Today’s Special: Pea, burrata, and mint crostini, Gjelina, Los Angeles

Like everyone else and their brother, I’m really ready for spring to arrive. I know that March is never an enjoyable month (spring forward, winter’s strong grip, the Ides), but this March seems particularly awful. Perhaps it’s because this year is the first time I’ve had to deal with the doldrums wholeheartedly. Last year, I was overcome with excitement and nerves and stress with my big move to U.S. The year before that, I was planning a trip to Turkey. And the year before that, I was still in awe of my first winter (in Vancouver) without snow on the ground or Arctic temperatures. Vancouver also always has green grass, so even when you haven’t seen the sun for (what feels like) months, the green of Vancouver can be powerful. Here in New York, it’s a lot of… grey. The concrete jungle of the Big Apple loses a bit of its sparkle in the winter, and by March we are gagging for the green and sun and mild weather of a new season.

The past few weeks I’ve been looking at this picture of a dish I had in Los Angeles last month and trying to harness all my mental power toward forcing the green to sprout. The sweet peas and pea tendrils, the luscious burrata, and the pop of mint have you daydreaming about running barefoot in a meadow wearing some sort of loose cotton ensemble. Like a laundry detergent commercial. You can’t help but feel the sun on your face and smell all the buds in bloom. Add that you partake of these crostini in the dreamy beachy hood of Venice and your daydream is upgraded to a spread in a swank fashion or lifestyle magazine.

And one of my favourite things about this plate of spring? I don’t have to pop an antihistamine to enjoy it.

Gjelina
1429 Abbot Kinney Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA

“I am my own worst critic” is my understatement of the century. In my opinion, I can do everything worse than you. I never have a good word to speak of myself, and when one is spoken of me, I usually have a trick up my sleeve for convincing you that you’re wrong.  Three-plus decades of attempted perfectionism has yielded a girl who doesn’t know how to relax and not needle out flaws. You name a category, I tell you how I just don’t measure up. It can be exhausting, but thankfully for you, the people most exhausted always have a PhD at the end of their names.

In the context of this blog, my urge to needle and prick means I’m an insecure, amateur cook who has found relief in New York City talking about the food that I eat rather than the food that I make. As much as I can find great satisfaction in pulling something culinary off, especially if it’s for a guest, I get anxious prior to the pots and pans coming out. Food is just food, I know, but I don’t want to be serving fucked-up food to a person that I care about or photographing ugly food for you, dear readers.

A guest in the house brought out my caretaker, and with it, my need to care through food. You’re sleeping on my couch? I’ll make you a meal even when my little devil tells me it’s going to be  a flop. (I do give myself brownie points sometimes for trying.) Given that my guest was from Edmonton, and I’d still not heard a peep from any Edmontonians about any newfound love of burrata cheese, I had ingredient number one. I was introduced to burrata a few years ago in Vancouver and fell head over heels instantly. “Mozzarella that gives birth to creamy strings of heaven” would be my second understatement of the century. Slapping it on some bread with a bit of salt and a bit of sweet was… my best idea ever. After one bite, I beamed. After two, I reminded myself that no, I hadn’t read about this somewhere. I DID IT. Of course, there are prosciutto, peach and mozzarella creations all over the internet, I told my devil. But my creation had burrata. And balsamic mayo.

For about an hour, as my guest and I enjoyed the sandwiches, joked, and caught up, my needle stayed in my pocket and my devil shut up and read “The New Yorker.”

Prosciutto, burrata, and peach sandwiches
Use amounts based on how many sandwiches you want.  One standard ball of burrata could be used for about three sandwiches.

Crusty bread, such as ciabatta
Prosciutto, shaved
Burrata cheese
Fresh peach, sliced
Fresh basil leaves, roughly torn
Balsamic mayo*
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

Slather one slice of bread with balsamic mayo. Layer prosciutto, then peaches, then a few basil leaves.
Cut ball of burrata into chunks. It will be messy. Just go with it.
Layer cheese on sandwich. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Place second piece of bread on top.

