fried mashed potatoes

September 20, 2009 at 4:56 pm (apple, comfort food, greens, potatoes, recipes, vegetarian) (, , , , , , )

put a large pot of water on to boil.  scrub 6 small potatoes; I like the red ones.  Quarter them and plop them into the water at a rolling boil.  Cook for 8-10 minutes or until soft.  Drain and return to the pot if your pot can stand the up-coming beating or dump into a heavy bowl.

add three tablespoons of butter to the potatoes.  Sprinkle liberally with sea salt and pepper and herbs; pick about 2 tablespoons of fresh thyme if you have it, but this round I just used dried thyme and basil, about a teaspoon each.  Drizzle with about a ¼ cup of heavy cream.  Using one of the most fabulous inventions of all time—the hand potato masher—mash mash mash.  Save a few lumps for texture, having left the skins on helps some bits hold together (plus – pretty!).

shred about ½ a cup of hard cheese like parmesan or gruyere would be nice; we had some schmany delectable cheese I cannot remember the name of now.  Beat an egg or, to be really decadent, an egg plus one yolk.  Stir in half the egg and most of the cheese, just saving some for decorative pre-table topping, into the potatoes with a wooden spoon.  Set aside the egg in a shallow bowl and whisk in a little cream.  In another shallow bowl, spread panko flakes or bread crumbs.

heat a cast iron skillet or your heaviest, if you are not blessed with cast iron, which should acquire as soon as possible.  Add a bit of olive oil or butter or a nice half’n’half mix of the two.

form the potato mash into patties, dredge quickly in the egg/cream, press a few sage leaves into it – or one big dramatic one- then press the patty in the breading, flip and press the other side.  Fry.  A few minutes on each side, going for golden brown.  Transfer to a toweled plate to rest and drain excess oil.

you can fry two or three potato patties at a time, just be sure not to crowd the skillet.  Dredge out any escaped bits of breading before they burn and taint your oil.  This does not have to be a deep fry job; using just enough oil for things not to stick creates plenty of golden fried goodness to satisfy.

these are freaking amazing.  I cannot imagine what they would not be good with, but here are some ideas: oniony, garlicky sautéd greens like kale or collards; veggie sausage (which I like to pepper a lot and eat with maple syrup) and a fried egg; red lentils with plain yoghurt and hot pepper sauce; fried apples’n’onions…oh, yes- with sour cream.  I love fall.

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ode in recipes

January 30, 2008 at 2:28 pm (beets, greens, muffins, mushrooms, poem, potatoes, recipes, squash, tofu, turnip, vegan, vegetarian) ()

bluefoot exposed (web graphic - not a rad muff pic) WordPress, the service hosting this blog, records the search terms that some person somewhere entered that churned up this blog from all the zillions of sites on the web. I think the most interesting thing is it is all true somehow, and if it wasn’t here explicitly before it is now. From what has led them here, an ode to e-seekers:

nice mash potatoes, turnip vegan

squash radical

kitchen witchery
Purslane what does it look like
BEING HYPOCRITE IN THIS CIVILIZED WORLD
cauliflower root soup

chasteberry tattoos of mushrooms bluefoot chantrelles

tofu scramble
tofu scramble

clementine and lemon muffins

tofu scramble salsa
Tofu scrambles and omelet recipes

muffin films women naughty
sequins slung

mushroom blue foot 2

Indian muffin market

Betsey Johnson tagline
washington dc edible silver ball candies
peanut butter kiss cookies not flat
queer femme girls
simmering beets

cute mushrooms
Asian children: cute
old people who drink too much

chia pet herb and doctored tomato soup
SPUD DESERT RECIPES

gulab jamun sugar syrup
choco gem
“muffin cookies”

mini greens

mirinda

condensed milk, rosewater, cardamom

 


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Miso Awesome Soup

December 26, 2007 at 4:56 pm (ginger, greens, mushrooms, recipes, soup, vegan) (, , , , , , )

pink jacket & black beret - camden The amounts here are for a generous bowl for one voracious feminista yogi. This soup is quite adaptable by size – feed your feminista yogi flock!

Bring a pot of water to boil and cook a handful of udon noodles. The corner health mart carries an organic brand that comes in 8 oz packets with three bundles of noodles, and one bundle is just right amount for a big bowl. (One big bowl eating is typically friendly cooking for one eater, one broke but taste-conscious eater. Those inspired, sexy soups, pastas, and salads you whip up for dates with your one true one want a roomy, gorgeous bowl. Right now my favorite is a ceramic piece that heats up comfortingly in my lap when I sit cross legged on the couch. This bowl, runny with glaze in cinnamon, oatmeal and cream, is my flat mate’s handmade treasure. I gotta find my own perfect piece; I will let you know how the quest goes.)

Slice two or three scallions (green onions). Peel and mince an inch of ginger and two cloves of garlic. Slice three or four thin slices of chili. Chili is highly subjective; know thyself.

