of cabbages and kings (there were shoes in that bit too)

scape handler

Diogenes advised the young man, “If you lived on cabbage, you would not be obliged to flatter the powerful.”  To this, the courtier replied, “If you flattered the powerful, you would not be obliged to live on cabbage. “

we still had a pound and a half of cabbage after the preacher eater’s adventure in kimchi.  The fermenting project netted us a huge jar of fruity-peppery, gingery pickled cabbage and carrots with plenty to gift to the neighbors, but half a head of Savoy and an entire red cabbage began accruing squatter’s rights in the left crisper drawer.

virtuous, humble and reliable, cabbage earned accolades in ancient Rome and held its own among the French Court of Catherine de Medici.  It plays mythical roles from beau diviner to baby-maker to  faerie land wormhole gateway.  Ubiquity and poor handling put this staple out of favor.  Outside of the obligatory 4^th of July coleslaw and a few dedicated sauerkrauters, we mostly avoid cabbage, rumored to generate stink as it cooks and after you eat it.  Like so many misunderstood foods, these unfortunate experiences are not really the cabbages’ fault, yet the stigma remains.

so she was gasping when she called me from the farm share pick-up, Guess what’s in the share? Cabbage!

we almost swapped that cabbage out.  Our CSA site has a box to trade stuff you might not want: hate broccoli?  take your neighbor’s unloved turnips.  One cook’s trash is after all…

we had a cart like that in grade school in the gym turned lunchroom. I kept my much maligned salami sandwiches to myself but always took a cruise around the table for anything interesting.  It was perpetually teaming with inside-out pb&j sandwiches mangled in transit, bashed up bananas, and overly red apples that you knew were mealy despite stiff and shiny skins.  Disappointing.  Although the CSA swap box held far more promise, the farmer was giving us Napa cabbage, a new variety for our growing collection.  Humbled to fate, perhaps, we decided to confront our cabbage surplus head on.

as soon as our newest cabbage arrived home, we went right for the heart, putting away 3 bunches of outer leaves and pulling the central leaves for instant salad.  We also shredded that lingering red cabbage, mixing half with shredded new beets and olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper—jarred this.

for Instant Gratification CSA Salad, combine a quarter of a red cabbage, shredded, with the innermost pale green leaves of Napa cabbage in a huge glass bowl.  Rinse a handful each of the finest of spinach and beet greens.  Stem the spinach and roll the beet greens up like a cigar, slice them and add to the other greens.  Scrub and slice thin three Japanese radishes—not those leg of lamb sized Daikon, these were round like typical red radishes but pure white and milder—and add to the salad.

then come the scapes, wonderfully loopy and green, like bracelets.  Discard the stringy tips at the bulb end then slice the bulb just below the neck then slice it open lengthwise.  Slice a few inches of the green stem the same way, long, elegant, on the diagonal.  Rinse off a handful of pea pods, pop off the stem end if it is tough (ours were utterly edible).  Slice in half if they are long then lengthwise, right through the peas, split their tiny equators.  The cutaway of the inner landscape is pretty like the scapes.  Heat a small frying pan over a medium flame and pour in a few slugs of olive oil.  Toss in the scapes and the peas, salt and pepper and toss them around over high heat for a few minutes, until the peas are bright green.  Dump right from the pan into the salad bowl and toss.  Squeeze half a lemon over the whole thing, toss some more and serve.  This salad accompanied BBQ tempeh sandwiches to our table.

the next night, several bunches of Napa leaves went into a skillet pie reminiscent of stuffed cabbage rolls but far less work:

break dried spaghetti into 1-inch lengths for about a cup of broken noodles; boil and drain them.  Cook a cup of quinoa for about 15 minutes in 2 cups of boiling stock.  While the grains and pasta cook, chop several scapes (or garlic) and shell some peas.  We had about ¼ cup of peas and saved the pods for miso soup.  Toss garlic and peas with the pasta and grains in a big bowl along with salt and pepper.  The stock we had on hand was deep with mushroom flavor, which I think made this the best sort of comfort food, a dish that draws the eater in to pause then wraps you in thick, familiar flavor, smelling really good.

in a big, cast iron skillet, sauté half an onion, chopped, in a bit of butter and olive oil.  Add ½ a pound of tempeh, chopped, along with salt, pepper, red pepper flakes and paprika, turning and cooking until it begins to brown.  Ladle in about a cup of stock and a few stalks of spicy basil or other herbs then bring to a simmer, steaming the tempeh.  When the stock has evaporated, turn the tempeh in with the grains and stir.  Let this all cool just a bit then crack in an egg, stir.

