Meyer Lemon Gingerbread

Posted on January 20, 2015 by Jasmine Nielsen

Among the many charms of my new workplace is the Just Food Citrus Buying Club. A couple of weeks ago I replied to an email, indicating that I was in for ten pounds of certified organic citrus from Beck Grove in Fallbrook, California. (It seems even diehard local eaters need a little dose of sunshine come mid-January.)

I left work on Friday with as many blood oranges and Meyer lemons as would fit in my purse. The rest would have to wait until a night that did not include a meeting followed by swanky cocktails and an even swankier dinner. I took great pleasure in producing fragrant reminders of warmer weather for the people who swirled through my busy weekend, but did manage to retain a little fruit for myself.

All of that socializing didn’t leave much time for sleeping. And so Monday found me sitting at my dining table desperately trying to focus on a backlog of work.

The right music was essential. It being Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I went with Forever Young, Gifted & Black: Songs of Freedom & Spirit, an excellent compilation of Nina Simone songs from the Civil Rights Era–including a devastating 13-minute version of “Why? (The King of Love is Dead)” performed just three days after King’s assassination.

While the music soothed my brain a bit, my stomach was still unsettled by my efforts to substitute coffee for sleep. Rooting through the fridge, I found my recently acquired Meyer lemons, a giant knob of ginger and some fresh turmeric left from a fall apple picking trip to Fishkill Farms. A quick Google search led me to the New York Times’s Meyer Lemon and Ginger Infusion with Turmeric and Cayenne. Color me obsessed–and productive.

I logged eleven hours at the office today. This included the first of two days of all-staff training, which was a great experience, but also exhausting–so much so that I boarded the wrong train home, overshooting my destination by 45 or so blocks. Mercifully, I had some curried pumpkin, tofu and kale left from Sunday night’s dinner. I consumed this cold and straight out of the container, standing at the kitchen counter.

While I ate, I contemplated whether I still had the energy to deliver on the sweet treat I had promised for day two of our training. There was no way I was trudging back outside. Whatever baked good I made would have to be limited by the ingredients I had on hand. As it turns out, this is not a terrible fate when you’ve got Meyer lemons and ginger in the fridge.

Meyer Lemon Gingerbread

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1 tsp kosher salt
12 ounces butter, softened
1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
1 cup molasses
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
1 golf ball-sized knob of ginger, peeled
3 Meyer lemons
1 cup confectioners sugar

Preheat oven to 350. Grease a 9 x 12 (or thereabouts) baking pan with butter. Whisk flour, baking soda, spices and salt in a small bowl. Set aside.
Cream the remaining butter, sugar, molasses, vanilla and eggs in a large bowl. Using a fine microplane, grate three-fourths of the ginger and the zest of two lemons into the bowl and stir to combine. Slowly work in the flour mixture.
Juice the two zested lemons and add enough water to make a cup of liquid. Heat this until just before boiling and then add it to your batter, stirring to combine. Pour this into the pan and pop in the oven for 30 minutes or so. (This is a fine time for a yoga/State of the Union interlude.)
When the bread has pulled away from the edges of your pan and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, remove from the oven and let stand for 10 minutes while you make the glaze.
Zest and juice your last lemon into a small ramekin. Grate the remaining ginger and add that along with the confectioners sugar. Stir briskly with a fork, adding water if needed until you get a syrupy consistency. Drizzle this over your gingerbread and spread evenly with a spatula before allowing to harden.

This recipe yields enough gingerbread to feed a dozen bleary-eyed staff members and still leave a little treat for the neighbors to discover in the morning.

(Alternately, you could polish it off yourself.)

Egg & Cheese on a Roll (aka Hangover Helper)

Posted on January 18, 2015 by Jasmine Nielsen

Prior to moving to New York City way back in 1996, I had never encountered egg and cheese on a roll. This dish is a staple of the New York deli–and an essential ingredient when you need to rally the morning after.

I moved into my first roommate-free apartment in 2002. It was a charming mini-loft near the South Street Seaport. Feeling rather fabulous and grown, I decorated my apartment in high bachelor pad style and took up whiskey drinking. Consequently, I spent many a morning lolling about on my retro fabulous couch weighing my desire for an egg and cheese on a roll against my desire to never put on pants again.

