Last month, Michael Rulhman asked the world, “Why do you cook?”.

Before figuring out why we cook, I think it’s worth examining our relationship with food – the two are quite related.

Now I’m not sure what constitutes a “normal” relationship with food, but as time has gone by I [...]]]>

Last month, Michael Rulhman asked the world, “Why do you cook?”.

Before figuring out why we cook, I think it’s worth examining our relationship with food – the two are quite related.

Now I’m not sure what constitutes a “normal” relationship with food, but as time has gone by I am getting the impression that having a relationship with food at all is becoming more and more scarce.  I just got done watching Jamie Oliver’s TED Prize wish: Teach every child about food … and was blown away at how many people in our society have no idea what food is, and the negative impact that results.  I literally cannot imagine what life would be like without such a relationship, and it is so disheartening to think that some people will grow up and never know what food really is, or take joy in even the simplest of pleasures like biting into a fresh juicy strawberry that was freshly picked that morning.  After watching that, I feel now like I am trying to preserve some lost art in my daily act of cooking food.  Through every crack of an egg, every stew happily bubbling away, every soft peel of an apple, I acknowledge that my life is linked to the food I eat, and I think how we prepare our food can be quite revealing about exactly what that relationship is.

The art – or is it science? I never can tell – no, it’s the magic – the magic of cooking is that one can start with basic and humble, yet very real ingredients, and somehow transform into an entity capable of invoking joy, laughter, or tears – maybe all three even.  The process alone is a series of little miracles that I never tire of witnessing.  Even creating a delicate little cookie can bring me to my knees, and when I step back and think about it, it’s incredible really.  Who first figured out that egg whites, when prepped and baked with care, made such delectable little creatures?  What was it like to be in that chef’s kitchen the first time he/she saw feet grow out from the little almond disks?  Did they also scream and giggle with joy like a six year old, dancing around the room and hugging everyone around (because that surely was me)?  And did they discover the same lessons of patience and resolve as I did when attempting to make mine?  Maybe I’m a bit unique here, but I always feel a child-like sense of wonder when I get to be lucky enough to make such little miracles come into reality.

You see, for me, cooking is not just about filling a plate with enough calories to last until the next meal.  Each food has a story, a story that probably started long before you or me, and one which continues, ever evolving each time it is made and shared with family or friends.  Cooking allows that story to continue and grow.  It does not have to be fancy, but what we cook and serve to others is an extension of ourselves.  I try put my heart into my food as much as any lovestruck soul pours out their confessions to their beloved in a loveletter.  I think my husband sees that.  He sure knows I’m not the romantic type to wish for roses or diamonds – ha I’m way to practical for that – but we pride ourselves on the fact that it is the little things, found in the everyday routines of our lives, where we most show our love to each other.  The way of preparing food is a very personal act, and one that is a reflection of and an extension of our own identities, emotions, and aspirations.  What we cook and how we chose to cook it is defined by our past experiences, our hopes and desires, where we came from and what we learned along the way.  Anyone who tells you that cooking is not a personal journey is deeply mistaken.  Through cooking, I have learned how to find myself.

I believe our relationship with food is not just personal but also collective – because food is one of the major defining aspects of a culture – not just what is eaten, but how – during which occasions, how it is prepped, with whom it is shared, and what traditions come attached.  Food is so engrained in the human way of life that even simple things like the thought of fresh apple pie conjures up myriad memories – the first that come to mind are family dinners when I was a kid – I think of my dad trying to keep the beautiful white crisp Cortlands from being gobbled up by all of us before he had the chance to nestle the slices into his pie (what can I say, Cortlands are my favorite!); then I envision my grandmother trying to discreetly sneak the puppy scraps under the table (though I saw anyways, I wasn’t going to tell), and instantly wish she were still here so that we could crack silly jokes together that no one else understands – and then I was always laughing at my younger sister who insisted on putting ranch dressing on top of everything she ate, including the turkey.  Ha I never could stand ranch dressing – but for some reason I’ve been craving it ever since I moved overseas, I think because I miss being able to talk with her whenever I want, even if it’s just about stupid stuff.  How does that entire flood of emotions and memories, which invariably link to other feelings and experiences in my life, come from one silly little thought of a pie?  It’s because the food we make is inextricably tied to the memories surrounding it.  No matter what, food will always create strong connections.  When we make and share food with others, we are not just sharing what is on the plate.  We are sharing ourselves, and transforming each other.

