Spinach Feta Fritters

As you may know, I have a well-documented fritter problem. If it's a vegetable and I like it, I'll probably try to turn it in to a fritter. Therefore, one of my all-time favorite flavor combinations--spinach, feta, pine nuts, and tomato--was just begging to be turned into patty form. Here's the result; I hope you like it.

Spinach Feta Fritters

• 2 bunches fresh spinach (a little less than 2 lbs)
• 2 eggs
• rounded 1/4 cup feta cheese
• 1/2 cup tomato sauce
• Juice of 1/4 lemon
• 1/4 cup pine nuts
• 1/2 cup flour
• 1 teaspoon Kosher salt, plus more to taste
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2-3 tablespoons canola oil

Set a very large pot of water on the stove to boil. In the meantime, fill a large bowl with water. Cut the stems off the spinach bunches, and place the leaves in the bowl of water. Swish them around until all the dirt is removed, and place the leaves in a colander.

While you'res still waiting for the water to boil, toast the pine nuts in a toaster oven or a 350 degree oven. When the water boils, add the spinach and cook until tender but still bright green, about 2 minutes. Remove the spinach to the colander. There's really no need for an ice bath.

When the spinach has cooled, squeeze the water out of it. Don't drive yourself crazy, though--it doesn't have to be completely dry. Chop the spinach as fine as you can, again without driving yourself crazy.

In a large bowl, combine the eggs, feta, tomato sauce, lemon juice, pine nuts, flour, salt, pepper, and spinach, and mix well. In a large non-stick skillet, heat 1 tablespoon oil until shimmering. Add enough spinach mixture to the pan to make a patty that's about 3 inches in diameter.

Cook until the top starts to look a little firm, and the bottom edges look a little dried out. Flip--the top should be nicely browned. Cook the other side until golden brown, just a little longer (the second side will cook faster than the first).

Taste this fritter and adjust for seasoning--add more salt, pepper, and lemon juice as necessary. Also, if the batter is too thin, add a little bit of flour. Once the seasoning is correct, cook the rest of the batter in the same manner, adding more oil to the pan as necessary.

Malfatti: Ricotta and Swiss Chard Dumplings

Do you ever read a cookbook, food blog, or food magazine, and a recipe just reaches out, smacks you, and screams, "You must make me!"? That's what happened to me with this recipe. I don't know why, but when I saw it in this month's Saveur, I instantly decided that I had to try it. And because these little dumplings are basically like ricotta gnocchi, I was finally motivated to make homemade ricotta the way I'd been planning to do for approximately 5 months. 

You can make a whole meal out of these little dumplings, or you can serve them as a side. As an added benefit, they freeze well, and you don't even have to defrost them--just throw them in a pot of boiling water the same way you would with the unfrozen dumplings.

The original recipe called for sage leaves to be gently cooked in some butter along with the boiled dumplings. I tried this and wasn't crazy about it, but I left the sage leaves in the pictures because they looked pretty. You can certainly try adding some sage leaves to the butter as the dumplings cook; if you try it, let me know how you like it. I was kind of thinking that rosemary might work well, and I was also thinking that olive oil rather than butter might be nice. But whether you use herbs or not, you should definitely add pine nuts; they weren't in the original recipe, but in my opinion, they made the dish. And one last change--I used less butter than the original recipe called for because the original recipe called for a total of 16 tablespoons, which I just couldn't do.

Malfatti:

Ricotta and Swiss Chard Dumplings

(Adapted from Sauveur)

• 1 pound ricotta
• 1 tsp Kosher salt, plus more to taste
• 2 bunches Swiss chard (about 2 pounds), tough inner stems removed
• 1 10 oz box frozen chopped spinach, defrosted (or two more bunches Swiss chard--that's what the original recipe called for)
• 6 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1/4 flour, plus more as needed
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 4 egg yolks
• 1 egg
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 tablespoons butter
• A handful of pine nuts
• Optional: 24 sage leaves

Make your own ricotta and drain it well, or put store-bought ricotta in a cheesecloth-lined strainer set over a bowl and let drain overnight in the refrigerator. Measure 1 1/4 cups drained ricotta and reserve any extra for another use.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and add chard; cook until tender, about 3-5 minutes. Drain chard and let cool. Squeeze chard with your hands to expel liquid. Place chard and spinach in a tea towel and squeeze to remove as much water as possible.

Transfer the chard and spinach to a food processor and pulse until finely chopped. Transfer chard to a large bowl along with the ricotta, 1 teaspoon salt, melted butter, flour, nutmeg, egg yolks, and egg. Season with pepper and mix until smooth.

