Vietnamese Roasted Leek and Eggplant Salad

Perhaps I'm the only one who stresses about these things, but I've been away from the blog for some time. Actually, I've been away from the kitchen for some time. October has been a busy month for me at work, and getting a big project out the door meant fewer of those fall nights where my slippered feet pad into the kitchen searching for something to cook. Now that the project is finished, I'll be on the road a fair amount across the next couple months, presenting the research to hungry executive teams. If only they were hungry for pie.

In months like these, I browse recipes and write shopping lists on the tail ends of plane flights, wrack my brain to remember what's in all those jars in my fridge, and just try my best to squeeze a few home-cooked meals in between trips.

four leeks and an eggplant

Still, weekends exist for a reason. Once I have a to-do list in order, I'm up and at 'em, cooking as many dishes as I can without exhausting myself and spoiling the fun. This past weekend, after a quick trip to the gym, I got Vietnamese chicken stock blurp-blurping away on the stove, mixed up the dough for Luisa's yeasted plum cake and left it to rise, and then got going on today's recipe, a spicy-sour-salty-sweet eggplant and leek salad that will leave you wishing you were coming with me to Vietnam in December. (!)

diced eggplant

That's right: we're heading to Southeast Asia this winter. I'm doing my best not to jump out the screen and shake you, but people, I am excited. And while one member of this household would like to preserve her appetite for Vietnamese and Thai food until we actually arrive, that's not how I roll. Gearing up means cooking the food we'll be eating - or some riff on it - so that by the time we arrive, I'm all primed and ready for the real deal. D told me that we'll be watching The Bridge on the River Kwai to prep, which - hmm, not on my list of movies I must see? I fear I've just lost important points with my father-in-law - but I will do it. I will watch that movie. And D can count on eating lots of fish sauce this month.

Hate fish sauce? Don't worry; today's recipe doesn't call for it.

soft leeks

I first saw the recipe for this salad in the Times, and -- I kid you not -- was so charmed by it that I clicked right over to Amazon and bought the book from which it came. That book is Vietnamese Home Cooking, and it's easily the best impulse-buy of the month (though, had this been an impulse-buy and not an eagerly anticipated purchase, we'd have a tighter race on our hands. More about that another time.)

The man behind Vietnamese Home Cooking is Charles Phan, chef at The Slanted Door in San Francisco (which quite possibly is the first place I ever experienced authentic Vietnamese food. Went once, never turned back.) Phan waited more than a decade to write this book, and I'm glad to finally have his recipes and stories in print. The book is organized by cooking method, and it has helpful chapter markers running along the side of each page. Scattered throughout the book in little blue boxes are recipes for key components of many Vietnamese dishes, like pickled carrots, crispy shallots, and nuoc mam. If you closed your eyes and chose three pages from the book at random, then made whatever was on those pages, you'd wind up with a pretty awesome dinner. Like I said, a great purchase.

vietnamese leek and eggplant salad 2

So, the salad. The version that appears in Phan's book looks slippery and soft and perhaps even a bit mushy, in that good way that eggplant gets if you leave it in the oven forever. The Times' edited version makes for faster prep, and I've made my own changes on top of those, to add in more textural contrast and to utilize regular globe eggplants instead of the baby eggplants that are all but gone from the market these days. I also couldn't find baby leeks, so I used regular leeks and cooked them longer. The result is truly memorable. It's spicy and crunchy and sour and a bit sweet, but not cloying. And even though the only greens are a sprinkle of cilantro, the salad tastes really fresh. Go ahead: make a double batch. Serve half today, store the rest in individual containers and mix it right before tomorrow's lunch.

Vietnamese Roasted Eggplant and Leek Salad

This recipe initially called for baby leeks, but I couldn't find them, so I bought the thinnest leeks I could find and cooked them for a bit longer. I also used regular ordinary eggplant, because the small ones were gone. Use whichever suits your fancy.

Last thing: fried shallots. Not essential, but delicious. You can either buy them at an Asian grocery store, or you can -- you know -- fry 2 sliced shallots in a whole lot (1 cup) of peanut oil just until browned, then strain and set aside on a paper towel until ready to use.

