Big Kale Salad with Pomegranate and Feta

A few days ago, I sat on our couch in stretchy leggings, nursing a mug of my favorite chai and watching Adi figure out what hands are. She brought them really close to her face and just stared, turning them slowly, trying to figure out whether they were attached to something, or someone, and what they might be there for.  And I realized, as I watched her patiently, painstakingly, unrelentingly trying to figure out her limbs, that this first chapter of parenthood might already be behind me.

I've got so many photos and videos of Adi cooing and laughing and doing sweet, adorable, hilarious things that my icloud won't sync. Among those photos are a few hastily snapped shots of the salads we've been eating for dinner, and the (very simple) stews I've been making on the weekends to feed us at work. My real camera is lurking neglected in some corner of our house, patiently waiting for our kitchen to be not 90% done, not 97% done, but actually, 100% done. (Did I mention we're redoing our kitchen? This seemed like the ideal time, because, you know, we don't have much else going on. We're waiting for it to be done, too, but not so patiently.)

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Since the above pics were taken, we got a fresh coat of paint, cabinet hardware, and a few more finishing details in place. I tell myself that once the granite is installed and the moving boxes are gone, I'll start blogging in earnest again, with the same frequency as before Adi was here. But that's probably not realistic. Life is busier now. There's less time, which means fewer fussy recipes, and fewer pictures. The whole enterprise of eating feels different these days; I'm proud if I manage to bake off a loaf of (no-knead) bread in time for Sunday breakfast. When dinner isn't one of my increasingly-becoming-my-specialty salads, it's a bag of soup or beans from the freezer. As I slowly but surely draw down my stash of frozen meals, I wonder when I'll have a chance to replenish it.

So what does this mean? If I had to guess, I'd bet on more posts about fast lunches and dinners, and fewer tales of day-long projects. Hopefully that's good news; everyone is busy, and everyone could use some inspiration when it comes to good, healthy, non-fussy meal options.

So here's one to start: plenty of kale, pounded soft. Diced cucumbers. A can of chickpeas. Feta cheese, pomegranate seeds, fresh croutons. That, and a couple clementines, was our dinner last Monday. And even though the weather outside was a biting, blustery, rather unbearable 5 degrees, we managed to eat salad for dinner - and feel full and satisfied and not sad that we didn't eat soup. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I start the croutons on the stove, then transfer them to the oven so they don't char too much. I tear up the kale and dice the cucumbers while the croutons toast, so everything is ready at about the same time. As for the pomegranates, I tend to prep two at once, then stow the seeds in a container in the fridge for a la minute use. You can also buy the seeds ready to go at TJs and other grocery stores.

If you don't have pomegranate seeds in the house, don't despair. One night last week, I added in some grapefruit segments. Chickpeas became cooked cannellini beans from the freezer, and I added some slivered radish for crunch. The template is a big pile of kale, a simple vinaigrette, and enough croutons that dinner doesn't feel overly virtuous. Everything else is customizable. It's a winner, even in winter, and a staple once the chill starts to thaw.

Big Kale Salad with Pomegranates and Feta
Serves 2

1 big bunch Tuscan kale, leaves removed from ribs and torn into large pieces
2 thick slices of bread, cubed or torn into bite-sized pieces
1/4 cup olive oil, divided
2 Persian (small, crunchy) cucumbers, diced
Seeds from half a pomegranate
Slice of a red onion, diced
8 oz. chickpeas (half a can), rinsed
salt and pepper
1/4 cup feta cheese, crumbled
juice of 1/2 a lemon
1 tablespoon champagne or white wine vinegar

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Put the kale in a large mixing bowl and massage the leaves lightly with your hands, to break up the fibrous texture and soften them.

Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a frying pan (I like cast iron) over medium heat. Add bread cubes and a light sprinkle of salt, and cook 2-3 minutes, until crisped on the bottom side. Turn croutons, then transfer to the oven for 8-10 minutes while you assemble the rest of the salad.

In a small bowl, combine remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil, lemon juice, and vinegar. Add a large pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper; whisk to combine.

Add remaining salad ingredients to the bowl with the kale. Drizzle dressing over salad, and toss to combine. Remove the croutons from the oven (careful – they’re hot!) and add them to the salad. Toss to combine, and serve.

Punchy Crunchy Ginger Salad

So here's something that just occurred to me: It's ironic -- cruelly ironic -- that the season of resolutions (and trying to keep them) coincides with the season of trying not to freeze here on the east coast. The food pages hawk salads and smoothies; bluster and chill begs for stew and hot cocoa. Perhaps we should mark the new year in May, or just move to California. Or Australia. Alas, I don't have much pull with the folks who set the calendar - and I may have even less sway when it comes to convincing my wonderful wife that the west coast would suit us well. DC friends, rejoice: we're not leaving.

