Apple-Manchego Salad with Roasted Garlic Dressing

Since Adi was born, we've been the extremely lucky beneficiaries of meals that our friends have prepared and delivered to us a few times each week. While I've managed to cook and bake a few things, the opportunities tend to come in very short spurts: 30 minutes of down time in the morning means I can put up a bread dough or simmer some lentils, and if I'm lucky, I get an hour of quiet in the afternoons to bake off that bread or season those lentils. Lunch time isn't downtime, though, so I often find myself reaching for a few apple slices and a hunk of cheese from the fridge, just enough to tide me over. I've got a bag of mixed nuts and raisins that I keep on the side table where I nurse, and I'd say I polish off that bag and call it lunch more often than not.

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There was a time when apples and cheese weren't just snacks to grab on the go. We're part of a wine club, which meets once a month for wine tasting and a dinner, cooked by the host, to match the wine. Before the babe was born, my brother- and sister-in-law Adam and Julie hosted an evening of Rioja tasting, and Julie made an absolutely bang-up meal to go with the wine, riffed on tapas she'd eaten at restaurants around town. Pretty much everything on the table was a standout, but one recipe in particular has become a staple in our house ever since: a simple, addictive apple salad with shavings of manchego cheese, buttery marcona almonds, and roasted garlic dressing.

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It feels like cheating to even call this a salad, especially in a week where everyone's resolving to eat more kale. There isn't a leaf in sight: apples are the star of the show. On a couple occasions, I've sliced a small wedge of fennel bulb into the salad, but honestly, it's best when the apples do the job alone.

The dressing is a big part of the genius behind this recipe: you poach garlic in olive oil until soft, then blend the oil and garlic into a smooth emulsion that serves as the base for the dressing. I find that this works best when done in larger quantities, since the olive oil and garlic can fill the bottom of the pan. Conveniently, I eat this salad frequently enough that it serves me well to have a jar of garlic oil dressing ready to go in the fridge. If you're so inclined, double or triple the dressing recipe so that if, as I can pretty much guarantee, you love this salad, you can make it again in a jiffy.

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One last recommendation: If you're eating it alone (as I so often do), get yourself a nice, hefty bowl. Salads are so much happier when the key players have room to mingle. Don't suffocate the poor thing with a tiny dish.

And eat this salad with people you really like. Those seven cloves of garlic aren't kidding.

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Apple-Manchego Salad with Roasted Garlic Dressing
Lightly adapted from a recipe in Mercury News

Notes: As I mentioned above, I often double the dressing and keep the extra in the fridge. It goes well on pretty much any salad; it’s also lovely drizzled over warm goat cheese or as a marinade for chicken.

Marcona almonds are a Spanish almond that’s sold blanched and roasted. Their rich, buttery flavor is totally different from the almonds we’re used to eating, so you should go to the trouble of procuring them for the salad. (The good news is they’re available at Trader Joe’s.) If you can’t find them, roast almonds in a bit of olive oil and salt until golden and fragrant.

For the dressing:
7 medium garlic cloves, peeled
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar (or substitute apple cider vinegar)
1 tablespoon chopped shallots
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

For the salad:
6 large Granny Smith apples
Juice from 1 lemon
3 tablespoons chopped chives
3 ounces manchego cheese, shaved with a vegetable peeler, divided
1 1/4 cups marcona almonds

Make the dressing: In a small saucepan, combine garlic cloves and olive oil over medium heat. Cook until garlic has softened and started to turn golden around the edges, about 5 minutes. The smaller the pan, the better – you want the garlic nearly submerged in the oil. Sometimes I set the pan onto the burner tilted, so the garlic and oil gather in one corner and the garlic is fully submerged. Either way, make sure not to burn the garlic; reduce the heat if garlic sizzles a lot or seems to be cooking too quickly.

Blend garlic and oil in small processor or using immersion blender, until smooth. Add vinegar, shallots, salt, and pepper; stir to combine.

