A Sunday Suppers at Lucques Easter: Grilled Asparagus with Prosciutto; Leg of Lamb with Chorizo Stuffing, Romesco Potatoes, and Olives; Meyer Lemon Custard Cakes

(The Mister)

(Nina)

The bunnies would like to wish you a happy belated Easter or Passover.

When I started planning for the family Easter dinner, I knew that I wanted to make a leg of lamb because for some reason the burgeoning life and bloominess of spring makes me want to eat a baby animal. I looked in Sunday Suppers at Lucques first, and I have no idea why I bothered to look in any of the other cookbooks. I mean, Leg of Lamb with Chorizo Stuffing, Romesco Potatoes and Black Olives just sounds like lamby perfection.


So I started by covering the leg of lamb in a thick rub that consisted of garlic, parsley, black pepper and rosemary, and it went into the fridge to marinate for the next 24 hours.


Note to self: do not mess with raw lamb, go running in the woods, and then get back in the car--when you get back in the car and smell your arms, you will likely feel like puking.


Easter Eve's preparations also included making Jim Lahey's ciabatta bread dough, making Suzanne Goin's Olive Oil Cake with Candied Tangerines, and making the romesco sauce. If you've never had romesco, I highly recommend that you try it. It's a sauce made from fried bread, toasted nuts, dried peppers, garlic, and tomatoes. It's delicious on all kinds of stuff from pork to grilled meats, fish, and vegetables.



The olive oil cake started with creaming egg yolks and sugar together for about 7 minutes until they reach 'full volume,' whatever that means. The other ingredients were then folded into the egg yolks. The thing is, 'full volume' is apparently a whole lot-it almost filled the bowl of the stand mixer. This was mightily confusing, as there was just no way that the resulting batter was going to fit into a 9-inch cake pan. Perhaps Suzanne meant a 9-inch springform pan, but because I didn't want to end up with a cake that had dry edges and a raw interior, I went with two 9-inch cake pans. This resulted in one ugly cake. There's a good reason SSAL is lacking a picture of this recipe.


The candied tangerines were rather pretty, though. I actually used clementines, but don't tell Suzanne. Maybe that's why the dessert sucked, but I doubt it--more on that later.








The clementines were candied by melting sugar with water and half of a vanilla bean.



The clementines were added when the mixture was simmering, and they were cooked until they became puffy and shiny.


Suzanne Goin suggests that this be served with creme fraiche whipped cream, but I decided that I wanted to go with ice cream instead. Initially I was thinking that I wanted to stick with the sweet/savory thing, so honey pine nut ice cream seemed like a good idea. But then I thought that maybe I should do just honey, or pecan, or butter pecan, or rum, or bourbon, or creme fraiche ice cream. Oh, I was confused.


So I sought out Nick's help. 'Here,' I said, 'Try this and tell me which of those ice cream flavors would work best with this dessert.'



His response was, 'Mmmmmm...' eyes bugging wide, 'Bleghhh!!!' as he ran to the sink to spit out the mouthful.

Wow. I hadn't been too crazy about it and had been considering making a backup dessert, but I didn't think that it was that bad.



'So I guess the answer is that no ice cream flavor will work well with that disgustingness, right?'

'Right.'

Nick actually thought that the cake was okay, and it was the candied clementines that he found so objectionable. He said that they were too tart, but I think that part of the problem might have been the very strong flavor of the vanilla pod. Vanilla beans, as opposed to vanilla extract, have an extraordinarily heady aroma. They're almost intoxicating, partially because they actually smell alcoholic. And, I admit, the candied clementines had a very strong vanilla flavor.


Other people seemed to like the cake, but I thought that the olive oil was a bit too strong, which makes sense, as there was a whole cup of the expensive stuff in there. I was also not crazy about the way the semolina flour lent the cake a somewhat gritty texture. In the future, if I want to make an olive oil dessert, I'll make this one.


Interestingly, my coworkers ate most of the cake when I brought it to work the next day. I've brought in delicious desserts that have not been finished, so I don't really know what's up with that. Maybe they were just particularly ravenous that night.



So back to the ice cream. At the very least, I figured it would give us something dessert-like to eat if everyone found the cake to be inedible. Ultimately, I decided to make a rum ice cream, as my brother had left some rum at my house over the holidays and he's in California, so he can't do anything about me using it. Kidding, Garrett!