Test one dumpling--in a large pot of salted water, cook the dumpling until it floats to the surface. If it falls apart during this process, add more flour. Also taste the dumpling for seasoning, and adjust as needed. Using 2 spoons, shape 1 teaspoon at a time into an oval (like making a quenelle). Place the dumplings on a lightly floured baking sheet.

If you're not cooking the dumplings immediately, freeze them at this point. Later, when you would like to cook them, just throw them in a pot of boiling water--there's no need to defrost them first.

In a large skillet, melt 2 tablespoons butter over medium-high heat. Add the pine nuts (add the sage leaves at this point if you would like to use them) and dumplings and cook, tossing frequently, until the pine nuts and dumplings are nicely browned. Serve.

Mushroom Crostini, Bronzini with Olives, Pine Nut Pilaf, Sauted Broccoli Rabe

"Fish heads,

fish heads,

roly-poly fish heads..."

I can't believe it, but this was my first time cooking whole fish. Why? I don't know. Don't be afraid, people--it's actually far more difficult to screw up than a filet.

First, though, we had some mushroom crostini. I had some mushrooms leftover from the veal packets, and I had bought a baguette because my Dad insists that bread is a necessary part of a nice dinner, and we don't have it often enough. Especially when the meal involves any kind of sauce, he berates me for not providing bread. Just kidding! He doesn't berate me. He chides me. Kidding!

I also had a leftover leek from the night before, so it was sliced and suteed in a bit of olive oil. The mushrooms were then added, and when they were tender and brown, some creme fraiche and white wine were added. The mushrooms were spooned on top of some baguette slices and topped with minced chives.

Mario Batali's recipe calls for snapper, but the whole snapper at Whole Foods was a whopping 5 pounds. We certainly didn't need that much fish, and the smaller rainbow snapper did not look too impressively fresh. I usually have no qualms about substituting one fish for another if they're similar fish, and I figured that this was an Italian dish, and bronzino are a European fish that have long been very popular in Italy. They're becoming more well known (trendy) on our shores, and I have been wanting to try them.

I just looked them up to make sure they are what I thought they are, though, and I learned that they're being overfished, and there's talk about passing legislation to conserve them. Oops. My bad. Hopefully they were farm raised.

In order to cook our particular specimens of this dimishing species, Hunter and I first prepared the mis en place, which consisted of rinsed capers, diced olives, white wine, lemon zest, lemon juice, and sliced lemons. Holy crap that's a lot of lemons. That's why you should always read the whole recipe before attempting to make it, or even shop for it. Luckily, Whole Foods had Meyer lemons at a great price, so I had bought a lot of them.

This was also fortuitous because I tend to not like recipes that contain a lot (or sometimes even a little bit) of lemon. I almost always use less lemon than a recipe calls for because I find that a tiny bit can overwhelm an entire dish.

For example, I once made a pea and prosciutto risotto that called for something like a tablespoon of lemon zest. This sounded crazy to me, so I used less that a teaspoon. Unfortunately, even that amount overpowered that dish to the extent that I could taste almost nothing else.

So, like I said, the Meyer lemons really came in handy because Meyer lemons tend to be sweeter and less acidic than normal lemons. The sauce ended up having the perfect amount of lemon, which complimented the fish, olives and capers without competing with them. I'm not sure if I would have liked this without Meyer lemons, so if I make it again, it will certainly be when these sweet little lemons are in season.

After the mis en place was ready, the fish were scored on both sides, tossed in flour, and seasoned with salt and pepper.




I heated some oil in a saute pan until it was smoking, and added the fish.


This is the point where Hunter reminded me that once that stupid #$*% electric stove finally gets hot, it gets really hot. Well, you need high heat to pan-sear stuff, right? It's fine. So after the fish got a nice golden...whoops, I mean blackened sear, they were flipped over, the rest of the ingredients were added, and the whole thing went into a 450 degree oven for 10 minutes. Okay, Hunter. You can say, 'I told you so.' I'm getting used to hearing that.

While the fish was cooking, we made the rice pilaf by toasting some jasmine rice, adding too little water, and adding toasted pine nuts and diced chives when I thought it was finished.

I guess I learned the hard way that if you toast the rice first, you may need to add extra water. I should also know by now that if the rice looks done, I still need to taste it. At least I didn't burn the pine nuts, though.