So why do I cook?  I cook to eat, I cook to love, I cook to share, to have fun, to remember, to learn, to see, and to create. Even when we realize exactly what it means to be an ocean away from so many treasured friends and family, we cook and recreate just a little bit of “home”, a little compass to guide us when the two of us are feeling very much alone.

So I cook.  I will keep cooking.  For we are not just about looking back in the past, but looking forward as well.  We will make new friends, create new memories, and continue to share with each other – and chances are, cooking will be involved and our lives will continue to be enriched by this fantastic opportunity that we have being here.

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I am devoting an entire post to this cream because it is worthy of a post all of its own – I originally made this when I made these tartes au citron last week, and it was the perfect paring with the lemon curd.  Ha yes, last time [...]]]>

I am devoting an entire post to this cream because it is worthy of a post all of its own – I originally made this when I made these tartes au citron last week, and it was the perfect paring with the lemon curd.  Ha yes, last time I tricked you and only showed you the dish 75% done!  Sometimes I can be sneaky like that.  But I had my reasons, and the reason was to give the proper homage to this delicious cream.  I was worried about the tartes possibly being a little too tart, and so I wanted to make a sweet little something to complement them.  I love lemons and pistachios together, it’s such a bright blend of flavors.  Well, actually I love pistachios in just about any way, but that’s beside the point.  In the end the tartes were just fine, but I decided to add this on anyways, haha.  I really just sort of threw this together, and now that I had an entire container of it in my fridge I keep coming up with ideas for how to use it – well provided my husband doesn’t eat it all first!

There is one change I really think needs to happen from my original go at the pistachio cream, and I am going to put it directly in the instructions – that is to blanch the pistachios first, to help soften them up.  The cream was rich and flavorful and sweet, but really too gritty in the way that I did this.  Blanching the pistachios will allow you to get closer to a true purée, making for a much smoother texture.  So don’t skip that step.  It’s not the end of the world if you do, because this was really quite something to behold, but it will help immensely.  Mouthfeel is just as important as taste, and should be treated with equal consideration.

I did my best to form pretty little quenelles of cream on top of these tartes, but think I need some more practice – they didn’t quite come out as pretty as they should…

A little goes a long way with this cream, so you only need a small amount!

Ingredients:
300 g pistachios
20 g butter
200 g powdered sugar
100 g heavy cream
50 g sour cream

Directions:
1.  Shell the pistachios.  Blanch them for a couple minutes in boiling water, and then drain and cool.
2. Pulse the pistachios in a food processor until it resembles a smooth butter.  Add in the butter and pulse again until smooth and incorporated.  Add in and combine in the processor the powdered sugar, just a little bit at a time.  It will be soft and fine.
3. In a bowl, take a whisk and whip the cream.  I find this actually easier by hand, because I can control more precisely how whipped I want the cream to be.  It doesn’t take that long, maybe about 10 minutes.  When you get soft peaks, fold in the sour cream, and whip again with the whisk until you are able to form stiff peaks.
4. Pour a couple of spoonfuls of the pistachios mixture onto the cream, and fold with a spatula.  Continue to do so, gently, until all of the pistachio has been incorporated.  Cover and set in the fridge for at least an hour before use so it will be firm and easier to work with.  Enjoy!

