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the food blog of an aspiring mathematician
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Tue
03.11.08 |
Cracked Wheat |
 Even in these post-food-revolution days, blessed as we are with an ever broader diversity of ingredients, it seems at least one class of foods - the staple class, in fact - has not seen such diversity taken advantage of. So while the variety of meats, fruits, and vegetables is certainly greater now than ever, when it comes to grains, most of us still restrict ourselves to a scant handful of options. Certainly that was the case in our family growing up. At nearly every meal, we'd have a big bowl of jasmine rice, imported from Thailand and steamed in our rice cooker. For those few meals without rice, we'd invariably turn to one of two other options: common wheat in breads, or durum wheat in pasta. I'm not complaining here - jasmine rice still has a permanent spot in my pantry - but I do think this is more or less the situation among most people in America, that we limit the grains in our diets to only two or three, chosen among a rice and wheat varieties, or, in some circles, maize. Again, it's not necessarily a bad thing - grains are so basic to a food culture that cuisines surely are built around the few that are most available - but while it's vogue nowadays to eat kohlrabi and edamame and such, why has this gastronomic intrepidness not spread to grains? It's certainly not for a lack of variety. Considering rice only for the moment, you have the Jasmine rice of Thailand, where white and black glutinous rice is also harvested, different from the sticky rice of Laos (which is different still from the sticky rice of Korea), the red rice of Bhutan, the koshihikari of Japan, and the Forbidden rice of China. There's the fragrant long, medium, and short-grained rices of the Indian subcontinent - basmati, sona masuri, and kalijira- and the slightly corn-flavored Samba in Sri Lanka; Italians have their Arborio, Vialone Nano, and Carnaroli for risotto; The Spanish have their Valencia and Granza for paella; In the US, in addition to imprecisely-named wild, or Indian, rice, there's the chewy and inaccurately-named pecan rice of Louisiana, which has nothing to do with pecans. So that's rice. Wheat and maize comprise a similar number of varieties among them, to say nothing of quinoa, millet, barley, rye, buckwheat, teff, and oats. This past winter I've been acquainting myself with a few of these. Each has its own perks: quinoa cooks up fluffy, with a pleasant bitter edge; wheatberries, the entire kernels of common wheat, are chewy and slightly sweet; barley puffs up to a soft but chewy texture. They're all really inexpensive if you can purchase them in bulk, and store well in the pantry if you use them up in a few weeks, or in the fridge if you want something even longer-term. As for cooking, the most basic procedure is the same: lightly toast the grain in a pot or skillet, perhaps with oil and garlic, then add 1 to 2.5 times the amount of water, depending on the grain (quinoa needs less, wheatberries, more). Bring to a boil, cover, reduce the heat to low, and wait anywhere from 12 to 40 minutes until the grain is tender. In the last few minutes of cooking, you can spread vegetables like broccoli or kale on top to steam as the grain finishes cooking. The recipe below is for cracked wheat, the crushed kernels of durum wheat (which if parboiled becomes bulgur), topped with sautéed beet greens (yep, from the beets that went into the bran loaf) and a salad of grated carrots dressed simply with olive oil and salt. It takes about 15 minutes start to finish, it's healthy and delicious, and it's become a regular in my weekday rotation.
Cracked Wheat with Beet Greens and Carrots
3/4 cup cracked wheat
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon tomato paste
greens from about 5 medium beets
2 medium carrots
Heat a small skillet over high heat. Add a bit of oil to the pan with 2 of the chopped garlic cloves. Stir for 5 seconds, then add the beet greens. Sauté for about 2 minutes, seasoning with salt and pepper, and then remove this from the skillet. Add some more oil, then add the remaining garlic, the wheat, and the tomato paste. Stir these together for 30 seconds, seasoning with a bit of salt. Add 1 cup of water, bring it to a boil (it should be very quick), then cover, reduce heat to low, and let cook for 12 minutes.