Make the salad: Using a knife or a mandoline with a matchstick attachment, julienne the apples into matchsticks about 1/3-inch thick, or simply slice apples thinly. Combine apple slices with the juice of one lemon, which prevents the apples from browning.

If serving family style, combine all salad ingredients in a large bowl, reserving a pinch of chives and a small handful of almonds. Dress the salad, starting with just enough dressing to coat, and adding to taste. Toss; top with remaining chives and almonds.

If plating, combine everything but the almonds in a bowl, dress as above, and plate before sprinkling almonds over each portion.

Tuscan Kale and Chickpea Soup

I have a (very cynical) theory that for every 10 vegetarian soup recipes out there, 9 of them had authors who sneaked in some chicken stock when no one was looking. I often read these recipes incredulously: you're telling me your meatless soup is deep and complex, and yet it contains no miso, no tomato paste, no porcini mushrooms, no smoked anchovies - no umami whatsoever. Heck, it doesn't even have much in the way of spices. This all seems mostly impossible.

But as I'm not coming to find, there are magical exceptions to this rule. There are owners of a certain restaurant in Brooklyn by the name of Franny's, which I have love-love-loved for a very long time, who make pretty much everything turn to gold. They are experts at pasta and pizza; masters of crostini and of fritti, those fried bites that start a meal. Well, no surprise: it turns out, they're pros at soup, too.

Making a vegetarian soup taste complex and flavorful absolutely requires attention to detail and process; this soup has steps. But, as usual, I did find a couple of shortcuts that'll make this soup use fewer pots and take less time. That said, as written, this probably isn't an ideal choice for a make-and-eat weeknight supper situation. I made a double recipe last weekend, and it lasted us much of the week. Fortunately, this is a soup that improves over time. I also suspect that it'd freeze beautifully, and I'm making a third batch this, the whole of which I'll be freezing for some very theoretical time down the road when time is more of the essence.

Speaking of said time: lots of you have emailed and commented to check in on preggo and bebe. Thank you so, so much. It's the home stretch around here. The babe is in position and ready to go. We've managed to not find out the sex (though this morning's appointment nearly spoiled that - be careful!), and I'm really glad we kept it under wraps; I think it's changed the nature of our anticipation. I thought this stage would be full of wondering and theorizing about what the kid will be like; instead, since that's a total mystery, I've been thinking a lot more about how we'll be as parents. I'm happy not to know more yet; I'm happy to be patient. (I'm also happy to be enjoying a not-at-all small number of peaceful restaurant meals with the lady and with friends; if only I could log them for later.)

The other good news about this phase, at least for my meat-loving wife, is that I've been clearing out the freezer of space-hoggers like spare ribs. In honor of our anniversary, I stovetop-smoked them for about an hour, then let them melt away in a low oven . The whole process was way easier than it sounds. Tutorials here and here, recipe inspiration here, if you're interested. We served them with some very good BBQ baked beans, which I'll tell you about one of these days.

Thinking more about those ribs, I'm happy to have the dregs of my last batch of this soup in the fridge. It'll make a healthy, filling supper.

Good to counteract those apple cider doughnuts I made this weekend, which I'll tell you about later this week. Till then -

Franny's Kale Chickpea SoupAdapted from Franny's: Simple Seasonal Italian Serves 8

On my shortcuts: I skipped the cheesecloth sachet, of course. Instead, I diced the onion small enough that it disintegrated into the soup; I cut the carrot and celery just in half, for easy removal; and the rosemary sprig was easy enough to find and remove. You're also supposed to put 3 garlic cloves in the sachet, but since garlic is such a prominent flavor in the soup anyway, I didn't see the harm in leaving them in there. I'm pretty sure 2 of the 3 found their way into the blender with the portion that got pureed, and I ended up with one of them in my bowl, all smooth and melty, which was delightful. I also sauteed the rest of the garlic in a pan big enough to accommodate the kale, saving one pan in the process. I'm sure you're wondering whether you can make this with canned chickpeas, and while I'm sure you can, I'm also sure the cooking time helps marry the flavors and textures of this soup. Still, I know time is of the essence. If you try it with canned chickpeas, will you report back?