Also submitted to – Gluten Free Wednesdays

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Yes, this is osso buco stew, not osso buco.  Why? Mainly because sometimes I am lazy.  I did not want to have to check it and baste it, especially since it was an amazing miracle that the pot I cooked it in even fit in my countertop oven.  Yes, [...]]]>

Yes, this is osso buco stew, not osso buco.  Why? Mainly because sometimes I am lazy.  I did not want to have to check it and baste it, especially since it was an amazing miracle that the pot I cooked it in even fit in my countertop oven.  Yes, I slow cooked osso buco for nearly 4 hours in a fancy toaster oven.  And know what? It worked  The veal (queues de veau) was totally fall off the bone fork tender and flavorful.  To be lazy, I added more liquid so that the entire thing really stewed.  Another part of my lazyness is that I didn’t feel like carrying cans of stewed tomatoes the half mile back with me from the grocery store, so just used some tomatoes I already had in the kitchen instead.  I also used leeks instead of onions, and then, I didn’t even serve it over the classic risotto milanese.  I just dished it up in a bowl and we devoured it.  At this point I probably shouldn’t even be allowed to call it osso buco anymore haha – so I call it osso buco stew.

But then I am one for breaking all the rules and being more concerned about cooking and eating what suits me than getting everything exactly right.  I think the world does not need to be quite so worried about doing everything exactly the same.  It’s one of the beauties of cooking, because like an art, you cannot help but add your own colors to the canvas that is the food we eat.  What would the state of art be if impressionist artists had to see the world exactly as Monet did, or if we all had to listen to music by one composer?  Well Monet is a bad example because I love his works and would never tire of seeing them.  But you get the idea – creativity and diversity of thought are good things, and no one benefits from cooking everything the same way.  That is not to say that people should not learn the proper skills to cook, because understanding how to use the tools you have to work with is important – but  a recipe is not a technique, it is an idea, a personal and unique expression.  Sometimes I think we should not be so fussy to get every detail just right, and be able to play.

I’m not saying that is an excuse for me being lazy and not wanting to carry cans of stewed tomatoes back with me – but my end creation was something a little different and yet still satisfying.  In fact, it was perfect on a cool blustery Winter day that desperately tried to be Spring.

Adapted from Marcella Hazan’s Osso Buco, a recipe I saw on Nook & Pantry because sadly my copy of her classic Italian book is in a box somewhere over 6000 miles away.  This is one book I really regret not bringing with me.

Ingredients:
1 kilo veal shanks or other meat if you can’t translate well into the foreign language that you live in.
around 1.5 cups flour (I used gluten free corn flour)
a few tablespoons olive oil
2 cups white wine
1 carrot, chopped
2 leeks, chopped
2 cloves garlic, sliced
4 medium sized juicy tomatoes, diced
bay leaf
thyme
rosemary
pepper
3 -4 cups chicken broth

Directions:
1.  Preheat the oven to 350F.  Heat up a large pot (the one you are going to bake in) on the stove and add some olive oil.  Coat the shanks in flour, and then sear quickly on all sides in the skillet.  Once seared, set on a plate.

EDIT – This is where google translate is not how I should learn French or my cuts of meat – so while queues de veau totally translates to veal shanks in google translator, I had in fact purchased tail instead.  SO sorry to those of you who read this wrong earlier!.  Ha I was wondering why they were so tiny, sometimes I can be quite dense at times.  Either way, no matter which cut you use, as long as it is a tougher cut, this method of cooking will make a tender and flavorful stew.

2. Deglaze the pan with about a cup of white wine and add in your veggies, except for the tomatoes.  Let them cook until softened a bit, and then nestle the veal shanks on top of the veggies.  Add in the tomatoes, seasonings, the rest of the wine and then finish by adding broth until the veal shanks are just submerged. Cover the pot and bake it in the oven.
3. The time to cook will depend on the size of your veal shanks, but plan on at least 2 hrs.  Mine took 4.   If too much water evaporates, you will need to add some more.  It is ready when and only when the meat is literally falling off of the bone.
4. When done, serve with the seasoned broth for a delicious hearty stew.  I would say adding some potatoes to this would be tasty as well.

Cooking Note – You may want to thin out the broth a bit before serving, because it will definitely be closer to a stock than a broth after slow roasting this type of meat.

Photography Note – Yes, that is real steam coming off of the stew – there were no tricks done to make the steam appear in that photo – it was such a cool effect to see through my lens!

