Tag Archives: cabbage

Roasted Monkfish with Braised Red Cabbage

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There are days when I feel like a pinball ricocheting around the city. Today was one of those days.

I started with some early morning emailing from home before dropping my compost off and hopping the B train for an emergency visit to the endotontist in Gramercy. (Friday’s root canal seems to have set off a painful chain reaction.) Armed with a little less tooth and a lot more ibuprofen, I made my way across town in search of Wifi. I spent lunch catching up on emails, mapping an outline for a talk, and chewing with a great deal of care.

Then it was an hour uptown to Teachers College. The 1 train was mercifully uncrowded, so I was able to use the time to put the finishing touches on a paper. It was my last Nutritional Ecology class. While I’m looking forward to a little pleasure reading, I will truly miss the opportunity to study with Joan Dye Gussow, who the New York Times dubbed the “matriarch of the eat-locally-think-globally food movement.” (Please, nobody tell Joan that, for the past semester, my Wednesday lunches have consisted of a boxed sandwich wolfed down on the train while rushing to her class.) Afterwards, I descended Morningside Park’s many steps to meet a donor for a drink and some more food talk.

Another hour on the B train and I was back home in Brooklyn and deserving of a treat. I walked into Mermaid’s Garden just before closing and secured a pound of monkfish, which I thought would hold up well against the red cabbage left from last month’s CSA share. I’d never made monkfish before, but the lovely guy behind the counter assured me that it was almost impossible to overcook. We agreed that I would aim for a quick pan sear and then finish it off in the oven.

Roasted Monkfish with Braised Red Cabbage

  • 1 ounce smoked hog jowl (or bacon), cubed
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 red onion, sliced pole to pole
  • 1/2 head red cabbage, thinly sliced
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice (about 8 whole berries)
  • 1 pinch red pepper flakes
  • 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
  • 1/4 cup apple cider that you tragically failed to drink before it started to turn
  • salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 450. Bring a large skillet up to medium heat with the pork and olive oil. When the pork is rendered but not yet crispy, add the onion and cook until soft and browned around the edges. Add the cabbage, allspice, red pepper and a healthy dose of salt and pepper. Cook stirring regularly until the cabbage is wilted. Add the cider and vinegar, bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and put a lid on it. Continue cooking, stirring every so often, while you turn your attention to the fish.

  • 1 pound monkfish, trimmed
  • 1 tablespoon horseradish
  • 1 tablespoon panko breadcrumbs
  • 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • salt and pepper

Bring a skillet up to medium heat. Season the fish liberally on both sides with salt and pepper. Combine the horseradish, breadcrumbs and mustard in a small bowl, adding water if needed to form a paste. Press this mixture onto one side of the fish. Add butter to the pan, swirling to coat. Carefully place the fish in the pan with the crust down. Cook for a few minutes until the crust has browned and then gently flip. (If your crust falls off, just stick it back on.) Cook for another couple of minutes and then pop the whole pan in the oven for about 15 minutes. By the time your fish is done, your cabbage should be good to go.

Roasted Monkfish with Braised Red Cabbage

WARNING: Your cat will think you made this for her. She is wrong, but she will not let up until you finish your meal, pack the leftovers away for tomorrow’s lunch, and scrub all of the dishes.

(Not So) Fat Tuesday

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Today is Mardi Gras. While my heart is in New Orleans, my stomach and my workload call for something a little more austere. I got home around 8:00pm after a long day of work followed by school, By 8:30, I was sitting down to a healthy, tasty meal and a couple of episodes of Treme.

Mardi Gras Mask The Drunken Fig in more celebratory times

Vegan Smothered Cabbage

  1. Crack open a good quality dark beer. Bring 2 tablespoons of olive oil up to medium heat in a large cast iron skillet. Add a medium red onion sliced poll to poll and cook until starting to brown. Add a good pinch of red pepper flakes.
  2. Stir in one thinly-sliced tofurky andouille sausage (or, if you’re looking for something a little more indulgent, go for the pork) and cook until it begins to crisp. Then add half a head of green cabbage, shredded as if you were making a slaw, along with a healthy dose of salt and pepper. 
  3. When the cabbage is wilted but still a bit crisp, add as much beer as you’re willing to sacrifice to deglaze your pan. Cook for another minute or two and then empty the contents of your pan into a low bowl. Serve with Zatarain’s Creole Mustard. (In a pinch, you could substitute any nice whole grain mustard.)

Vegan Smothered Cabbage

Red Wine-Braised Chicken Thighs with Dukkah

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It is beyond cold here in New York City and across most of the nation. As I type this, it’s nine degrees in Brooklyn–and that’s without factoring in the wind chill. I made the morning commute in no less than 18 articles of clothing.