Unfortunately, it turned out to be spiced rum as opposed to dark rum, so it couldn't really be tasted in the ice cream. That led me to decide to add some buttered pecans to the mix. As I was browning them in the butter, I figured that I might as well make the butter brown, because that's pretty tasty. Only later did I realize that it wouldn't go so well with the cake or the backup dessert. Oh, well.


Better yet, I burnt the pecans. I didn't notice at the time, so I dumped them in the ice cream. Only later, when it was time for dessert, did I notice their rather unpalatable roastiness. Nick said that the ice cream tasted like popcorn, which was probably a diplomatic way of putting it.


I mentioned a backup dessert--I had seen the recipe on Epicurious, it got good reviews, I had the ingredients, and I could whip it up in a jiffy. This particular fluffy lemoniness reminded me of this dessert, and it was likewise delicious. If you want a fast, economical, yummy dessert, I would highly recommend these little guys.







So how was the lamb? Awesome. Even people who don't normally like lamb claimed to enjoy this specimen. I made a 5 pound leg of lamb last year and had a pretty good amount of leftovers. This year, none.


It was stuffed with a mixture of chorizo sausage, breadcrumbs, rosemary, a chile de arbol, onions, thyme, and parsley. There was supposed to be some mint in there, but I think that fresh mint is kind of icky, so I didn't feel like buying it.



The stuffed lamb was baked until it reached an internal temperature of 120. Like last year's recipe, this leg o' lamb was supposed to rest for 20 minutes. Unlike last year's recipe, I didn't let it get ice-cold before serving it. Last year I comforted myself by telling myself that a lot of cultures intentionally do not always serve lamb while it's hot. That way I could almost pretend like I meant to do it.



The stuffing was awesome by itself, and the earthiness of the chorizo perfectly complimented the gaminess of the lamb. Rather than emphasizing the sometimes unpleasant mustiness of the meat, it made the lamb play nice.




The herb rub and romesco potatoes likewise brought out all of the best aspects of the lamb, and the romesco sauce was demolished. It was eaten as a dip, tossed with the potatoes, and passed on the side with the lamb. Man, that stuff is good.



It was all topped with black olives, which were also absolutely perfect with all of the other flavors. I have to admit that it was supposed to be a black olive salad made with parsley, mint and olives, but I just served some chopped up olives. My excuse was that I had been afraid that there would just be too much going on if I used the herb salad. 
I actually probably should have trusted Suzanne on that one, but again, I just didn't really feel like messing with mint.
As an appetizer, I made prosciutto with grilled asparagus and whole grain mustard. It was super-simple and super-delicious, so it was perfect for a party. All I had to do was put some prosciutto on a platter (I just used the baking sheet that I had used to toss them with oil), grill some asparagus for a couple minutes, and put it on top of the prosciutto. The sauce was just creme fraiche with whole grain mustard stirred into it; it was supposed to be drizzled on top, but I kept it on the side.





My aunt had decorated the table with some Peeps, which I thought was a rather fabulous touch.


Earlier this week, my co-workers thought that I was a bit strange when I confessed that I like to bite the heads off of Peeps. I suppose it's a genetic trait, though.


You know what else you can do with Peeps? Smash their heads in.

Guess what else you can do with Peeps--you can make Peep shots. That's a chewed up Peep in some bourbon, which is actually rather disgusting, so I wouldn't necessarily recommend that one.

You know what I would recommend? Peep Wars. I'll let this website do the explaining.
I found this bit of wonderfulness while I was at work one night. I of course shared it with my co-workers, so the next time I saw one of my work friends, she said to me, "Thanks, Leah. My microwave is ruined. It was SO worth it, though. Peep Wars are awesome."

Prosciutto and Grilled Asparagus with Whole Grain Mustard

• 1 1/4 pounds asparagus
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 3 tablespoons whole grain mustard
• 1/2 cup creme fraiche
• 5 thin slices prosciutto de Parma or San Daniele
• 1/2 a lemon, for juicing
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Light the grill 10 minutes before you're ready to cook if you have a gas grill, and 30 to 40 minutes before you're ready to cook if you have a charcoal grill.

Snap the ends off the asparagus to remove the tough woody portions. Toss the asparagus on a baking sheet with the olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and some pepper. Stir the mustard and creme fraiche together in a small bowl and set aside.

When the grill is ready, drape the prosciutto over a platter. Grill the asparagus 2 to 3 minutes until slightly charred and tender. Arrange the asparagus on the prosciutto and drizzle the mustard creme fraiche over the top.