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Instead, we're hunkering down under fleece blankets and finding one too many excuses to make hot cocoa. But even the frigid depths of January and February require occasional salads. We can't subsist entirely on soup (though rest assured, I have tried). Here's what I have to say about those winter salads: they don't always want leaves. They certainly don't want to be nibbled, or speared politely with a small fork. These are hungry days; we want to shovel our salads with a spoon, in big heaps, and let them fill our bellies.

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And I think I speak for all of us when I say that January salads need not be so salad-y.  I'll take my winter greens with crunchy croutons, fried shallots, crispy eggs, and maybe even some steak. In this case, I went for a handful of the un-salad additions, and lo, I did not regret that decision. There were plenty of fried aromatics (shallots, garlic; even lemongrass one time); crunchy non-vegetable things (peanuts, pickled ginger); and a zippy little dressing of fish sauce, lime juice, and palm sugar that I can't get enough of these days. There were also out-of-season tomatoes, which really were not worth adding. Resist the urge.

Tomatoes or not, this salad is punchy and crunchy. It's partially a riff on Naomi Duguid's recipe from her wonderful book, Burma, The elements of her recipe - pickled ginger, crunchy vegetables, a zinger of a dressing - are all here. I added cabbage and daikon because I wanted a more substantial, slaw-like salad. But when you set out to make it, know that only the ginger and the dressing are mandatory; everything else is optional, and you can build the salad however you'd like, or however the contents of your fridge allow.

And just now, I realized that despite nay-saying the new years resolution crowd, I've posted not one but two salads over the past few weeks. Apologies! I think it's time I dunk my head in a big vat of chocolate pudding and set things straight.

Punchy Crunchy Ginger Salad
Inspired by recipes in Chow and Naomi Duguid’s Burma
Serves 2-3

I tried several methods of pickling my own ginger for this salad, hence the various types of ginger you see in the photos above. If you’ve got the time and the drive, definitely do it, using either of the recipes I linked here. The first is sweeter, the second more savory; the results from both are really worthwhile. If you do pickle your own ginger, a 6-8-inch knob produces about 1 cup fresh, or 3/4 cup pickled ginger. It’s worth making more than you need, as the leftovers are great in all sorts of things. But salads shouldn’t be complicated, and I’m happy to report that jarred pickled ginger — widely available — works just as well here.

As for everything else, this recipe is extremely flexible. Aim for 5-6 cups leaves and vegetables; 3/4 cup of nuts and seeds; and about 1/2 cup crisped alliums. What you use is entirely up to you.

One other note: to make this salad, you crisp shallots and garlic in some oil, and then use that oil in the dressing. 1/4 cup of frying oil should leave you with about 2 tablespoons left for the dressing, but if not, feel free to supplement with more of whatever oil you used.

For the salad:

1/4 cup canola or vegetable oil
4 shallots, peeled and thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
1/3 cup pickled ginger, sliced into thin strips
10 oz (about 5 heaping cups) radicchio, cabbage, or a mix, shredded
1/2 cup shredded daikon (optional)
1/2 cup grape or plum tomatoes, halved or quartered depending on size (optional)
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons roasted salted peanuts
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons roasted salted pumpkin seeds
1/4 cup sesame seeds, toasted in a dry pan over medium heat until fragrant

For the dressing:

2 tablespoons palm sugar or brown sugar
2 tablespoons oil from fried shallots/garlic (supplemented if necessary)
2 teaspoons fish sauce or soy sauce, more to taste
6 tablespoons lime juice (from 2-3 limes)
1 thai chile, sliced (seeded if less spice desired)

Fry the shallots and garlic: Line a small plate with paper towel and set next to your stove. Heat oil in a small pan over medium heat until it shimmers. Add shallots in a single layer (do this in batches if necessary), reduce heat to medium-low, and cook for 5-7 minutes, turning once or twice, until shallots are uniformly golden brown. Strain well, and transfer to towel-lined plate. Repeat with remaining shallots, if cooking in batches. If oil looks low, add an extra tablespoon or two.

Add sliced garlic to pan, and cook for 2-4 minutes, until golden brown. Strain and transfer to plate. Reserve oil for dressing.

Make the dressing: Combine all ingredients in a jar, seal, and shake thoroughly, until sugar is dissolved and ingredients are emulsified. Dunk a finger in the dressing and taste it; add more fish/soy sauce, lime juice, or sugar to taste.

Combine all salad ingredients in a large bowl, and pour most of dressing over top. Mix well, then taste, and add remaining dressing if necessary. Serve within 30 minutes of dressing the salad – the fried alliums don’t stay crisp for too long.

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.