One more note: this soup is pretty perfect as is, but I did just want to note that it works well with greens other than kale. I haven't tried it with collards and probably wouldn't start there, since they can taste a bit chalky after a long liquidy cook. That said, beet greens, in particular, are fantastic in this soup. So if you have a small bunch of kale and a big pile of greens from those beets, don't hesitate to make this.

And one tiny other thing: 1 cup of olive oil. A lot, yes, but not the 1 1/2 cups originally called for, and also not really that much, at 2 tablespoons per serving. Disagree? Think about the fact that most cookie recipes call for 2 sticks butter. That's a cup right there. I've already cut the amount of olive oil by 1/3 - don't skimp further. If anything, be more generous if you feel so inclined.

2 cups dried chickpeas
1 carrot, peeled and cut in half
1 celery stalk, cleaned and cut in half
1 onion, halved (or diced, if you don't want to fish it out with the carrot and celery; see note above)
11 garlic cloves, peeled
5 strips lemon peel
1 sprig rosemary
1 tablespoon kosher salt, more to taste
3 1/2 quarts water
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided; more for drizzling
1/4 teaspoon chili flakes
2 big bunches Tuscan kale or beet greens Freshly cracked black pepper Lemon wedges, for serving
Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, for serving

Put the chickpeas in a medium bowl, cover with at least an inch of water, and let soak overnight.

In a large pot, combine carrot, celery, onion, 3 garlic cloves, lemon peel, rosemary, 1/2 cup olive oil, 1 tablespoon salt, and the 3 quarts water. Bring to a boil over high heat,  then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the chickpeas are tender, about 1 hour (more if chickpeas are old). Taste at the end of cooking, and add more salt as needed.

Meanwhile, finely chop or (faster!) crush the remaining 8 garlic cloves. Remove the center ribs from the kale and coarsely chop the leaves (you should have about 16 cups, but if not, no stress). Set up your blender and have the blender canister at the ready.

In a large skillet, heat 1/4 cup olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and chili flakes and cook until the garlic is fragrant but not golden, about 1 minute. Transfer to the blender canister (it's okay if some is left in the pan). Immediately add 1/3 of the kale, toss to combine, and cook, tossing occasionally, until tender, about 3 minutes. Transfer cooked kale straight into the blender. Add 2 tablespoons of olive oil and another 1/3 of the kale, and cook in a similar manner, transferring to the blender when cooked. Repeat with the last 2 tablespoons olive oil and the last batch of kale.

When the chickpeas are cooked, fish out the carrot, celery, rosemary, and onion if not diced. Then scoop 2 cups of them and their liquid into the blender with the kale, and puree until smooth. Add this puree back to the pot with the rest of the chickpeas, and cook over medium-high heat until hot.

Serve with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, a drizzle of olive oil, and lemon wedges on the side.

Menemen - Turkish Eggs with Tomatoes and Peppers

It must have been 2005 when I first fell for shakshuka, the Israeli dish of eggs fry-poached in a spicy, oniony tomato sauce. For a few years, I obsessively sought it out at restaurants; eventually, I taught myself to make it at home. There are a few places - like the kitschily named but legit Dr. Shakshuka, in Tel Aviv - that make it consistently well: their whites are always set, their yolks perfectly runny, every time. Back when I lived in Jerusalem, there was a little cafe near my apartment that I loved, but that had a problem with runny whites in their shakshuka. It was either that or a hard yolk, and I wanted neither - so I learned to ask for my eggs "mikushkashot" - scrambled. They happily obliged, and I wound up with soft-scrambled eggs in that same punchy sauce. Don't tell anyone, but I've always liked my invented version better.

At the time, I thought shakshuka was something unique that you could only find in Israel. I should have known better: nearly every wonderful "Israeli" food, from falafel to shawarma to hummus to labneh, was cribbed from another Middle Eastern culture. Shakshuka is no exception; it's originally from North Africa, or so I understand from Google. And now, of course, it's on trendy menus all over the country. Shakshuka has hit the big time.