1/4 cup soy sauce 1/4 cup sugar 1/4 cup water 1 tablespoon white vinegar 1 tablespoon Vietnamese chili-garlic sauce or sriracha 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice 1/4 cup olive or peanut oil 1 to 1 1/5 lbs. leeks (about 4), the thinner the better 1 2-lb. globe eggplant salt and pepper 1 1/2 cups loosely packed cilantro leaves, roughly chopped 1/4 cup chopped roasted peanuts 2 tablespoons fried shallots, optional

First, make the dressing: Combine soy sauce, sugar, water, vinegar, chili sauce, and lime juice in a jar. Seal and shake vigorously for about 60 seconds to help the sugar dissolve. Set aside, and shake from time to time as you proceed with the rest of the dish.

Heat the oven to 450 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or silpat.

Next, roast the leeks:Trim the root ends of the leeks as minimally as possible, and cut off the dark green tops. Slice the leeks lengthwise in half, and rinse each half under running water to loosen and remove any grit between the layers. As you rinse them, take care to keep the leeks intact. Place them cut-side down on the lined baking sheet in a single layer. Drizzle 2 tablespoons olive oil over the leeks, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for 12 minutes, then carefully turn the leeks over using tongs or a spatula and roast for 12 minutes cut-side up. The leeks should be charred in spots and very soft. Transfer the leeks to a plate, cover with plastic wrap, and set aside to soften further.

Prep and roast the eggplant: Rinse the cutting board to rid any grit from the leeks. Trim stems off eggplant, and cut into half-inch slices. Cut each slice into half-inch strips, and cut these strips into 1/2-inch cubes. Distribute eggplant on lined pan in a single layer, drizzle with remaining 2 tablespoons oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and roast for about 20-25 minutes, turning pieces once, until soft and charred in spots.

Assemble salad: Transfer warm, softened leeks to the cutting board and chop into 1-inch pieces. Put eggplant and leeks into a shallow serving dish or bowl and use your fingers to incorporate gently. Sprinkle cilantro, peanuts, and shallots (if using) over vegetables, and drizzle half of dressing overtop. Taste and add more dressing as necessary. Serve immediately.

Spinach with Toasted Sesame Dressing

Bittman says that spinach is a dish best served cooked, and who am I to disagree? I used to be very into raw spinach salads with strawberries, avocado, and sweet, sweet vinaigrette -- you know the salad I'm talking about -- but that feels very 90's LA, or Upper West Side circa my college years. These days, it's onward, upward, and into boiling water with my spinachy greens.

spinach

Last week, Bryce and I went to Toki Underground, again. (Brycie, think we count as regulars yet? Probably not. Lather, rinse, repeat. I need more ramen, stat.) Among the many treats buried in every bowl of ramen are these tightly rolled coils of spinach. You peel off layers of the spinach as you eat, sort of like ohitashi; they soak up the broth you're slurping. It's good fun.

spinach log

I've been blanching and bunching spinach in all sorts of recipes lately. There's loads of it at the markets, and while every time the huge bundle cooks down into a little blob I feel a bit deflated, even a small portion of the recipe I'm sharing today delivers a big punch.

It's precisely because the spinach cooks down so much that it stands up to a sauce as insistently vocal as this one. You wouldn't think a sauce of sesame seeds would deliver such a lash, but it does: it's salty from the soy sauce, sweet from the mirin, and deeply, pungently sesame, from seeds toasted just until they're looking over the cliff at burnt, then ground into a dark brown paste and folded into the sauce. This recipe, it's a good one. Oh, and for all you people who have something else to do tonight besides cook dinner? The whole thing takes ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

sesame seeds

toasted seeds

If sesame isn't your thing, I bet you you can make this with toasted ground peanuts, or even with a spoonful of almond butter. Not the same, but probably still delicious. Do let us know if you try it that way.

sesame dressing

If soy isn't your thing (I'm looking at you, Terr...), maybe you could substitute a bit of rice wine vinegar and some salt.

Try it, you'll like it. And have a wonderful weekend, everyone.

spinach toasted sesame dressing

Spinach and Toasted Sesame Dressingadapted from Just One Cookbook's Spinach Gomaae recipe

Vegetarian and gluten-free (if you use GF soy sauce)

1 lb. raw spinach, washed Pinch of salt 6 tablespoons roasted white sesame seeds, plus more for garnish 3 tablespoons soy sauce 2 tablespoon sugar 2 teaspoons sake or rice wine vinegar 1 teaspoon mirin

Set a big pot of water on high heat and bring to a boil.