And then it dawned on me. Why not treat my aching head and gurgling gut in the comfort of my own home? It is the rare day that I do not have eggs, butter and some sort of cheese in the house. If I could just manage to pick up a bread product on the way home, I should be good to go.

Fry an egg and stick it on a toasted roll with some cheese, right? Alas, this seemingly simple sandwich was not quite as straightforward as I thought. My early efforts yielded cold, hard cheese and bread that was crispy and scraped at the roof of my mouth. Over time I developed a few simple tweaks that helped things along.

But the game changer came when I introduced aluminum foil. The key to that perfect deli version, I discovered, is wrapping your completed dish in foil for a few minutes. This allows the cheese to get a bit melty while the steam softens the roll, yielding a cohesive, gooey and delicious mess of a sandwich.

And so I give you…

Egg & Cheese on a Roll

Bring a large cast iron skillet up to medium-low heat. Swirl half a tablespoon of butter in the pan. Slice your roll in half and set cut-side down to one side of the skillet, pressing down a bit. Thinly slice an ounce of cheese of your choice. Crack an egg into the other half of your skillet. Tear off a square piece of aluminum foil. (Heavy duty is best.) Flip your roll and allow to toast on the other side. When your egg is mostly set, give it a quick flip to firm up the white. Place one half of the roll on the foil, layer with cheese, scoop the egg on top, add salt and pepper, top with the other half of your roll, and wrap tightly in foil. Allow to sit for a few minute while you get yourself another glass of water, which you probably should have been drinking the night before.

While this dish is a godsend after a night of over-imbibing, I am here to attest that it is also a lovely way to reward yourself after skidding across icy sidewalks for a morning yoga class on a cold and rainy Sunday.

Pasta with Lacinato Kale & Creamy Delicata Squash

Posted on January 15, 2015 by Jasmine Nielsen

Yesterday morning I met a film crew at Walt L. Shamel Community Garden to discuss the future of food and the importance of community self-determination.

There aren’t enough layers in the world to make two hours of standing around in 10-degree weather pleasant. A full 36 hours later, I was still craving something warm and comforting. As luck would have it, my evening meeting was canceled, affording me my first night at home in over a week. Even better, kale and squash from Saturday’s CSA share were waiting for me.

Pasta with Lacinato Kale & Creamy Delicata Squash

1 delicata squash
1 small red onion
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
1 refreshing beer of your choice
1 sprig fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons crème fraîche (or sour cream or whatever other recently expired dairy products you have on hand)
1/2 tablespoon honey vinegar (or white wine vinegar)
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
salt and pepper
3 ounces spaghetti or any other pasta that suits your fancy
1 large handful lacinato kale, stripped of its stems

Set the oven to 450. Cut off the tips of your squash, slice it down the middle and scoop out the innards. Toss this in a baking dish along with a sliced red onion. Drizzle on a tablespoon or two of olive oil and pop it in the oven. (Sure, you could wait for the oven to properly pre-heat but, let’s face it, you’re hungry in the way one can only be in the depths of winter.)
Crack open a beer, change into some sweatpants, and search online for a recap of Season Four of Downton Abbey because, damn, you can’t seem to remember a thing.
After 15 minutes or so, strip the rosemary and stir the needles in with the onions, give the whole pan a good shake, and pop it back in the oven. Now would be a good time to set a pot of salted water to boil.
When the squash is tender, pop it into the small work bowl of your food processor along with the crème fraîche, nutmeg, vinegar and a good dose of salt and pepper. Run the food processor, scraping down the sides and adding a little water if needed, while you tend to the rest of your meal.
When the water boils, add the pasta. Scoop the onions and rosemary into the food processor and run a couple more minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning with additional salt and pepper. A few minutes before your pasta is done, add the kale to the boiling water.
Scoop the squash mixture into a small mixing bowl, add the kale and pasta along with a bit of the cooking water, and toss to combine.

