

Raku: Farro Casserole

I found a recipe for a nice-sounding cabbage casserole.

Yes, it included heavy cream, most of a stick of butter, and half a pound of cheese, but soooo healthy aside from that... Still my conscience was pricking me, so I decided to make some substitutions - a lot less butter  in exchange for a little olive oil, milk mixed in with the heavy cream. I let the cheese stand, since a lady's got to have standards. While I was being so wonderfully inventive, I replaced the rice in the recipe with farro. Why not?

This was a mistake. The resulting dish looked kind of cute while in the pyrex, but it was a (hot) mess out of it. Way too much liquid! The rice that should have soaked it all up had been replaced (by some fool) for farro. All in the name of laziness (couldn't go to the store to buy rice) and health (this will be the death of me). Oh well. The flavor wasn't bad, so I'll probably try it again. But next time I'll go true-to-recipe or go home.

Johanna: Also Thanksgiving Bread Pudding

Like Jamie, I could not find a loaf of brioche!  In Beverly Hills!  I don't know why, but I assumed that in Beverly Hills, they sell everything you could ever possibly need to be a fancy person.  And a loaf of brioche is definitely one of those things.*

The bread pudding was super simple to make.  The leeks smelled amazing while they were getting all nice and melty on the stove (though mine did brown a lot and I was wondering if that was supposed to happen?).

I did cut the crusts off the bread (wound up using 1.5 loaves of French country white in lieu of the brioche) and just used the soft innards.  After toasting the bread in the oven, beating the eggs and mixing all of the fatty dairy, I composed the pudding.  I was a bit concerned that I had too much bread.  I know that some should be poking out of the custard, but I wondered if using a non-buttery bread could lead to dryness? 

And because of this concern about drying out, I pulled the bread pudding out of the oven about a half hour early.  It was so puffy and tall right out of the oven and then it imploded (albeit, rather gently).  Wah.  Nonetheless, K's dad proclaimed it to be the most beautiful bread pudding he'd ever seen (doubt it, but I'll take it) and our fellow Thanksgiving diners seemed to enjoy it thoroughly and offered up their compliments.  Though I do think that the top was slightly dry.

* I could find brioche rolls, no problem, but I was not about to buy a million of them at $3 a piece, or however much they cost at Bristol Farms.

Johanna: I Love Fried Bread

After last week's fiasco re: duck legs, it was an absolute joy to be able to find everything for this recipe so easily.  Asparagus, check!  Country loaf, check!  Prosciutto, check (I mean, srsly, my local grocery shop is called Romeo & Cesare's)!  And I even got my hands on some of those beautiful blue eggs with the brilliantly yellow yolks that I love so very much.  Everything fell into place so nicely this week.  No more classed-up Sandra Lee from me.

The trick about the asparagus, as Veronica mentioned in her post, really is quite fantastic.  I always just grab my paring knife and chop off what looks like it might be unpalatable.  This bending and snapping thing is a much more reliable (and easy!) method.

The asparagus grilled up nicely (though the lack of hood above our oven always causes the kitchen to get uber-smoky when we break out the grill/griddle) while I looked on in glee as the bread got nice and fried.  (We've made croutons before, but just with olive oil...so this was a little disconcerting / delicious).

My poached eggs were tasty, but ghosty.  I'm really hoping that I'll get better at it.  It's just so gross seeing threads of egg white floating around in a pot of vinegared water.

Final verdict: YUM!  Kamran and I didn't even bother to take our own portions off of the serving dish.  We just dove right in.

Veronica : Adventures in Poaching

Menu: Grilled asparagus with poached eggs, prosciutto, and torn garlic croutons

I thought that the Grilled Asparagus would be an nice weeknight recipe. Convenient, too, as I happened to have a handsome bunch of asparagus in my refrigerator. I tried really hard this time to get my mise-en-place, but I just couldn't. I have only enough counter space in my kitchen to accommodate my smallish cutting board and one, maybe two, receptacles for recently chopped items. I have no place to put tiny bowls, etc. Apologies to the team.

ANYWAY, skinny asparagus is one of my favorite veges and Mr. Keller mentions a helpful kitchen tip that I've lived by for awhile: slowly bend an asparagus stalk and where it snaps is where you should trim. All stalks will be tender and not at all woody that way. Brills! Next I oiled the little stalks and seasoned with coarse black pepper and kosher salt.

I left them to hang out on the parchment for a bit while I saw to the torn croutons. It all started very promising. I had a nice roll that I tore into

bite sized chunks. I slowly sauteed several garlic cloves to impart their tastiness into some oil. But then. Then I tossed the bread in the oil, ADDED BUTTER, and watched the bread soak it up. Every. Single. Drop. As the croutons slowly browned and eventually crisped, my horror morphed into exhilaration. They looked (and smelled) really good.