Also submitted to – What Can I Eat That’s Gluten Free?

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Do you ever develop emotional attachments to your cookbooks?  I certainly do – I tend to get sentimental about books anyways, but especially my cookbooks – after all, they have been with me through some failures and successes, repeated trials, discovering new techniques and all of the crazy adventures [...]]]>

Do you ever develop emotional attachments to your cookbooks?  I certainly do – I tend to get sentimental about books anyways, but especially my cookbooks – after all, they have been with me through some failures and successes, repeated trials, discovering new techniques and all of the crazy adventures that go with learning how to cook.  For example, I feel like Marcella Hazan taught me pasta in her Classic Italian Cookbook.  The first time I made it I totally freaked out, but her directions were so clear that after reading I felt like she gave me all the confidence I needed.  Confidence is really the most important ingredient in cooking.  You have to believe in what you are doing – like if you try to make macarons and get all nervous and anxious about it, I’m convinced that the cookies somehow know and will misbehave accordingly.  Or maybe I’m just very superstitious  But over the years, I have come to depend on my cookbooks always being there, offering guidance when I felt lost.

So you can imagine the small feeling of panic when I realized I could not bring my entire library of cookbooks (well, enough to fill a couple bookshelves at least) with me across the ocean.  I told myself I could find whatever I needed online or buy them again here.  I ended up bringing just a couple of books and making the decision of what to pick was agonizingly painful, it was like saying good bye to a long time friend.  So now I am here, and when my parents came to visit a few weeks ago they brought me a gift – a cookbook from Ladurée – there couldn’t have been a better housewarming gift (well, maybe the macarons that they brought too, those were pretty darn good – and naturally gluten free!).  I love the soft velvety cover and gold lined pages, it feels so special.  And I’m totally going to use the ribbon as my bookmark, haha.  Translating and cooking from it (as it is in French) will definitely be a learning experience, and I fully intend to be able to convert the recipes I make to be gluten free.  I decided to start with a basic tarte shell, the pâte sucrée aux amandes.

The first time I made some basic apple tartes and the 2nd time I changed my proportions around a bit and decided to make David Lebovitz’s tarte au citron.  It’s fantastic by the way, and the next time I may be tempted to not even bother with the shell and just eat the lemon curd straight out of the pan.  I almost sat myself down on the couch and did just that after tasting, it was so irresistible – but I managed to bring myself to pour the curd into my tarte shells and set them in the fridge overnight.  That took an unbelievable amount willpower! But anyways, back to these tartes.  They worked really well both times – gluten free crusts are not so hard because there is no stretching or rising required in a crust, so gluten is not so important.  But there are still some techniques that make working with gluten free dough a little easier, and I totally cheated and did most of this in the food processor.  I think my 2nd attempt at the crust had more flavor, so it’s the recipe I am showing here.

I apologize up front for not having volume measurements.  One of my first purchases for my kitchen was a scale.  It reads in grams.  I am a chemist, mass and metric units make sense to me, and everyone should really weigh their ingredients anyways – if you are going to take the effort to measure out your ingredients you might as well be precise and accurate.  If you don’t believe me, then believe Michael Ruhlman – he knows what he’s talking about and describes just about how much variation volume measurements can have.  Mass measurements are definitely the way to go.

Adapted from Ladurée – Sucré

Ingredients (for four 4″ tarts):
65 g almonds or hazelnuts, pistachios, whatever is your favorite
120g butter, cut into pieces
70g powdered sugar
pinch salt
1 egg
60g potato starch
60g rice flour
40g finely ground buckwheat flour

