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Posts tagged ‘basil’

Kitchen Roselli, 131 Main and Greek couscous salad

Something in the Thai Steak Salad dressing at 131 Main in Cornelius (NC) tugged at the corners of my palate. Something familiar but unusual in an entrée salad. A blast of  summery green not usually keeping company with butter-tender bits of filet mignon. They added fresh mint to amp up the beef, mango, noodles and green onions. Good thing I’d started with the wild mushroom-artichoke soup because the Thai flavorings would have blown that mild-mannered soup out of the water, taste-wise.

Three days after that Stoic the Vast and I made our winding way to Kitchen Roselli in East Bend (NC), another taste treat from start to finish. I know it was really good because Stoic didn’t go ballistic over the bill. The service was lovely, it was the best antipasto I’ve ever eaten (good cheeses and salami are key), they make their own bread, pasta and desserts. Stoic had a gargantuan cream puff drenched in dark chocolate and I (virtuous smirk) had lemon sorbet. Of course, I also drank about half the bottle of Sicilian wine that tasted like Michael Corleone’s bee-buzzing honeymoon  looked (but without the nasty explosions).

Easy to put together, this couscous salad makes 10 servings -- enough for several lunchboxes.

Easy to put together, this couscous salad makes 10 servings — enough for several lunchboxes.

Then Monday we finally had a sunny spring day and I felt like cooking, not just like eating (a key difference). I tried the Greek Couscous with Olives from a recent American Profile newspaper supplement, and both I and Stoic were enthusiastic. The thread here is fresh herbs — mint in the Thai salad, basil in the penne with vodka sauce and rosemary on Kitchen Roselli’s focaccia and mint in this salad.

A tiny piece of Krusteaz’s honey cornbread, a dish of applesauce and the last of the Villa Pozzi Nero d’Avola made a terrific supper. I’m struggling to keep myself on the diet wagon, and with food and drink like this, I feel as though I’ve eaten something, not just anything. I’d suggest tasting your red onion before adding it. If it’s got as much of a whammy as ours did, you might want to soak it in ice water for an hour or so before combining with other ingredients. Either that or chop it into pieces big enough to pick out!

Shirley Herb from Northumberland (PA), about 25 minutes from where I grew up, submitted this good recipe to American Profile. Take it to picnics this summer because it’s good, it’s different and it has no easily perishable ingredients.

Greek couscous with olives

1-1/4 cups water

1 cup couscous (whole wheat if you like)

1 medium red bell pepper, seeded and diced

1/2 cup chopped red onion

6 ounces marinated artichoke hearts, drained and quartered

1 cup ripe olives, minced

3 ounces feta cheese, crumbled

1/3 cup fresh mint leaves, shredded

2 large garlic cloves, minced

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

1 generous pinch salt

1/2 cup fresh lemon juice (I used slightly less)

1/2 cup good-quality olive oil (make sure, because this is what you’ll taste)

Romaine lettuce

Tomato wedges

3 tablespoons toasted pine nuts**

Bring water to boil. Pour over couscous in heat-resistant pan or bowl. Cover, remove from heat and let stand 5 minutes.

Add bell pepper, onion, artichokes, olives and cheese to couscous and toss.

In glass jar with lid combine mint, garlic, pepper, salt, lemon juice and olive oil. Shake well to blend.

Pour dressing over couscous mixture and stir to combine. Refrigerate, covered, until chilled.

To serve, line salad bowl or individual salad servers with Romaine leaves. Garnish couscous mixture with tomato and sprinkle with pine nuts. Serves 10 at 250 calories, 17 g fat each.

** I like to say I’m not a Wal-Mart fan, but their pine nuts cost a fraction of  others’ prices. Also, have you tried their Cara Cara oranges? Seedless and the taste is somewhere between that of a naval orange and, a blood orange.

2 pounds and 2 weeks ’til reunion!

Here comes the sun! Several kinds of sunflowers beginning to bloom with red and white okra at their knees.

I wonder if any other of my classmates has to buy a new fence charger before our 50th reunion in 2.5 weeks. When I went out to put on fly masks this morning, we had a free range quarterhorse, and it will not do if any of our three amigos range onto N. Meadow Rd. while we’re in Pennsylvania.

I wonder a lot of things.  This is kinda like a mega-blind date with 100 or so people I knew a lifetime ago. Who will have grown into really interesting adults? Who will have worked really, really hard at staying the same people they were at 17 and 18? Who’s died? Who’s better than ever? (Is that possible?) Can I have a real conversation with anyone (remember, we’ll be only 90 miles from Penn State)?