The last couple of steps in the process were pretty simple. The asparagus just needed to be grilled for a couple of minutes on each side, which was the perfect amount of time for me to also poach the eggs. When I dropped my first egg into the pot, I was immediately reminded of how I hate poaching eggs. I'm not good at it: They always end up so ugly, the whites all shredded up and ghostly.

all together now

your brain in a measuring cup

With all the parts now prepared, I was able to compose my plate. A little prosciutto here. A couple of piles of asparagus there. Strategically-placed eggs. Croutons everywhere! I ground up a little bit of extra black pepper on top because it always looks nice and I love black pepper. I was supposed to drizzle olive oil and balsamic vinegar on top of everything, but the dish did not need the oil and I don't really love balsamic. Also, I forgot. It did feel pretty fatty overall, so maybe some acid would have helped. If I make it again, I'll try not to forget the vinegar.

zero points for plating

All in all, there were a lot of components, but each of them reasonably simple to put together. Tasty, but very (too?) rich. I expect I'll make it again, but probably in a smaller portion as a starter (at a dinner party) or something. It was a little too decadent to have as an entree.

Unrelated Item:

Stars, they're just like Bearded Ladies

While in line at the deli counter to get prosciutto, I was behind SNL alum Rachel Dratch and her new baby. She ordered pancetta. Italian cured meats for all!

Johanna: Semihomemade Confit

I spent yesterday morning calling every butcher in the area and absolutely no one carried duck legs.  Who knew that they were so hard to find?  I would up at the grocery shop that carries all sorts of fancypants products and they only had duck breast, duck fat, and pre-confited duck legs.  (I mean, really, you carry venison but not duck legs?)  Boohoo.  So I grab a pre-confited leg and decided to at least make the salad.

The salad was pretty tasty!  Crisping the skin to make delicious fatty bits to sprinkle on top was a revelation -- I've never crisped skin myself and always appreciate it at restaurants.  It's so easy!  As for the rest of the recipe, I don't really have that much to report (um, it's a salad), but it came out nicely.  And I opted to top the whole thing with a poached egg (which I overdid a little).

See the crispy skin bits?

Anyway, this was kind of a bummer.  I don't even LOVE duck, but I'm really into the whole winter pickling, preserving, etc. thing lately and it would have been fun to move on from vegetables to meat.  If I do come across duck legs, I'll buy them and confit and report back here.

Tatiana: lentils > sweet potatoes

Lentil & Sweet Potato Soup

It's a truth universally acknowledged (er, by me and most people who know me) that I love lentils. I eat them all the time, sometimes in strange, weird combinations. I could subsist pretty happily for weeks on lentils and cheerios. And don’t pretend like you cringed at that combo. Delicious!

On the other hand, I’m sort of meh about sweet potatoes, except in fry form. I realize people write odes to them, but I’m just not a big potato person in general. Gorgeous color, antioxidants blah blah blah – sure. I could take them or leave them, and was in fact tempted to leave them off this recipe altogether. But I wanted to make the soup as Keller intended, so in went 1 1/2 lbs of potatoes

This recipe is pretty substantial. As I chopped the vegetables, I wondered whether I would have soup to last me all Fall (signs point to yes - behold my giant stockpot):

I’d been forewarned after other Bearded Ladies had trouble with the sweet potato chop. Raku's analogy

sweet potatoes : chop

as

the savage detectives : enjoy

made me laugh and laugh because seriously, how much did that book suck? Answer: SO MUCH.

Anyway, this is why I was especially psyched to come across these:

Does this count as semi-homemade?

Recipe notes:

• Both sachets and parchment lids are pretty inspired ideas! Thomas Keller really knows his stuff. I’ll definitely use both again. Going into this, I didn’t even know to look for cheesecloth in the baking supplies aisle. Here’s Larry modeling my first (practice) parchment lid:
• 

• Bacon is awesome. I actually substituted non-slab bacon, which as it's less thick needed much less time on the stove (it got crispy way before the allotted time)

• I substituted low sodium chicken broth for the chicken stock. This was mostly because I didn’t feel like making stock and because I came across the broth first at the store. It worked well, but I ended up adding extra salt, ha. I also used about a cup more broth than the recipe called for, because I wanted the soup to be more liquidy than stewy.

• Spanish pardina lentils were harder to find and more expensive than my regular green lentils, but were a nice change of pace. They're tinier, don't get mushy at all, and taste kind of nutty. I loved them.

• Cooking the bacon first (so that you can use the rendered fat for the soup base) is necessary but dangerous – it’s the perfect ready snack while the soup simmers endlessly. Even though I slightly overcrisped it, I had to stop myself midsnack multiple times so that there’d be some left for the soup.