Israel isn't the only copycat. It seems every culture has its own name and nuanced method for cooking eggs in tomatoes. There's the classic Eggs in Purgatory (...is it a classic? I did a bit of poking for historical origins of the dish, and aside from finding several mentions of "Catholic" and "uovo in purgatorio," I came up short), and some folks have added more chile and renamed the dish Eggs in Hell. But the version I've come to love more recently is called Menemen, hailing from Turkey, which is basically the hacked-up version of shakshuka I've been ordering and making all along. Apparently, I didn't invent it after all. But all the good cooks steal ideas from each other, so the copycat badge is one I'm proud to wear.

Like shakshuka, menemen is a dish you'll like more if you make it your own. My brother and the internet have taught me that some like their menemen chunky - with defined pieces of egg, tomato, and pepper - and others like the dish reduced to almost a custard, where everything sort of blends together. I'm not quite at the point where I can control exactly how it comes out, but I tend to make it - and like it - somewhere between the two extremes.

According to my bro, the best menemen has a good mix of tomato and pepper, and plenty of egg - which, in Turkey, doesn't always happen; eggs are more expensive than vegetables. His favorite menemen also keeps the tomatoes on the slightly liquidy side, which I also enjoy (though it makes cooking the eggs a bit more challenging). And - shock! - he likes his menemen with beyaz peynir, which is like a mild feta, or tulum, a grassy Turkish goat's milk cheese. And plenty of pul biber, a Turkish condiment of chile and salt.

So that's the fully-loaded version. But I tend to keep things pretty simple: onion, tomato, pepper, some chile, eggs. A hunk of good bread to sop everything up. That's a happy morning in my book.

I broke the news to my brother that I'd be posting about menemen, and he said he'd try to get me a menemen set the next time he goes to Turkey. Who knew there were menemen sets? Turns out, because you're supposed to serve it in the same dish in which you cook it, there are beautiful stove-safe bowls - made of hand-formed metal - specifically for menemen. I'd love to get my hands on one of those eventually, but for now, a good old skillet and bowl do the trick.

What's your favorite way to eat eggs and tomatoes? You know you have one - now share it.

Menemen - Turkish Eggs in Tomatoes and Peppers Serves 2

Like all egg dishes, menemen is deeply personal. I like my peppers to retain some crunch; I prefer my tomatoes a little runny, even though it makes cooking the eggs harder; and I like my eggs less custardy, with some defined curds. With both personal preferences and stoves so idiosyncratic, it seemed silly to offer cooking times. I've done it anyway, but more important are the signs that my menemen is ready for the next step. Those trump cooking times here. If you want your peppers/tomatoes/eggs firmer or softer, then by all means. Make this dish your own.

2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 a small onion, diced
2 long green (non-spicy) peppers, seeded and chopped (or substitute a bell pepper)
2 large tomatoes, chopped
2 eggs
salt z
1/2 teaspoon of your best semi-spicy red pepper flakes - ideally Turkish or Aleppo pepper
cheese, olives, more pepper, parsley, or whatever else you'd like to incorporate (optional)
crusty bread (less optional)

Add the olive oil to a large frying pan (stainless steel, cast iron, and non-stick all work) and set over medium heat. Add the onion and peppers with a pinch of salt. Give a few tosses, and cook until onions take on light color and everything smells fragrant but peppers are still somewhat firm, about 3 minutes.

Add tomatoes, another pinch of salt, and the pepper. Give a good stir, and let them cook until much, but not all, of their liquid has evaporated and they look saucy, about 4 minutes more.

Lightly beat eggs with a pinch of salt in a small bowl. When tomato mixture is ready, add eggs all at once, and use a wooden or silicone spatula to gently fold them into the tomato mixture. Because I like curds in my menemen, I take care to fold them only occasionally; if you prefer a more uniform dish, you can stir it slowly but continuously. Either way, you're looking for the whites to almost cook through. They should be basically opaque when you plate the menemen, as they'll continue cooking for a few seconds off the heat, but not much. If you prefer very runny eggs (and the uncooked whites don't bother you), you can add the eggs, stir a few times to incorporate, and transfer the menemen to bowls almost immediately. Your choice.