Leg of Lamb with Chorizo Stuffing, Romesco Potatoes, and Black Olives

• One 2 1/2 pound boneless leg of lamb, butterflied
• 6 cloves garlic, smashed
• 1/4 cup rosemary leaves, chopped
• 1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley, plus 1/4 cup whole parsley leaves
• 2 teaspoons freshly cracked black pepper
• Chorizo stuffing (recipe below)
• 1/2 sliced Kalamata olives
• 1/4 cup chopped mint leaves
• 1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
• 1/2 lemon, for juicing
• Romesco potatoes (recipe below)
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place the lamb in a baking dish and coat it well on all sides with the smashed garlic, rosemary, chopped parsley, and black pepper. Cover, and refrigerate overnight.

Take the lamb out of the refrigerator 30 minutes before stuffing it, to bring it to room temperature. Reserve the marinade.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Season the lamb on both sides with salt and a little freshly ground black pepper. Lay the meat on a cutting board, fat side down, and open like a book. Spoon as much of the chorizo stuffing as you can (about half, or a little more) on the right side of the lamb.

Fold the left side over the stuffing, as if you're closing the 'book.' If some of the stuffing falls out, stuff what you can back in. Tie the lamb with butcher's twine at 2-inch intervals to hold it together while roasting. Carefully place the lamb on a roasting rack set in a roasting pan. Drizzle the leftover marinade over the lamb. Put the remaining chorizo stuffing in a small baking dish and set aside.

Roast the lamb about 1 1/4 hours, until a meat thermometer inserted into the center of the meat, not the stuffing, reads 120. Remove the lamb from the oven and let it rest for about 15 minutes before slicing. While the lamb is resting, heat the rest of the stuffing in the oven until it's hot, about 10 minutes.

Toss the olives, mint, and parsley leaves with a drizzle of the olive oil and a squeeze of lemon. Taste for seasoning. Arrange the romesco potatoes on a large warm platter.

Slice the lamb into 1/4-inch thick slices, removing the butcher's twine as you go. Using a spatula and a spoon, arrange the meat over the potatoes. Scatter the herb salad over the top, and serve the extra stuffing and romesco on the side.

Chorizo Stuffing

• 2 cups fresh breadcrumbs
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1 large sprig rosemary
• 1 chile de arbol, broken in half
• 2 cups finely diced onions
• 2 teaspoons minced garlic
• 2 teaspoon thyme leaves
• 3/4 pounds fresh Mexican chorizo, casings removed
• 3 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Toss the breadcrumbs with 2 tablespoons olive oil. Spread them on a baking sheet and toast for 6 to 8 minutes, stirring once or twice, until they are golden brown.

Heat a medium pot over high heat for 1 minute. Add the remaining 6 tablespoons olive oil, the rosemary sprig, and the chile; let them sizzle in the oil for about 1 minute. Stir in the onions, garlic, and thyme, and season with salt and pepper. Turn the heat down and cook for about 10 minutes, until the onions are translucent. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and discard the rosemary and chile.

While the onions are cooking, heat a medium sauté pan over high heat for 2 minutes. Crumble the chorizo into the pan, and sauté about 8 minutes, until the sausage is crisp and cooked through. Drain the chorizo of excess oil and add it to the bowl with the onions. Stir in the breadcrumbs and parsley, and combine well. Taste for seasoning.

Romesco Potatoes

• 1 1/2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes
• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 4 to 5 cloves of garlic, unpeeled
• 2 bay leaves, 6 sprigs thyme, plus 2 teaspoons thyme leaves
• 1 cup romesco
• 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Place the potatoes in a roasting pan and toss well with 2 tablespoons olive oil, the garlic, bay leaves, thyme sprigs, and a heaping teaspoon of salt. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and roast the potatoes about 50 minutes, until tender when pierced (the time will really depend on size, age, and variety of potatoes).

When the potatoes have cooked, reserve the garlic, discard the bay and thyme, and crumble the potatoes into  chunky pieces with your hands. Squeeze the garlic out of its skin and set aside.

Heat a large sauté pan over high heat for a minute. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, turn the heat to medium high, and allow the oil to get to the shimmering point. Add the crumbled potatoes, and season with thyme leaves, salt and pepper. To get the potatoes nicely brown and crisp, don't overcrowd them. You might have to use 2 pans or sear them in batches. Sauté the potatoes 6 to 8 minutes until they are crispy in one side. Don't try to move them if they are stuck to the pan--they will eventually release themselves.