preheat the oven to 400° and wipe out your heavy skillet.  Melt 3 tablespoons or so of butter and spread a layer of bread cubes (about 3 slices of bread, cubed) along the bottom of the pan.  Season and toast the bread over high for a few minutes, turning to coat all sides in butter.  Smooth out the bread layer and cover with the grain/tempeh and over that layer several rounds of Napa cabbage leaves.  Crumble fresh feta and shred some parmesan cheese over the leaves; dot with butter and sprinkle with paprika.  Bake the whole thing for about 20 minutes, until the leaves are soft and cheese is melted.  In a bigger casserole, there could be a few layers and, I imagine, delectable.

summer jewelry

we have some of the remaining cabbage earmarked for miso soup, and surely the last bit of red cabbage will go into our daily lunch salads, or maybe this kale and cabbage slaw.  Getting through all this cabbage was originally about conquering it, but this affair turned out much tastier triumphs.  And we still have kimchi.

** with affection to alice & her creator, who gave me so many things to talk about then eat

tagliatelle with mushroom sauce

a plate of pasta.

loves long simmering in mixed company

don’t you feel good already?  Imagine really toothsome pasta, lavish with but not overwhelmed by a subtle sauce.  It is too early in the season for tomatoes, but not for butter.  Butter, onion and mushrooms.

thus inspired, we ate tagliatelle with mushrooms on the fire escape.  Sitting on the chipped dark green iron, amidst the pots of verdant herbs and lettuces, holding green plates of golden yellow noodle nests with earthy brown mushrooms.  A gluttonous silence fell; the sun set.  We lifted the plates to our chins and twined the pasta on our forks, shamelessly plowing mushrooms into our mouths left gleaming with butter.

fresh, hand cut pasta cannot be hyperbolized.  It wants your time and attention then rewards you lavishly.

to make enough to generously (and, really, is there any other way?) feed two, measure out a heaping cup of flour in a large, heavy bowl—one that will be comfortable for the movements of kneading—and make a hollow in the center, like a volcano.  Most Italian cookbooks seem to have extensive discussions of flour, how it varies in glutinousness and absorbency and flavor.  Interesting and tasty information; worth investigating between the pages.  For now, know that unbleached all-purpose flour works well for pasta.

carefully break 4 cold eggs over your fingers to hold the yolk back, letting the whites fall into a large clean bowl and slipping the yolks into the hollow in the flour.  Those egg whites will keep in the fridge for breakfast, or they whip up lickety-split into meringues for dessert that will slowly bake in a low oven while you’re puttering in the kitchen.  Leave all the eggs to come to room temperature.  Do something else for an hour.

whisk the egg yolks into the flour bit by bit with a fork then stir the lot together with a wooden spoon.  Add a bit more flour or egg white as necessary for the dough to come together.  When your dough is pulling into a ball, flour your hands and kneed it against the walls of the bowl, adding more flour if needed.  Cradle the bowl and press into the dough with the heel of your hand, rolling it along the sides of the bowl.  Turn the dough and repeat.  Work the dough until it becomes elastic and satiny.  Pasta dough is a bit stiff, so kneading for 8 to 10 minutes can be a challenge but have faith.  Supposedly spinach pasta is softer and easier to work, and we plan to try spinach noodles for lasagna this week (stay tuned).  Let your ball of dough rest for an hour.

using as many mushrooms of as many sorts as you have, pick the stems off and wipe their caps gently clean with a cloth.  Slice the caps and set aside.  We had a generous 2 cups cremini and maitake.  Peel and quarter a small onion, slice it fine.  Heat a heavy skillet over high heat, and once it is hot turn the heat down.  Add a chunk of butter and puddle of olive oil, heat and add the onions.  When the onions begin to sizzle and soften add the mushrooms.  Stir and toss and cook over high heat for 5 minutes or so.  Sprinkle with salt and fresh pepper.  Turn the heat down and cook slowly, stirring occasionally, for an hour.  This takes some care to carry off without scorching, so add more butter as you go and maybe a swig of white wine.  The surprisingly long cook time is a revelation in flavor, and a tip from Marcella Hazan’s Master Class in Marcella Says…

dramatic mushrooms

the untamed, bosky quality that draws you to [mushrooms’] flavor emerges with very long, slow cooking after they have completely shed their vegetal waters….  Cook mushrooms slowly in olive oil for at least an hour, longer if you are making a large amount, until they are gelatinously soft.  Hover over the pan, and when your nose picks up a scent reminiscent of a dark, leaf strewn forest floor, the mushrooms are done.

she also recommends butter-based sauces for fresh pastas, whose texture is glossed over by oil.  The loving handling of the dough, tugged and pulled, gently roughens the surface, which swells luxuriantly with a coating of hot butter.

