Butternut Squash Cannelloni

First, let me just say that if you're not in Washington right now, I'd be surprised. This city has officially been infiltrated: hundreds of thousands of tourists have descended upon the nation's capital to witness this historic event, and boy does it feel crowded around here! The weekend was relatively quiet -- I say relatively because Adams Morgan simply isn't a quiet place, ever ever ever -- but today the hordes arrived. Friends and I walked down to the Mall after lunch, and and apparently so did the rest of the country's citizens! Boy was it crowded.

D was talking to her Bubbie the other day about inauguration festivities, and what was Bubbie's one question? (Remember, this is in her adorable Czech accent) "All those people standing outside for the inauguration, where are they going to go to the bathroom?" Well, let me assure you, the sheer number of port-o-potties was massive. There's plenty of room to pee.

Now, for today's recipe:

Martha's recipes have become an ever-increasing portion of my cooking repertoire. When Epicurious fails to inspire me and I'm too lazy to start leafing through cookbooks, marthastewart.com inevitably has a good suggestion, and usually, her recipes are accompanied by some mouth-watering photos. Granted, some of her recipes are way, way more fuss than they're worth, and not all recipes actually turn out tasty, but I've been having mostly good luck.

Because I often get accused of only posting my successes and never my failures, I've decided to post this recipe even though it was kind of a flop. These cannelloni were about a 3 out of 10 on the good luck scale: cannelloni themselves were tasty, if a bit bland; squash filling was smooth and pretty, and the chive wrapping was particularly elegant (and elicited some oohs and ahhs). The sauce was another story, though -- it was altogether bizarre. I was really excited about it, but seriously, the color alone was enough to turn me off. Gray food is just not appetizing.

I've provided the original recipe here (with my adaptations in parentheses), but I recommend doctoring it up even more. I don't think the recipe is unsalvageable: an enterprising cook can certainly fiddle with the proportions, add some extra elements, and make it tasty. But as is, it's pretty unspecial. One way to make these squash bundles tastier would be to serve them with hazelnut or almond brown butter and some grated pecorino or parmesan. If cream sauce is your thing, it'd be good with these, I suppose. Like I said, the sunchoke vinaigrette is weird -- but I actually salvaged it by adding some honey and some of the cooking water from the squash, which I (very fortunately) stowed in the fridge.

One last note: I used egg pasta sheets, but the eggroll wrappers Martha recommends would also work.

Butternut Squash Cannelloni with Sunchoke Vinaigrette adapted from Martha Stewart

Serves 4 as a main course, 8 as an appetizer Vegetable oil, for baking sheet 1 butternut squash (about 1 1/4 pounds), halved lengthwise and seeded Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper 4 ounces ricotta cheese 1 1/2 ounces creme fraiche 1 small bunch chives (preferably garlic chives) 8 spring-roll wrappers or egg pasta sheets 1 egg, lightly beaten (for egg wash) 1/4 cup canola oil Jerusalem Artichoke Vinaigrette Shelled edamame, cooked, for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly oil a small baking sheet. Place squash on small baking sheet, and season with salt and pepper. Bake until tender when pierced with the tip of a knife, about 45 minutes. Remove from oven, and let cool. Scoop out flesh, discarding skin. Transfer flesh to a damp cheesecloth-lined sieve set over a bowl. Refrigerate overnight. Place ricotta cheese in a second damp cheesecloth-lined sieve set over a bowl. Refrigerate overnight. Transfer squash to a large bowl. Pour squash liquid into a small saucepan, and place over medium-high heat. Cook until reduced and slightly thickened, 5 to 10 minutes. Add to squash. Season with salt and pepper. In a small bowl, stir to combine drained ricotta and crème fraîche. Stir into the squash mixture. Prepare an ice bath; set aside. Bring a small pot of water to a boil. Add chives, and blanch for 15 seconds. Transfer to ice bath to cool. Drain well; set aside. Working with one wrapper at a time and keeping the others covered with plastic wrap; lay wrapper on work surface with a long side facing you. Spread scant 1/4 cup of the squash mixture along one long edge leaving a 3/4-inch border on either side. Roll up like a jelly roll to enclose filling, brushing edge with egg wash to seal. Tie each end closed with a chive. Repeat with remaining wrappers and filling. Heat oil in a large skillet. Add cannelloni, and cook until heated through and evenly browned, about 1 1/2 minutes per side. (I didn't do this: I just heated the cannelloni in a low oven in a big pyrex pan.) Serve with Jerusalem artichoke vinaigrette, and garnish with shelled edamame, if desired.