In the meantime, grate the carrots and toss them with olive oil and sea salt. Once the wheat is done, add in the beet greens and top with the carrots. Dig in and feel good about how healthy you're being.
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Sat
03.08.08 |
Beet and Bran Breakfast Loaf, Muffins |
 What to do with a sack of wheat bran? My first attempt at something was to make bran flakes which turned out, quite simply, to be an utter disaster. In fact, I wish I remembered to take a photo of it, as it was the most horrific, poo-on-a-baking-sheet type mess I think I've ever committed. So for attempt number two, something less tricky: a bran loaf! The recipe is fairly straightforward - a basic, sweetened quick bread - but I added some roasted beet puree to keep the loaf moist and to add some sweetness. Now if that sounds like a peculiar addition, let me remind you that a true red velvet cake gets its famous color from the same ingredient. This time I added some raisins and sunflower seeds, but I should think any dried fruits or nuts should do just as well. If I ever get this bran-flake-thing sorted out, or, better, if I undergo a similarly spectacular failure, I'll be sure to post it up here.
Beet and Bran Breakfast Loaf
2 cups wheat bran
1 cup oat bran
1 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
2/3 cup honey
1/3 cup canola oil
2/3 cups yogurt
1 teaspoon vanilla and/or almond extract
2 cups roasted and pureed beets (about two large beets)
Prepare the beets: trim their tops, then put them on a sheet of aluminum foil. Rub a teaspoon of oil onto them, then wrap them tightly with the foil. Roast at 450° for about 40 minutes, until a knife easily pierces them. Let the beets cool, then rub off their skins, which should come off easily. Mash the beets and/or work them over in a food processor with a splash of water and perhaps a little melted jam or honey.
Once the puree is done, combine the wheat bran, oat bran, flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Beat the eggs with the yogurt, oil, honey, and extracts, and then mix this into the dry ingredients. If adding dried fruit or nuts, mix them in at this point.
Pour this into a prepared loaf pan and bake at 375°. Extra batter (I always have extra) can be baked in muffin tins to make bran muffins.
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Thu
02.28.08 |
Grapefruit and Thyme Marmalade |
 I certainly hope you've been eating your citrus this winter. There is, perhaps, this notion that winter is only about hearty soups and root vegetables and such, only about heavy, stick-to-your-ribs sorts of meals. Such thinking can lead to a winter food-malaise that results in buying off-season tomatoes. Please. If bright and "summery" is what you want, rejoice: Citrus is at its best now in the dead of winter. Case in point: the awesomeness that is the grapefruit, white, pink, or ruby red. The addition of some grapefruit segments and juice to
raw, grated carrots, parsnips or beets will really brighten the winter root vegetables, yielding an unseasonally sweet and refreshing salad. But even then I've been perhaps inundated with more citrus than I know what to do with. It's so good and abundant now that I keep picking up more at the store, to the disbelief of my roommates, who I'm sure are puzzled why anyone would need oranges of the blood, navel, and valencia varieties, especially when the cupboards already have 3 varieties of grapefruits and 2 of lemons. And kumquats. And clementines. So for the last week or so I've been on a marmalade-making binge, trying to preserve some of this fruit for later, less citrus-y months. This latest batch was made with white and ruby grapefruits (hence the gnarly colors of the 'mixed' jar). It seems that marmalade is rather out of fashion today, no? I think I heard some chefs on the Food Network proudly admitting they didn't care for the stuff, which, frankly, I think is weird. Imagine how preposterous the analogous remark would be if referring to jam. Plenty preposterous. Well whether or not I have the endorsement of Mr. Flay here, I think this grapefruit marmalade is really good. It pretty much follows the same procedure as jam, with the exception that the sliced citrus needs to soak overnight before cooking (I don't know exactly why). For a few jars, I added some sprigs of thyme which give a pleasantly grassy, herbal note. 
