Sicilian Caponata

Growing up, caponata was a thick, saucy affair. The eggplant was cooked until it almost fell apart, then melted into tomatoes, raisins, olives, and onions until it DID fall apart.  The result was a dip you could eat alone, but it was even better spread on crackers or sandwiches. I loved that caponata, and I still do.

In college, I encountered caponata anew. My boyfriend at the time had a chef for a dad. Alan was an expert at so many things: his challah recipe was the first one I tried, his salad of perfect Berkley tomatoes sticks with me, and his caponata was the best I'd ever had. Alan made two kinds of caponata. One was redder, with plenty of tomatoes and red wine vinegar. The other was lighter, probably with white wine vinegar and golden raisins.  I'm pretty sure Alan thought about bottling it at one time, and wisely so. Both were excellent.

Not that I'm a stickler for authenticity,  but I've come to learn that none of those caponatas was authentic. True Sicilian caponata is more like a cooked salad. Every component is discernible, cooked carefully so that the flavors are married but not muddled. Caponata, like so much of the best cooking in any region, is about the slow, deliberate layering of complementary flavors. It's a dish that requires time and patience. With eggplant at the height of their season, I made time last weekend to make it the traditional way.

eggplant chopped

Eggplant was diced, salted, drained, browned. Mise en place was prepared. Sweet time,  it was taken. Caponata wants to be coddled; the results make the coddling worthwhile.

caponata mise en place

What you get, after the salting and draining and browning and cooking and adding and heating and finishing, is not unlike a traditional ratatouille. It's a delicate, precise dish: you can see the cubes of eggplant, the strips of roasted pepper, and the olives (I cheated and used green olives stuffed with pimento, but cerignola would be even better). This is no vegetable mush. We're getting classy here, people.

caponata 2

caponata 4

Why classy? Well, if you can believe it, this little blog turned 5 last week. That's something to celebrate, now isn't it? Over apples and honey cake, I told you about how I want the pace around here to be less frenetic. Even in a weekend full of errands, work, and cooking for lots of people, I made time to coax eggplant into this caponata. While it cooked, we sat with a dear friend, drank her brother's homemade (award-winning!) beer, and laughed about all sorts of silliness. And you know what? The time alone felt like a celebration. Happy 5th birthday, NDP; here's to 5 more.

caponata 5

Sicilian Caponata From Nancy Harmon Jenkins' Cucina del Sole: A Celebration of Southern Italian Cooking, via Saveur

2 eggplants (about 2 lbs.), cut into 1⁄2" cubes Salt 10 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 1 large yellow onion, coarsely chopped 2 anchovy filet, chopped 3 ripe medium tomatoes (about 1 lb.), cored, peeled, and coarsely chopped 2 ribs celery, diced 1⁄4 cup red wine vinegar 2 tablespoons sugar 2 tablespoons tomato paste 2 tablespoons golden raisins 2 tablespoons pine nuts 2 tablespoons capers, rinsed 12 pitted green olives, such as cerignola, coarsely chopped 1 red bell pepper, roasted, peeled, cored, seeded, and thinly sliced Freshly ground black pepper 2 tablespoons coarsely chopped basil 2 tablespoons coarsely chopped flat-leaf parsley

Put eggplant into a colander set over a large bowl; toss with 1 tbsp. salt. Top with a plate weighted down with several large cans; let drain for 1 hour. Rinse eggplant and pat dry with paper towels. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add one-third of the eggplant and cook until golden brown, 7–8 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer eggplant to a bowl. Repeat with oil and remaining eggplant.

Reduce heat to medium-low and add remaining oil, onions, and anchovies; cook until soft, 14–15 minutes. Add tomatoes and celery and increase heat to medium; cook until tomatoes release their juices, 5–6 minutes.

Add vinegar, sugar, and tomato paste; cook until thickened, 3–4 minutes. Add cooked eggplant, raisins, pine nuts, capers, olives, roasted peppers, and salt and pepper to taste. Cook until hot. Transfer to a plate; let cool slightly. Top with basil and parsley. Serve at room temperature.

Caponata will keep in the fridge for up to 2 weeks.