Jerusalem Artichoke Vinaigrette Makes about 1 1/2 cups 5 Jerusalem artichokes, washed and very thinly sliced 3 sprigs fresh tarragon, picked of leaves, stems reserved 1/3 cup sherry-wine vinegar Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper 2 small shallots, minced 2/3 cup grapeseed oil (optional) Directions

In a small saucepan, combine Jerusalem artichokes, tarragon stems, and half of the vinegar. Add enough water to cover by about 1/2 inch. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil over high heat, reduce to a simmer, and cook until tender, about 25 minutes. Drain, and place in a blender. Add just enough of the cooking liquid to purée until very smooth. Add reserved tarragon leaves, remaining vinegar, and shallots. Pulse to combine. Add either grapeseed oil or a little of the cooking liquid depending on the desired consistency.

Beans in Broth with Caramelized Sweet Potato

Have I told you about Rancho Gordo? Having read too many articles about the joys of dried beans, I teamed up with my officemate and we ordered a shipment. Now, under my counter, I've got a healthy supply of them, including rio zape, tepari, mayocoba, garbanzo, and borlotti.

I've always loved beans. (It's tough not to when you grow up in a vegetarian house.) And I won't lie: nothing beats the convenience of canned beans. If you won't take it from me, take it from Adam: I couldn't agree more that in a pinch, canned kidney bean chili or canned garbanzo bean hummus tastes just great. But canned beans are on the mushy side, and they taste like salt. If I can spare the time and manage the advance prep, it's wonderful to bite into toothsome beans for dinner -- and nothing beats controlling your own seasoning.

Like I said, dried beans can't be made in a flash. They need to be soaked overnight, rinsed, and then simmered for at least a couple hours to achieve optimum texture. If you can manage the time, though, you'll see that dried beans have better texture and distinctive flavor, even when prepared uber-simply. Last night's dinner is a case in point.

Yesterday was a super cold day; I knew I'd want something warm and comforting for dinner, but I didn't want to use any meat products, so my frozen beef-broth cubes were out of the question. I'd put some beans in soaking water that morning, so that was a start. My normal inclination would be to dump the kitchen sink in a pot and hope it turned out well, but I've been thinking a lot about the value of restraint when seasoning food. Sometimes, the simplest dishes are the tastiest. How would my beans taste if instead of seasoning them with beef broth and 20 spices, I used water and 5? I decided that now was the time to try a minimalist bean dish.

On my way home, I did a quick mental-survey of my kitchen and remembered a lonely sweet potato in the bowl on the dining room table. As soon as I got home, I turned the oven to 350, wrapped the sweet potato (skin on) in old foil and tossed it in. I'd leave it there until the beans were done; by then, it'd be nice and caramelized, with a custard-like texture.

Meanwhile, I took 1 cup of soaked tepari beans (small, like cannellini) out of the fridge, drained them, and rinsed them a couple times. In a medium pot, I sauteed 2 chopped shallots in 2 Tbsp. of olive oil. To that, I added 1/2 tsp. coriander seeds, 1/2 tsp. smoked paprika, 1/2 tsp. aleppo pepper (chili flakes would work), a pinch of saffron, and 1 bay leaf. I stirred all this around for a couple minutes, then added the beans, stirred to coat with the seasoning, and added 3 cups of water. I turned the heat down to medium-low, and left the beans to simmer, covered, for about 2 hours, adding more water as necessary. In two hours' time, the spices mingled, and the beans released some of their own flavor as well. There was plenty of extra liquid, which formed a lovely pot liquor scented with coriander, smoked paprika, and, well...beans. I poured some into a bowl, added half of the sweet potato with its wonderful caramel-brown skin, got myself a spoon, curled up on the couch, and went to heaven. Amazing.

