Falafel

In Portland, we don't really have a sizable Middle Eastern, Jewish, or student population, which makes getting quality falafel fairly difficult. But even if you live in a city more worldly/academic than ours, this recipe is still worth trying at home. It's got several things going for it:

1. It's delicious, and the dried favas give it an authentic taste (or so my more worldly friends have told me)
2. Like all meals based on dried beans, it's pretty cheap
3. Leftovers freeze and reheat wonderfully (just crisp the balls in the toaster)
4. If you're not insane like me and committed to making your own pita bread, it's actually a pretty easy meal. The balls involve grinding and frying, and the rest is just chopping.

This recipe makes a large amount, but I always make the full portion. The balls can be fried all at once, and then you can freeze the overage (this will take some time, but make subsequent meals super easy). Or, if you don't fancy a long stint in front of hot oil, you can also freeze the raw falafel dough, and thaw and fry up another time.


Falafel
adapted from ChefCrash on egullet
makes enough for 10 servings

For the Balls:
2 cups dried chickpeas
1 cup dried split fava beans (find at a Middle Eastern/import store - substitute more chickpeas if you can't)
6 cloves garlic
1/2 cup parsley
1 1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 1/2 tsp ground coriander
1 Tbsp salt
dash cayenne
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
oil for frying

For the Meal (pita and tahini sauce required, the rest can vary depending on what you have on hand):
pita bread (I've also used Lavash flatbreads, for a wrapped sandwich)
tahini sauce
hot sauce (like a Tabasco or Tapatio)
chopped cabbage or romaine lettuce
chopped parsley
sliced pickles
sliced cucumbers
pickled turnips (more on these another time)
sliced onion
chopped tomatoes

Soak the dried beans overnight, in the refrigerator if the weather's warm. I've been known to leave them there several days, to no ill effect, but about 8 hours is your minimum. Drain them, and grind with all remaining ingredients (except the oil) in a food processor. This recipe doesn't get too pasty, so you can go for a fairly fine grind (but not a smooth puree -- you still want to see bits).

To fry, bring at least an inch of oil up to a medium high heat. Once a pinch of the falafel mix starts sizzling rapidly when you drop it in, you're ready. shape the falafel into patties -- I think there's actually a tool for this purpose, but I use an oiled 1/4 measuring cup, packed about 4/5 full. If they don't stay together, add a bit more water to the mixture -- I'm usually alright with just the residual water clinging to the beans, but sometimes need more. Better to add too little water than too much. Fry the patties in the oil, turning once the bottom side is lightly browned. The time can vary depending on the heat of the oil -- about 5-7 minutes. Flip, and brown the other side. Remove from the oil with a slotted spoon, and repeat until you've fried as many as you like. Add more oil if the level drops to where it no longer covers the falafel at least halfway. If you don't fancy sitting in front of the stove while your friends eat, you can pre-fry all of your patties, and then throw them in an oven or toaster until they sizzle again.

To assemble, grab half a pita bread. break a few falafel balls in half, and stuff them in the bottom. Top with any of the vegetables you desire, douse liberally with tahini sauce, and a few dashes of hot sauce. Enjoy the hot/cool/salty/tangy deliciousness. Repeat as needed.

Rosemary Plum Jam

Home-canned foods, like home-sewn clothes, are not always the cost-saving wonders that their Depression-era backgrounds evoke. As has recently been pointed out, canning can get expensive. But it doesn't have to be. As a canning obsessive, I would like to share my tips for doing it on the cheap:

1. Stock up on Jars

Buying new canning jars can cost about $.75 a jar. Start trolling thrift stores and Craig's List, where they're generally half that. Yard sales are also huge sources, as people clean the dusty jars out of grandma's house, or make the wise decision not to take several pounds of glassware with them when they move. If you need to buy new, call around to a few places -- prices can vary hugely.