I am a master when it comes to pine nut burning. No matter what toasting method I'm employing, I will manage to burn those nuts. And the worst part is that while they're browning, I'll start thinking to myself, 'Hmmm. What's that smell?' Finally when it starts to smell burnt and not just delicious, I remember the expensive pine nuts in the toaster oven, convection oven, or skillet. The last time I made pesto, after the third time that Nick heard "F***" come from the kitchen, he offered to toast the pine nuts for me.

So when I said aloud at my Dad's house, "What's that smell?" and then actually remembered that there were pine nuts in the toaster oven, I was so proud of myself. So the pine nuts were quite delicious with the fish, and almost made up for the fact that the rice was dry and I didn't use enough chives.

I had thought that a hearty green vegetable would be quite nice with the tart and salty flavors of the fish, so I chose broccoli rabe, also known as rapini. It seemed very Italian, and I rarely get to eat it because Nick doesn't like it. I just love how you can take the whole bunch, roughly chop it up, and throw it in a pot or skillet that has some lightly browned garlic and some olive oil in it. It then cooks with a minimum of observation or fussing required. At some point you can throw in some white wine, and finish it with some lemon juice.

Well, every bunch of broccoli rabe differs, and this one happened to be very bitter. I liked it but couldn't finish my portion, and Hunter didn't care for it. It was good the next day, though, and I might eat the last tiny bit of leftovers with some feta or goat cheese.

Nick and I make a pizza that's brushed with garlic oil, topped with caramelized onions and broccoli rabe, and finished with lemon and goat cheese. It's delicious, and all that broccoli rabe is just packed with vitamins A, C, and K, as well as potassium, calcium, and iron.

So I mentioned that the lemon, caper and olive sauce was nicely balanced and not too lemony, but how did the fish taste? Well, the flavor was delicious and the texture was incredibly moist. The fish was flaky but a bit firm at the same time. This may be thanks to the fact that it was cooked whole, as the cartilaginous bones purportedly kind of melt into the flesh a bit, and the resulting gelatin contributes to the texture of fish cooked in this manner.

And remember that I mentioned that it's a lot harder to mess up a whole fish than a filet? It's true! The charred bits on the bronzino tasted okay, and the texture didn't suffer. Had I cooked a filet so indelicately, though, it would have been a mess.

While the bones were in some ways advantageous, they were some tricky little buggers. It seems that Bronzino are some bony, bony fish, and the more wicked of those bones tend to come loose from the spine. It is therefore not what I would call 'date food,' as you end up picking stuff out of your mouth and putting it on the edge of your plate.

Worse, though, was the fact that I was experiencing recurring visions of one of my family members choking with horrendous and catastrophic results. I was sitting there imagining how I would feel guilty for the rest of my life, and I may never be able to cook anything ever again. A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but these bones were kind of scary.


Luckily, though, no one even came close to having one of those wickedly curved rib bones stuck in their throats or digestive tracts. When the edible parts of the fish had been decimated, Hunter and I turned our attention to the fish's eyeballs. I tried to convince Hunter that many cultures consider the eyes a delicacy, and he should therefore try one. I believe that this is actually true, but it's a lot like the days when I would get Hunter to eat the mud pies that we made in the garden. Sorry about that, bro.



I like how the vitreous humor is leaking out of this one.

No go. Hunter will attempt to eat anything, as long as it's raw. This has at times had very amusing results, but the cooked fish eyeballs were not happening. We did eat the cheeks because these are in many cultures truly considered the best part of the fish, but our little fishies were a bit to small to really get a sense of the taste or texture of the cheeks.

I have some lemons left over, so I believe I'll make a lemon tart, and make some candied lemon peels with the leavings. Meyer lemons actually have edible skins, so they might make some particularly nice candied peels. Or they might just fall apart. We'll see.

Mushroom Crostini

• A baguette, cut on a bias into 1/2 inch thick slices
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 leek, rinsed well and white and light green parts thinly sliced crosswise
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 8 ounces mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
• 1/4 cup dry white wine
• 2 tablespoons creme fraiche or heavy cream
• 3 tablespoons chopped fresh chives

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat until it shimmers. Add the leek and a pinch of salt and sauté until tender, about 6 minutes. Add the mushrooms and increase the heat to medium-high. The mushrooms will become tender and release their juices. Add a bit of salt. Cook the mushrooms longer, and the juices begin to evaporate and the mushrooms turn golden brown, which is the desired stage of doneness; this will take about 8-13 minutes.