Beans in Broth with Caramelized Sweet Potato

(As I said, this recipe is simple, but truly amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I failed to take a picture of the finished dish. You'll have to let your imagination kick in here.)

1 sweet potato 1 cup tepari or other small white beans 2 shallots, chopped 1/2 tsp. aleppo pepper 1/2 tsp. smoked paprika 1/2 tsp. coriander seeds pinch saffron threads 1 bay leaf 3 cups water

Wrap sweet potato, skin-on, in foil and toss in the oven. Turn on to 350 or 400 degrees (we're flexible), and just let it rip. Give it at least an hour; the longer, the better. I left mine in for about 2 hours and 15 minutes, and it was as soft as custard.

Pre-soak beans overnight or for at least 3 hours in water that covers them by at least an inch. Drain and rinse; set aside.

In medium pot, saute 2 chopped shallots in 2 Tbsp. of olive oil. Add 1/2 tsp. coriander seeds, 1/2 tsp. smoked paprika, 1/2 tsp. aleppo pepper (chili flakes would work), and 1 bay leaf. Stir to incorporate, then add the beans, stirred to coat with the seasoning, and add 3 cups of water. Turn the heat down to medium-low, and leave the beans to simmer, covered, for about 2 hours, adding more water as necessary.

When beans are fork-tender but not mushy, pour a serving into a bowl with some of the bean broth, and add half the cooked sweet potato. If desired, top with grated parmesan cheese (though I didn't).

What I did with my very last tomato

Yes, folks, it's true: tomato season has come to a close. Back when I made this, in October, I wasn't walking, it seemed pretty unlikely that I'd make it back to the farmers market to catch one last round of tomato madness, so I figured it was safe to assume that the tomato I ate that night was my last for the season. I'm a card-carrying member of the tomato lovers' cult, so that's not an easy thing to admit -- but, like an old fling whose time has come to an end, I think I can walk away from this one with no regrets.

Running with that analogy for a minute: you'd like to think your last time with the fling would be the best there was to have, the best there ever would have been. But that's never the case, is it? Usually the last time is just....fine. Such was the case with my last tomato. It wasn't one of those specimens that could have been framed. No shiny, taut, glossy skin and jewel-like innards. Had it been perfect, I'd have eaten it raw, simply sliced with olive oil and fleur de sel. But I was already smack-dab in the middle of fall, and my tomato wasn't so perfect. However, it was jam-packed with flavor, that I can assure you. So I prepared that last tomato in a dish that quickly became a standby this summer -- a dish that's perfect for celebrating tomatoes' flavor even when their texture is somewhat imperfect. What's that, you ask?

Quick-sauteed tomatoes with feta and anaheim chilies. So few steps, so many flavors. It's one of those dishes where the right ingredients, the right cooking method and time, and the right appetite just work. It really is such an easy dish to throw together; while I generally make it for one, it is easily be sized up to feed a crowd. And while I often find myself eating it straight out of a bowl (and drinking the soupy sauce at the end, slurps and all), this quick-stew would be lovely (and a bit fancier) served over a slice of toasted baguette, perhaps rubbed with garlic. Already, I'm wishing I had a few more bites on hand!

If you've got one more tomato -- or, perhaps, one tomato that's not as shiny and perfect as all the others -- don't hesitate; make this dish. I promise, you'll look back on that last tomato with fond memories, and not one ounce of regret.

Sauteed tomatoes with feta and anaheim chilies serves 1

1 large tomato, needn't be perfect; I used beefsteak 1 anaheim chili 1 sprig cilantro, optional a couple big chunks feta cheese, high quality and not low-fat salt and pepper

Roast the chili over an open flame. I use my gas stove. Roast until the skin is blistered all over. Either using a damp paper towel or under running water, remove the charred skin until only the flesh remains. To reduce the pepper's heat, remove the seeds and fibrous membrane threads as well. Slice pepper into rings.

