North African Oven Fries

Were we talking about comfort food? Well, the conversation cannot conclude until we mention potatoes. I mean really — who are we kidding here?

Oven-baked fries are something I seem to rediscover every few years. Buttery yellow potatoes, oil and heat and a mess of salt — instant deliciousness. And, you know, vaguely healthier than deep frying. Inspired by a sadly-no-longer-updated Algerian-American blog, I gave these potatoes a bit of a North African spin. They're tossed with a savory dose of cumin and paprika, and then given a bit of harissa for heat (optional, yet delicious). And then, after they roast up into soft, starchy, crisp-edged warmth, they're tossed with a bright hit of lemon juice, fresh herbs, and raw garlic (which gets just barely tempered by the hot potatoes). Pair with a pile of steamed greens, and it's a perfect dinner. Even the day after (apologies for my wan pictures), they make a fine lunch.

And if you're looking to learn a bit more about North Africa, I recently produced a story about the Berber New Year. I had only the most passing knowledge of the Berbers a few weeks ago, but had the good fortune to be able to dig into their history and culture, and how it all wraps up in a NYE blowout. In mid-January. You can listen over at NPR.

North African Oven Fries

adapted from 64 Square Foot Kitchen
serves ~3-4, especially  paired with a nice green vegetable

2 teaspoons sweet paprika
1 teaspoon ground cumin
~3 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons harissa, or your favorite hot sauce (optional)
6 large waxy potatoes (or more smaller ones), scrubbed but not peeled
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 garlic cloves, pressed or minced

Preheat the oven at 400° Fahrenheit.

While the oven is preheating, mix the paprka, cumin, olive oil and harissa together in a large bowl. Peel the potatoes, and slice into wedges or fries, and add them to the bowl. Toss to coat the potato wedges with the oil and seasoning, and a generous sprinkle of salt.


Spread the potatoes on a baking sheet in a single layer, and bake until golden brown and crisp on the outside, about 25-30 minutes (depending upon how thick you've cut them), turning once.

While the potatoes are cooking, place the cilantro, lemon juice, and garlic in a bowl (you can re-use the same bowl you used earlier). When the potatoes are baked, tip them into the bowl, and toss to coat. The hot potatoes will temper the garlic, and everything should smell amazing. Taste, add additional salt or harissa as needed, and serve.

Roasted Eggplant with Saffron Yogurt

As someone who allots about 15 minutes to shower, dress, and get out the door most mornings, it's possible I underestimate the importance of physical appearance. We should care about inner beauty, right? Not the creative hairstyles resulting from my shower-then-apply-bike-helmet morning ritual. Similarly, food should be eaten because it's delicious, right? Not because it's pretty or artfully fussed-over. Right?

Well, kind of. When it comes to food, sure, we're after delicious. But aesthetics are actually a kind of delicious, too. A counterpoint of colors, careful placement of items on the plate — all of these can shape your whole experience. I'm not talking about 80s-style fussy towers of food, or sauces applied with squeeze bottles in the home kitchen. I'm just talking about taking the smallest of moments to highlight something about the food itself, about the ingredients and occasion and wonder of it all. I'm talking about this salad.

This combination is classic Ottolenghi, just a few simple ingredients that come together in deliciously unexpected ways. And also: so gorgeous! Eggplant is roasted until butter-soft, then topped with a bright yellow saffron yogurt, fragrant green basil leaves, pine nuts, and pomegranates that provide a punchy little pop of tart flavor (as well as garnet-bright color). It's surprising, perfectly balanced, and easy. And beautiful.

Just as the fiery fall palette of leaves makes you take a deep breath in awe of the seasons, this gorgeous plate of late-fall produce captures a bit of that on a smaller scale. Sure, it's just a salad of fall vegetables, a bit of yogurt and nuts. But — as this presentation makes clear — that, in and of itself, can be beautifully amazing.