After they've browned nicely on the first side, turn them to let them color on all sides. Once they're nicely browned on all sides, spoon the romesco and reserved garlic into the hot potatoes. Toss and stir to coat them well. Taste for seasoning and toss in the parsley.

Or, if you're not yet ready to serve the dish, turn off the heat and leave the potatoes in the pan; then, just before serving, reheat for a few minutes and toss in the parsley at the last moment.

Meyer Lemon Custard Cakes

(From Epicurious)

• 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar, divided
• 1/4 cup all purpose flour
• Pinch of salt
• 1 1/3 cups whole milk
• 2 large eggs, separated
• 1/3 cup fresh Meyer lemon juice or regular lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons finely grated Meyer lemon peel or regular lemon peel

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter eight 3/4-cup ramekins or custard cups. Whisk 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar, flour, and pinch of salt in medium bowl to blend. Combine milk, egg yolks, lemon juice, and lemon peel in large bowl; whisk until blended.

Add flour mixture to yolk mixture and whisk custard until blended. Using electric mixer, beat egg whites in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Gradually add remaining 1/4 cup sugar to whites and beat until stiff but not dry. Fold 1/4 of whites into custard. Fold remaining whites into custard in 2 additions (custard will be slightly runny).

Divide custard equally among prepared ramekins. Place ramekins in large roasting pan lined with a dish towel. Pour enough hot water into pan to come halfway up sides of ramekins. Bake custard cakes until golden brown and set on top (custard cakes will be slightly soft in center), about 27 minutes. Chill custard cakes uncovered until cold, at least 4 hours, then cover and keep refrigerated.

Custard cakes can be made 1 day ahead. Keep chilled.

If you like, run a small knife around each custard cake to loosen and invert each cake onto a plate. I kind of liked them in the ramekins, though, so you can serve them as is if prefer.

Sauteed Halibut with Arugula, Roasted Beets, and Horseradish Creme Fraiche

Sprouts!


I can't wait till these little guys are strikingly tall zinnias burgeoning with big fluffy, bright flowers.

Like this:

These guys will be tasty and convenient herbs.


A lot of the 10X10 recipes call for small amounts of herbs that I don't use in great quantities. I therefore figured that it would be nice to grow herbs like sorrel, marjoram, and epazote, especially because these herbs often can't be found in the store. It's just not so fun to pick a recipe that depends on sorrel, finding that the store doesn't have it, and having to pick something else. Or, finding that they do have it, using a tiny bit, and letting the rest go to waste. I figure that purchases like that add up to the massive percentage of my paycheck that goes to food, so I'd rather spend $1.50 on the seeds one time, and never have to worry about buying the herb.

If you know me well, you know that I have had an on-going battle with squirrels for the past 15 years. It would take about 2,000 words to adequately describe the scope of these issues, but I will tell you that one year, a squirrel decided to bite all the heads off my little baby basil sprouts. It didn't eat the whole plant, just the heads, so I was left with all the sad little stalks valiantly but vainly poking their bodies out of the soil. When the squirrel dug up the lily bulbs and ate the tender tasty centers I found it annoying but somewhat understandable. But only the heads? Really? That's just perverse.

Or how about the time I tried those little mesh seed-thingies that you start inside and plant outside? That year, the squirrels dug them up, shredded them, and threw them all over the porch. They didn't eat those, either. That was just to mess with me. I could go on and on here, but I'll spare you. I won't mention the time they ate the Christmas lights, or the time I came home to find one in my bedroom...

Basically, that's why the sprouts have a squirrel guard. This squirrel is here to say that these sprouts are his, and the rest of you squirrels better back off.

The onion wanted to get in on the sprouting action, too.

All this springtime feeling got me wanting something light for dinner, and I'm a little obsessed with Sunday Suppers at Lucques right now, so I picked Suzanne Goin's recipe for sauteed halibut with arugula, roasted beets, and horseradish creme fraiche.

It started with coating a piece of halibut with lemon zest, thyme, and parsley.

That is one pretty fish fillet.
How did I zest a lemon when Thomas Keller stole my zester, you ask?
I used my spiffy new microplane zester! It has a handle. Oooohh.

So beets were roasted and sliced into wedges. They were then tossed with a dressing made from diced shallots, balsamic vinegar, red wine vinegar, olive oil, salt, and pepper.

