Tag Archives: broccoli rabe

Pizza alla Friday Night (& Saturday Morning)

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The one nice thing I can say about this past winter is that it got me over my aversion to baking. Month after month of dark, bitterly cold days afforded ample time for experimentation–and a strong motivation to run the oven. I baked oatmeal-fig cookies, Meyer lemon gingerbread, and even a couple of yeasted breads.

But you don’t always have time for a proper rise, which is where your local pizza parlor is a great ally. In case you don’t already know, most pizza shops are happy to sell you a ball of the dough they had the foresight to start a few days ago. This means that homemade pizza can be yours in well under an hour.

Broccoli Rabe & Ricotta Pizza

  1. Grab some dough from the local pizza place on your way home from the subway.
  2. As soon as you walk in the door (yes, even before you remove your shoes), crank your oven up as high as it will go and pop a large cast iron skillet inside.
  3. Change into a caftan or other relaxation garment of your choice.
  4. Set a large pan over medium heat with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil.
  5. Crack open a beer and cue up some appropriate tunes–Fleetwood Mac, for example.
  6. Bring a large pan up to medium heat with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil.
  7. Peel and thinly slice several cloves of garlic. Rinse and roughly chop that bunch of broccoli rabe you bought on Sunday, when you mistakenly thought the week after vacation would be pretty chill.
  8. Add the garlic and a good pinch of crushed red pepper to the pan and stir continuously for a minute or two, taking care not to burn the garlic. Add the broccoli rabe in batches, starting with the stems. Cook, stirring occasionally, until wilted. Add salt and pepper to taste.
  9. Take the skillet out of the oven and drizzle a little olive oil into it. Grab the ball of dough and slowly stretch it into a circle approximately the size of your skillet by working your hands around the edges, pulling gently and allowing gravity to do its thing. Place the stretched dough into the skillet. Layer on the broccoli rabe and several dollops of ricotta cheese. If you happen to have some dessicated parmesan or romano lurking in the fridge, grate some over the top. A little lemon zest wouldn’t hurt either.
  10. Pop the skillet back in the oven and grab another beer.
  11. Your pizza will be ready in six minutes (or a little less if your oven doesn’t suck as hard as mine). You’ll know it’s ready because the edges of your crust will be brown and bubbly.

If you game it right, Stevie Nicks will be crooning “Angel” by the time you sit down to dinner, an old friend who lives too far away will call just as you finish eating, and the leftovers will make for a lovely brunch when topped with a fried egg.

Broccoli Rabe and Ricotta Pizza

Field Peas & Broccoli Rabe

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I spent the latter half of the week upstate on a staff retreat. I knew the food at Omega Institute would be healthy and restorative after the previous weekend’s barbecue and boozefest. But I had no clue how delicious it would be. Each meal featured a bounty of cooked and raw vegetables, whole grains, legumes and some of the best tofu and seitan dishes I’d had since my hippie childhood amidst the Illinois cornfields. Ordinarily, despite my best intentions, I max out at a single plate of food. At Omega, I found myself going back for a second round of fresh, locally grown pea shoots with an addictive mustard miso dressing. Aside from the fifth of Bulleit Bourbon that I smuggled in for a little late night unwinding back in my cabin, it was three days of clean living.

The trip back to the city was gruesome. It took us about three hours to travel the 20 miles from the Northern Bronx to Downtown Brooklyn. You can spend three days on a staff retreat in the woods, but the true team building comes when you’re stuck in a minivan during summer Friday traffic. The rental wasn’t due back until the next day and I had high hopes of using it for a little adventure dining and perhaps an errand or two. But by the time I dropped everyone at their various subways stops and made it back to my neighborhood, I had resolved to ditch the van back at its garage. My friend Molly, who had flown in from San Francisco for a work conference earlier in the week, was waiting at the bar around the corner from my house. I texted her that I’d be there in five minutes. Being a true friend, her reply was simple: “red or white?” Three glasses of a lovely Sauvignon Blanc and a terrine of chicken liver mousse were a fine reintroduction to urban living.

Yesterday we bummed around Brooklyn, as I showed Molly the radical changes that have transpired since we first met here 17 years ago. We grabbed coffee at one of the ten or so coffee shops that now dot the neighborhood. We hit up the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket, where I picked up asparagus, scallions, shiitake mushrooms, eggs, spinach, fresh thyme, bacon ends and some whole wheat sourdough. We walked over to Clinton Hill for a little flea market browsing followed by white sangria and a snack of lamb meatballs and spicy goat cheese croquettes. Later that night we dined on fiddlehead ferns, orecchiette with flowering mustard greens, and pork shoulder infused with rosemary at a place I’m pretty sure used to serve chicken wings and General Tso’s chicken from behind bulletproof glass. Today’s portion of the neighborhood tour focused on gardens of both the botanic and beer varieties.

