Feta Phyllo Torte

Feta Phyllo Torte

Of all the incredibly culinary feats out there (and there are plenty), one of which I'm truly in awe is the ability to consistently serve vegetarian food that fees like a main dish. As I've written before, one of the challenges to purely vegetarian cooking is that often, everything on the table looks like a side dish, and there's no one thing that, when brought to the table, elicits the oohs and ahhs of, say, a whole roast chicken. There are a few people who are particularly excellent at this. One is Deborah Madison, author of Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone (one of my favorite cookbooks to read; I often find myself leafing through it while killing time at Barnes and Noble). Madison understands the challenge of creating a "wow factor" when serving vegetarian entrees, and she conquers that challenge seemingly effortlessly. Her books are endless sources of inspiration for meatless entertaining.

Another, though she may not intend to be (given her well-publicized love of meat) is Melissa Clark, a food columnist for NYT and recipe writer extraordinaire. Reading Melissa's column, I not-infrequently stumble upon a really new idea for a vegetarian entree. One excellent example is her cornbread and broccoli rabe strata, a vegetarian Thanksgiving main that doubles as a side for the turkey eaters. Another, for a phyllo feta torte, was published just a couple weeks ago, and after reading her recipe, I had an undeniable urge to rush into the kitchen and make it, immediately.

Originally called "No-fear Phyllo Torte," Clark's recipe originates in a dinner party hosted by a lauded French literature professor and his Greek wife, for whom phyllo is second-nature. Clark claims intimidation, but her recipe proves her an equal master of this domain. In the torte, made in a bundt pan for a particularly impressive presentation, thin, crisp layers of butter-soaked phyllo cloak a tender filling of feta, cottage cheese, dill and nutmeg. Sound like a spinachless spanikopita? Think again: the finished product is drizzled with honey before serving, for an irresistible hit of sweet to balance the rich, salty torte. Stop me from drooling.

Clark was intimidated when she first saw the torte emerge from the oven, and wondered whether she needed to be Greek in order to make it successfully; I had an all-out panic attack when, just before serving the torte, I realized that I had used salted butter in place of the unsalted butter called for in the recipe. It didn't matter; I had used less salty Greek feta in the filling, which offset the extra salt in the crust. Other changes I made to Clark's original recipe include swapping out some of the cottage cheese for extra feta (since cottage cheese generally gives me the creeps, and 3 cups sounded like a lot), upping the level of dill and nutmeg for added kick, and cutting the butter from 3 sticks to 1 (because who needs 3 sticks of butter in anything? and 1 was more than enough to coat the whole torte and make the insides crispy). Other than those changes, I found this recipe absolutely to die for and would make it again in a flash. I actually served it with some homemade rhubarb chutney, which I'll blog in a future post, and I was really pleased with the combination. The tanginess of the rhubarb brought out the acidity in the feta and the chutney provided a nice textural contrast to the torte. An all-out thumbs up from this happy eater -- I recommend you give this a go; your guests will be thankful -- and maybe even intimidated.

Sonia's Phyllo and Feta Torte with Dill and Nutmeg Time: An hour and a half, plus cooling adapted from Melissa Clark, inspired by her husband's friend's wife Sonya, via The New York Times

Time: An hour and a half, plus cooling

1 1/2 pounds Greek feta cheese, crumbled (I used feta from a local Mediterranean market, but TJ's carries Greek feta that's pretty good) 2 cups cottage cheese 3 large eggs 1/3 cup chopped fresh dill 1/4 cup grated Romano cheese (I used Parmesan, which was what I had on hand) 1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 1-pound box phyllo dough, thawed overnight in refrigerator if possible 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

Greek honey, for serving (Clark says this is optional but I say it's a must).

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. combine feta, cottage cheese, eggs, dill, 2 tablespoons Romano, the nutmeg and pepper in a food processor and pulse just to combine (Clark says you can also use a large bowl and a fork). Clark also says the mixture should be chunky, but I made mine smoother.

2. Sprinkle remaining 2 tablespoons Romano into a Bundt pan. Drape a sheet of phyllo on top of Bundt pan, poke a hole into phyllo with your finger where center tube is and push phyllo into pan to line it. Do this with another phyllo sheet, but place it perpendicular to first sheet. The first couple of sheets will seem disorderly and may collapse some, but as you start layering them, the process will get easier and the sheets will keep their shape. Continue adding phyllo sheets in alternating directions until all sheets are used. Edges of phyllo should hang over edges of bundt.

3. Scrape cheese filling into pan, and fold edges of phyllo over filling. Using a sharp knife, poke many holes (at least 20) in dough that reach all the way to bottom of pan. Then pour melted butter over the torte; some will seep into holes, but a fair amount will pool on top of torte, which is fine. I actually poured the butter before poking the holes, and my torte tasted perfectly delicious, so fret not.