Directions:
1.  Pulse nuts in a food processor until you have formed a meal.  If the oil released from the nuts causes them to clump together too much like in a butter, add in a little bit of the powdered sugar.
2. Pulse in the butter, then powdered sugar and salt, then egg.
3. Mix together the gluten free flours in a bowl, and then gradually add to the dough, pulsing only enough for all of the dough and the flour to be incorporated.  Then take the dough with your hands and form it into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap and stick it in the fridge for a couple hours.  You want the dough to be really cold to work with it.
4. Take out of the fridge,  and separate the dough into 4 parts.  Put the other three back into the fridge, you only want to work with one at a time.  Roll out the dough between two sheets of plastic wrap until it is thin – you want it a little less than 1/4″.  To transfer to your tarte dish, peel off the top layer of plastic wrap, take it in your hands, and gently flip it onto your dish.  Then carefully peel off the other layer of plastic wrap, and press into your dish.  Trim any lose ends, and prick the bottom with a fork.  Do the same with the other 3.
5. To bake, preheat oven to 350F, cover it with foil that has been greased and weigh down your tarte shell (beans, pie weights, etc.). If you don’t, the shell will puff up and the sides will fall down.  It will still be tasty, but you will just end up with a thick tarte bottom instead.  Baking time will depend on the thickness of your dough – mine took around 20 minutes.  Keep in mind that I am doing this all in a glorified toaster oven because I don’t have an actual oven in my apartment, so it’s not like I could digitally set the temp and the temp may not have been exact.

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Hi.  I’m Jenn and I am a chocoholic.  I eat chocolate every day.  I love dark chocolate that isn’t very sweet.  In fact, the higher the percentage of cocoa solids in chocolate, the better as far as I am concerned.  And next to eating delicious chocolate, I [...]]]>

Hi.  I’m Jenn and I am a chocoholic.  I eat chocolate every day.  I love dark chocolate that isn’t very sweet.  In fact, the higher the percentage of cocoa solids in chocolate, the better as far as I am concerned.  And next to eating delicious chocolate, I love to cook with it.

To conclude our Valentine’s dinner, we decided to make chocolate soufflés after I found out the shocking information that my husband had never eaten one before.  ”Are you kidding?” Who has not enjoyed the paradoxically light and airy yet incredibly rich delight that is the chocolate soufflé?  My jaw dropped to the floor.  To correct this problem, I immediately decided that we had to make soufflés for Valentine’s Day.  I’d never made a chocolate soufflé before, but I have made cheese soufflés and figured they couldn’t be that difficult.  In fact, they aren’t.  They just take some work.  Ok a lot of work.  Prepare for your arm to be quite sore from all the whisking afterwards.  In fact, take a couple weeks beforehand to lift some weights and develop those biceps.  Ok, I’m joking, but whisking constantly for a while does take some effort.  Don’t let that hold you back though, because the end result is totally worth it.  Like your world will come to a screaming halt and you will instantly be lifted to a higher plane of being upon taking your first bite.

Just make sure to serve them tout de suite before they start to fall!  My husband was laughing at me as I was frantically trying to take a couple of quick pictures.  In the picture above the soufflé had already fallen about halfway, but you get the idea.  Light and airy, dark and mysterious, all in one complex little dish.  Just wonderful.

Adapted from Gordon Ramsay’s Maze

Ingredients (for 2):
butter for greasing the ramekins
2 tbs. sugar + some for coating + 1 tbs. sugar
2 eggs, separated
a few drops lemon juice
100 g good quality dark chocolate (at least 70%), chopped

Directions:
1. Grease 2 ramekins about 3/4 cup in size with butter, then dust with sugar.  This will help the soufflé raise up straight.  Preheat oven to 200 C (about 390F).
2. Add lemon juice to whites and beat until foamy – gradually add in 2 tbs. sugar and then beat until siff peaks.
3. Use or make a double boiler (I had a pyrex bowl sitting in a pan of water) and bring water up to a simmer.  Meanwhile, whisk egg yolks and 1 tbs. sugar together until smooth.  Put bowl of yolks into simmering water and whisk constantly until tripled in size.  Remove from heat and keep whisking until room temperature. Note – this order is different from the original recipe (as is the amount of sugar and chocolate), but I found it easier if you are not a very fast world reknowned chef
4.  Add chopped chocolate to another small pyrex bowl, and melt over the simmering water.  Once melted and smooth, remove from the heat and let sit for about 60 seconds.  Gently fold in the egg yolks and about 1/2 c. of the beaten egg whites.  Once mixed together, add all to the rest of the beaten whites and fold until fully incorporated.  Pour into ramekins leaving about 1/2 cm. from the top of the dishes and bake for about 10 minutes until puffed up and risen.  When done, immediately (and quickly) remove from the oven, garnish with some powdered sugar if desired, and serve.  Enjoy!

