A Love Affair with Capers and Cucumbers

I had this whole plan for today’s post that involved regaling you with my prowess of experimentation and improvisation (yet again) in the art of baking (yet again), but, alas, the weekend baking god granted me neither luck nor forethought enough to pull off a flourless/white sugar-less/almost butter-less chocolate cake. And, in the end, you are probably tired of reading about breads and cakes and the like (or at least you find me somewhat insane to continue cranking the oven up to 375 degrees at the end of August.

The cake wasn’t terrible, though, and looks kind of charming in that fallen, flat, brownie kind of way:

And if you happen to have the proper ingredients, you should probably try it (as I will probably attempt, again). The cake is almost certainly delicious, since it comes from the almost unfailing repertoire of Orangette, and really does contain only chocolate, sugar, eggs, and butter (okay, and a tad bit of flour). How could that possibly be bad?

But I come not to bring you cake, but capers. And cucumbers (for more cute recipes starting with the letter “c” and the rest of the alphabet, see Gourmet’s Sesame Street-esque September issue) – not combined together, but as two new starring roles in my usual roster of recipes (God. Can’t get enough alliteration. I promise to stop – now).

I first tossed capers into a batch of pesto a couple of weeks ago on a whim. I had been craving a tapenade, but having neither olives nor anchovies, yet copious amounts of backyard basil, I made what I thought was a compromise. A bit shy at first, I added only a few, careful not to disturb the careful balance of basil and olive oil. Struck, however, by the capers’ miraculous ability to blend right in to the emulsion, I added a few more and then a few more until I achieved that perfect hint of briny umami underneath the spicy and sharp overtones.

So. Good.

Yesterday I was again faced with too much basil – lemon basil this time – and again pulled out the Cuisinart. This time I skipped the garlic and the parmesan, and subbed walnuts for pinenuts, creating more of a pistou than a pesto, but once again added the requisite capers. This time the caper flavor shone through more fully without the competition of raw garlic and cheese, which, when tossed with raw baby squash, paired perfectly with frenchified white beans (I prepared them as I would have cooked puy lentils, with carrots and shallots) and a filet of Coho salmon (beautiful, wild caught, on sale, from New Seasons).

On the side I enjoyed the newest version of watermelon salad – with cucumber. I suppose I stole the idea from the aforementioned issue of Gourmet; however, they suggest serving the melon Greek-style with tzatziki sauce. The yogurt sounded weird, and a bit too filling to fit the rest of my meal, but the cucumber?

I have already spoke of my new respect for the vegetable in a certain beet and avocado salad crafted by a certain “Waters woman,” and I have since been looking for other new ways in which to use its crunch. Watermelon seemed the perfect match. Both are crisp, refreshing, subtle, and both pair perfectly with mint and lime (oh cucumber Ricky,* I love you so).

I chopped and de-seeded half of my yellow watermelon (yes, mom, it had real seeds – gotta love farmers’ markets!) and added de-seeded and thinly sliced cucumber (from about a two-inch chunk), about ¼ cup mint leaves in a chiffonade, and the juice of half a lime. Crunchy, cool, and with a bit of an acidic tang from the lime, this is the perfect fruit salad to eat every day for the rest of the summer – or at least until the melons are no longer ripe. Come to think of it, this combination would probably work with any ripe melon you can find, or even a mixture. Go wild!

*For my new favorite summer cocktail, muddle a couple slices of lime and a couple slices of cucumber with a couple mint leaves. Add ice and 1½-2 ounces of Plymouth or Aviation gin. Shake and pour into a highball glass. Top with soda. Sip. Sigh.

Summer Heat

In the immortal words of Nelly, "It's getting hot in herre."

Whether or not we "take off all our clothes," something must be done to tackle this, the second in a series of a predicted week of 100 degree+ weather in Portland. Unfortunately for you, readers, I avoid the kitchen like the plague. Yesterday I broke out in a sweat slicing ingredients for a salad at 10am. I had high hopes for an experiment in chilled rapini soup today, but the thought of turning on the stove to blanch the greens makes me lightheaded. So the soup will have to wait.

My only savior on days like today?

(Standing beside the open freezer door is also a nice place to hang out.)

To-Do Lists / Fruit, Spice, Party

I am a fan of lists. I make them for just about every slightly-larger-than-small task; sometimes they are even color-coded. This I learned from my mother, and I’d like to think that my list-making skills have a lot to do with how well I did in college. This said, here is my to-do list for you, reader, now that it is July and hot outside.

First, use up that extra fruit and make dessert. There’s something about hot weather that begs for fruity desserts. Don’t get me wrong, I love chocolate, but it’s not quite as satisfying on a 90°-plus evening.

This cherry-peach-almond clafoutis (adapted from, you guessed it, A Platter of Figs) was pretty killer. Almost custard-like in its filling, this confection really highlights the sweetness and texture of the fruit. And you can experiment with different fruit selections – I like to combine like fruits (stone fruit with stone fruit, or berry with berry, but I’m sure anything fresh would work beautifully).

Second, eat spicy food. It may seem counter-intuitive on a hot day to fill your body with capsaicin, but it really is satisfying. I’m not quite sure what it is – there’s got to be a reason why so much spicy food comes from hot parts of the world (Southeast Asia, anyone?). Maybe it’s because if your insides are burning up, the outside temperature doesn’t seem quite so hot.