*Balsamic mayo: In a ratio of about 4:1, mayonnaise to balsamic vinegar, mix well and add one garlic clove sliced in half lengthwise. Let sit in the fridge for at least 15 minutes. Remove garlic before serving and mix again.

Cheese

Cubicle life is not something you can really avoid anymore. Before I was ever a full-time employee, I thought that the world depicted in The Office, Dilbert, and Office Space was hyperbole of the mundane. Not so much. It really is the most peculiar thing to be surrounded by people you cannot see, but of course, can clearly hear. The separation-yet-not gives both a false sense of separation and closeness. Simultaneously building and breaking collegiality. The ongoing desire for an office is not to get away from people, it’s to get away from the cubicle existence. Getting an office gives you a chance to break free, however closed off you may then end up being.

The curve ball that I’ve been thrown for the past three out of four jobs is sharing a space, either offices or a cubicle—which despite the confusion I assume is written all over your face, is unfortunately possible. For all the cursing I may do about bad luck that comes my way, I will never stop thanking the stars above for giving me the best office and cubicle mates I could ever ask for. Kind, thoughtful, intelligent, funny. Each has been a person I will never forget and will certainly a lifelong friend. Many a workday doldrum has been saved by turning to my neighbor and asking/bugging them about their day/evening/weekend/lunch. I love being solo in an office, but sharing a space is a close second.

Ham

I almost always pack my lunch (good for saving money and the waistline), but going out is of course a nice treat. My office location in Midtown Manhattan makes it pretty easy to pack a lunch because the dining options are so dismal. My office mate reminded me, however, that a short jaunt on the subway could yield culinary excitement. And how happy was I that he suggested one day that we make our way to No. 7 Sub, a place I was interested in trying.

Subs in hand, we parked ourselves in Madison Square Park and shared the Cheese (cheese, broccoli sauce, pickled red onions, fried chickpeas, and mayo) and Ham (pickled blueberries, pickled red onions, cheese, ham, potato chips, and mayo). I preferred the Cheese, he preferred the Ham. But overall, we were not in love with any of it—for a place that specializes in subs and only makes a few of them, they could avoid repeating ingredients for a bit more creativity and be much less reliant on mayo.

But, whatevs. I have a new friend. End of story.

No. 7 Sub
1188 Broadway (Ace Hotel), New York

It’s already February. It’s already February, and I haven’t written one post about the cooking I did over the Christmas holidays. If January went by this fast, it’s sure to be Easter in no time. And then summer. And then Thanksgiving. And then Christmas again. If this is aging, I don’t mind so much because the yuckiest month is over. It’s already February!

Having done a lot of cooking for Christmas celebrations, I took it easy when it came to cooking during my quiet Christmas staycation. I didn’t stretch as far as last year and roast some flesh. Instead, I roasted some squash. Slice in half (I had a butternut), place face down on parchment in a 400-degree oven, and about 45 minutes later, you have a lot of roasted gourd to play with. Then, remove the peel and mash by hand or puree it with the help of a blender. Portion it out, refrigerate it or freeze it. You’re good to go. A healthier side dish than potatoes, a suitable mash to add some moisture to your baked goods, and a vitamin-packed, high fibre, low calorie orange veg that will help you balance any overeating damage you did in honour of baby Jesus.

Taking a cue from the many sandwiches I see featured on Serious Eats, I concocted a grilled cheese with some of the mash. The squash’s sweetness added a nice contrast to the saltiness of the cheese, and its texture added great mouth feel. No, this isn’t exactly diet food but it IS delicious.

Grilled Cheese and Squash Sandwich

Everybody usually has their own tricks and preferences for making a tasty grilled cheese. I tend to like mine only with Gruyere, but I had some leftover Fleur d’Aunis from the Christmas cheese plate, so I added it for some extra goo.