Arctic ChicHad I to do it over, I would have added leg warmers and a second scarf.

It was the (please, oh please, let this be true) coldest day of the year and the heat was out in our office due to a leaking valve. Adding insult to injury, the building is in the final stages of a multi-year facelift; concrete bricks and plaster are currently all that separate us from the elements. The staff toughed it out in knit caps, scarves and sweaters until 3:00 when I sent everyone home. I stuck around for another hour in the hopes of guilting the building staff into figuring something out before heading home myself. The temperature was holding steady in the single digits, but the wind had picked up. For some reason my knees–buried under silk long underwear, jeans and a down coat–suffered the most.

I had a hankering for something warm and comforting. I also had a hankering to take my brand new Global knives for a spin.

The fridge held chicken thighs, potatoes, carrots, red cabbage, and some sorry-looking cilantro. On the counter I had onions and some red wine left by my cat sitter. I also had a baggie labeled Dukkah, which the internet tells me is an Egyptian blend of crushed spices and nuts. This particular mix, which I received as a gift from an old friend, is from My Spice Sage and contains coriander, cumin, fennel, thyme, marjoram, black pepper and sesame seeds.

Red Wine-Braised Chicken Thighs with Dukkah

  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 3 tablespoons Dukkah or a spice blend of your choosing (I’m willing to bet this would be nice with a curry of some sort.)
  • 8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs (You could use bone-in. Just be sure to cook them a bit longer.)
  • 2 medium onions, thinly sliced
  • 1-2 tablespoons harissa
  • 7 small carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
  • 8 small potatoes, quartered
  •  1 1/2 cups red wine
  • 1 1/2 cups chicken stock
  • 1/2 head red cabbage, shredded
  • 1 small bunch cilantro, minced
  • salt and pepper
  1. Heat oil in a large dutch over medium-low heat. Rinse the chicken thighs, pat them dry and dust with 1 tablespoon of Dukkah plus salt and pepper. Pan fry the chicken in two batches, approximately five minutes per side.
  2. Set the seared chicken aside, add the onions, and cook until nicely browned. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of Dukkah and the harissa, stirring constantly for 1 minute. Then add the red wine and use your spoon to scrape the fond (browned tasty bits) from the bottom of the pan. Add the chicken stock, carrots and potatoes. Bring to a boil, lower the heat and let simmer uncovered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
  3. Taste the broth and add salt and pepper as you see fit. Stir in the cabbage, cilantro and chicken. (It’s OK if the liquid doesn’t completely cover the vegetables and chicken.) Cover and let simmer for 20 minutes or so, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are cooked through but still firm.

Braised Chicken with DukkahThe resulting dish was comforting in the extreme, with a rich broth and warm spices.

The knives were even more satisfying.

Global KnivesThese supremely sexy pieces of cutlery feel light but powerful in the hand and cut through an onion like it’s butter that’s been left on the counter. They may just be the best gift I have ever received.

Mid-July CSA Salad

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The tomatoes are here!  Tonight’s CSA share included basil, cucumbers, scallions and some truly glorious tomatoes.  I had a wedge of red cabbage left over from the five-spice kale and cabbage slaw I made for a Fourth of July Party.  And I has some feta–yet another great emergency protein source.

Mid-July CSA Salad

  1. Finely slice a quarter of a head of red cabbage and toss with a teaspoon of salt in a wooden bowl.  The salt will start to break down the cabbage, allowing it to wilt and more fully merge with the rest of your salad.  (Fun fact: sauerkraut is just cabbage, salt and, possibly, seasonings that have been left to ferment.)
  2. Peel a few cucumbers, slice them up in half and scrape out the guts, which will make your salad too watery.  Then dice them and add them to the bow. 
  3. Add a couple of diced tomatoes.  Some folks would have you de-seed these as well, but there was no way I was wasting any of that glorious tomato goodness.
  4. Add a few thinly sliced scallions and some basil chiffonade.  Chiffonade is fancy chef speak for thinly sliced.   I find the best technique is to stack the leaves (about 10 in this case), roll them into a spiral and then slice the whole stack.
  5. Crumble two or three ounces of feta and toss that in too.
  6. Drizzle with a tablespoon of good quality olive oil, a couple of tablespoons of red wine vinegar and some fresh-ground black pepper and toss it all together.

You could toss some toasted whole wheat pita bits or some quinoa in if you’re looking for something a little more filling.  If you are a patient person, you could let it sit for a bit so that the flavors meld.  Alternately, you just could pour a glass of Vinho Verde and get to work.