Apples and Honey Cake

With Rosh Hashana less than 12 hours away, it may seem a bit late to be posting a cake for the Jewish New Year. However: however. Some of us leave the cooking until the last minute, yeah? And besides: if someone had shared this cake at the same time last year, I'd have read it and realized that I focused so intently on getting that brisket just perfectly seasoned, that challah burnished and browned just so, that there was absolutely no dessert. There was a Rosh Hashana meal at my house last year when my gracious guests nibbled on leftover apples and honey after the meal was done. This year, I've got dessert covered, for you and me both.

apple honey cake 1

Apple cake is traditional on this holiday, as is honey cake. Why not combine the two? If you make this into just one cake, it is a monstrosity, a tall and majestic cake with spices that demand to be heard as well as seen (the cake is a deep, dark brown). The apples are sprinkled with sugar and spice all their own, and after a nice, long stretch in a hot oven, they soften just enough while keeping their texture.

You'll be delighted to know that you can make this cake without any special equipment. No mixer necessary; I stirred the batter with a fork. And while I made this in a bundt pan, you can make it in three loaf pans, two round pans, or one 9x13 pan. At this stage in the game, options are key.

apple honey cake 3

Ironically, this new year I'm resolving to slow down a bit. The pace around here has been frenetic, and I'd like it to stop being that way. Dear friends of ours are getting married and having babies; summer is turning to fall in the most beautiful of ways; fruit and vegetables really are at their peak right now; and I'm creeping closer to the big 3-0 every day. Last-minute desserts notwithstanding, I'm going to try and enjoy these special days as best I can. There's a lot to savor right now.

apple honey cake 4

To everyone celebrating, shana tova; to everyone else, enjoy this lovely season.

Apples and Honey CakeAdapted from Marcy Goldman's A Treasury of Jewish Holiday Baking and Laura Goodenough's Apple Coffee Cake

This cake calls for orange juice and either tea or coffee as the liquid. I really dislike the flavors of apples and oranges together; hello, it's like mixing apples and oranges. So I swapped out the OJ for cider, which really reinforced the apple flavor in this cake. For me, honey cakes require the depth and thickness of coffee, but if you'd prefer tea's flavor, feel free to substitute it.

2 apples, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 6 teaspoons ground cinnamon, divided 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice 1/4 teaspoon powdered ginger 1 cup vegetable oil 1 cup honey 1 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar 1/2 cup brown sugar 3 eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 cup warm coffee 1/2 cup apple cider or apple juice 1/4 cup rye or whiskey (if not using, replace with equal amount coffee or cider)

In a medium bowl, mix apple slices with 2 tablespoons sugar and 2 teaspoons cinnamon. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly grease the pan(s). For tube and angel food pans, line the bottom with lightly greased parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and all the spices and the remaining 4 teaspoons cinnamon. Make a well in the center and add the oil, honey, sugars, eggs, vanilla, coffee, apple cider, and whiskey.

Using a strong wire whisk or a fork, combine the ingredients well to make a batter, making sure that no ingredients are stuck to the bottom of the bowl.

If making a bundt cake, spoon one-third of the batter into the pan. Top with a ring of half the apples (try to remove them from the liquid that will have accumulated; reserve this liquid for another use), then repeat with another third of the batter, the rest of the apples, and the final third of the batter.

If making this in loaf pans or round pans, pour one-quarter of the batter into each of the pans; divide all the apples between the two pans; and divide the remaining half of the batter between the two pans.

If making this in a 9x13 pan, pour half the batter into the pan; top with all of the apples; and pour the remaining batter on top.

In a bundt pan, the apples may float to the top. They're unlikely to stay in layers. That's ok; still better to layer them in so they're fully coated with batter.

(Phew.)

Place the cake pan(s) on baking sheets stacked together and bake until the cake springs back when you touch it gently in the center. For angel and tube cake pans, bake for 60 to 70 minutes; loaf cakes, 45 to 55 minutes. For sheet-style cakes, the baking time is 40 to 45 minutes. This is a liquidy batter and, depending on your oven, it may need extra time. Cake should spring back when gently pressed. If you're not sure, check it with a toothpick, which should come out clean.

Let the cake stand for 15 minutes before removing it from the pan. Then invert it onto a wire rack to cool completely.