Grapefruit and Thyme Marmalade
grapefruits
water
sugar
thyme
salt
Each medium-sized grapefruit will yield about 1 pint of marmalade. To begin, cut the grapefruits in half along the stem axis, then slice each half into semi-circles as thinly as possible. Put the fruit in a non-reactive container and cover with water. Let the fruit soak overnight in the refrigerator.
The next day, put a small saucer in the freezer. Pour the fruit and water into a large stockpot, and add one cup of sugar for each cup of the fruit/water mixture. Add a pinch of salt. Bring this to a rolling boil and let it cook for 45-50 minutes, until small drops of marmalade set to the desired consistency when dropped onto the chilled saucer. Add in a few sprigs of thyme, and let this boil for 2 minutes.
From there, pour the mixture into sterilized jars and keep in the refrigerator for several weeks. Or, process the jars in a canner and keep in a cool, dark pantry for up to a couple of years.
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Sat
02.23.08 |
Buttermilk White Bread |
 In my continuing efforts to prepare as much as my food from my own hands as I can, I have been making my own bread. For anything that you consume regularly, I think it's important to actually prepare it for yourself at least once so that you know what goes into it. This particular bread is really simple to pull to together and gives such good results that I've been making it quite often. It freezes really well too, so I try to have a loaf stashed away in the freezer as often as I can. The first time I made this was for a get-together to serve with brisket and coleslaw. My friend decided at the last minute to buy most of the food, but I draw the line at the Wonder-Bread-type awfulness you get in the supermarket aisles, and the bakery I frequent doesn't make a basic white bread (who would want to eat a baguette with their brisket and coleslaw?). So, necessity, the mother of my bread-making obsession. The original recipe is from the totally awesome Susan at A Year in Bread. As she explains here, a white bread like this really benefits from interrupting the kneading process by a brief rest called the autolyse: After the ingredients (sans salt!) are combined into a shaggy dough, you knead it for several minutes then let it rest for 20 minutes or so before adding salt and finishing kneading for another several minutes. Susan explains it thoroughly on her site, but the idea is to let the gluten in the flour relax and absorb moisture. Salt will cause the gluten to tighten up, so it should be added only after this rest. From there, it is the usual run down for yeast-leavened bread: let the dough rise (the fermentation) in a warm place for an hour or so until when you poke it deep with your finger the indentation doesn't close up on itself, then divide, shape into loaves, and let rise again (the proofing) for another 45 to 60 minutes until it springs back slightly when poked, and then bake it in a humid oven. I've taken to using buttermilk in this recipe instead of milk or water, as I like the slight the slight tang and richness it gives the bread. It's quite good with a few tablespoons of honey added as well. Once the loaves are done, I like to brush the tops with melted butter to soften the crust, and then immediately add a sprinkle of salt. It takes some time from start to finish, but most of it is just waiting for the dough to rise during which you can do other things. And your patience will be rewarded with three loaves of really fantastic white bread: tender but substantial, with a deep wheat-y aroma and a creamy crumb.
Buttermilk White Bread
4 cups all-purpose flour (unbleached)
5-6 cups bread flour
2 tablespoons oil
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons instant yeast
4 cups buttermilk
1 1/2 tablespoons salt
In a large bowl, combine the AP flour, sugar, and yeast, and then form a well. Pour the oil and buttermilk into the well and then quickly mix in the dry ingredients to incorporate. Still stirring quickly, sprinkle in the bread flour 1 cup at a time, waiting until each cup is incorporated. You need use only as much bread flour until you get a soft dough that might still be a little sticky - usually 5 cups but it can be up to 6.
Turn out the dough onto a floured surface and begin kneading for 5-6 minutes, then cover with a damp towel and let it rest for 20 minutes. Afterwards, knead in the salt and continue kneading for another 5-6 minutes, until the salt is well mixed in and the dough is smooth and no longer sticky. Place the dough in a bowl, cover with a damp towel, and put in a warm place for an hour or so.