In a medium sized sauce pan, heat a few teaspoons of vegetable oil and sesame oil. When a flick of water sizzles in the oil, lower the heat and add the chili, garlic, ginger, and scallions along with some sea salt and black pepper. Add two to four tablespoons of tamari.

Clean off your mushrooms—any kind you like, of course. I used the smallest possible shitakes and creminis, carefully de-stemmed and cleaned with a paper towel. Sauté the mushrooms briefly in the fiery oil, about five minutes, until their heads are glistening and glossy brown.

Pour broth over the frying mushrooms, about 3 cups. Bring broth to a boil.

Halve a lemon. Snip a cup or so of watercress and add it to your bowl.

Lower heat and with the soup at a low simmer, squeeze in the lemon juice from both halves and stir in two tablespoons of miso. Bring back to a fine simmer and pour over the delicate greens.

I eat this with two tools: chopsticks and a big, shallow spoon.

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Ridiculously good chard tart

December 1, 2007 at 5:41 pm (cheese, greens, pastry, recipes, vegetarian) (, , , , , )

sunday brunch (aka i *heart* jesus) radical muffin apron Thaw a package of puff pastry. More power to you if you make your own. Puff pastry is so labor intensive, however, that even the most ambitious cooks typically buy it, like phyllo dough.

Chop a pile of chard. Oh—that sounds so brute! considering the chard we had in hand this November. After the bunch was rinsed, I held a leaf up like an X-ray, a stained glass, to the window, and with the sunlight shining through, it was a cartooned tree of tall, cumulous shape in sea-vegetable Green with Fuschia branches, pink veins edged in lit white. Layer the leaves on top of each other and roll like a cigar, slice from the end to your fingers to make long shreds. Then slice across these shreds to make bite sized pieces.

Peel and chop two shallots. Toast a handful of pine nuts in a dry skillet. Zest a lemon (again – organic, the peel!). Hold these ingredients in little bowls or dishes until you are ready to incorporate them into the dish.

Heat your oven to 375º. Heat a shallow skillet over medium heat to cook your greens. Melt about a tablespoon of butter and toss in the shallots. Let the shallots cook for a few minutes (3-ish) and then toss the shard over it along with half the lemon zest. Cook the greens down, stirring occasionally. About 10 minutes total. Let sit in the pan with the heat off.

Stir together ½ a cup of Greek yoghurt and ½ a cup of feta cheese along with the remaining lemon zest.

Crush ¾ of the pine nuts in whatever way is easiest in your kitchen. I crush them on a cutting board with a wine bottle, not rolling pin style but screwing and crushing with the round bottom. Stir the crushed pine nuts into the greens along with a handful of currants.

On a cookie sheet, layout a full sheet of puff pastry and turn up the edges all the way around to make a crust. Pinch over about a quarter inch and use your fingertips to squish the folded over edge into the main body of the dough. Spread the feta and yoghurt along the pastry. Spread the chard mixture on top of the creamy layer. Sprinkle with more feta and the whole pine nuts. Bake at 375º for 15-20 minutes or until the puff pastry is golden. Let rest for 10 minutes or so, slice into squares, and serve hot.

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kohlrabi salad with purslane and mysterious mini-greens

June 18, 2007 at 3:19 am (greens, kohlrabi, recipes, vegan) ()

the kohlrabi plant has its own special way of being a vegetable

The Kitchen Gardener’s Companion, Pat Katz’s A-Z encyclopedia for using the food that you grow, 2000

oh, pat, it’s true. kohlrabies look like alien vegetables or vehicles – door knob sized bulbs of waxy celery green or purple like shredded purple coleslaw cabbage. Since hardly any one eats it, kohlrabi gets compared to everything: cabbage, turnip, cauliflower. It is like the asian pear of veggies. Impossible to describe; go find them.

5 small purple kohlrabis, broken off from their stalks and leaves. Pare away any nubbins or hard spots but no need to go so far as peeling. Cut them into cubes. Sauté them in a bit of olive oil and the juice of half a lemon over medium heat for about 10 minutes. Let them sit in the hot pot until your greens are ready.

pick over 5 generous handful of greens. This week I got purslane, some mild form of mustard with tiny, ruffled leaves, and a mysterious micro-plant with a transluscent stem and two bitty leaves, like clover. I think any mix of mild fresh summer greens would be good, but the purslane’s nice because it is so juicy and queer.

in a big bowl, toss the greens with the hot kohlrabi and dressing. For the dressing, shake together in a jar:

1/3 cup balsamic vinegar

¼ cup of olive oil

½ tsp sea salt

½ tsp black pepper

¼ cup minced, fresh cilantro

It is surprising that kohlrabies are not better known, since they are easy to grow and store, as well as being easy to enjoy in many different ways. Their name is German, taken from the Italian caroli rape, cabbage turnip.

kholrabi The Kitchen Gardener’s Companion, Pat Katz’s A-Z encyclopedia for using the food that you grow, 2000

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