Or maybe it just tastes good, like this dinner from Woodlands in Charlotte, NC. I went there with my parents, one of my mom’s friends from college, and her husband. Unfortunately there is no picture of the beautiful appetizer plate, but this is what we shared for dinner:

(Starting at the top, going clockwise) Kadai Bhindi (Okra), Palak Paneer (Spinach and Paneer, a yummy Indian cheese), Aloo Gobi (Potatoes and Cauliflower), Baigan Bharta (Eggplant), and Dal Tadka (Yellow lentils). We ate this with the requisite rice, onion naan, and raita. All of it was awesome, all vegetarian, and all spicy. If you’re ever in Charlotte, you should definitely visit (don’t be discouraged by its location in a less-than-picturesque strip-mall neighborhood or its extremely bizarre service).

Third, have a party. And cook a lot of food. It helps to have graduated from college, or to have someone else graduate, or accomplish a similar feat, but having a party just to have a party is great fun too. For my party, I invited 50 or so friends, family, and family friends over to celebrate, drink, and eat what I like to call Italian tapas. I had some help from my family, especially with the set-up (thanks!!), but this was definitely the largest cooking endeavor I had planned and executed largely on my own. It was definitely a rush, and I would definitely do it again (especially since everyone seemed to love the food).

Arugula and Fava Bean Crostini

Tomato and Garlic Crostini (from A Platter of Figs)

Charcuterie: Prosciutto di Parma, Coppa, and Salami from the Dekalb Farmer’s Market

(No photo: Olives, Artichoke Hearts I marinated myself, and Roasted Red Peppers)

Leeks Vinaigrette and Balsamic Marinated Radicchio with Ricotta Cheese

Asparagus Salad with Basil and assorted fresh Summer Peas

Orzo Salad with Tomatoes and Herbs

Pork Meatballs with a Tomato and White Wine Sauce

Abbracci Cookies

I took most of my recipes and ideas from Bon Appetit/Gourmet/epicurious.com, and, since I was cooking so much, I didn’t modify them as much as I usually do. Instead of re-printing recipes, I’ve provided the links for your reference. I did, however, put my own spin on the meatballs. Here’s my version:

Pork Meatballs with Tomato and White Wine Sauce
(Adapted from the A16 Cookbook)

I’ve scaled this back down to the original recipe size. If you are really dying to make about 175 meatballs, feel free to multiply the numbers by three and you’ll end up with about what I made.

For Braising Liquid:
Olive Oil
salt
½ onion, diced
1 garlic clove, finely minced
fresh oregano, chopped
fresh thyme, chopped
dry white wine
28 oz. diced San Marzano tomatoes
chicken stock

For Meatballs:
2½ lb ground pork
kosher salt
about ½ teaspoon dried chile flakes
about ½ tablespoon fresh oregano, chopped
4 oz. freshly grated Parmesan (at this point in my day, I was in a hurry, so I gave the cheese a pretty rough grate, but it would probably be better to grate as finely as possible)
1 lb. stale bread, cubed
1 onion, diced
1½ cloves garlic, chopped
½ bunch parsley, chopped
½ lb. ricotta cheese
a few tablespoons milk
4 eggs

I made the braising sauce first, so it could have time to cook and meld flavors. To prepare it, heat a tablespoon or so olive oil over medium heat in a Dutch oven (you’re going to stick all of your meatballs in here after they’ve browned, so make sure it’s big enough–5-7 qt. should be about the right size). Sweat the onion with a bit of salt. Once it has softened, add the garlic, oregano, and thyme. Sauté for about 30 seconds, or until the herbs are very fragrant. Add about ½ cup of wine and rapidly simmer until it no longer smells like alcohol, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the tomatoes with their juices and bring back up to a simmer. Cover, lower the heat, and cook for at least 30 minutes, or until all of your meatballs are ready.

To make the meatballs, preheat the oven to 400°. Mix the pork with a generous amount of salt, the chile flakes, oregano, onions, garlic, parsley, and Parmesan. Mix by hand gently, just until uniform. Put the bread cubes in a food processor and chop until you’ve got fine bread crumbs (You can also do this in a plastic bag, with a hammer-like object, but it’s a lot more work). Add the bread crumbs and the ricotta to the meat mixture and mix, adding milk as needed until everything is moist and blended. Add the eggs and mix just until the eggs are incorporated.

Form the mixture into balls, a little smaller than golf balls, and place onto an oiled rack on a roasting pan. You can place them very close together, but make sure that they don’t touch. Roast for about 10-15 minutes, or until browned. I had to do this in about 7 or 8 batches, and I placed the browned meatballs in a bowl until all of them had been browned.

Once the meatballs are browned, add them to the braising liquid in the Dutch oven, stacking gently if needed. If the liquid seems too low, add some chicken stock until the liquid reaches, but doesn’t cover the top layer of meatballs. Bring back to a simmer, cover, and cook over low heat or in a 300° oven for 2-3 hours, or until cooked through and very flavorful.

Allow the meatballs to cool as much as possible in the liquid and remove them to a serving platter. Turn the heat up to high, and bring the braising liquid back to a boil. Cook until the liquid has reduced by half, skimming off fat and residue as you go. Once the liquid is reduced, strain through a fine mesh sieve (Chinois, if you have it), and return the strained liquid to the saucepan. Reheat right before drizzling over the meatballs.