Roasted Eggplant with Saffron Yogurt

Both the eggplant and saffron yogurt can be prepared in advance, making this a perfect make-ahead dinner party dish. I tripled the amount of eggplants and salad elements and doubled the yogurt, and fed a Rosh Hashanah dinner party of 18 people with a bit of leftovers. You can also substitute a saffron tahini sauce for the yogurt sauce (as we did for one platter) for any dairy-free/vegan guests.

adapted from Ottolenghi: The Cookbook
serves ~4-5, or more as part of a larger spread

2-3 good-sized Italian eggplants, unpeeled
olive oil for brushing
2 tablespoons pine nuts, toasted
1 handful of pomegranate seeds (maybe 1/3 of a pomegranate, depending upon size)
1 handful of basil leaves

Saffron Yogurt:
1 pinch saffron, infused in a few spoonfuls of hot water for a few minutes
2/3 cup Greek yogurt
1-2 garlic cloves, crushed
juice of 1/2 lemon
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt to taste

To cook the eggplants: Preheat your oven to 425° Farenheit. Cut the eggplants into 1/2-inch thick rounds, brush each side with oil, and place in a single layer on a baking tray (you may need to do this in a few batches). Sprinkle with salt, and bake until they soften and brown on the bottom, ~7-10 minutes. Flip over, sprinkle with salt again, and return to the oven until the second side is browned and the eggplant is butter-soft. Transfer to a container and cool (if you don't use a ton of oil, the eggplant may dry out a wee bit on the edges, but if you transfer them to a covered glass container while still warm, they'll soften up beautifully). Let cool, and, if desired, refrigerate up to three days.

To make the saffron yogurt: Whisk together all ingredients until smooth, and adjust seasonings to taste (I was initially wondering whether olive oil was necessary, but it does a lovely job of rounding out the flavors). This can also be made up to three days in advance.

To assemble the salad: If you made the eggplant in advance, allow to warm to room temperature. Lay the eggplant slices on individual plates (or, ideally, a nice dramatic platter). Drizzle generously with the saffron yogurt, then sprinkle the pine nuts, pomegranate seeds, and basil leaves. Serve.

Couscous Salad with Spinach, Feta, Cherry Tomatoes and Herbs

Sometimes I'm all over the perfect dish for the season, anticipating things a few weeks out. These past few weeks I've been chafing at the bit with a lovely concord grape recipe, calling a circuit of grocery stores every few days to ask Are they in yet? How about tomorrow? Maybe Monday? I'm surprised the produce departments keep answering the phone. But other times, well -- not so much. And so, as the cold and windy rains roll into Portland, I present to you the perfect picnic dish. On the bright side, it'll still be good for Autumnal potlucks.

As I've mentioned before, I'm a sucker for the combination of spinach and feta. But instead of a warm and uber-cheesy casserole, this is a light, herb-studded couscous salad (even healthier if you, like me, go with whole wheat couscous), with bright and juicy cherry tomatoes offsetting the small amount of briny feta. The spinach is just slightly wilted enough to be manageable and allow you to stuff copious amounts of it into the finished salad (using the residual heat of the couscous along with the old Mediterranean trick of rubbing it with salt), but it's still bright green and fresh-tasting. Thanks to a sweep at the farmer's market I used a combination of fresh basil, dill, parsley and mint, but it would be good with a few handfuls of whatever fresh herbs you have.

And speaking of things you think of just in the nick of time, here's an article about matzo ball soup, in honor of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year that begins tomorrow night. Perhaps getting a bit more on top of things will be one of my resolutions.

Couscous Salad with Spinach, Feta, Cherry Tomatoes and Herbs

makes a sizable picnic or potluck contribution, or serves ~6 as a light main dish

2 1/2  cups water or broth
2 cups whole wheat couscous
~1/4 cup olive oil, divided
1 bunch spinach, washed and chopped fairly small
3 scallions, thinly-sliced
1 large handful fresh dill, chopped
1 large handful fresh parsley, chopped
1 large handful fresh mint, chopped
1 small handful fresh mint, chopped
juice of 1 lemon
scant 1/4 cup crumbled feta
1/2 pint cherry tomatoes (I'm currently obsessed with sungolds), halved, or quartered if they're large
salt and pepper

Heat the water or broth (salt it if you're using water) to a boil in a pot. Add the couscous and a dollop of olive oil. Stir and bring it back to a boil, then turn off the flame and let sit, covered, for five minutes.