I have no measurements, but the basic idea is:

– Preheat your heavy duty frying pan to medium low.
– Butter the outside of two slices of bread.
– Smear some dijon mustard on the inside of one slice of bread, butter the inside of other.
– Spread a few tablespoons of squash on the mustard’d slice, sprinkle some fresh parsley, then load on your cheese. Top with the other slice of bread.
– Place in your pan and be patient. A good grilled cheese is made like a braise: low and slow. Don’t turn up the heat. You’re looking at about five minutes per side to get perfect golden brown bread and cheese that oozes.

Image courtesy of www.zoomyummy.com

The internet is a great source for all things foodie, and we’re constantly bookmarking, starring, and emailing intriguing recipes, food porn, and inspiration. Here’s a selection of clippings we think are worth checking out.

Don’t balk at these “oven-fried” onion rings. They’re made with potato chips!

Tired of grilled cheese? How about some new-fangled cheese on toast?

I have no interest in trying to be like Heston Blumenthal at home. But, the idea of serving pumpkin soup in a bowl glistening with brown butter might get me thinking about trying.

Why wait for Halloween? You should totally make these homemade peanut butter cups this weekend.

And hooray! It’s time to eat all things pumpkin. Start with soft’n’spicy pumpkin snickerdoodles.

Image courtesy of www.joythebaker.com

The internet is a great source for all things foodie, and we’re constantly bookmarking, starring, and emailing intriguing recipes, food porn, and inspiration. Here’s a selection of clippings we think are worth checking out.

Waking up to these lemon raspberry rolls on a sunny Sunday morning would not be too shabby.

I know we’ve been enjoying late summer sun and warm temperatures, but I couldn’t help start drooling over these very Fall-appropriate roasted carrot and ricotta gnocchi.

Same thing goes for these bread and cheese meatballs. You’re sure to please the vegetarians in your life.

And again, it’s time for tomatoes. Think about making this Southeast Asian tomato salad for dinner tonight. Or, if you want some indulgence, roll up your shirtsleeves and make some biscuit dough for a tomato cobbler.

Image courtesy of www.food52.com

The internet is a great source for all things foodie, and we’re constantly bookmarking, starring, and emailing intriguing recipes, food porn, and inspiration. Here’s a selection of clippings we think are worth checking out.

Here’s a recipe for baking sheet macaroni and cheese. The type of dish you make and savour… and then ask whomever to clean the pan after. Dish fairies if you must.

I don’t care if Mexican pasta sounds silly. I’m all for what looks to be a poblano chile pesto with spaghetti.

Swirly bread with cilantro? Yeah, I can see that smothered in like, lime butter. I’m so there.

Kaiserschmarrn? Something delicious you eat for breakfast.

I. made. pupusas.

I’m proud not because they were terribly difficult, but because I accomplished what I thought was impossible; I replicated a meal I’ve gone out for countless times, craved countless times, and thought would only ever come to me via the hands of a woman from El Salvador and under the brights fluorescent lights of a cheap and cheerful Latin American establishment.

As I’ve written, pupusas are very special to me. They remind me of home and of friends. They have created fun loyalties (Teams El Rancho and Acajutla), and I’ve watched devotion to pupusas turn into warm relationships between those who serve them and those who eat them.

But they’re just another take on Latin American street food: grilled, filled dough. Not exactly duck confit.

I had no designs on making pupusas when I went out for them to El Pulgarcito here in Vancouver. Until then, I’d only ever been to Rinconcito on Commercial Drive (and am now officially on both Team El Rancho and Team Rinconcito).  As I went up to pay, I became totally distracted by the shelves of Latin products that stood before me. When I saw that I could get a giant bag of masa harina for $3, I could hardly say no.  One day, my angel thought, one day I might make pupusas or my own tortillas. My devil thought, at least when that big bag gets in the way of everything in your small cupboards and you have to throw it out, you’ll have only lost $3.