The beets were plated on a bed of arugula and spring green mix. It was supposed to be straight baby arugula, but Whole Foods didn't have it, so the mix just had to do.

The fish was then burned in a skillet. Suzanne Goin tells you to put the skillet on high heat for two minutes, swirl in olive oil, and let it sit for another minute. Why I followed this direction, or the one that instructed me to make mayonnaise by hand, I do not know. This resulted in a very very charred exterior that tasted of Teflon rather than crispy fishy deliciousness.

It also meant that while the exterior was charred, the interior was raw. Had this been tuna, that would have been just fine. It wasn't tuna, though, and I became rather flustered, which resulted in very overcooked fish. I've really never been able to pan-sear fish. I can bake it, grill it, and poach it, but pan searing? Not so much.

I'll just add it to the List of Things Leah Can't Cook. That illustrious list includes duck in any form, pate choux (if I hear one more person say it's soooo easy, my head is going to explode), and souffles.

The halibut was plated and the whole dish was drizzled with a sauce made from creme fraiche, horseradish, lemon, salt and pepper.

Try to pretend that the fish isn't blackened, and it doesn't look like some sort of humpbacked whale beached on sands of lettuce and beets. Also, pretend that the plating and lighting don't suck. Thank you.

It tasted delicious, though. I already knew that I liked cream and beets together, and it turns out that horseradish is also delicious with beets. The meal wasn't overly heavy, but it was satisfying because of the sugary, earthy, starchy beets, and it was just right for very early spring. The pepperiness of the horseradish and arugula was nicely paired with the mildness of the fish and creme fraiche. Next time, though, I'll probably cut the beets into smaller shapes, and I'll try my best not to demolish the halibut fillet.

Sautéed Halibut with Arugula, Roasted Beets, and Horseradish Creme Fraiche

• 6 halibut fillets
• 1 lemon, zested
• 1 tablespoon thyme leaves
• 2 tablespoons coarsley chopped flat-leaf parsley
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 4 ounces arugula, cleaned
• Roasted Beets with Horseradish Creme Fraiche (recipe below)
• 2 tablespoons olive oil, for drizzling
• Kosher salt and freshly grouns black pepper

Season the fish with the lemon zest, thyme, and parsley. Cover and refrigerate at least 4 hours or overnight. Remove the fish from the refrigerator 15 minutes before cooking, to bring it to room temperature.


Heat a large sauté pan over high heat for 1 minute. Season the fish on both sides with salt and pepper. Swirl the olive oil into the pan, and when it's shimmering, carefully lay the fish in the pan and press on them a little bit. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, until the fillets are nicely browned. Turn the fish over, turn the heat to medium-low, and cook a few more minutes, until it's almost cooked through. 


Be careful not to overcook the fish. When it's done, the fish will begin to flake and separate a little, and the center will be slightly translucent. Scatter half of the arugula over a large platter. Arrange the beets on top, and drizzle with half the horseradish cream.


Tuck the rest of the arugula among the beets, so you can see the beets peeking through. Nestle the fish in the salad, and spoon a little horseradish cream over each piece. Drizzle the whole dish with olive oil and a big squeeze of lemon.

Roasted Beets with Horseradish Creme Fraiche

• 4 smallish bunches different-colored beets
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon diced shallot, plus 1/4 cup sliced shallots
• 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 2 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice
• 1/2 cup creme fraiche
• 1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
• 1/4 cup heavy cream
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.


Cut off the beet greens, leaving 1/2 inch of the stems still attached. Clean the beets well, and peel with a vegetable peeler. Toss with 2 tablespoons olive oil and a teaspoon of salt.


Place the beets in a roasting pan with a splash of water in to bottom. Cover the pan tightly with foil, and roast for about 40 minutes, until they're tender when pierced. The roasting time will depend on the size and type of beet. When the beets are done, care fully remove the foil and allow them to cool. Cut the beets into 1/2-inch thick wedges.


While the beets are in the oven, combine the disced shallot, both vinegars, a teaspoon lemon juice, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in a small bowl, and let sit 5 minutes. Whisk in the 1/2 cup olive oil. Taste for balance and seasoning.


Whisk the creme fraiche and horseradish together in a small bowl. Stir in the heavy cream, remaining 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice, 1/8 teaspoon salt, and a pinch of pepper. Toss the beets and sliced shallots with the vinaigrette. (If you're using different-colored beets, dress them separately so that they don't discolor each other.) Season with 1/4 teaspoon salt and a pinch of freshly ground black pepper and toss well. Taste for balance and seasoning.