While the couscous is sitting, place the spinach in a large bowl. Sprinkle it with a bit of salt, then scrunch it in your hands to distribute the salt and cause the spinach to wilt slightly. Top with the scallions.

When the couscous is done, fluff it with a fork, and tip it on top of the spinach and the scallions, letting the heat of the couscous soften the greens. Let sit a few minutes while you chop the remaining fresh herbs.

After the couscous has sat for a few minutes, add the remaining herbs along with the remaining olive oil and the lemon juice. Toss, mixing the ingredients well (which will also cool off the couscous a bit). Add the feta, cherry tomatoes and a few grinds of pepper, and toss gently to combine. Taste and adjust seasonings and olive oil/lemon juice balance as needed. Serve warm or cold.

Garlicky Sesame-Cured Broccoli Salad

My neighbor is a somewhat evangelical member of a local women's gym. In addition to the usual elliptical trainers and weight machines, the gym has one feature she prizes above all else: a light room. This small tiled room, just big enough for four chairs, features a large full-spectrum light, an aromatherapy machine, and a pile of trashy magazines. On these rainy Northwest days (which we are still having), gym members love nothing more to sit and soak up a little vitamin D and tabloid gossip. The smell of eucalyptus will now be forever associated with the Kardashians.

Thanks to the magic of the Groupon, I've joined my neighbor these last few weeks. I've sweated and gasped through cardio workouts that probably wouldn't phase a ten-year-old, and ended up painfully sore from lifting teensy weights. And I've spent a good amount of time sitting in the light room. I keep meaning to bring my own reading material (my book club is now planning an unseasonable summer-long trip through Dickens' Bleak House), but why do that when I can read about the romantic lives of celebrities I've never heard of?

Last week I was leafing through one such magazine in the faux sun, which featured an article on weight-loss lifestyle tips of nutritionists to the stars. In addition to the usual strategies of not eating every appetizer at the party (a strategy I forgot to keep in mind last night), they recommended limiting your diet to a short list of approved foods. The idea wasn't just to keep you from eating unhealthful items, but to literally bore you into weight loss. If you're only allowed egg whites, chicken breasts, and blueberries, you evidently start eating less because you're tired of egg whites, chicken breasts, and blueberries. Which just seems sad.

Like most people, I crave variety in my diet. I try new foods and new preparations, get excited about unfamiliar techniques and cuisines. And I reckon to say that I'm more satisfied with a meal that packs an excitingly novel punch of flavors. I get on short-lived kicks where one particular ingredient or dish goes into heavy rotation, but for the most part I want to try to do new things in the kitchen. Except when it comes to green vegetables.

My preparation of chard, broccoli, spinach and the like looks like this:

1. heat a bit of olive oil
2. add garlic, saute until fragrant
3. add green vegetable, cook until done
4. squeeze lemon wedge and sprinkle salt over the top
5. eat

Every now and then I'll throw said vegetable in the defective rice cooker that serves as our steamer basket, or turn it into a Thai curry or Indian saag, but 9 times out of 10 I run through the steps above. Other members of the household have mentioned a desire for something other than garlicky lemony greens, but I generally push these requests aside. It's a culinary rut I can't seem to break out of. But that all might change with this garlicky sesame-cured broccoli salad.

This recipe comes from the never-disappointing Melissa Clark. The broccoli is technically raw, but it gets tossed with a bit of vinegar and salt (as well as some warm garlicky oil). As the broccoli sits, the acid softens it, leaving it with an addictive crunchy-yet-yielding texture, somewhere between raw and cooked, and a beautifully bright green flavor. A bit of toasted sesame oil and some cumin seeds give it a nutty depth (and go together so well I wonder why I haven't paired them before), and a pinch of chili flakes provide heat. Variety never tasted so satisfyingly delicious.


