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.

Dates Stuffed with Chevre, Pistachio, and Chive

Having been out of cooking commission for most of fall, I missed the season of fancy party snacks and holiday breakfasts. I spent December gazing at a certain very delicious little face, foregoing the mistletoe and the cocktail parties. Now it's January, and the cinnamon rolls and champagne flutes are fading in the rear view mirror on your way to the gym. 2015, you came quickly.

But I've been making up for lost time, now that the babe and I have hit our stride. We've had scones and omelettes for brunch, wintry mixed drinks at happy hour, and plenty of snacks. I'll spare you the over-the-top breakfasts and the bourbony indulgence -- for now -- but the snacks I've been making these past couple weeks are too good not to share. Think of it as some belated holiday cheer.

These dates snapped back into my repertoire after I received a version of them from a friend, shortly after Adi was born. Jana, an excellent cook (and now a maker of very fancy cakes), slipped some chevre into pitted dates, and topped each date with a slice of pistachio and a pinch of minced chives. I ate one, then shamelessly ate all the others before D could get any. And then, the very next day, I added a TJ's run to our itinerary to pick up dates and chives and chevre and do the whole thing again.

In my scrambled-up version, the chives and chopped pistachios are folded into the chevre, so I could assemble the dates whenever hunger struck. Lazy me snacks straight from the fridge, but if I'm serving them to other people, I bring the dates to room temperature before serving. When I'm feeling fancy, I heat them in a low oven. The heat softens the dates and caramelizes their edges, and of course, no one ever said no to hot, melty cheese.

Maybe you're the lucky type to be hosting or joining a January dinner party, in which case, go you. Bring these along. If not, there's not an ounce of shame in eating them for dinner.

Dates Stuffed with Chevre, Pistachios, and Chives
Makes about 20

1 lb. medjool dates (20-22 dates)
5 oz. chevre or other fresh goat cheese
1 1/2 tablespoons minced chives
3 tablespoons shelled salted pistachios, coarsely chopped
flaky salt and cracked pepper

Use a small paring knife to make a lengthwise slit in each date. Remove pits, and splay dates open.

In a small bowl, combine chevre, chives, and 2 tablespoons of pistachios. Use a fork to mash the cheese, softening it while combining it with the chives and pistachios.

Fill each date with a heaping teaspoon of filling. Sprinkle remaining pistachios over dates, and finish with a sprinkle of salt and a bit of cracked pepper.

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.