Meanwhile, put sesame seeds in a small (preferably stainless steel) frying pan and dry-toast them over medium heat until they turn deep golden brown and a couple seeds jump in the pan. The seeds will continue to toast as they cool, so watch them like a hawk as they brown. There's a fine line between deep brown and burnt. Set aside.

Water should be boiling. Add spinach and pinch of salt. Cook 1 minute, until spinach is vibrant green; drain immediately, and either shock in an ice bath or run under cold water to stop the cooking. Squeeze spinach in a fist to drain the water, then shape it into two fat logs. Cut the logs crosswise into four little bundles, leaving the stray bits at each end of the log as a chef's snack. Transfer two bundles to each of four very small bowls or plates.

Put the sesame seeds in a spice grinder or a mortar and grind or blitz until the seeds become a fine powder. If using a spice grinder, transfer sesame powder to a bowl. Add soy sauce, sugar, sake/vinegar, and mirin, and stir to combine.

Spoon the sauce over the four bundles of spinach and finish with a sprinkle of sesame seeds. Serve to hungry people.

Green Beans Vinaigrette with Feta and Cherries

Until last year, I didn't know green beans' season. I didn't even know they had a season. I saw them in the grocery store pretty much year round, so I assumed they were one of those magical vegetables that could grow through the frost.

Not so: green beans have a season, and that season is right now. Take a closer look at the green beans at your local market, and you'll quickly notice the difference between them and the ones your grocery store displays during other times of the year. Summer beans are a light, bright green. their pods are smooth and taught, and when you bend one, it only goes so far before that satisfying *snap.* Looking at the pod, you shouldn't be able to tell where the beans are within. If the beans protrude enought that they betray their shape through the pod, that green bean is either out of season, or very old.

I usually think of green beans as a side dish. I cook them szechuan-style to serve in rice bowls, blanch them and serve with pesto alongside a belly of salmon, and add them to green salads to lend some heft. But with a few flourishes, green beans can be the star of the show. Now that they're hitting their stride, I've taken to blanching a few pounds at once, keeping them in the fridge, and using them in different weekday lunch options throughout the week. This dish is a recent favorite.

Yes, cherries--again!--because, well, I can't get enough. These ones are dried, and if you can't find dried cherries, you certainly can substitute raisins, currants, or cranberries. As for feta, please use the full-fat stuff. and good-quality If you live in the Mid-Atlantic, I really love Keswick Creamer's Feta de Provence and Feta with Dill and Chives. If not, look for a rich, creamy feta whose flavor you enjoy alone.

You could easily double the vinaigrette recipe and store it in a jar on the counter (or, if you're particularly nervous about food safety, the fridge). With pre-blanched green beans and ready-to-go vinaigrette, this is weekday lunch at the ready.

Green Beans with Feta and Cherries Vinaigrette

8 oz. green beans 2 tablespoons minced shallot 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar 1 teaspoon honey 1 teaspoon grainy mustard 1/4 cup dried cherries reconstituted in 1/2 cup boiling water for 30 minutes 1/4 cup creamy feta cheese salt and pepper to taste

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Fill a large bowl with ice cubes and water and set aside.

Add green beans to boiling water, cover, and cook 2-3 minutes, until green beans are crisp-tender. Check a green bean at 2 minutes and 2:30 to check for doneness - don't let these beans go limp.

As soon as beans are perfectly crisp tender - and not a minute later - strain beans into the bowl of ice water to "shock" them: this stops the cooking immediately and preserves the beans' bright green color.

Strain beans out of ice water and blot dry with a towel. Dump ice water. Transfer back into the bowl that contained the ice water.

In a small bowl, combine all ingredients except feta and cherries. Whisk with a fork to combine, then pour over beans and toss until all beans are coated with the vinaigrette.

Fold in cherries and feta cheese, taking care to keep some chunks of feta along with all the smaller bits. Serve.

The salad will keep well for several hours, so you can prepare it in the morning and eat it for lunch. If making more than a few hours in advance, pack vinaigrette separately from other ingredients, and mix in just before eating.