Garlicky Sesame-Cured Broccoli Salad

adapted from Melissa Clark in The New York Times
serves ~4

2 tsp vinegar of your choosing (Clark recommends red wine, we used a mix of rice wine and balsamic)
1 tsp coarse salt
2 lbs broccoli crowns (~2 large heads), washed and broken into small florets
1/3 cup olive oil
4 large cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp cumin seeds
2 tsp toasted sesame oil
large pinch crushed red chile flakes

In a large bowl, mix together the vinegar and salt. Add the broccoli, and toss to combine. Set aside.

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil until hot but not smoking. Add the garlic and cumin seeds, and cook until fragrant (it should only take a minute). Add the sesame oil and chile flakes. Turn off the heat, and pour the hot mixture over the broccoli, tossing well so that the hot oil coats everything. Let sit for at least an hour, for the broccoli to soften and the flavors to develop. Taste before serving and adjust seasonings if needed.

Moroccan Carrot and Chard Salad

It's hard to know what to cook these days. We're not yet into the brown-leafed, squash-studded days of fall here in Portland, but at the same time it's not really summer either. We've been alternating between barbecue-ready sunny afternoons, and rainy cold days that make you wonder if it's not too soon to dig out your wool sweaters. Hot soup? Cold salad? Hard to say.

This carrot and chard dish is one of my favorite recipes for these liminal days. It's a warm salad from the Moroccan tradition, pairing cooked carrots and chard with a bright herbal dressing. The recipe comes from Wolfgang Puck's contribution to The New York Times Passover Cookbook, and it's graced our Passover table for the past two years. The seder meal is often a celebration of Spring, and sprightly spears of asparagus are a common choice. But it's also right on the seasonal cusp, and depending upon the particulars of the Jewish calendar and the weather patterns, Passover can happen weeks before the chilly fields are even thinking about asparagus. This dish is a perfect choice for times like these, and not just because the shoulder crops of roots and greens are in season: the earthy/sweet carrots and rich chard provide a hearty, autumnal base, but the bright lemon juice and parsley perk things up with bright and sunny notes. On these strange days, when you wrap a thick cardigan around your sleeveless shirt, it's the perfect recipe.


Moroccan Carrot and Chard Salad

adapted, heavily, from Wolfgang Puck's recipe in The New York Times Passover Cookbook (I roasted instead of simmered the carrots, upped the parsley, reduced the oil, and made a few other tweaks)

serves 4-6 as a side dish

2 lb carrots, peeled and cut on the diagonal into 1" chunks (or longer if you like a more dramatic presentation)
1/4 cup olive oil, divided
1 tsp ground cumin
1 large bunch (or two small bunches) Swiss chard, coarsely chopped (stems included)
1 clove garlic, pressed
zest and juice of 1 lemon
salt and pepper
1/2 large bunch (or 1 small bunch) flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Toss the carrots in a baking dish with 1 Tbsp of the olive oil, and sprinkle on the cumin and a few pinches of salt. Stir to coat the carrots with the oil and seasonings. Roast, stirring occasionally, until the carrots are soft and caramelizing on the edges, about 25-30 minutes (adjust the time depending upon how well-caramelized you like your carrots). Remove from the oven and set aside.

While the carrots are roasting, steam the chard in a steamer basket until wilted and soft, about 5-10 minutes. If you don't have a steamer basket, you can just simmer the chard for a few minutes in a large pot of boiling water, then drain well. Set aside.

In the meanwhile, make the dressing: mix together the remaining olive oil, garlic, and lemon juice and zest, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Place the carrots on a serving dish, top with the chard and parsley, and then pour the dressing over everything. You can toss to combine, or leave as is, like a composed salad. Serve warm. It's even nicer as the flavors sit and combine, but I seldom wait that long.