Caramelized Garlic Frittata

Over years of hosting friends for Saturday lunch, frittata has become a staple of my lunch table. It's easy to prepare; it makes use of whatever of-the-moment ingredients you have in the fridge or on the counter; best of all, if you're preparing it in the Italian style, it's served at room temperature.

Unlike Tortilla Española, which stacks up nice and high, thanks to a hefty load of sliced potatoes inside - frittata is supposed to be thin. I've made it with tomatoes and feta; with kale, spinach, or other greens; with squash blossoms and/or zucchini; or with whatever else I have on hand. We're talking eggs, seasoning, and vegetables. It's pretty hard to screw up.

But a few weeks back, my in-laws were in town, so I went in search of something to make the frittata extra special. That's when I stumbled (literally - I almost knocked the whole thing over while reaching absentmindedly for flour) across a bowl of caramelized garlic, syrupy and soft and deeply browned, which - of course, you already know this - were the perfect addition to my frittata.

Backing up: I'd caramelized garlic to make Yotam Ottolenghi's caramelized garlic quiche. (I'm sorry, I've been hitting you over the head with Ottolenghi recipes - are you sick of him yet? Are you sick of me obsessing about him yet? Don't be; buy his book and you'll see why I can't stop.) But then I got sidetracked with mini lentil galettes and beet salad with walnut sauce and a really good blueberry tart, and that garlic quiche? It never happened. Kismet, I tell you.

caramelized garlic

Can I just spend a couple minutes telling you about this garlic? Because it is amazing. It's the kind of thing you make and then want to use in everything, on everything. Shmeared into hot sourdough bread, tucked around a block of feta and baked until sizzling, or - yes - sneaked into your mouth by the spoonful as you pretend to use it for an actual dish. It's fragrant with thyme, sweet from the sugar and balsamic vinegar. And it's as tender as if it had been braised. On paper, it sounds like the kind of special ingredient that makes everything better. In reality, it does just that.

caramelized garlic frittata ingredients

To echo the garlic's sweetness and give the frittata texture, I added some fresh corn. And because I really can't help myself, I added a few generous spoonfuls of fresh chevre. I wanted to add garlic scapes, but I couldn't get any, so I added a scallion instead. I may have also stirred in some basil. In retrospect, none of this was necessary. Corn, goat cheese, and garlic are all this frittata needs. The simpler, the better.

This frittata will take us right from summer into fall. When corn is gone, I'll make it with mushrooms. Or maybe I'll really make like an Italian and stick to eggs and that perfect, sweet garlic. Sounds like simple perfection to me.

Caramelized Garlic Frittata

1 head of garlic, separated and peeled 1 tablespoon olive oil 2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar 3/4 tablespoons sugar 2 teaspoons chopped thyme

8 eggs salt and pepper 5 ounces soft, creamy goat cheese Corn from 2 ears, uncooked zest of one lemon 1 tablespoon butter 1 tablespoon olive oil

Put the garlic cloves in a small pan and cover with half a cup of water. Bring to a simmer and blanch the garlic for 3 minutes, then drain well and dry the pan.

Return garlic cloves to the pan and add the olive oil.

Fry the garlic on high heat for 2 minutes, shaking the pan to fry each side of the cloves.  Add the balsamic vinegar and 1 cup of water and bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Raise the heat to medium. Add the sugar, thyme, and a pinch of salt and continue simmering for 10 minutes, or until most of the liquid has evaporated and the garlic is covered in a dark caramel syrup. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the eggs with salt and pepper to taste until well combined. Fold in the lemon zest, corn, and bits of goat cheese.

Set a large saute pan over medium heat and add the butter and olive oil. When butter has fully melted, swirl the pan to coat the sides. Pour egg mixture into the pan, swirl to distribute evenly, and sprinkle the garlic cloves over the surface of the frittata. They should sink into the egg mixture almost immediately.