2. Find Free Fruit!

This is the biggest cost saver around. Here in the temperate rainforest of Portland, this can be pretty easy, and new websites are springing up every day to spread the word about urban gleaning. But it can be surprisingly easy to find fruit on your own -- in the past few weeks, I've harvested sour cherries and cherry plums (more on that below), just by knocking on doors and asking. Some folks are just happy for you to keep the fruit from rotting on their sidewalks. Just make sure to drop off a jar of jam afterwards.

3. If You Must Buy Fruit, Buy in Bulk

Getting friends together for a canning party can be a surprising amount of fun (depending on your definition of fun), as well as helping you net good deals. If you're willing to buy a lot of fruit, 10 lbs, or a full box, farmer's markets will often cut you a deal. Hitting the market at the end of the day can also be good, although it's something of a crapshoot -- farmers might be sold out, or they might be willing to give a ridiculously good deal on leftover stock (especially perishable fruit like berries).

Rosemary Plum Jam
makes about 8 half-pints

Cherry plums are widely grown as ornamentals, with reddish-purple leaves and fruit. Many people don't even know that the fruits are edible, and are happy to let you collect.

6 cups pitted and roughly chopped cherry plums
3 cups sugar
pectin
1 large sprig rosemary

- Simmer fruit with rosemary, add sugar and pectin according to directions (I'm especially fond of Pomona Pectin, which doesn't require a particular sugar ratio in order to set). Because our household is somewhat fussy about texture, I'll fish out a few of the scrolled-up plum skins as it simmers. Taste periodically, and remove the rosemary sprigs as soon as the flavor has permeated to your taste. You're aiming for a light herbal flavor, almost just a scent.

- Pour into sterilized jars, seal and process in a water bath. Although it's tempting to artfully place a rosemary sprig in each jar, don't do it! Unless you fancy jam that tastes like pine needles.

Possibly Persian Shrimp

We're not really sure where this recipe came from, or whether our vague memories of it being Persian are correct, or how different our current version is from the original. We found it a few years ago, and it's been our favorite use for leftover fresh dill ever since. Heck, we've even been known to go out and buy fresh dill just for this purpose. So when we had dill left over after our Swedish-style Midsommar party, it was my first thought. Well, actually, my first thought was spanikopita, but when you live with a lactard, you make adjustments.

Although this dish has a fairly smallish list of ingredients, they make for an interesting combination. I love that this dish has some ingredients -- paprika, tomato paste, dill -- that seem to place it in the somewhat limited spice pantheon of Eastern Europe. But then you throw in some surprises -- white wine! shrimp! -- that take it in an entirely different direction, lighter and surprisingly complex. We tend to make this with tiny bay shrimp, since they work well in a sauce and they're local to the Oregon coast, but we've also made it with standard-size shrimp for an equally delicious variation.

























Possibly Persian Shrimp
adapted, to an extent we can't say, from some cookbook we can no longer remember
serves 2-4, depending on what else you're serving

1 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 onion, finely diced

1 1/2 Tbsp butter or oil
1 Tbsp flour
1 tsp sweet paprika
a few grinds black pepper

2 cloves garlic
scant 1 Tbsp tomato paste
1/2 - 2/3 cup white wine

3/4 lb bay shrimp
~1/3 cup chopped fresh dill (generally 1/2 a bunch, depending on the size of your bunch)
salt

In a deep pan or heavy-bottomed pot, sautee the onion in the oil over a medium heat until softened, and just barely browned.

Then make a roux -- if you want to make this process easier, you can remove the onions from the pan and set them to the side, or just work around them. Add the butter or additional oil to the pan, and then add the flour, paprika, and black pepper. Whisk until the flour is well-mixed, and allow it to cook a few minutes, stirring regularly. Then press the two garlic cloves into the pan and add the tomato paste, whisking until combined. Pour in the white wine, whisking to incorporate your roux. Start with the smaller amount of wine, and add more if it's too thick -- you're aiming for an alfredo sauce-like consistency. You can bring up the heat to get it to bubble, but then reduce it and simmer, whisking, for a few minutes. If you removed the onions when making your roux, return them to the pan.