Serve menemen with any of your preferred fix-ins, and crusty bread on the side.

Okra Curry

A long while back, I got into a major Indian food kick. I made dosas (but really, really good dosas), eggplant curry, sambar, mushroom muttar curry, and more. I bought and made chutneys and stocked way too much ghee and ate as much Indian food as I could get my hands on.

Summer seems to call for a hiatus from piping hot bowls of curry, but now that fall has arrived, I'm back on the bandwagon. It's still early for long-cooked food, but this okra comes together quickly and tastes fresh - the perfect transition into September.

I posted about this on Instagram when I made it on a whim a while back, but since then it's become enough of a regular that I felt it deserved a proper post. I still see okra at most of our markets (not to mention growing from the pot on our walkway - my neighbor is quite the gardener!), so there's still time to make this before okra is gone.

In case I lost you way back with scary thoughts of slime, rest assured: this curry is not slimy. Just look at the photo above - see mom? No slime! A few tips to avoid the goo:

• I've found slime more likely in large okra and in okra that isn't super fresh. The smaller and fresher the pieces, the better.
• When cutting your okra, keep a paper or cloth towel close at hand. Wipe the knife often - after every two or three pieces - and you'll minimize the goo.
• Lastly, and you'll see this in the recipe below, cook the okra all the way before adding the sauce. You want those pieces crisp and browned, maybe even a bit shriveled. By the time you add the sauce, there won't be any slime to speak of, and your okra will end up silky, but not gummy.

Off to the races, folks.

Okra Curry

As noted above, you want the okra to be fully cooked before it's added to the sauce. This will minimize slime in the curry. The only other thing I wanted to mention is that while a cast iron pan works great for cooking the okra, the sauce should really be made in a stainless steel pan, since acid can ruin the nonstick surface of good cast iron. -R

1 quart okra
3 tablespoons ghee or vegetable oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 thai chili (or use a serrano), seeded and diced
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
1 1/2 cups tomato puree
2 tablespoons tamarind puree
1/2-inch knob fresh ginger, grated
salt

Trim stem ends of okra and slice lengthwise in half or quarters, depending on size. Keep a towel nearby as you slice; if you notice the knife getting slimy, wipe off your knife before continuing. This will help minimize slime in the final curry.

Heat 1 tablespoon of ghee or oil in a large saute pan (cast iron and stainless steel both work) over medium-high heat. Add enough okra to sit in a single layer in the pan; I found I needed to do this in two batches. Cook okra mostly undisturbed for about 3-5 minutes, letting it really brown on the first side before flipping it; you want to draw out the moisture (read: slime) and dry out the okra as much as possible.  If the pan smokes, turn down the heat a little bit, or just turn on your fan - try to keep that pan as hot as possible.

Flip the okra (this doesn't have to be an exact science; a few turns with a pair of tongs should get most of the okra turned) and cook on the second side for another 3-5 minutes or so. At this point, your okra should be very deep brown and mostly dry. Transfer to a heatsafe bowl, and repeat with another tablespoon of ghee/oil and the second batch of okra. Transfer second batch to the same bowl once it's been cooked. (I use two pans at once to minimize total cooking time.)

Add the third tablespoon of ghee/oil to a stainless steel saute pan and set over medium-high heat. Add diced chile (as much of it as you want - feel free to hold back and add more later), onion, and mustard seeds, and saute until onion has started to turn golden around the edges. Then add tomato, tamarind, and grated ginger, stir to combine, and reduce heat to medium. Cook until onions soften, 5-7 minutes.

Add okra to the sauce and use tongs to coat every piece of okra with sauce. Toss a few times over the heat, just to incorporate, then serve hot with rice, naan, dal, dosa, or whatever else you feel like serving. This curry also reheats well.