Half an hour after you walked in the door, you’ll be sitting down to a healthy, hearty and seasonal meal…and Season Five of Downton Abbey.

Braised Cannellini & Kale

Posted on January 6, 2015 by Jasmine Nielsen

Sunday was my final day of a much-needed break. After four months of going hard at my new job, I was desperate for a little physical and mental recovery time. I took a few long walks, drank more than my fair share of a wide variety of adult beverages, watched some movies, caught up with dear friends, halfheartedly read a book, organized my apartment, did a little yoga, cooked and was cooked for, and generally tried to live a life of leisure. Needless to say it all went by a little faster than expected.

I spent my last day of vacation reading, napping and making a big vat of beans and greens to get me through what was promising to be a long, dark and cold workweek.

Braised Kale & Cannellini

1 pound cannellini, soaked overnight and for up to two days
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 ounces guanciale, cubed
2 large onions, chopped
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
6 cloves garlic, chopped
1 cup white wine
4 cubes frozen chicken stock
4 carrots, diced
1 parmesan or romano rind (optional, but oh so good)
3 sprigs rosemary
6 sprigs thyme
1 large bunch kale, roughly chopped
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
salt and pepper

Bring the olive oil up to medium heat in a large dutch oven. Add the guanciale and cook stirring frequently until it is partially rendered. Add the onions and continue stirring until the onions are nicely browned. Add the red pepper flakes and garlic and cook for another minute or two.
Add the wine, chicken stock, carrots, cheese rind, fresh herbs and enough water to cover the beans. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer. Let this go for an hour or so while you take a nap with the cat. Give it a stir, add a little water if needed, and let it go for at least another hour, during which time you might consider another nap.
When the beans are cooked but still a little al dente, add the kale, red wine vinegar and a generous portion of salt and pepper. Pop the lid on and cook for at least another half hour, but no harm in letting it go quite a bit longer given the toothsome nature of winter kale. (A third nap would be excessive, right?) Season with additional salt, pepper or red wine vinegar as you see fit.

I ended up serving this to my travel-weary sister Hannah and her husband Rick along with thick slices of whole wheat sourdough toasted in a generous pour of olive oil–an ideal vehicle for soaking up the rich broth. I finally persuaded my nephew to try one of the beans. Let’s just say that Wally was not a fan.

Later we all piled into the car to travel the mile and a half to where Hannah and Rick would be spending the very first night in their new house. While his parents struggled to make the place habitable, Wally and I read stories amidst the cardboard boxes in his new bedroom and played a modified version of beer pong using a tape ball left by the painting crew.

At some point, Wally dragged a pillow into the middle of the living room and curled up with his blanket.

I knew just how he felt. I got home just in time to pack up the leftover food and climb into bed. Come Monday, this hearty stew made for a nice lunch whilst hunkered over my keyboard desperately trying to get a series of spreadsheets to bend to my will. Yep, vacation is over.

Potato Gratin with Mustard & Gruyere

Posted on December 25, 2014 by Jasmine Nielsen

I fly to Florida in six hours for a healthy dose of sunshine and family. But first I’m headed to Christmas dinner with friends, presenting an excellent opportunity to unload some of the potatoes that are piling up from my winter CSA share.

Potato Gratin with Mustard & Gruyere

3 cups heavy cream
1 tablespoon dried mustard
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
10 white peppercorns, ground
1-2 teaspoons salt
1/3 pound good quality gruyere, grated
1 small bunch chives, minced
4 large potatoes
2 tablespoons butter

Preheat the oven to 375. Whisk the cream, mustard, nutmeg, salt and pepper in a large bowl. (Do not be tempted to use a medium bowl or you will be scraping potato starch and cream off of your counters. Take it from me.) Stir in half the gruyere and all but a tablespoon of the chives.
One by one, peel the potatoes and slice them into 1/8″ disks. (A mandoline will make this task infinitely faster.) Drop the potatoes into the cream mixture as you go, as this will prevent them from browning.
Grease a smallish baking dish with 1 tablespoon butter. (If, like me, you never remember to take the butter out to soften, just drop the butter in the dish and pop it in the oven for a minute or two.)
Spread the potatoes in the baking dish, reserving the most uniform slices for the top layer and making sure to scoop out most of the cheese as you go. Give everything a good press to even it out and then arrange your top layer of potatoes artfully. Pour the cream mixture over the top, sprinkle the remaining cheese on top, and dot with second tablespoon of butter.
Pop this in the oven and let cook for an hour or so until the top is a dark, crusty brown and the potatoes are presumably cooked through. (If you want to be exact about it, you could make sure a butter knife slides in easily.) Garnish with the remaining chives. WARNING: Your apartment will smell insanely good.