Presented with another weekend where it was best to think about eating in, I looked at that big bag and set out to make pupusas.  Friday night was a test batch. Queso filling only to see if I could find some success. Ground pork, refried beans, shredded zucchini and a plant bud called loroco are other popular fillings. Once I started mixing the water into the masa, the aroma told me I was on the right track.  It smelled like a pupusa…

And the final product tasted like a pupusa! I was shocked. They weren’t perfect, but given the circumstances, it would have been like walking on water if they were. Beaming, I knew Saturday would be even better. With a night of practice under my belt, not only would the pupusas be better, but the meal would be stepped up by the introduction of curtido, the integral cabbage slaw condiment.  Salsa roja is the third required member at the party, but it’s the “meh” part of pupusa eating for me. With a bottle of my favourite salsa verde on hand, I knew I’d be fine.  All that’s needed is a runny salsa, really. The avocado is an Acajutla bad habit. Avocados and guacamole have no business on pupusas, but Acajutla started bringing their avocado sauce (like a pureed guacamole) out with all dishes. Not ones to turn down gratis avocado, my friends and I now break the rules.

How to eat them? I was taught that you take the disk and carefully split it in two.  Asbestos fingers are sometimes needed and/or a knife.  The filling doesn’t always split evenly, but it’s fun to create the cheese strings (see below). And now you’ve got double the surface area for condiments. Load up your circles and then fold them up like you would a soft taco.  Stacks of napkins should be at the ready.

Pupusas

All that’s needed is masa harina, water, salt and your choice of filling.

The ratio is:

Masa 2
Water 1+
Filling 1 (cheese, refried beans, seasoned ground pork, etc, or a mix)

Salt
Vegetable oil

For me, three or four pupusas is a good-sized meal. For three pupusas, I used 2/3 cup masa and 1/4 teaspoon salt.  I used monterey jack cheese, but you could use mozzarella or a Mexican cheese that melts well.

Add initial amount of water to masa and salt. Keep additional water near your bowl as you may need up to twice the original amount.
Stir with spoon and then use your hands. Keep adding water until you get the consistency of plasticine. Knead for a minute or two. The dough shouldn’t crack easily and it shouldn’t be sticky. Cover with plastic wrap and let the dough rest for 10 minutes.

Preheat oven to 200 degrees and heat a frying pan or griddle to medium high. Brush lightly with vegetable oil.

Divide dough into golf-ball sized rounds. Use your thumb to make a hole in the ball of dough and then begin to make the hole wider so that you’ve made a cup-like shape.  Fill the opening with a generous tablespoon of filling (or as much as you can comfortably get in there) and pack it down.  Mold the sides of the cup to pinch the opening closed. Then start to flatten the ball into a disc with the palms of your hand. I read that traditionally the pupusa is slapped between your palms to flatten it out. You could use a tortilla press or a rolling pin as well. I think your hands give you more control, however, and a better sense of if the filling will come out or not — try to avoid this.

Cook pupusas for about two minutes per side. You want some blistering to appear. Pupusas can be kept warm in preheated oven while others are being made.

Serve immediately with salsa and curtido.

Curtido

Now, I didn’t follow any recipe variation closely on this because curtido is one of those dishes that you can tweak to your own tastes.  Like heat? Add more  jalapeno. Don’t want it crunchy? Let it soak in the water a little longer. Want more of a pickled taste? Let it chill in the fridge for a day or two before eating. I like a lot of curtido with my pupusas and would guess that you need the following amounts per person. I also was able to take the short cut of using the supermarket’s salad bar for the cabbage and carrot because I only needed enough for one.

1 1/2 cups of shredded cabbage
1/2 carrot, grated
1/4-1/2 jalapeno, minced
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup white vinegar
1/4 teaspoon salt

Cover cabbage and carrot with boiling for a few minutes. Drain well.  Mix all other ingredients in a bowl and then add cabbage and carrot. Cover and let sit on counter for at least an hour to ferment. I used mine right after, but it can be chilled for later use.