After simmering for a few minutes, add the shrimp and almost all of the dill, reserving a few tablespoons for finishing the dish. Stir, and simmer together for another few minutes, until the shrimp are heated through, and their liquid has been incorporated into the sauce. Taste, adding salt and additional pepper as needed.

Traditionally (we think) served with rice, although the heat of our kitchen drove us to use quick-cooking couscous, which worked just as well with the sauce. I imagine it might also be good with a loaf of crusty bread. I also served it with lemony garlicky sauteed greens, which were a nice compliment. But aren't they always?

Raspberry Basil Collins

After a hiatus so long I'm surprised Blogger still remembers me, it seems a re-inaugural toast is in order. To borrow last year's sentiment: why haven't I been posting? I've certainly been drinking.

A Tom Collins is a basic gin cocktail, containing gin + lemon + simple syrup + soda water. It's a perfect template to use as a springboard, which I do frequently. And it has the added bonus of letting you call the resulting drink "a (Something) Collins," which conjures up a speakeasy boozy vibe, like tough Old New York, rather than a girly fruity cocktail (which, in actuality, most of my variations are).

This current variation was borne of necessity and internet inspiration. Well, perhaps not so much necessity as laziness. I often play a game I call "Iron Pantry Chef," the subtitle of which is "What can I make to eat/drink without leaving my home to purchase additional ingredients?" The raspberry bushes in our backyard had a few handfuls of fruit, the basil finally had enough leaves to pick a bunch without killing the thing, and the cucumber vine had one lone cucumber. I had gin (and gin alone), lemon, and fizzy water. The results made for a perfect refreshing summer drink. I tend towards cocktails that are sweet and citrusy, and while this drink has both elements, the herbs and cucumber keep it from being cloying, giving a nice change of cocktail pace.



Raspberry Basil Collins
vaguely inspired by the Three Citrus Basil Cocktail in Vegetarian Times
(makes ~4 drinks)

Basil Syrup:
1 large handful basil leaves (about 1/4 cup), chopped or roughly torn
2/3 cup sugar
2/3 cup water
zest of 1 lemon, removed with a peeler

Raspberry puree:
1/3 cup raspberries (or more, if your bushes are more fruitful than ours)
juice of 1 lemon
splash of Basil Syrup

1/2 cucumber, thinly sliced (optional, but provides a nice clean taste, one that saves it from too much sweetness)
Gin
Soda Water

To Make the Basil Syrup:

Toss the basil leaves, sugar, water, and lemon zest in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, then remove from heat and allow to infuse for half an hour (if you've got the time -- and longer won't hurt). Strain, discarding the leaves and peel and reserving the syrup.

To Make The Raspberry Puree:

Place the raspberries in a blender with the lemon juice, and enough of the syrup to allow for smooth processing (generally 2-4 Tbsp should be fine). Puree until it's blitzed into a smooth sauce. If you don't fancy seeds in your beverage, pass the puree through a strainer to remove them, scraping it with a spoon to make sure all of the puree passes through.

To Assemble Your Raspberry Basil Collins:

In a glass, mix together:

1 shot gin
1 shot raspberry puree
3/4 shot basil syrup

Top this mixture with an equal amount of soda water, toss in a few slices of cucumber, and taste, adjusting to your drinking preference. Drink languorously, with plenty of ice.

Needless to say, the variations are infinite.

Why haven't I been blogging? I've certainly been eating.

But really, what's a few years between friends? I'm choosing to spin my lack of stick-to-it-ness as a good thing, as now I can post without the pesky fear of that pesky readership getting involved.