4. Place Bundt pan on a baking sheet and bake for about 1 hour 15 minutes, or until torte is puffy and golden brown. Allow torte to cool in pan for 1 to 2 hours before inverting onto a plate and slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature, with honey and/or sweet chutney.

Yield: 10 to 12 servings.

Sardine and Fava Bean Bruschetta

I can't remember if I've ever written a love song to favas on this blog. I mean, I've written about them, but I probably haven't sung their praises as much as they deserve. Starting in late May, I bother the farmers at my local market every Sunday, trying to subtly nudge them to pick their favas as soon as they're ready so I can dig in. The first few weeks, I'm met with transparently frustrated replies of "they're not ready, lady!" but around the second week in June, out they come. From them on, you'll find me and my tote bags by the fava bin. That's right.

Favas come double-wrapped, so to speak; they're tucked in a waxy coating that's nestled inside a pod. To eat favas, you pop open the pods, scoop out and blanch the beans, and then remove the outer shell. Work intensive? Yea, but you won't find me complainin'. Favas are sweet and green and, with a little salt and not much else, the delicious essence of early summer.

While I usually just toss my favas in a salad or mix them with some pasta and other vegetables, I also really like fava bean spread. Mine is smooth enough to spread but still quite chunky, and laced with a whole lot of garlic and a squeeze of lemon. If I don't finish it all before using it, I'll spread it on a baguette and eat it just so. Or, if I'm really feelin' it, I'll top my bruschetta with some vinegar-and-oil-cured sardine fillets. The idea came to me from an Epicurious recipe for cannellini and sardine bruschetta. I love cannellini, but I don't stock my pantry with dry or canned beans when fresh ones are so readily available during the summer, so I subbed in favas for the cannellini the recipe called for. The combination worked perfectly: the headiness of the garlicy fava spread stood up well to the sardines, which added just the right amount of richness and tang. Toasted baguette, more than a vehicle, was crunchy and light, a fine contrast for the favas and sardines perched atop it. I finished off the bruschetta simply, with a bit of olive oil and a grind of the pepper mill. It didn't need much else.

The fact that I've managed to get this far without begging ya'll not to hate sardines is a testament only to how silly I think sardine-squeamishness really is. Sardines are awesome; their flavor is strong and pungent, they're a bit oily and somewhat tangy, they're packed with omega-3s, and really, they're delicious. If you hate'em, be that way. If not, welcome to my club. Enjoy your stay. Want some sardine and fava bean bruschetta?

Sardine and Fava Bean Bruschetta inspired by a recipe from Gourmet

1/4 lb. sardines, oil-packed or salt-packed are fine (if salt packed, be sure to rinse thoroughly) (1 tin sardines will be plenty) 4 lbs. fava beans, shelled, blanched, and peeled (see here for instructions) 2 cloves garlic 2 Tbsp. lemon juice salt and pepper 1 baguette olive oil

Slice baguette on sharp bias into 1 3/4-inch slices and set aside. On a cutting board, chop garlic into small pieces. Add a sprinkle of salt; using a very sharp knife, drag the blade toward you across the garlic, mashing it and the salt with the side of your knife. Keep dragging and regathering the garlic until it resembles a pretty smooth paste. Add favas. Continue this motion until favas have been pretty mashed with the garlic, and the whole thing looks smooth enough to spread but still fairly chunky. Scoop up and put into a medium sized bowl. Add salt and lemon juice and mash up with a fork to incorporate. Add salt to taste.

Toast baguettes until golden. Cool five minutes on a rack, then plate and spread with some of the fava spread. Top with 2 fillets of sardines, a glug of olive oil, and a grind of the pepper mill. Serve just so.

Linguini with Artichokes and Sweet Peas

Here's another round of my "weekday lunch" series, where I offer recipes that'll make your colleagues green with envy.

Peas are one of those foods that have completely changed for me since I started shopping at the farmers' market. In regular grocery stores (that aren't Fairway, Whole Foods or Dean and Delucca), it's pretty rare to find whole peas in the pod. If you want peas, you're likely headed for the frozen section or even the canned section (though I really think that frozen peas are 100x better than canned). The first time I saw peas at the farmers' market, I was mystified: peas come in a pod, with a couple of teeny leaves on one end -- and unlike canned or frozen peas, they're completely raw.

I've now made this recipe twice, and I can assure you that raw peas really make all the difference. These pictures are from the time I made it with frozen peas, and you can see that the peas are kind of shriveled in places; that's because frozen peas are already cooked, so even a quick blanch or a toss in the pan makes them soften and shrivel. When using raw peas, you can do a super-quick blanch or saute and still keep the integrity of the peas shape. And that's not to mention how much sweeter fresh peas are! They actually taste like....peas. It's wonderful.

To keep this recipe vegetarian, I used a mixture of wine, vegetable stock, and water as the base, but if you have chicken stock on hand, I imagine it would lend the dish some added depth.