Once you can deeply insert your finger into the dough and the hole doesn't close up on itself, the first rise is done. Punch down the dough, divide it into three, and then shape into loaves. Place each loaf in a buttered and floured loaf pan, cover with a damp towel, and let it rise for another 45-60 minutes. Turn on the oven to 375°F.
Once the loaves spring back slightly when poked, they are ready to be baked. Spritz the walls of the oven with a spray bottle of water, then add the loaf pans. Bake for about 30-35 minutes, until the loaves give a hollow sound when tapped. Turn out the loaves onto a wire rack to cool. Brush the tops with melted butter and then sprinkle on a bit of salt.
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 Last week, I was in Texas where during the day the temperature got up in the high 70s. This week in Washington, the highs have been in the 30s, the wind's been gusting at over 40 mph, and there are weather advisories due to the icy roads. I actually don't mind it that much anymore -- it's just something to get used to, really -- rather, I'm just reminded how winter here is a little bit more serious a business than in Texas. But thankfully, we have soup. The soups I've been making this winter have all started out pretty much the same way: mirepoix and potatoes sautéed in a big pot, followed by tomato paste, some seasoning, water or stock, and then all of this is boiled until the vegetables fall apart. Afterwards goes in the vegetables that are to keep their texture, and these are allowed to cook through but not too much. I've been especially partial to cabbage and mushrooms. And to make it a heartier soup, I've also been adding soaked beans or grains like barley or wheat berries. This time, I found stashed away in my cupboard a bag of lentils. Not just any lentils, mind you, but lentilles de Puy, the Auvergne lentils often described as a poor man's caviar. The nice thing about these lentils is that when cooked, unlike the non-de-Puy variety which become rather mushy, they take on a tender but still-toothsome al dente texture (hence the caviar comparison). It may be somewhat weird to use these fancy lentils in something as pedestrian as soup (and in fact regular green or yellow lentils would be perfectly fine here), but the firmer texture of these lentils is useful in something that is cooked long and reheated several times. I've been eating the leftovers over two days and the lentils, while certainly less al dente, still have a nice texture. Overall, I have to say this is quite a good soup. It's warm and filling, full of the earthy flavors of stewed vegetables and the nuttiness of the lentils. These and the scant few tablespoons of tomato paste give the broth plenty of body so you don't even really need stock. I also threw in the rind of a piece of Parmigiano-Reggiano, which added some roundness and complexity. With the cheese rind the soup is still vegetarian, but if you wanted to go the vegan route you could omit it easily enough. One more thing: if you haven't discovered the awesomeness that is the trinity of garlic, bay leaves, and orange zest, this is a good recipe to try it. I've been using that flavor base in almost everything lately, from soups to rice to tomato sauce.
Lentil Soup
1 onion, diced 1 large carrot, diced or grated 2 stalks celery, diced 2 medium potatoes (I used boiling potatoes but Russets are fine), diced 2-3 tablespoons tomato paste 3 cloves garlic, minced zest of 1 orange 2 bay leaves the rind off a chunk of Parmigiano 2 cups lentils
Heat a large pot over medium heat. When it is hot, add some oil and begin sautéeing the onion, carrot and celery. When the mirepoix has softened and has become slightly brown, add the potatoes and allow them to slightly brown as well. Season everything, of course.
Next, add the tomato paste and cook it for about 30 seconds until it takes on a brick-ish, rusty color. Add the garlic, orange zest, and bay leaves, stir up the pot, then add enough water to cover. Bring this to a boil, add the cheese rind, then reduce to a simmer. Cook until the vegetables are very soft, about 35-40 minutes.
Taste the broth and adjust the seasoning. Pick over the lentils, then add them to the pot and let them cook, covered, for about 25-30 minutes, until they are tender but not too soft. Finish by stirring in a few tablespoons of olive oil.
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