Two hours ago I loaded Molly and her suitcases into a Town Car with the requisite cracked leather seats and pine tree-shaped air freshener. (Not everything about Brooklyn has changed.) I am now indulging in a little Sunday night melancholia–and this delicious bean salad, which was inspired by a dish that my neighbor and fellow blogger whipped up for a potluck a few months back. Check him out at Brooklyn Roof Garden.

Field Peas & Broccoli Rabe

  • 1/2 pound dried field peas
  • 2 tablespoons butter (skip this or substitute coconut oil to make this dish vegan)
  • 1 bunch broccoli rabe, roughly chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, finely minced
  • 1 bunch scallions, white and light green portions thinly sliced (greens reserved for some other purpose–a spinach, scallion and shiitake frittata, say)
  • 1/4 cup sherry vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1-2 teaspoons hot paprika
  • salt and pepper
  1. Add the peas to a medium pot and run water until it comes up a couple of inches above the peas. Add the butter, bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer and cook for 40 minutes or so until they are just tender. Add a teaspoon of salt and simmer another 10-20 minutes until the beans are nice and soft but not yet falling apart. Turn off the heat and let sit. 
  2. Add 1/2 inch of water and a large pinch of salt to a large pot. Bring to a boil and then add the broccoli rabe. Cook with the lid on, stirring occasionally, for 3-8 minutes depending on the thickness of your stalks. You’re going for an ever-so-slightly al dente texture. Pour into a strainer and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking process.
  3. Stir the celery, scallions, vinegar, oil, paprika and a good bit of black pepper into the beans. Squeeze any excess water from the broccoli rabe and mix this in as well. Taste and adjust the seasoning with additional salt, pepper, paprika or vinegar as you see fit.

Field Peas and Broccoli Rabe

As you can see, my field peas got a little mushy. They were still quite tasty but, if you have the time, I recommend soaking the dried beans the night before. This will help them to retain their shape and also cut down on cooking time. I used this technique a few weeks ago and the resulting dish was a bit more photogenic, particularly when served alongside marinated and grilled flank steak. Tonight I went for a more humble approach to dinner.

Steamed Clams & Broccoli Rabe

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Well that was a long week. I saw visiting family off on Monday, delivered a performance/presentation in class on Tuesday, had major dental work on Wednesday, and turned in my final paper of the semester on Thursday–all while holding down my full-time job. I had high hopes of attending an event tonight, but exhaustion and misanthropy got the better of me. I did manage to swing by the Union Square Greenmarket on the way home. Agricultural reality continues to lag behind our culinary aspirations, but I was able to pick up more ramps and broccoli rabe, along with a couple of Bread Alone’s multigrain panini. I got off the mercifully uncrowded Q train at 7th Avenue and swung by Mermaid’s Garden, the newish fish shop in my neighborhood I’d been meaning to check out for months. I picked up a dozen littleneck clams, which I somehow thought would pair well with broccoli rabe, and a couple of pounds of Georgia shrimp, which went into the freezer for some future delight.

Littleneck Clams

Steamed Clams & Broccoli Rabe

  • 1 dozen littleneck clams
  • 1 bunch broccoli rabe
  • 1 ounce diced bacon ends (or 1 slice bacon or 1 tablespoon olive oil)
  • 3 ramps and those 3 scallions that seem to have wilted in your veggie bin (Shallots, garlic and/or plain old yellow onion would also be fine.)
  • 1 pinch red pepper flakes
  • 1 cup white wine
  • zest of 1/2 lemon
  • salt and pepper
  1. Drop the clams into a small bowl, top with water, and fix yourself a cocktail.
  2. Once you have finished your cocktail, fill a medium pot halfway with water, add a healthy pinch of salt, pop a lid on, and set it over high heat. While the water comes to a boil, fix yourself another cocktail. Roughly chop the broccoli rabe, toss it into the pot, and boil for two minutes or so until just softened but still toothsome. Strain into a colander and run some cold water over the top to stop the cooking process.
  3. Place the pot back on the burner, lower the heat to medium-low and toss in the bacon. Cook, stirring frequently, until the bacon has rendered. Chop the ramps and the green portion of the scallions and add these plus the red pepper flakes to your bacon. Cook for a few minutes.
  4. Crank the heat up to high and add some of that white wine that was questionably drinkable when you first opened it and is most definitely not drinkable after a month in the fridge. Fish the clams out of the water and drop them into the pot. Let boil, stirring a bit, until the clams start popping open (approximately five minutes). As they open, pull them to the top so as not to overcook.
  5. Thinly slice the whites of the scallions. When the clams have all opened, turn off the heat and stir in the blanched broccoli rabe along with the lemon zest and salt and pepper to taste.