Will the guys who called me Baby Huey in 9th and 10th grades repeat it, still thinking it’s so funny? How will I handle it if they do, understanding, of course, that they can only hurt the 14- and 15-year-old in me, not the 67-year-old who’s a year younger than they are, who still has her hair, who shared a Plaza Hotel bathroom with Harrison Ford and who’s within 2 pounds of her 24 years ago wedding weight!

Like so many high schoolers — maybe most — I felt I fit in nowhere (except on a stage so I was always singing somewhere). I didn’t date; I didn’t go to a prom or any of the near-constant dances, all of which required not just a date but a boyfriend. (I am so, so happy that seems to have changed, and many, if not most, of my young friends at church went to their proms this year in flocks of friends.)

I was smart, and the ’50s and ’60s were not a time for girls/women to be bright.   Boys had to do better and be taller, be the ones to talk about themselves on dates (for those who dated).  I had some kind friends, male and female, and it’s for them I’m going back.

Because why? Because I’m curious. Because I want to know that our small group is happy (although I think “happy” is a meaningless construct), healthy and still interested in our world, still taking classes or lessons, still riding our bikes, in good relationships with our spouses, our children and/or  grands if we have them, not complaining about our joints, still laughing, still kind. I want to be with people who share some of my same memories, people who remember me at 16. I want to be inspired and to inspire.

And if I were honest, I’d admit I’d like to see some people really miserable. Proof that karma’s a bitch and all that.

I want to re-visit my younger self, wear that ugly 1962 senior picture on my ID badge and make peace with her. Applaud her and tell her she did the best she could with what she had. Tell her I understand how very difficult it was to be her 50 years ago and if anybody calls her Baby Huey, cold-cock ‘em with my newly tanned and muscled arm.

**********

In the meantime, nourishing that kick-ass body, I made this salad last night with leftover corn frozen on July 4 and with the last of our 2011 green beans. Corn had been cooked on the cob and beans, blanched when frozen so I did no further cooking.  Both need at least a 2-minute blanching.

This recipe ran in EatingWell magazine in 1995 and The Essential EatingWell Cookbook (2004) as well. I don’t think the amount or proportion of beans and corn matters much — I used roughly half and half which is more corn than recipe calls for.  But it’s just like any salad — your creation. We enjoyed it with tilapia fillets baked in cumin-, cilantro- and jalapeno-laced tortilla chips.

Green bean salad with corn, basil and black olives (see caption)

2 pounds green beans, trimmed

3 ears corn, husked, blanched and cut from cob

1/2 small red bell pepper, finely chopped

1 small red onion, finely chopped (I used scallions)

2/3 cup black olives, halved and pitted (wish I’d had)

1/3 cup chopped fresh basil

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 cloves garlic, minced

Hot sauce, such as Tabasco, to taste

Salt and freshly ground papper, to taste

Leftovers make a perfect summer lunch with slices of ripe avocado.

Combine bell pepper, onion, olives, basil, oil, vinegar, lemon juice and garlic in appropriately sized bowl. Toss to mix well. Season with hot sauce, salt and pepper. Toss in corn and beans. Cover and refrigerate to let flavors blend. With proportions given, makes 6 to 8 servings.

 

 

Little House in the Piedmont, fried Oreos and Bambi

My lumberjack with his beech tree

Kind of a Laura Ingalls Wilder weekend with some food adventures thrown in. Paul Bunyan kept working on the huge, old beech that fell near a friend’s deer stand. We cannot afford to heat by propane alone.

He also pulled buckets of peppers before Friday night’s scattered frost. While I picked basil to make one last batch of pesto, he took seeds and membranes out of half the peppers (such a tedious job) and buzzed them and the last of our onion crop through the food processor (ditto). All that was left for me to do was sterilize the jars and lids, put the pepper relish together and cook it for an hour and can it. 8 pints, which is a bunch, plus just enough leftover to put on field peas this week.

Pepper relish

Sunday morning put a small, sliced venison roast (from friends Jody’s and John’s Virginia farm) in the crockpot with an envelope of onion soup mix, a can of condensed cream of mushroom soup, a sliced onion, Worcestershire and soy sauces and a generous sprinkling of Cajun seasoning. Never cooked venison before although I ate it plenty (and under protest) as a kid in Pennsylvania. It wasn’t tough or dry and had an appealingly robust taste over noodles.

Started the peaches fermenting for Christmas fruit cakes, made broccoli-raisin-peanut funeral salad and got the new fall-blooming fragrant clematis in the ground (thanks, Jane and Dan, although around here they say if you thank someone for a gift plant, it won’t grow).