Slice tomato into 8 wedges, and slice each wedge in half. In small saute pan, place tomato, pepper, and 1 Tbsp of olive oil. Saute for 3 or so minutes over medium heat, until tomatoes begin to emit their juices. Toss a few times to incorporate. Add chunks of feta cheese, give the whole thing one quick stir to break up the feta a bit, turn off the heat, and eat immediately. Done correctly, the stew will make a delightful spicy feta-tomato broth at the bottom of the bowl, which is absolutely perfect for slurping. I usually lick the bottom of my bowl without shame.

Braised Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

Not too long ago, I walked into my parents' house and immediately caught wafts of the most fantastic aroma coming from (as always) the kitchen. I started sticking my fingers into each of the dishes sitting on the dining room table, eager to find the source. After trying most everything else on the table, I nonchalantly scooped up a pinch of cooked red cabbage, thinking not even a little that it might actually be the culprit. Boy, was I surprised. Divine, I tell you! And I don't use that word all too often...but this truly is a recipe for the ages.

Turns out, it's also dead simple; go figure. At my persistent begging, my mom passed along the recipe she'd used to make it. I tweaked it, as I am often wont to do, because when I see an ingredient in the fridge and think it might add something, I've no self control, not even an ounce. And while sometimes that habit ruins otherwise tasty cooking (insert gross story here), other times, I'm rewarded for my impulses. This cabbage most definitely benefited from my hyperactive ingredient-adding tendency.

According to the basic recipe (which itself is quite lovely), red cabbage cooks until soft and fork-tender in a mix of tomatoes, red wine vinegar, sugar, onions, and raisins. Out of raisins, I used dried cranberries, which were nice (though I think I'd try it with raisins next time, since I bet they're just dandy). I also added more than a splash of dry red wine, which gave the dish noticeable depth of flavor and helped cut the straightforward sweet-sour dichotomy with a hint of bitterness. I also subbed in red onions for the yellow onions in the original recipe, because that's what was lying around my house. Red onions also have a slight bitterness to them, which wasn't obvious to my dull palate but may have done some good (who knows?). Last but not least -- here's the real show-stealer -- I added a generous sprinkling of pomegranate seeds to the finished dish, just before serving. Their ruby-red color and gem-like shape lent a decadence to an otherwise homey dish, their tangy-sweet flavor mingled lovely with the cabbage juices, and their crunch gave the final product important textural contrast. Needless to say, I was happy with the outcome -- and the dish got overwhelming positive feedback from my lunch guests (one of whom is notoriously, um, selective -- love you, T!) I'll be making this dish when pomegranates are available as much as possible.

Braised Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

1 apple, chopped 1 red cabbage, sliced pretty thinly 2 cups onions 3 cloves garlic 1 tsp olive oil 3 or more cups water 3 cups tomatoes (I used canned) 2/3 cup raisins or craisins 1/2 cup plus a couple Tbsp. red wine vinegar 1/2 cup sugar or brown sugar salt and pepper 1/2 cup dry red wine, to taste the seeds of 1 pomegranate

In large pot, saute onion and garlic in olive oil over medium heat until translucent and fragrant. Add cabbage, 2 cups of water, and remaining ingredients except pomegranate and salt. Cover and ignore. Seriously. You want the cabbage to soften and break down a bit, and the other flavors to meet and mingle. Check occasionally, and add water as needed to prevent sticking. In all, the cabbage should take about an hour; you want it really soft and fragrant, and you want the scent to be mellow and rich. Promise -- it's really delicious when it's finished. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

At this point, you can store the cabbage in the fridge for up to two weeks or in the freezer forever (did I just say that?)

Immediately before serving, sprinkle the pomegranate seeds overtop and toss to incorporate. You won't be sorry.