I'm sure I've eaten more than a few things in the last two years.... But most recently (this evening in fact) I cooked for our newly-instituted Supper Club, newly christened Supperbia. This gloriously-named organization came into being when we looked the 8 feet across our driveway as we stood at the kitchen counter making dinner, and saw our neighbors doing the same thing. As much as we were wedded to this parallel play, it seemed like there was a better way. Hence Supperbia. Tonight's menu:

salad of mizuna, roasted beets, goat cheese, kumquats, and toasted walnuts, with a shallot-sherry vinegar-walnut oil dressing

Turkish red lentil soup, with lots of carrots, lemon, cilantro, cumin and coriander, served with a big dollop of yogurt

Apple cake (I forgot to add the salt! ohmygod it makes a difference.)

The salad was excellent. My new beet method: peel beets and slice into wedges (these were large, so eight wedges per, but usually it's just six). parboil until slightly tender, then toss with oil and roast. Even after they're almost tender, roasting will still take about 45 minutes. More, if you'd like them to actually get roasty and carmelized (which, let's be clear, is the whole point of the thing). And kumquats are the salad-makers secret weapon. You know how people do that whole 12-step fillet thing with an orange to get segments for salad? It's the same reward, except all you have to do is slice (and pop out the seeds if you're so inclined). Plus the added points of exoticism.

Pictures to follow. Someday.

happy hour

i'm getting back on the blog, with more photos and a renewed commitment from bengt to be my partner-in-photography. first up are photos from my birthday party last month. the party took the form of an after-work happy hour, achieving a twin purposes of:

1. allowing me to try out snacks from my latest obsession, Paula Wolfert's Slow Mediterranean Kitchen

2. allowing me to have a party and see dear friends, yet also have them out of the house by bedtime

as a substantial portion of these recipes involve ways to use old bread, we started off with some nice slices of crusty baguette. i grilled these on my housemate's much-coveted cast iron griddle (and only set off the smoke alarm once). these were served with the unphotographed Mediterranean Herb Jam with Olives and Lemons -- an amazing rough puree of steamed greens and herbs (spinach, chard, parsley, cilantro and celery leaves) cooked down with garlic, olives, lemon juice, olive oil and smoked paprika. it's lovely, but cleaning and stemming enough greens to make a double batch was sort of an endeavour.





next up were sardine toasts, which were the only disappointment. they were good, but i guess i just sort of expected them to be exponentially better than the sum of their parts, but they just tasted like sardines and avocadoes on toast.







i was jokingly calling these "tunisian devilled eggs," as they were based upon the tunisian fricasee sandwiches i read about in this excellent (though infrequently updated) blog. the sandwiches involved a baguette (which i think was fried), spread with harissa (a sort of variable spice paste of sun-dried tomatoes, dried chiles, garlic, coriander and caraway) and stuffed with hard-boiled eggs, tuna, capers, and parsley. the devilled version omitted the bread (which was already in heavy enough attendance) and tuna, and kept the other ingredients (we mixed some harissa into the yolks (hence the salmon color), and piped some more blobs on top).

we also served some marcona almonds with rosemary (made by trader joe's, not me), and had fixings for lots of fancy drinks. it was lovely -- good eats, catching up, early to bed.

beans and greens

here's what we had for dinner last night: black-eyed peas with onions, garlic, tomato and celery (and the secret ingredient of liquid smoke), collards sauteed with garlic, and roasted sweet potatoes (lime wedge on the side to accent all of the above). this was loosely based upon a recipe in laurel's kitchen, and upon me having celery left over in my fridge (from back when i made matzoh ball soup), and sweet potatoes being on post-thanksgiving sale. bengt said he didn't like the roasted sweet potatoes, as they had too high a ratio of sticky surface area to roasted insides. hmm. cooking has been somewhat light recently, as i've been packing up my kitchen in preparation to move to a yet-to-be-determined location. yikes. high stress + no cooking = higher stress. although, sometimes high stress + lots of cooking = higher stress (because i've been cooking instead of resolving stressful situations). whichever. i've got lunch today.