El Pulgarcito, Vancouver

Rinconcito Salvadorean, Vancouver

Acajutla, Edmonton

El Rancho, Edmonton

Another solo dinner dealing with kitchen dregs. Waste not, want not, right? Solo dining on a budget is almost always trying to not overlook what you have despite continually thinking that you don’t have enough to make something delicious. Pasta is a staple, as is chicken broth, and bringing up the rear are frozen peas. In my freezer, I found the last of some cubed butternut squash. In my fridge, some cheddar and salami. Let’s throw them together in mock mac’n’cheese fashion and put them in the oven (a developing theme it appears). Although more goopy than creamy in the end, it all tasted good in my mouth. I should have mixed the diced salami throughout rather than placing it on top — but not because I browned the bits too much, I just would have liked the saltiness throughout.  Tasty, relatively healthy and filling: alright by me.

Dining companion:  Mildred Pierce

Baked Squash Pasta
Serves 1.

100 g short pasta
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup cooked, mashed butternut squash
1/3 cup green peas
3 tablespoons grated sharp cheddar cheese
1 tablespoon grated parmigianno cheese
1/4 cup diced salami
nutmeg
salt
black pepper
cayenne pepper

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Cook pasta until almost al dente, adding peas in the last minute of cooking.
Meanwhile, add broth to squash to thin.  Warm in sauce pan over low heat. Add 2 tablespoons of cheddar to melt. Season with salt to taste and add pinches of nutmeg, cayenne and black pepper. Toss with pasta and place in a greased individual baking dish or large ramekin. Top with remaining cheeses and diced salami.
Bake for 30 minutes, broiling for for a minute or two at the end to brown cheese.

Pasta pasta pasta. It probably shows up in my posts as often as Mark Bittman. You know I love it. And it’s so easy. And with barely any effort, you can pull off something that’s worthy of guests. This is one of those recipes. And and and, you can spend time with your guests while dinner’s cooking and not worry about being on top of multiple items.

As the only hostess of the house, I worry about that. I want to enjoy a glass of wine with friends with my face to them. I don’t like when all they see for the first part of the evening is my back as I chop, chop or stir, stir. With this gem, the tomatoes go in the oven, and the pasta gets minded a bit. That’s it. I get to catch up while the timer tells me when to take notice. I get to gossip while my apartment quickly fills with the appetizing aroma of garlic baking down with tomatoes.

Tomatoes! One of pasta’s perfect partners and in this dish, they become a sweet mess after the time in the oven. The breadcrumbs balance things out and the cheeses give the necessary salty kick. All that’s left is to sit at the table, pour more Chianti and make a cheesy but classic toast to good food and good friends.

Pasta with Baked Tomato Sauce
Adapted from Nancy Harmon Jenkins via The Wednesday Chef
Serves 4

I’ve made this twice now and made one adjustment my second time around — tossing the tomatoes with olive oil, garlic and seasoning before topping with the breadcrumb mixture.

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 pound / 2 pints very ripe cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
1/3 cup plain dry breadcrumbs
1/4 cup freshly grated parmigiano
2 tablespoons freshly grated pecorino
3 garlic cloves, minced
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 pound pasta
1/4 cup loosely packed fresh basil leaves, torn

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss tomatoes with one of the minced garlic cloves, a sprinkle of salt, some pepper and 1/3 of the oil. Place tomatoes cut side up in 9 x 13 inch baking dish.

In a small bowl, combine the breadcrumbs, cheeses, and remaining garlic and toss with a fork to mix well. Sprinkle the breadcrumb mixture over the tomatoes, making sure that each cut side is well covered with the crumb mixture. Sprinkle with more salt and pepper. Bake until the tomatoes are cooked through and starting to brown on top, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, or until al dente. Time the pasta so it finishes cooking about the time the tomatoes are ready to come out of the oven.

When the tomatoes are done, add the basil and stir vigorously to mix everything into a sauce. Drain the pasta and immediately transfer it to the baking dish. Add the remaining olive oil and mix well. Serve at once and grate a little more cheese on top.

Serve alongside a green salad or tender-crisp green beans and broccolini quickly sautéed in olive oil, garlic and chili pepper.