Transfer the pan to the oven and bake until frittata is set, about 8 minutes. Let cool for 10 minutes before trying to remove the frittata from the pan; the hotter it is, the more easily it sticks.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Roasted Eggplant with Yogurt and Pomegranate

I think you'll be happy to know that I've found a legitimately easy way to tame the most finicky of vegetables into submission. I'm talking about eggplant, of course. Eggplant is beautifully purple (or white with purple speckles!) until you cut into it, when it's suddenly grey-brown. It's thick and sturdy, until you start frying it, when it seems to soak up exactly as much oil as is in the pan, always with room for more. Then it suddenly turns to mush, and from there, there's no going back. Yeah, eggplant is finicky. I said it.

eggplant before roasting

I'm over here breaking a sweat about my 'plants, but Yotam Ottolenghi is unfazed. From the gorgeous eggplant gracing the cover of his second book, Plenty, you'd never know the vegetable was the cause of such stress. The globes are perfectly browned, drizzled with sauce, and dappled with red gems of pomegranate. They're practically begging you to stop whatever it is that you're doing (probably ruining eggplant), and make them. So I did, and I did.

Here's what I've learned. Unless you're slicing your eggplant thinly enough that a quick dip in oil will cook it right through, the trick is to soften it by either roasting, instead of running immediately for the fryer. This way, the eggplant softens without getting too greasy. You can always fry it at the end to get that extra crispness, but if you make prepare eggplant a la Plenty, I'm guessing you won't want to. Ottolenghi has you score the eggplant flesh crosswise before drizzling it with olive oil and broiling it, exposing more surface area. As the eggplant bakes, the scored flesh crisps up on all sides, adding textural contrast to the surface while staying soft within. The yogurt sauce is redolent of garlic; it's a perfect contrast to the juicy, tart pomegranate that finishes the dish.

creamed garlic

eggplant prep

Pomegranates aren't exactly in season right now, but I finished the eggplant with a drizzle of pomegranate syrup, which worked very well. If you have saba, you definitely could use it. It's sweeter than pomegranate syrup, but still plenty tart. I'm pretty sure Cathy tried this with saba and loved it.

I can see using this eggplant roasting technique for so many things. When I was in Mississippi for work earlier this week, I dug my way through a stack of eggplant parmesan that tasted more like breadcrumbs than eggplant. Can you imagine riffing on parm with this roasted eggplant half? It'd be amazing. I'd maybe tuck some pesto into the olive oil before drizzling it on for the roast, and when the eggplant comes out of the oven sizzling, I'd top it with hot tomato sauce, maybe even some fresh mozzarella cheese before popping it back under the broiler for a hot minute. Mouth=watering.

eggplant with pomegranate and yogurt 2

Roasted Eggplant with Yogurt and PomegranateAdapted from Plenty, by Yotam Ottolenghi

Ottolenghi recommends you cook these eggplants for 35-40 minutes, but mine needed more like 60-75 before they were truly tender. Check early, but be prepared for a longer cooking time.

For the eggplant:

2 large and long eggplants 1/3 cup olive oil 1 1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme or lemon thyme, plus a few whole sprigs to garnish Sea salt and black pepper Seeds of 1 pomegranate or 2 tablespoons pomegranate syrup 2 teaspoons za'atar

For the sauce:

1/4 cup buttermilk (or substitute regular milk with a squeeze of lemon) 1/2 cup Greek yogurt 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, plus a drizzle to finish 1 small garlic clove 1 pinch flaky salt

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Cut the eggplants in half lengthways, cutting straight through the stalk. Use a small sharp knife to score three or four parallel cuts into the eggplant flesh, without cutting through to the skin. Repeat at a 45-degree angle to get a diamond-shaped pattern.

Place the eggplant halves, cut-side up, on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Drizzle or brush them with olive oil, brushing until all of the oil has been absorbed. Sprinkle with the thyme and some salt and pepper. Roast for 60-75 minutes, at which point the flesh should be soft, flavorful, and nicely browned. Remove from the oven and let cool.

To make the sauce: mash the garlic and the pinch of salt on a cutting board with a chef's knife until garlic is completely smooth. (Alternatively, simply send the garlic through a press.) Then whisk together all of the ingredients, taste for seasoning, and store in the refrigerator until needed.

To serve, spoon plenty of buttermilk sauce over the eggplant halves without covering the stalks. Sprinkle za'atar and plenty of pomegranate seeds (or pomegranate syrup) on top and garnish with thyme. Finish with a drizzle of olive oil.