returning to your pasta, separate the ball into two or three parts, whatever is manageable for your work space.  Lightly flour a clean counter or tabletop.  Flatten the dough into a disk then roll it out, moving from the center to the edge, turning the disk a quarter turn every few passes.  When it is as wide as works, lengthen the sheet by rolling towards and away from you without turning the dough.  As you work, stretch the dough on the rolling pin or, in my case, empty juice jar.  Starting at the end farthest from you, roll the edge over the pin towards you and hold down the sheet resting on the counter and gently pull, rolling the pin towards you.  Work the dough on the pin by moving your hands away from each other from the center out towards the edges, tugging the dough along.  Let the sheet fall over the side of your work surface and hang.  The dough can be worked so thin you can read newsprint through it.  If the dough seems too fragile then thicker pasta is still delicious.  Let this sheet rest while you roll out the next sheet.

to cut noodles, dust a rested sheet of dough with flour and roll it into a loose log about 3 inches wide.  With a sharp knife, slice across the roll to make ribbons in whatever noodle width suites you.  Ours were slightly wider than traditional tagliatelle which is slightly wider than fettuccine.  Unroll the slices and spread your noodles out on dry cloths to dry.

bring a big pot of water to boil; salt it generously.  Gently hand your noodles into the rolling water.  Stir them a few times and cook for about 6 minutes, until al dente.  Try one, you’ll know.  Drain and toss with butter, salt and fresh pepper.  Serve immediately in shallow bowls or plates topped by the mushrooms.

Because I Love You Tuna Casserole

put your biggest pasta pot on to boil, and butter a large casserole dish that can go in the oven.  heat your oven to 375°.  When water is at a rolling boil, add a box of elbow noodles, spirals or other happy, short shape of creamy sauce holding pasta.  Cook until al dente and drain while chopping veggies or making the sauce.

gently wipe clean a pint of mushrooms then separate their caps from their stems.  Chop the heads and mince the legs.  Set aside in two little bowls; you will need 6 little bowls to set your mise en place for this recipe.  The Radical Muffin kitchen recently had a perfect set of nesting glass bowls move in so the cook is blissed out with happy, obsessive pre-chopping and arranging.  Peel and chop a medium sweet onion, yellow.  Chop three very green, delicate celery stalks.  Shred a block of white cheddar cheese on the largest opening on a box grater.  Drain two small cans or one big can and one small can of tuna – dolphin safe for heaven’s sake.

in a heavy bottomed sauce pot, melt two to three tablespoons of butter over medium heat.  Add the onions and celery when the butter begins to foam, and sauté until soft, about 5 minutes.  Stir in a teaspoon or so of celery salt.  Toss in the stems of the shrooms then the caps and cook for a bit longer, until they begin releasing their juices.  Sprinkle a small handful of flour (about three tablespoons or less; I have small hands) over this cooking base and stir, cooking the raw taste out of the flour for a few minutes.

pour in ½ a cup of heavy cream and a 1 ½ of whole milk slowly as you stir.  Cook to simmering but do not boil and stir in a handful of shredded cheese.

eyeball how much of the pasta you will need to fill your casserole dish, and mix that amount with your sauce in a big bowl.  If you like, and my best friend likey-likes, stir in a package of frozen peas or fresh if you are so lucky as to have them.  You will likely have remaining pasta, for which there are 50,000 uses, and possibly sauce, which is great over broccoli, omelets, potatoes or more pasta.

in the casserole, make an initial layer of sauced noodles, about halfway.  Sprinkle with a handful of cheese, and fork the pressed tuna out of the cans and over the noodles.  Top the fish with another layer of noodles and liberally grind fresh pepper over these and sprinkle with celery salt.  Cover the entire casserole with shredded cheese and dust with paprika.

bake in the oven for about 12 minutes or until the cheese is browned and melted.  Traditionally, this is topped with crushed potato chips, which is a pleasure to be tried at least once.  Buttered bread crumbs or pink flakes also add crunch.  But for the purest comfort, I cannot help but love the gentle chewy crispness of cheese alone.

pasta and fennel meet balls

uncork a bottle of respectable red table wine. Pour a half a cup into a wine glass with a generous bowl, swirl. Enjoying your wine, read this recipe entirely:

slice two yellow onions and one red bell pepper. Smash, peel, and mince five cloves of garlic. Setting aside the rest for your sauce, two of the cloves and a handful of the onion are for your faux meat balls.