OK, I haven’t actually tried this yet, as I still have to transport it to Williamsburg along with myself and my suitcase. But, given the ingredients, I have trouble imagining it will not be delicious.

Apple Cider-Braised Mussels with Kale & Bacon

Posted on December 22, 2014 by Jasmine Nielsen

Try as I might to plow through Saturday’s beef stew (including toting a container to a holiday party, which made for a rather unconventional hostess gift), I still have two servings left. It is delicious, but I am over it. As luck would have it, the seafood shop in my neighborhood decided to open on a Monday to accommodate holiday shoppers–and those of us that just needed a boost at the end of a cold, dark and drizzly day.

Apple Cider-Braised Mussels with Kale & Bacon

1 slice good quality smoky bacon, diced
1 tablespoon butter
1 small red onion, sliced
1 small pinch red pepper flakes
1 small bunch kale, stemmed and roughly chopped
1 cup apple cider
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 pound mussels
salt and pepper

Bring a large pot that has a matching lid up to medium heat. Add the bacon and cook stirring frequently, until mostly rendered but not yet crispy. Add the butter, stir until melted, and then add the onion and red pepper flakes. Continue to cook for five minutes or so, allowing the onions to soften and brown in places. Stir the kale in until wilted. Turn heat to high. Add the cider, vinegar, a good pinch of salt and plenty of black pepper. Bring to a boil. Add the mussels, top with the lid and let cook for four minutes. Remove the lid and give a stir. If some of the mussels are still closed, leave the lid off and let boil for a minute or two longer.

Serve this in a low bowl with a hunk of Runner & Stone‘s crusty baguette to soak up the luscious broth. Be prepared to fight your increasingly aggressive cat for the last mussel.

A Leap of Faith: Beef, Shiitake & Celeriac Stew

Posted on December 20, 2014 by Jasmine Nielsen

As 2014 barrels to a close, I find myself pondering leaps of faith…and making beef stew.

The past few months have brought some major, and for the most part self-initiated, life changes. I’m beginning to settle in, but have yet to really find my new rhythm. Or, rather, just when I think I have, the song changes. I’ve been impressed by my brain’s capacity to synthesize and adapt to new information (and have been killing the Times crossword puzzle as of late). But I’d be lying if I said these changes aren’t physically and mentally exhausting.

Early in adulthood I was faced with a major decision. A mentor and dear friend, noting my distress, observed that there were no right or wrong choices, merely different paths. I have shared this advice with countless people over the years and have taken great comfort in it myself. But, deep down, I’m still convinced that, with enough effort, I can analyze my way into the right choice.

There was a distinct moment in my late 20s when I realized that there was no answer key to life and that everyone is just making it up as they go along. Being an adult doesn’t mean knowing what to do in every situation. We learn from trial and error. We get better at selecting those we ask for advice. We learn to accept that things may not turn out as hoped. We also learn that things continue to evolve and, at some point, it’s bound to get better.

As hard as I am working to make the right choices, there are moments when I realize that what I’ve set in motion involves forces well beyond my control. Try as we might to reason our way through, our life choices are, ultimately, leaps of faith.

Stew, too, is an act of faith. You take a cheap cut of meat, sear it in some fat, and then braise it in liquid. About an hour into this process, the meat will be alarmingly tough and the surrounding gravy won’t taste like much. But keep the faith. Let it go another hour or two (each pot of stew having its own internal timeline) and you will find yourself with a tender and savory dish. It may not always be quite what you set out to make, but it will be good and nourishing. And it will get better with age; consider making your stew the day before, chilling overnight, and then reheating.