Clams and Broccoli Rabe

Dump this into a bowl and serve with some good quality bread to soak up the juices. A spoon might be helpful. But, if you happen to be dining alone, just lift the bowl up to your face. The cat will not be offended.

The Morning After Savory Bread Pudding

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Last night I hosted seven strangers for dinner in my home as part of a project for the Food and Performance class I am taking this semester. The menu had a distinct New Orleans flavor:

Sazeracs

Creole Fromage Fort, Mushroom Pâté, Olives & Cornichons

Asparagus & Ramp Remoulade

Duck, Oyster & Andouille Gumbo over Rice

 Vanilla Gelato Topped with Goat Milk Cajeta & Spicy Pralined Pecans

While it is going to take me a while to piece the evening together, I’m willing to call A Strange Dinner Party a success. The conversation flowed. Food and drink were consumed. Connections were discovered and forged. The highlight may have been after dessert when everyone pitched in to change a lightbulb–a task I don’t do when alone because it requires standing literally on top of the sticker on the ladder that says “Do Not Stand at or above this level. The Sazeracs and stimulating conversation left me so amped up that I managed to plow through nearly all of the dishes before collapsing into bed.

I woke up inexplicably early, having slept a sum total of 10 hours over the past two nights. Sleep deprivation and weekend cocktailing had me feeling a little worse for the wear. I needed a hearty breakfast to fortify me for this afternoon’s New York Abortion Access Fund Bowl-a-Thon. My bleary eyes scanned the kitchen and alit on the now stale bread that my guests had apparently refrained from using to soak up their gumbo.

Stale Bread

The Morning After Savory Bread Pudding

  1. Pour yourself a big glass of water and set the oven to 350.
  2. Grab those stale baguette slices and roughly cut them into 1″ chunks. Spread them on a baking sheet and pop them in the oven to toast until just turning golden.
  3. If you’ve got some leftover cooked veggies on hand, you’re almost home free. If, on the other hand, you polished off the last of the asparagus while doing the dishes last night, heat a cast iron skillet up to medium-low with a little olive oil. Add some sliced garlic (or onions or whatever) and a nice pinch of red pepper flakes. When the garlic starts to turn golden, add a big pile of broccoli rabe (or mushrooms or spinach or whatever vegetable(s) you have on hand). Season with salt and pepper and sauté until cooked through. If you happen to have a bunch of scallions you forgot to serve with last night’s gumbo, throw these in toward the end.
  4. Crack four eggs into a medium mixing bowl. Add a cup or so of milk or cream, salt, pepper and a pinch of two of nutmeg. Now stir in that cheese that you hastily packed up at the end of the night. This is a particularly nice way to recycle your already recycled fromage fort.
  5. Mix your toasted bread cubes in with the sautéed veggies and scoop this into a small baking dish. Pour the egg mixture over the top and pop your bread pudding in the oven.
  6. Cook until the eggs are set and the bread on top is nicely toasted–about 25 minutes, which should be ample time to fix yourself a much-needed cup of coffee. 

Savory Bread Pudding

Sardines and Greens

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Kindly neighbors collected my CSA share on Tuesday. A bag full of fresh produce on your doorstep is a welcome sight after a 13-hour workday, but it was all I could do to shove the vegetables into the refrigerator alongside the remnants of last week’s haul. Tonight’s meeting was canceled, leaving me with a single, glorious unscheduled evening. I got home from class around 8:00, eager for some home cooking. The broccoli rabe and kale from last week were looking a little worse for the wear but still edible–as were the greens that topped this week’s turnips. Now for some protein. I unearthed a can of Portuguese sardines in olive oil from the cupboard. I could work with this.

Sardines and Greens

  1. Bring a large cast iron skillet up to medium heat. Open a can of sardines and drain the olive oil into your skillet. It will start to sizzle as the water cooks out of the oil.
  2. Once this has subsided, add a few cloves of thinly sliced garlic and a big pinch of red pepper flakes. Cook until the garlic slices turn a nutty brown. Add the sardines, mashing with a wooden spoon until you have a coarse paste.
  3. Rinse and roughly chop a big pile of dark leafy greens. I used the aforementioned kale, broccoli rabe and turnip greens, but pretty much any hefty greens will do. Add these to the pan, stirring between batches to wilt them and make room for more. (If any of the greens have thick stalks, be sure to add these first so that they have a little more time to cook.) Keep stirring.
  4. When the greens looks ready, add salt, pepper, the zest of half a lemon and some chopped parsley if you have it. Pile the greens in a bowl and squeeze fresh lemon juice over the top. 

I bet this would be tasty as a sauce for whole wheat pasta with toasted breadcrumbs sprinkled on top, but I opted for a scattering of ricotta salata, a Brooklyn Lager and an old Law and Order episode. It’s been a long week.