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I’ve never been a big fan of Valentine’s -all those silly chalky conversation hearts that taste like Tums just don’t do it for me.  Most years it just feels like another “Hallmark holiday” – I mean, if you truly love someone, do you really need a special day during [...]]]>

I’ve never been a big fan of Valentine’s -all those silly chalky conversation hearts that taste like Tums just don’t do it for me.  Most years it just feels like another “Hallmark holiday” – I mean, if you truly love someone, do you really need a special day during the year to tell them?  I follow the belief that you should celebrate love every day, no matter what the occasion

Maybe living far away from all of our friends and family changes that sentiment a bit though, because this year we both felt that we needed to properly celebrate Valentine’s Day.  We didn’t do anything extravagant or exciting, just a fun home-cooked dinner with some wine, staying warm together inside watching the Olympics while outside the sky teased us with hints of snow flurries.

What could be more elegant than soft, buttery cod that literally melts in your mouth with every bite?  No need for a knife with this meal.  That’s the beauty of poached fish – it is relatively inexpensive and so simple to make, but when done correctly can elicit such rich taste that you have to make an effort to tell yourself that you are not sitting in a 5 star restaurant.  This is not a traditional beurre blanc sauce.  Normally you would cook the shallots and reduce wine with vinegar, only adding in the butter off the heat to make it creamy and smooth.  For this, I did things a bit differently.  Shallots and thyme were sauteed in a lot of butter, and then wine was whisked in.  The filets were then poached in the wine and butter until soft and tender.  When I lifted them out of the pan they were already flaking apart beautifully, just the way cod should be.

To accompany the fish, we made spiced lentils out of my current favorite cookbook, Gordon Ramsay’s Maze. We ate here in NYC as a mini celebration for each other right after our anniversary, so it seemed perfect to make something that came from one of our favorite restaurants.  My husband made the crème fraiche mashed potatoes with rosemary and chives and brought out the chilled Sancerre, finishing the last component to the meal.

So while we are not big on the gushy gushy stuff, Valentine’s was the perfect excuse for making a decadent private dinner for us to share.  Love does not have to be said with big boxes of candy hearts.  Sometimes it can be said just by the act of cooking and eating together.

Ingredients (for 4 servings):
4 cod filets
sea salt, pepper, thyme and rosemary, finely chopped
2 shallots
a couple sprigs of thyme
8 tbs. (about a stick) of butter
1.5 cups of dry white wine

Directions:
1.  Rub all of the filets generously with salt, pepper and thyme and set aside.  Melt about half the butter in a medium sized skillet and saute the shallots and thyme until the shallots are softened.  Add in the rest of the butter and whisk until all is melted.
2. Whisk in the wine and let reduce at a simmer for about 10 minutes.  Add in 2 filets at a time, and let poach.  Poach for a few minutes on one side and then carefully flip over and let poach for a few more minutes until all is white and soft.  Remove from the pan and plate.  Repeat with the other two filets.  Serve with some butter/wine sauce on top.  Enjoy!

Submitted to this week’s What Can I Eat That’s Gluten Free?

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The olives one can get here are ridiculously gorgeous.  Anyone who goes to the market on Saturday can see the olive sellers, who must have over two dozen types of olives.  I walk by and drool, and wish that I could just sample one of each.  Coming from an [...]]]>

The olives one can get here are ridiculously gorgeous.  Anyone who goes to the market on Saturday can see the olive sellers, who must have over two dozen types of olives.  I walk by and drool, and wish that I could just sample one of each.  Coming from an area where I only knew of about 3 types of olives, it’s quite impressive.  Actually I am impressed by the vast selection of many different foods here, but especially all of the olives.