mince this onion finely. In a mortar with a pestle, crush two teaspoons of fennel seeds with 2 teaspoons of coarse sea salt. In a big bowl, add these spices and a teaspoon of black pepper to the onions and garlic. Add a handful of quick cooking oatmeal and one egg. These are made with egg in a nod toward my grandfather’s original recipe, but you can omit the egg and the oatmeal and have tasty balls (note: the oatmeal or bread or cracker crumbs, is a good extender to make more balls for cheaper). Let this all rest together while you get on with the sauce. Stick it in the fridge if you are neurotic about leaving out egg at room temperature.

in a hot pot—a large stock pot with a heavy bottom, heated over a medium flame—toast a proportion to taste of hot and sweet paprika and red pepper flakes. I used about two teaspoons of sweet paprika and one teaspoon of hot paprika and red pepper flakes. Pour olive oil into the pot, about three tablespoons, bring to hot and pour the red pepper and onion and garlic into the pot. Cover and cook over medium-high for five minutes: in a series of 3 x 5, every five minutes for a cycle of three times cook and stir and cover the spicy pepper mix. Add sea salt and black pepper.

as this base cooks down, rub clean a pound of crimini mushrooms, ranging from a quarter in diameter to fungi the size of an egg. De-stem them, and slice the heads into threes, making fat slices. Add them to the pot, and do another round of 3 x 5 cooking and stirring.

stir in three tablespoons of tomato paste. Pour in two large cans (28 ounces each) of crushed tomatoes. By all means if you come by this recipe in the heart of tomato season then boil & peel and crush a whole pile of fruit, but in early spring in Brooklyn, the cans are fine and preferable. Add a smaller can of diced tomatoes. Bring to a slow, popping simmer and cook for an hour or longer.

about half an hour before you want to eat, put a big pot of water onto boil.

add a tube of ground beef style soy “meat” to the big bowl of eggy, spicy slop, and mix it together well with your hands. Roll tablespoons of mixture into balls.

heat a heavy skillet and when it is hot, add a few tablespoons of olive oil. Fry the balls until brown on all sides.

pour a few generous slugs of wine into your sauce and stir. Add your fried meet balls. Bring the sauce back to a simmer.

add a box of noodles to the boiling water: spaghetti is Italian-American classic; fettuccini is seductive; and penne, somehow, feels domestic and family-like. Cook until al dente and drain. Pile noodles on a plate or in a bowl as appropriate, top with sauce. Somewhere in this cooking, maybe put together a nice salad. Now sit down with you, and whomever you dine with if you are dining in company or family, and polish off the wine.

as it simmers, you can also read this blog:

http://thyme-for-herbs.blogspot.com/

and maybe, watch a little more labyrinth:

spicy chickpea penne

Prelude recipe: herbed peppers

Drizzle olive oil over a hot iron skillet, and sauté yellow and red pepper strips until soft and slightly charred (about 20 minutes). Halfway through the cooking time, generously sprinkle with dried Herbes de Provence and sea salt. Store in a glass jar covered in olive oil and store until use. Keeps for weeks in the fridge, but happier on the counter out of sunlight and used in a week.
Booty Spicy Chickpea Penne

This is a great weeknight one-bowl dinner if you have pre-cooked pasta stashed in your fridge like I happened to have along with some chickpeas I had soaked and cooked. An easy lunch while I was cleaning my space today. I am usually a big slut, but in this decade of 30s, I am finding keeping my space clean helps me get more done.

If you do not have cooked pasta on hand, boil a pot of water at the outset and cook some noodles. Penne is good with the chunky sauce, and any similar short, hearty textured noodle will be harmonious.

Slice a handful of cherry tomatoes in half across their fat middles. Chop a few yellow squash spears.

Heat a big iron skillet over medium heat and toast a generous sprinkle of hot and sweet paprika and turmeric, stirring with a wooden spoon & careful not to burn. Add olive oil and turn up the heat, a medium high flame – almost a high flame, be bold about it; it is tasty when the pasta fries. Add the tomatoes and about a teaspoon of sea salt. Cook until sizzling, stir and let it sizzle again and keep at it while you drain a large can of chickpeas and rinse them thoroughly (or maybe you have soaked and cooked chickpeas for yourself this week, good for you, muffin.). Add your chickpeas and pasta. Cook—I like to let it sit unstirred for five minutes or more, searing, gathering a little crust.

Chop the oil, herbed pepper strips: either stick a knife in the jar, or cut them in the pan (it is a messy pain to pull them out and slice on a board- unnecessary!). Stir a generous amount of peppers and their oil into the pasta. Cook for five minutes or so with the squash spread on top of everything; sprinkle with more Herbes de Provence.

This dish is happy to sit in the pan with the heat on low or even off for a long time (since the pan hold the heat) while you finish a task or when family folk are trailing in and our of the kitchen, looking for food on their own schedule.