The finished product (I completely forgot to buy cilantro for garnish):

This soup and some fresh crusty bread made really satisfying cold-day meal. I will definitely make it again, though (you guessed it) I'll leave out the potatoes next time.

Johanna: on the joys of bacon

I made this soup for Halloween and, oh my goodness, our apartment smelled like bacon until Tuesday.  How wonderful!  The smell of rendering pork is absolutely magnificent.  LOVE.

mmmm....pork fat

But, I get ahead of myself.  I couldn't find anything other than just regular old green lentils at Bishop's Orchards, the lovely grocery / apple orchard / pumpkin patch not too far from our house (all though we did buy two 24-pound pumpkins at Kamran's insistence), and I'm not sure how much that purchasing the correct lentils would have changed things.  I never knew that lentils could be so fancy!  But I think that everything turned out nicely despite this pedestrian substitution.

I agree with Raku: sweet potatoes are an absolute pain to chop up.  Despite having brand-new fancy knives that I am generally terrified of, I really struggled to handle the potatoes with any level of deftness.  My pieces weren't uniform and all I could think about was that if I was on Top Chef, my lack of skills could definitely land me on the bad side of judge's table.

Even though the potato pieces weren't even, they seemed to cook up nicely and were just the right texture in the soup.  I had to cook the lentils a bit longer than the recipe indicated, so maybe I should have added a bit more broth?  (I did when heating up the last batch of leftovers on Tuesday.) 

This soup is definitely something that I will make again.  We had some guests over for Halloween lunch and it was a big hit!  Even the two-year-old seemed to like it.  I totally forgot the cilantro, though (even though I bought some).  Ah well, next time.

P.S. The parchment lid was fun to make, too.

Raku: Halloween Soup

Menu: Lentil and Sweet Potato Soup (+ Mizuna Salad + Bread, Cheese, & Dried Sausage)

On Sunday morning I went to the farmer's market. I was immediately attracted to these awkward-looking carrots that looked like hotdogs. They seemed auspicious.

Also at the market, we picked up some mizuna (my green-of-choice these days), onions, sweet potatoes, bread (horrifyingly, $8/boule), and some wine (a Long Island merlot inaptly named Borghese - the taste was closer to the Sopranos than Italian nobility). Then it was on to Esposito's Pork Store for thick-cut bacon and sausage, and finally the supermarket for the rest of the ingredients.

Back home, I was forced to dwell for long minutes on the beauty of bacon. Is there anything more gorgeous?



Thankfully, I was only making one dish this time, so the recipe seemed blissfully straightforward to me. Oh, except for the sweet potatoes. They were an experience. Here is an analogy pair that describes my interaction with them:



sweet potatoes : chop
as
the savage detectives : enjoy

I almost broke my wrist once and chopped off a thumb and an index finger. Why do they look like regular potatoes on the outside but feel like titanium on the inside? I finally coaxed (ravaged, crushed) them into cubed submission and was able to get on with my life.

I think there are few things more satisfying to make than soup. Throwing meat, vegetable, and spice into a pot and mixing them around fulfills some ideal of cooking that I (and probably many others) have from when I was young, triggering a warm, "this is what cooking is" reaction. This particular soup was very Halloween-y with its festive curry spice and orange potatoes. Maybe it would have been even more so if I had lost a finger.



The soup tasted really good, and, as with many soups and stews, the flavor deepened overnight. I would like to cook it again. And I will need to because one lesson I learned is that it is very, very important to wash your lentils before adding them to, well, anything. Shamefully, I did not do this. We ate the first batch without incident, but the next day, there were some crunchy, sandy bites, probably from the bottom of the pot, that were decidedly disconcerting. Rookie move? Maybe. But as long as I don't mess up next time, I think I can probably say: Fool me once, lentil and sweet potato soup, shame on you...

Veronica: My Friend Farro

I'm still basking in the buttery afterglow of my meal, but I'll try to tough out my exhaustion and document for posterity's sake. Plus after all that richness, I may not last until morning.

Pretend my necklace isn't in the frame

Menu:

- caramelized sea scallops

- buttered farro

- watercress and herb salad, lemon citronette

Note that I went off book a bit and tossed together a quick salad because (a) I wanted a little green for my plate and (b) I thought the peppery watercress and bright lemon would balance the richness of the other two dishes. I think it was a good call.

Watercress is an underrated green

My fun-sized kitchen was a disaster when I got home from the market and I had to clean up quite a bit before I could get started with the cooking. I'm afraid my organization suffered as a result. I eventually did get it together, though, with help from the zen activity of creating a sachet. Making a sachet is like crafting and cooking at the same time. It's wonderful.