Tapenade, while we served it with our “mezze” style lunch, it is a Provençal dish, not Middle Eastern as some might initially think.  I am sure that I broke all the rules by purchasing a mixture of Greek olives to make this dish.  I tend to break rules a lot in cooking.  But then, experimenting can be fun.  And what can be standard to some could be considered very unorthodox to others.  For example, don’t mention that you ever like to make fondue using beer and cheddar cheese in the land where fondue was born.  You should’ve seen the mouths drop to the floor at such a thought.  I still say it tastes great, even if it is not a “traditonal” fondue.  However the use of Greek olives in this tapenade was not so planned out.  It happened to be what I purchased, and then when we got home I said to myself “Oh! We could make tapenade!”

Provided you have an olive pitter or bought pitted olives, this is an extremely easy to throw together dish.  Otherwise, you need a husband as delightful as mine who is willing to do such favors simply because he is a nice guy.  A little bit goes a long way with tapenade, so you don’t need very much to make this crowd pleaser (assuming everyone you know likes olives – otherwise you are a bit out of luck).  Here is my probably very unusual rendition of a traditional southern French dish.

On a side note you know about formspring?  I created a page, and you can ask me anything you’d like! If you have a food or gluten free question, feel free to ask and I will answer promptly!

Ingredients:
400g black olives (around a lb)
1/4 cup sundried tomatoes
8 filets of anchovies (canned/packed in olive oil)
2 tbs. capers
some olive oil
a few basil leaves

Directions:
1. Pit the olives.  Add olives, sundried tomatoes, anchovies, and capers to a food processor.
2. Pulse until  homogenized, then add olive oil as needed until the consistency is “spreadable”
3. Garnish with some sundried tomatoes and basil, spread on some bread, and enjoy!

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Hummus isn’t the only bean dip out there.  And while I love hummus, tahini is expensive and can be hard to find.  I made this white bean and tuna dip to go with our “mezze” for this month’s Daring Kitchen challenge.  I originally decided to create [...]]]>

Hummus isn’t the only bean dip out there.  And while I love hummus, tahini is expensive and can be hard to find.  I made this white bean and tuna dip to go with our “mezze” for this month’s Daring Kitchen challenge.  I originally decided to create a white bean dip because I couldn’t find tahini at all (I have a couple candidates for shops now to look), but in the end I liked this a whole lot better than hummus anyways.  This dip was incredibly inexpensive and quick to make – I definitely will be making this again, as I imagine it will be especially suitable for making pita bread sandwiches  The flavor of the cannellini beans is much more mild than that of chickpeas, which I think lends them to combining with a greater diversity of flavors and tastes.  And the tuna is not as overpowering as one might originally think.  I am sure when I say tuna dip that you conjure in your mind some mayonnaise & tuna fish concoction that announces itself with its very powerful aroma to the entire world around you the instant you even think about taking it out for lunch, eliciting evil glares from your coworkers for stinking up the office.  This dip is not like that.  I think a better description for the tuna would be well-balanced.  I wouldn’t say subtle, because one does not have to search for the flavor, but I will say well-balanced.  Maybe the white beans help to mellow everything out.  Either way, the entire blend is quite addicting – we had a bowl out for lunch with our pita bread, and over the next few hours the contents slowly disappeared.  Suffice to say we didn’t need dinner that night

Ingredients:
4 cups white cannellini beans, canned (drained and rinsed) or already cooked
juice of 1/2 lemon
Extra virgin olive oil as needed (I didn’t need much, 1/2 c or so)
1/4 cup chopped sundried tomatoes (packed in olive oil)
1/2 cup canned tuna (200g)
your favorite italian herb blend
salt and pepper to taste

Directions:
1.  Add beans and lemon juice to a food processor, and pulse until all smooth and homogenized.  If too thick, slowly pour in olive oil until the consistency is that of a scoopable dip.
2. Transfer dip from processor to a mixing bowl, and stir in sundried tomatoes, tuna, herbs, salt and pepper.  Serve and enjoy!