Beef, Shiitake & Celeriac Stew

3 tablespoons beef fat (or butter)
2 pounds beef stew meat (chuck, sirloin or whatever else the butcher recommends)
3 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 large onions
4 large carrots
1 baseball-sized bulb celeriac
1 pound shiitake (pr plain old button) mushrooms
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 tablespoons tomato paste
8 anchovies in oil
2/3 bottle red wine
1 quart beef stock
3 sprigs thyme
1 sprigs rosemary
1 tablespoon sugar
salt and pepper

Melt fat or butter in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Toss meat with flour and a healthy pinch of salt. Brown meat in batches so as not to crowd the pan, allowing a nice dark crust to form. Set aside.
If your fat is all gone, add the olive oil. Add the sliced onions and cook, stirring frequently, scraping up the dark bits at the bottom of the pan with the juices released by the onions. When the onions are soft and browned, add the carrots, celeriac, mushrooms and red pepper flakes. Cook until the vegetables begin to soften. Clear a spot in the pot and add the tomato paste and anchovies. Cook for a minute or two, stirring constantly to avoid burning. Deglaze the pan with a bit of the red wine, then add the rest of the wine plus the beef stock, herbs and sugar.
Bring the stew up to a boil, pop a lid on, and turn the heat down low. You’re aiming for a slow simmer. Now is a fine time to take your compost to the farmers’ market. You may purchase a hot apple cider for the walk home but do no under any circumstances buy more vegetables given that you are leaving town in four days and still have the bulk of last week’s CSA share stashed in your refrigerator.
After about an hour of cooking, remove the lid so that your sauce begins to thicken. Add a healthy dose of salt and pepper. Continue to simmer for one to two additional hours until your meat is fork-tender (but not complete mush) and the surrounding liquid is the consistency of a hearty gravy.

Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?

EAT THIS: Thanksgiving Soup

Posted on December 1, 2014 by Jasmine Nielsen

On the fifth day of Thanksgiving, bring the turkey stock that wouldn’t fit into the ice cube tray to a simmer. Pick the bread out of your leftover stuffing and add what remains to the pot (cremini mushrooms, Italian sausage, fennel and leeks in this case). Add a few sliced carrots. Add a pinch of red pepper flakes. Roughly chop and add the remaining turkey meat. Add a big bunch of swiss chard. Proceed to eat this for the next three days, noting that you really just kicked the leftover can a little further down the road. But hey, at least you worked a little fiber into the equation.

Chopped Turkey Liver with Cremini Mushrooms

Posted on November 27, 2014 by Jasmine Nielsen

Seven adults, an almost three-year-old, an almost two-year-old, and a baby born just six days ago are descending on my 600-square-foot apartment this afternoon. I spent the past week gathering ingredients from far and wide. I take a certain amount of pride in noting that nothing on today’s Thanksgiving table was sourced from a large grocery chain. I take a little less pride in the fact that I bought cheese in three different stores because I failed to actually make any sort of shopping list.

Our 17-pound turkey hails from Vermont and was procured through my CSA. It has been soaking up its dry brine since Tuesday night.

Last night was time for more prep work. I transformed a loaf of bread into rustic croutons. I made a slow-simmered turkey stock using the neck and a few other odds and ends, along with a little pancetta. I baked sweet and spicy candied pecans. I cooked up a batch of cranberry, apple and caramelized onion chutney. I did my best to tidy up the apartment.

Over the years, I have developed a system for helping myself stay on track when preparing an elaborate meal. Today’s game plan will continue to evolve throughout the day, but this is the general direction.

I inexplicably awoke at 7:00am, leaving me with more time than anticipated. It was too early to pull the bird out of the fridge. And, until I remove the bird, there’s pretty much no room for anything else I manage to prep ahead of schedule.

I pondered this dilemma over a cup of coffee until I remembered that turkey liver I had shoved in a bowl and stuck next to the mushrooms for the ciabatta, sausage, fennel and cremini stuffing. Suddenly I had a vision of the amazing chopped liver made by Maison David’s Michel Kailfa that I had the chance to sample during June’s study trip to Paris. Frenchmen don’t get much more charming that Michel. And chopped liver doesn’t get tastier than his.