Here's a meal that I didn't mess up too badly (the rice was a tiny bit underdone, but it wasn't too noticeable):

This is one of Nick's favorite dishes, and it's in our regular rotation. It's relatively economical, and it's easy although it is a bit time-consuming. However, most of that time is not active time. It's spicy and satisfying, somewhat healthy, and the leftovers are delicious. We highly recommend that you try this meal.

Chicken and Brown Rice With Chorizo

• 2 1⁄2 lbs. bone-in skinless chicken thighs
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 3⁄4 lb. smoked, dried chorizo, cut into 1"-thick slices
• 2 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh oregano
• 1⁄2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
• 4 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 1⁄2 cups long-grain brown rice, rinsed
• 1⁄2 cup white wine
• 3 roasted red peppers, peeled, seeded, and cut into thick strips
• 3 cups chicken broth
• 1 cup frozen peas

Heat oven to 400°. Season the chicken lightly with salt and pepper. Heat the olive oil in a 4-quart dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches, add the chicken and cook, without turning, until it's a deep golden brown, about 8 minutes.
Transfer the chicken to a plate and set aside. (Pour off and discard any accumulated fat and juices.) Add the chorizo and cook, stirring frequently, until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer chorizo to a plate, leaving the fat behind in the dutch oven. Set chorizo aside.


Add oregano, red pepper, garlic, onion, and bay leaf to the dutch oven and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is lightly browned and somewhat soft, about 8 minutes. Add rice and cook, stirring frequently, until surface is glossy, about 2 minutes.


Add wine, bring to a boil while stirring often, and reduce by half, about 1 minute. Nestle chicken, chorizo, and half of the peppers into rice mixture. Pour in broth and season liquid to taste with salt and pepper. Cover the dutch oven and bring to a boil over high heat. Transfer to the oven and bake until rice is tender and chicken is cooked through, about 1 hour and 10 minutes.


Remove the dish from oven, uncover, and gently stir in the peas and the remainder of the peppers with a fork. Let sit for 10 minutes, covered, to allow the flavors to meld.

Beets, Salad, and a Lemon Tart

This is the time of year when I begin to crave sunshine, fresh air, buds on the trees, and dresses without tights.

Well, that's not going to happen, so I figured I would make a lemon tart that would give me some bright tartness, the freshness of lemons, and some sunny yellow.

As I previously mentioned, I had some leftover Meyer lemons, and I was beginning to worry that they would go to waste. Also, I was on call and therefore couldn't do anything cool like drinking wine, so I figured I'd bake.

This is what my brother Garrett said about being on call: "It's like walking around with a metal briefcase handcuffed to your wrist. Makes you feel important and awesome, until someone saws your arm off to get it." That pretty much sums it up. Before I was actually a nurse, I used to think that being on call seemed rather cool and glamorous. What was I thinking? It sucks.

Anyway, the 10x10 cookbooks have several tasty lemon desserts within their covers, but I had had my eye on this one for a while, because I like the way egg whites are folded in at the end. More on that later, though.

Mario Batali says, "I love the warm glow this gives me, both in the making and the eating." Yeah, I could go for some warm glow right now.

So I made the pastry dough by toasting (without burning!) almonds, grinding them up, and combining them with flour and sugar.

For some reason, my dough was way too dry, so I added some olive oil. Why olive oil, you ask? I was inspired by the Epicurious recipe for a Lemon Curd Tart With Olive Oil, because it's one of the most amazing things I've ever eaten. My uncle almost had a heart attack over it.

So the disks of dough went into the fridge to rest for a while. Okay, so it's supposed to make one disk of dough, but there was just too much. Something's fishy here...

The three lemons were then juiced.


These are not bleach stains. They are what happened to my cheapo Target shirt when it made contact with the lemon juice. That's okay, though, because I only wear this shirt around the house, for this very reason.

After I messed up my shirt, some egg yolks were beaten with some sugar until they reached the ribbon stage. He didn't say that, but that's what he meant.

The lemon zest and juice were added to this mixture, and placed in a double boiler. Making lemon curd requires that you stir this stuff constantly for 15-20 minutes. Should you fail to do this, you might curdle your curd, which I of course have done in the past. It's sometimes fixable, but it can be nasty.

So just to be careful, I pulled a stool up to the stove and planted myself on it so that I wouldn't get distracted, wander away, and curdle the curd.