One last wonderful thing about this dish: it's super-friendly as lunch leftovers the next day.

Linquini with Artichokes and Sweet Peas

1 lb. linguini or other long pasta 2 lbs. peas, shelled 1 lb. artichoke hearts, frozen (thawed) or fresh if available; if using fresh, run a slice of lemon over the exposed flesh of the artichokes to slow oxidation 1 recipe caramelized onions (cook 1 sliced onion in a fair amount of olive oil over low heat until brown and soft, about 1 hour) olive oil 1 c. chicken or vegetable stock (if none on hand, water and a splash of wine will do) zest of one lemon 2 sprigs mint or tarragon, both are really lovely with peas 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Cook pasta according to package directions, cutting one minute off the cooking time to leave room for a final toss on the stove with the sauce.

In a large shallow saute pan over medium heat, combine several Tbsp. of olive oil and the diced shallot. Add artichoke hearts and toss to coat with the olive oil. Cook about 5 minutes, until artichokes have browned. Add broth or cooking liquid, turn heat to high, and cook about 15 minutes until quantity of liquid has been reduced by half to two thirds. Add lemon zest. Test artichokes to make sure they're cooked through; they should be able to be pierced easily with a knife. When artichokes are cooked through, reduce heat to low and add peas and pasta to pan. Using tongs, toss to incorporate pasta with sauce and vegetables. If desired, add a tab of butter to the sauce to finish it off richly. Off the heat, add cheese and toss to combine. Serve immediately, but be sure to pack yourself some for lunch the next day.

Classic Mac and Cheese

As you all know by now, D's made lots of culinary concessions for the sake of our relationship. In the four-plus years we've been together, she's become someone who appreciates good food far more than I ever thought she would. So this past week, I felt inspired to acknowledge that by taking a couple of steps in her direction and finally trying my hand at macaroni and cheese.

I've been meaning to make mac and cheese for quite some time. After seeing Ina Garten make it several months ago on her FN show, Barefoot Contessa, I knew it wouldn't be difficult to make. Then I saw that show rerun like four or five times (ok, Ina, I get it!) and decided to give it a go. The method is simple: heat flour and butter to make a roux. Add milk and mix to combine, then continue stirring until the milk is thickened. Add lots of cheese, stir until it melts, then incorporate cooked and drained macaroni. Optional step: transfer macaroni to a gratin, add some very optional tomato slices, top with buttered bread crumbs, and broil until bread crumbs are golden and crunchy.

In terms of cheese, the sky's the limit. Ina (she's so congenial, I can't help but feel like we're on a first-name basis) recommends a mix of cheddar and gruyere, which is probably ideal. I didn't have gruyere around so I used just Cabot white cheddar, and I liked the final result -- but the sharpness of gruyere would go very nicely with the hit of nutmeg in Ina's recipe. On one of her shows, Ina uses part gorgonzola or other blue cheese for an added layer of complexity. Me? I like my blue cheese in small portions, so I'd skip, unless blue cheese is really totally your thing.

Though I bet the tomatoes would provide a much-needed hit of juiciness and freshness amid the layers of cheesy pasta, I was making this for a lover of all things traditional and someone who takes her mac and cheese very seriously (she boasts a long repertoire of restaurants whose mac she's tried and critiqued; for those in DC, I think her faves are Napoleon, on Columbia road, where a side will set you back a mere 5 bucks, and Belga Cafe, where the mac is truffled (!) and not too goopy.) In any event, I'd definitely have used the tomatoes otherwise and would blindly recommend that you do the same. In terms of servings, I halved this recipe and baked it in an 8x8, and it served 4+, so make adjustments accordingly.

Macaroni and Cheese adapted from Ina Garten, via Food Network

Kosher salt 1 pound elbow macaroni or cavatappi 1 quart milk 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, divided 1/2 cup all-purpose flour 12 ounces Gruyere, grated (4 cups), or sub out for cheddar or other melty cheese 8 ounces extra-sharp Cheddar, grated (2 cups) 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg 3/4 pound fresh tomatoes (4 small), optional 1 1/2 cups fresh bread crumbs (5 slices, crusts removed)

Directions Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Drizzle oil into a large pot of boiling salted water. Add the macaroni and cook according to the directions on the package, 6 to 8 minutes. Drain well.

Meanwhile, heat the milk in a small saucepan, but don't boil it. Melt 6 tablespoons of butter in a large (4-quart) pot and add the flour. Cook over low heat for 2 minutes, stirring with a whisk. While whisking, add the hot milk and cook for a minute or two more, until thickened and smooth. Off the heat, add the Gruyere, Cheddar, 1 tablespoon salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Add the cooked macaroni and stir well. Pour into a 3-quart baking dish.

Slice the tomatoes and arrange on top. Melt the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter, combine them with the fresh bread crumbs, and sprinkle on the top. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the sauce is bubbly and the macaroni is browned on the top.