But I would do my best.

Chopped Turkey Liver with Cremini Mushrooms

4 tablespoons olive oil
1 turkey liver
1 small onion, thinly sliced
1 sprig fresh thyme, leaves stripped
1 small pinch red pepper flakes
4 cremini mushrooms
3 tablespoons madeira
1 small handful flat leaf Italian parsley
salt and pepper

Bring half the oil up to medium heat in a small pan. Add the liver and sear, rotating as it browns, for approximately five minutes.) You’re aiming for something like a medium-rare steak.) Remove the liver to a small bowl and add the rest of the oil.
Add the onion and continue to cook, stirring frequently, until they are nicely browned and limp. (I have a hunch that Michel takes his onions past this point, which may make all the difference.) Add the mushrooms, thyme leaves and red pepper. Continue cooking, stirring frequently. The mushrooms will soak up the remaining fat and then gradually release liquid. Once they have done so, add the madeira and cook stirring continuously and scraping the bottom of the pan until mostly evaporated.
Dump the liver, onions and mushrooms, and parsley into the small bowl of your food processor and purée for a few minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Liver is packed full of good nutrients, including iron–which is good for those of us that tend towards the anemic. A smear of this on a cracker is a great way to get your strength up for a long day of cooking.

This Is Not a Scallop (Seriously)

Posted on November 19, 2014 by Jasmine Nielsen

Last night’s dinner was bay scallops atop a fennel, arugula, Golden Delicious and red onion salad dressed with a sesame oil and rice wine vinaigrette.

The peppery arugula and the bite of the red onion helped to offset all that sweet. But something was missing. Were I a fancy chef, one of my kitchen crew would have arrived early that morning to prepare some puffed rice to add a dry, crispy element and my sommelier would have paired it with a crisp, lemony Sancerre. Alas, I am not a fancy chef. And so I ate my salad as is, standing at the kitchen counter, with a glass of the Pinot Noir that was already open. You could do worse for a Tuesday.

I arrived home tonight bearing king oyster mushrooms that one of my coworkers grew in quart jars full of coffee grounds in his apartment.

Jorge left the mushrooms in the office fridge, inviting us to help ourselves, provided we cooked them up and reported back on how they tasted. Um, they were good. Really good.

The king oyster mushroom’s unique shape–coupled with memories of last night’s good but not great dinner–inspired me to prepare them as though they were scallops. I’d be willing to bet that this technique would work well with all manners of fancy mushrooms. But it will lack a certain surreality.

Pappardelle with King Oyster Mushrooms & Arugula (a.k.a. This Is Not a Scallop)

1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small leek (or shallot), minced
8 oyster mushrooms, sliced into 1/2″ disks
1 pinch red pepper flakes
2 sprigs fresh thyme, stripped from the stems
1 clove garlic, minced
6 ounces dried pappardelle (or other flat egg pasta)
2 tablespoons dry vermouth (or leftover white wine)
2 heaping tablespoons crème fraîche
3 ounces arugula (or however much you’ve got)
zest of 1 lemon
salt and pepper

Set a large pot of water to boil with plenty of salt. Bring the butter and oil up to medium heat in a large pan. Add you leeks and sauté, stirring continuously, for a couple of minutes. Add the mushrooms, red pepper, garlic and thyme. Cook, flipping the mushrooms occasionally, until they are golden. Deglaze the pan with the vermouth and allow to evaporate.
Once the water boils, add the pasta and cook until al dente. Scoop the pappardelle directly into your pan, allowing some of the cooking water to transfer. Mix the pasta into the mushrooms and then turn off the heat. Add the crème fraîche, arugula, lemon zest, and salt and pepper to taste. Stir until the arugula is wilted but still bright green, adding additional pasta water as needed to keep it loose but not soupy.

This should make enough for your dinner tonight and Jorge’s lunch tomorrow. Alternately, we could all agree not to tell Jorge and keep both servings for ourselves.

the drunken fig

All measurements are approximate.

Author Archives: Jasmine Nielsen