It's a lot like when I worked in a restaurant that required that the servers make the whipped cream and plate the desserts. It was totally stupid, but that's a different story. Well, I liked to make the whipped cream, and I would put the cream in the industrial stand mixer, get bored just when I should have been paying attention, wander off, and come back to butter. Eventually, I was not allowed to make the whipped cream.

So when Nick saw this setup, he initially made fun of me, but when I explained what I was doing, he said, "Oh. I would do that, too, then."

Before I did the double boiler part, though, I pressed the tart dough into the tart pan. Mario tells you to roll out the dough, but I figure that part of the fun of making a tart crust as opposed to a more tasty pie crust is that you don't usually have to do any dough rolling, as the dough is too crumbly, it works just fine to press it into the pan, and rolling vs. pressing will not effect the final presentation.

The tart dough was initially covered with aluminum foil, which was in turn covered with beans in order to prevent the crust from puffing.

After 10 minutes, I was required to remove the bean and foil contraption. Have you ever tried to do this? It's not easy, people. And if those beans fall all over the inside of your hot oven, it really sucks. Luckily, I managed not to make a mess.

Five minutes later, when the tart crust was supposed to come out, I noted that while I would have liked the bottom to be a bit more browned, the edges were burning. I knew 450 was too high, Mario. I was too lazy to make a foil rim at this point, so I'll just hope that the dough isn't undercooked, because that's gross.

So at this point the egg whites that had been separated from their yolks were beat into stiff peaks.

The stand mixer is wonderful for tasks like this, but I unfortunately bent my whisk attachment on some really hard brown sugar while making Christmas cookies this past year. It was just one more thing in a long line of things I broke that week, including my car and the Christmas tree, and it prompted Hunter to text me this: " You should just sit down for a week. Think of what you've done. Those mojo faeries are really shittin' the juju beans of suck." I really was tempted to have myself placed in a medically-induced come until I stopped being a moron, but I persevered.

But that means that when I use the stand mixer now, it makes a horrible, head-hurting noise. I'm extremely sensitive to sound, but even Nick and Hunter will tell you that the stand mixer now makes a very unpleasant noise.

So when the egg whites had reached the required degree of stiffness, I breathed a big sigh of relief.

The egg whites were then folded into the lemon curd and poured into the crust.

As I had mentioned, this is the part of this recipe that had intrigued me.

The rest of this recipe is rather standard, but I had never seen a tart recipe that called for beaten egg whites to be folded into the rest of the filling.

I figured it had the potential to be fluffy and airy, or it could be spongy and chewy. Obviously, I was hoping for light and airy.


The verdict? Definitely light and airy. It's a lot like eating a very tart, lemon-flavored meringue on a crisp cookie crust.

I got what I was going for with the tartness of the lemons, which Nick liked. He and I agreed that it's a refreshing change from the gelatinous consistency of your average lemon tart. Not that there's anything wrong with that consistency; this is just more refreshing.

Speaking of refreshing lemon desserts, I highly recommend the Lemon Pudding Cake, also from Epicurious. It's very inexpensive, very quick and easy, and I'm absolutely mad for it. You make one batter, pour it all in to a souffle dish, and the finished product is like a very smooth, light lemon pudding topped with a light meringue. Get it? One batter, two textures. It's like magic, and the taste is like a distilled lemon meringue pie.

Do you see that huge missing piece? I would really love to tell you that Nick helped me with that, but I have to confess that I ate that whole piece. Like I said, the light filling is very refreshing but addictive in its tartness, and it's also very light, which tricks your brain into thinking that you can eat the whole tart. Anything with contrasting flavors or textures, like chocolate covered pretzels, tends to be highly addictive, and this tart works on much the same principle. That's why it's going to work with me before it does any more damage. It's a good thing I wear scrubs.

Or maybe it's not. My uncle one day came to a brilliant conclusion, which he dubbed the Hermit Crab Theory. The Hermit Crab Theory states that you will expand to fit the clothes that you are wearing. Therefore, if you wear baggy scrubs to work, like the OR scrubs that labor and delivery nurses are required to wear, you will likely begin to expand in order to fill those scrubs. Unfortunately, I have found this to be true.

So let's talk about something that does not contain a stick of butter--I had mentioned beets in the posting title. I love some roasted beets in the wintertime. I find them quite comforting yet refreshing, and I like them as part of a salad, with pasta, or with some crusty bread spread with a tangy cheese.