Saturday afternoon we ate chili (me) and chicken stew (my lumberjack) at Taproot Artisans mini-fundraiser in Harmony. We did not try the deep-fried pumpkin pie but did get two deep-fried Oreos (they taste like little chocolate pies with a soft dough and 98 calories each). And since I never get tired of sweetpotatoes or butternut squash, I got the sweetpotato souffle for dessert. Light and buttery, it had just a hint of brandy extract maybe?

Just walked 3 miles so I could have some popcorn tonight during “DWTS.” (I agree with Bobby Flay: I exercise so I can eat!) Probably not the best attitude. But I’m so lucky that “all” I have to do is eat less, exercise more and shed poundage. I looked out of the choir loft yesterday at a friend who’s just out of rehab and thought, my gosh, it would be so much harder to have every neuron screaming for pharmaceuticals. Mine just crave sugar, and they seem to be giving up on that. Or at least asking more politely.

One and a half miles from our house

World’s best chicken salad and how/why we cook/eat

Two recent cartoons in The New Yorker pretty much sum it up: PC Vey’s cranky cook saying to the man behind her at the stove: “Not now — I’m cooking to avoid intimacy.”

And in the Pat Byrnes’ cartoon  the female cook asks an anxious-looking man, “How am I supposed to cook? The Internet is down.”

Avoiding intimacy is probably the Number One reason for burying our timid selves alive in sarcophagi of fat. It makes it really problematic for others to burrow in — either physically or psychically. And when we emerge from the tomb — should we be so lucky — we are adrift in a sea of new and unaccustomed feelings. Swamped, even.

That’s how I’m feeling after getting ready of  just 31 pounds: as though the filter between my brain and mouth has been removed for cleaning and, just now, there is none. Anything I think, pretty much is gonna come out and that’s not always a good thing. For instance, He Who Is a Rec0vering Baptist (and tobacco chewer) suggests I not go to any more funerals for a while or I’m going to be perceived as a genuinely Crazy Ol’ Lady.

As for the internet, yesterday afternoon we were debating going out for supper after Friday work and decided there was nothing we could afford or that we wouldn’t have to shower and change for that would be any better than a big plate of tossed salad with some of our first green beans steamed and a handful of our new blueberries, slices of our first tomatoes and the rest of the world’s best chicken salad, the recipe for which came from the internet.

I cooked about 2 pounds of boneless, skinless chicken thighs (I like dark meat — recipe calls for 2 whole chicken breasts) in a mixture of Move Over Butter and EVOO. Cool and shred or dice. Wash and dice 3 stalks of good celery.

Then, and this is the crowning glory of this dish, you make an aioli by whizzing in the food processor 1 cup mayonnaise (I used Duke’s reduced-fat), 2 peeled garlic cloves, 2/3 cup best-quality grated Parmesan (do NOT buy pre-grated for this dish) and 1 cup basil leaves, washed and patted dry. You’re sorta making chicken salad with pesto and mayonnaise but the freshness of the basil and the tang of your good Parmesan make it something better than that.

Combine aioli with chicken and celery, diced and try to keep from eating it all at one sitting.

Presto, pesto!

If it’s summer, it’s time to make pesto and, like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter, freeze ice-cube size nuggets for the chilly months when the Mediterranean herb does not flourish here.

The Silver Palate cookbook and the revised Joy of Cooking have similar recipes, both wonderful and both loaded with olive oil, cheese and nuts. The pine nut is the nut of choice for pesto, but unless you’re willing to take out a second mortgage to buy them, you can do very well with the more modestly priced walnut.

Jane Brody’s original Good Food Book (1985) uses the same 2 cups of basil leaves and 3 garlic cloves but slashes the amounts of the other ingredients. The result? An even greener taste with less fat.

A food processor is mandatory. For years after my friend and fabulous cook Catherine Chapin Mayhew introduced me to pesto in the first place, I struggled to make it in a blender. This takes approximately 3 hours longer than the average childbirth as each leaf winds itself around the blender blade. In a food processor you have  pesto in seconds.

Pesto

3 big, fat cloves garlic

1/4 teaspoon salt, optional

1/4 cup best-quality olive oil

2 cups firmly packed washed, dried fresh basil leaves

1/4 cup pine nuts or walnuts

1/2 cup grated Parmesan

In food processor combine ingredients and whiz until desired consistency. Makes about 1-1/4 cups. That’s a couple of suppers immediately (store, covered, in refrigerator) or you can freeze pesto in 1/2 or 1-cup containers or by the tablespoon in ice-cube trays. As soon as the pesto cubes freeze, knock them into a zippered freeze bag or other freezer container.

Now you’re ready for the perfect summer supper: Whole-grain pasta, a fresh tomato chopped and seeded, some feta cheese crumbles and pesto to sauce. Uber-yum!

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