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Hi!

I’m the gluten free husband, Ryan, and I decided today to muster up the courage and try a gluten free recipe on my own!  That’s right – Jenn was nowhere to be seen during the making of this dish.  I have been waiting on my new job to start and [...]]]>

Hi!

I’m the gluten free husband, Ryan, and I decided today to muster up the courage and try a gluten free recipe on my own!  That’s right – Jenn was nowhere to be seen during the making of this dish.  I have been waiting on my new job to start and have been playing stay-at-home husband for the last month or so.  Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed the time off and the chance to explore other hobbies.  Oddly, I did not expect cooking to be one of those hobbies that would attract my attention.  Normally I’m perfectly content with just eating the food Jenn makes.  However, with Jenn at work most of the day during the week and the brunt of the food preparation falling on my shoulders, I decided to make the most of it and found out I enjoy cooking too.  Also, there is something to be said about the feeling you get when your loved one gets home after a hard day’s work and smiles and hugs you for preparing a nice meal and cleaning up the apartment a bit.  Love is about giving after all, and it is extremely rewarding to know that I can show my love in this way as well, even by giving something as simple as dinner.

I have been gluten free for about 7 years now.  In fact, most of my immediate family has gluten issues (of differing intensity/denial).  While I have not officially been diagnosed as celiac, through trial and error and a very competent and patient allergist it is pretty obvious that gluten is the bane of my existence, literally.   In only half an hour from ingesting said evil the symptoms start, and then it takes a good few days to feel normal and human again.  Before I met Jenn, I really didn’t have a good handle on how to live gluten free, and mainly lived off of Benadryl and constant reactions from cross-contamination and lack of established gluten free eating habits.  When I was able to follow being gluten free, my diet was so repetitive and bland that I hated it.  I had come to the point where I just wasn’t even excited about food anymore.  But I also didn’t know how to cook very well back then.

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and I know it’s cliché, especially being near Valentine’s Day and all, but Jenn swept me off my feet with each meal she would make.  I was able to taste flavors and dishes that I hadn’t eaten in years.  And some things that were totally new to me as well.  I’m not saying that’s the only thing I fell in love with because she is awesome in many ways, but it’s a great perk and food is something we have come to love sharing together.  We have a lot of fun cooking together.  You may not know it, but I am the BEST sous chef ever.  I can chop onions like no one’s business.  Ok not really.  But Jenn tells me I am and so I’ll take it.

So to give back, and show her my love in return, I want to use my rare bit of free time to try out more cooking on my own.  I chose this dish because the instant I saw the recipe I immediately thought it was a perfect comfort food, and something I could handle.  Mashed potatoes blended with cheese is always a winner for me, though with this recipe it takes the idea a little farther.  When you add bacon and butter into the mix it creates wonderful flavors, which remind me of my childhood with my grandmother cooking bacon and cornbread, as well as a slew of other dishes with bacon involved.  Bacon is pretty much a constant with my family.  So making this dish was not complex in the context of the recipe but complex in the meaning, because each bite brought me back to those happy memories.  Even now at 90 years old, my grandma is still cooking.  She simply amazes me, and even today if you walk into her place the first thing she will ask is “Are you hungry?”.  This dish seemed like the perfect place for me to start.  By being able to cook on my own, I can help out Jenn more, take more control over my own food restrictions, and connect old and new memories.

I was attempting to make this tartiflette brûlée posted on Food 52 by Mardi of Eat Live Travel Write.  I doubled the recipe so that we could make leftovers for lunch, and baked it all in one large dish rather than individual ramekins so it became more of a casserole.  I also used camembert cheese instead of the traditional Reblochon.  It worked fantastically.  Let me tell you, mashed potatoes with crème fraiche and chives are now the only way I am going to make mashed potatoes ever again.  This recipe changed my entire perspective on mashed potatoes, it’s a life altering thing.  Plus, adding onions and bacon makes everything better.  I used a local wine here from Vaud that blended really nicely.  This will definitely be something I make again, and I think I can try some different variations too.

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