Most recipes will tell you that it's really easy to roast the beets, and then peel their skins off with a paper towel the way you would peel roasted peppers.

Well, that's a bunch of crap. I prefer to peel them with a vegetable peeler before they're roasted. That way, you don't have to fool with a burning hot ball of slipperiness that is actually not inclined to give up its skin.

Plus, I like the little marbled patterns that the peeler creates on the surface. Beets are so pretty.

I ate one salad that consisted of beets tossed in some commercial creme fraiche

(which is way thicker than mine, probably because I'm doing it wrong) with some lemon juice, salt and pepper, and served over baby arugula simply dressed with olive oil and pepper.

The next night, however, I made the most awesome salad ever.

Well, not really, but it was pretty good, and it was quite nice to sit by the fire and eat it with my fingers (everything is better when eaten with the fingers).

To make the salad, I made a large julienne of some beets, sprinkled them with salt, pepper and lemon juice, and put a dollop of creme fraiche on the side. Next to this was a simply dressed bed of baby arugula topped with finely shaved shallots, lemon juice, and julienned prosciutto.

All of the flavors were just perfect together. The tangy creme fraiche perfectly complimented the earthy sweetness of the beets, and the peppery, bitter arugula played well with the sweet shallots and salty depth of the prosciutto. I have to confess that I don't always love raw (I know that it's cured and therefore not raw, but you know what I mean) prosciutto, despite the Italian in me. In fact, it's probably downright blasphemous to say that. The prosciutto with the arugula, however, was absolutely perfect. That's what I mean about trying things until you find a way to like them. I figure that just about anything can be delicious when it's in the right context.

You may have noticed the piece of cheese in the background. I made the mistake of going to Whole Foods while hungry the other day. But it turns out it wasn't a mistake, because it made me get the best cheese EVER.

Actually, that title will probably always go to Parmesan Reggiano, but this cheese rocks. It's a goat cheese, but very mild for a goat cheese. It's more creamy and less dry than you would usually expect from a goat cheese, and its subtle flavor reminds me of some kind of cheese that I had in Europe forever ago. Not that that's a very helpful descriptor, but I guess you could say that it tastes like a real cheese, as opposed to the overly pasteurized stuff that you frequently get in the States.

The rind is covered in rosemary, but it's not the kind of rosemary that makes you feel like you're trying to eat a pine tree, but it's getting stuck in your teeth. No, this is the kind of romsemary that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Interestingly, this cheese is not so good with my usual crackers. You might notice that there's a box of Kashi crackers in the background of almost every picture. I'm madly in love with them, and eat them with most cheeses, but this cheese only really shone with a baguette. It was also yummy when I licked it off my finger, and I don't always enjoy cheese without a starch vehicle. It's just that good.

The cheese, by the way, is called Brin D' Amour a.k.a. Fleur du Maquis. I have no idea how to pronounce that because I really suck with the whole French thing, so I'll just call it Awesome.

Lemon Tart

(From Molto Italiano)

Pastry

• 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup ground toasted almonds
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
• 1 large egg
• Pinch of salt

Filling

• 3 lemons
• 4 large eggs, separated
• 3/4 cup sugar

To make the pastry, toss together the flour, almonds, and sugar in a medium bowl. Cut in the butter until the mixture is the consistency of fine bread crumbs. Add the egg and salt and mix well, kneading gently. (I did all of this in the food processor). Form the pastry into a disk, wrap it in plastic wrap, and refrigerate while you make the filling.


Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Butter a 9-inch fluted tart pan.


Grate the zest of 2 of the lemons. Squeeze the juice from all 3 lemons.


In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar with an electric mixer until very thick and pale. Beat in the lemon zest and juice. Transfer to the top of a double boiler, set over barely simmering water, and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture becomes thick, 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool slightly.


Roll out the dough between two sheets of parchment paper into an 11-inch circle. Fit it into the tart pan and trim the excess dough. Prick the bottom of the dough all over with a fork, line with foil, and fill with dried beans, rice, or pie weights to keep the bottom from puffing. Bake for 10 minutes, then remove the foil and beans, and cook for an additional 5 minutes, or until pale golden brown.


Meanwhile, in a large bowl, beat the egg whites until they hold very stiff peaks. Fold them into the cooled lemon mixture.


Remove the tart shell from the oven and reduce the temperature to 325 degrees. Spread the lemon filling evenly in the tart shell. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, until the filling is thoroughly set. Cool completely on a rack.