Sachet! Shante!

When I started reading the farro recipe with an eye to actually preparing it, I thought maybe this was too much work for a grain. Happily, I stuck with it and followed every butter-drenched step. I was skeptical about how perceivable the impact of the sachet would be (it's in cloth, after all), but really the flavors were just lovely: nutty, herby, fragrant, buttery, delicious! I could eat this farro every day. Which is a good thing because I have like 20 pounds left over.

I have a death wish & used all the prescribed butter

While the farro was peacefully simmering, I got things rolling for the scallops. As I tend to like things undersalted, the brine made me nervous; I found the amount of salt required unsettling. I followed the directions to the letter, though, and while I think that the brine added depth to the scallops' flavor, I do think I'll fish them out sooner next time. They were just a tiny bit too salty for me.

Here's an embarrassing fact: All my cookware is non-stick. I came this close to buying a new shiny new pan, but thought better of it. I had to just make do with what I had, even knowing that Mr. Keller would not approve.

My apartment still smells like brown butter

As you can see, I was unable to achieve optimal caramelization. However, in the end I think the sear was still very nice and the scallops were tasty. Overall, it was a delicious meal that I'll definitely make again. As soon as I get a new pan.

Week 1 recipes = a big success!

Johanna: My First Scallop Brine

Menu: Caramelized sea scallops + buttered farro

Thank you, Veronica, for choosing such a delicious meal!  I really enjoyed both the farro and the scallops and was super-relieved that everything turned out more than just ok.  The husband pronounced it a major success.  (He is really into this whole cookbook club (aka I cook, he eats) thing.

I tried to pay attention to Tomas Keller's edict to "be organized,"  so I got everything prepped and ready beforehand so I didn't have to scramble hither and thither while I was cooking. 

My mise-en-place, with wine

I also cheated and made use of an excellent sous chef. 

Arthur really wasn't all that helpful.

After the farro was toasted and was gently simmering, I got to brining the scallops.  Um, brining scallops?  Who knew?  Delicious!  Will definitely do it again.  And I loved that the scallop recipe was basically like "do not touch the scallops for 3 to 3.5 minutes."  I always want to peek, and things are then never are as caramelized as I would like.

Cooking

I was worried about the timing of everything, but it worked out perfectly.  (And deliciously!)  No cold food.  Hurrah!

Unlike Raku, I am not ambitious and did not attempt a third dish.  Like Raku, I didn't clarify my scallop butter and I reduced the amount of butter added to the farro.

Psst...sorry for the poor quality photos.  From my phone.  Couldn't find my camera charger.

Raku: My First Sachet

Menu: Caramelized sea scallops + buttered farro + melted leeks


First things first: I love sachets. They are pretty, satisfying to construct, and so useful for keeping large bits of herbs out of your mouth. Who knew? I only wish I had discovered them sooner than while making farro today.


Second: Farro = delicious. I admit when I first saw the recipe, I feared the worst, that farro would be like my new STARCH-NEMESIS: QUINOA. But no, it's nothing like that. Not only is it easy to cook with, but it tastes like a chewier, nuttier, more interesting relative of brown rice. Love it love it.

So, the cooking. I think next time I won't attempt to make three new things at the same time. It was a bit overwhelming, and I got really sweaty. Thankfully the recipes were simple in ingredients and process or my head might have exploded. As it was, I kept racing back and forth between the living room, where ad hoc was sitting (god forbid I should get food on such a beautiful book), and the kitchen, where all the food stuff was happening. That gave me a pretty good workout, but I think I need a better system in the future - maybe one involving a pulley and a suspended cookbook holder.

All in all, the food was delicious, which is a credit to the recipes, not me. The combination of scallops, farro, and leeks was pleasing, both flavor-wise and texture-wise. I was told by someone (not naming names) that my "plating could use some work" (not that that stopped him from eating every last bite, the jerk), so maybe I'll work on that next time. Anyway, below you can see the fruits of my labor, imperfect plating and all.



Mods to the recipes:
1. I halved the butter amounts for both the buttered farro and the melted leeks because I don't want to die of heart disease tomorrow. Both were still plenty buttery, and, in fact, I think they would both have tasted just as delicious with even less butter. For both, I added slightly more chicken stock than required to balance the moisture.

2. The farmer's market was out of thyme - and so was I haha - so I didn't add any to the sachet for the quinoa.

3. Out of laziness, and because I got a little sick of working with butter, I did not clarify the butter for the scallops. I don't regret it.

4. I didn't add any salt to the quinoa or the leeks. Depending on taste, the leeks could have used some salt, but I think the quinoa was plenty salty from the chicken stock (unless you're using low sodium broth).