Increase the heat to high and add the white wine. Simmer until evaporated. Remove from the heat and stir in the creme fraiche or heavy cream. Season to taste with freshly ground black pepper, and more salt if necessary.

Top each of the crostini slices with about 2 tablespoons of the mushroom mixture. Garnish with chives and serve.

Bronzini with Olives

(Adapted from Molto Italiano)

• 3 one-pound whole bronzini
• Flour for dredging
• 6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 cup calamata olives, pitted and coarsely chopped
• 3 tablespoons capers, rinsed
• 5 Meyer lemons, zested and segmented
• Juice of 3 lemons
• 1 cup dry white wine
• About 1/4 cup best-quality extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/4 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
• Coarse sea salt

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
With a sharp knife, score the bronzini twice on each side.  Dredge the fish in the flour and shake off any excess. In a 14-inch oven-proof sauté pan or a flameproof roasting pan, heat the 6 tablespoons olive oil over medium-high heat until just smoking.

Place the fish in the pan and cook until golden brown on the first side. Carefully turn the fish and add the olives, capers, lemon zest, lemon segments, juice, and wine. Place the pan in the oven and roast for about 10 minutes, until the fish is just cooked through. Allow the fish to rest for 5 minutes.

If you like, you can fillet each fish, or serve them while. Drizzle each serving with the pan juices and a couple tablespoons of the excellent olive oil. Sprinkle with parsley and salt and serve.

Winter Salad, Feta and Spinach Stuffed Salmon, Pesto-Tossed Orzo

I was once again feeling spacey and lazy after working a couple nights in a row. It was therefore time for my go-to lazy meal, aka The Salmon Thingy. I love this salmon thingy, and there are plenty of nights where I could certainly summon the energy to prepare a more involved meal, but all I want is my salmon thingy. Remember how I mentioned that I eat the same thing again and again? Yeah; this would be a good example.


What is the salmon thingy, you ask? Well, it's made by Whole Foods, and it involves spinach, feta and pine nuts, which are rolled into a side of fresh salmon and then sliced into individual servings. It is pure deliciousness, and all you have to do is sprinkle it with some salt and pepper, slide it into the toaster oven, and wait about 10 minutes. There's no mess to clean up, it's relatively healthy, and there's no need to prepare a vegetable side as the spinach is adequate.

As an accompaniment, I generally just make some long grain and wild rice, or, if I'm not feeling like too much of a fatty, I'll make some pesto-tossed orzo. Even the pesto orzo requires minimal effort, as I take a little baggy with an individual-sized portion of pesto out of the freezer and let it defrost on the toaster oven.

I would just like to mention that pesto in the depths of winter is a lovely, lovely thing. It can be used in comforting, hearty and warm applications, yet it still gives you a bit of the brightness of summer that you're craving by this time of year. Summer in a bowl. Mmmm.

Speaking of the orzo, do you ever find yourself doing something, and as you're doing it you're thinking to yourself, 'This is probably a really bad idea and I'm most likely going to regret this...?' Well, I do it all the time. Mixing semolina and whole wheat orzo is a case in point.
I only had a tiny bit of semolina orzo left, and while it wasn't enough for the meal, I didn't want it to go to waste. It therefore got cooked with some whole wheat orzo. This was a bad idea for several reasons, one of which is the potential suckiness of whole wheat orzo. As I was putting it in my cart a few hours earlier while in Whole Foods, I kept thinking, 'Why am I buying this? Whole wheat orzo tends to be awful.' And into the cart it went.

Well, I am delighted to tell you that it was delicious, and I may even do it on purpose next time. They cooked in the same amount of time (which is way longer than you think it would take for those tiny little buggers to reach al dente), and the whole wheat orzo added some heartiness to the pasta without contributing the unpleasant graininess that sometimes accompanies whole wheat orzo.

Not only did my pasta experiment not turn into Fail Dish, I didn't overcook my salmon. Yay me! You see, I tend to overcook the salmon, and I hate overcooked foods. Whether it's meat, eggs, fish, or vegetables, I'd rather eat it raw than overcooked. This particular salmon thingy was a perfect medium-rare to medium. The texture was silky-smooth and rich, to the point where it could almost be described as creamy.
Okay, enough of the salmon, because I'm in the Land of Junk Food (the hospital), and I'm starting to crave some more salmony goodness.

Before satisfying my salmon craving, however, I attempted to satisfy my fennel craving. Fennel is yet another food item that had Nick begging for mercy last year. "Umm...Can we maybe do something without fennel tonight?" Fine. But it's a new year, and poor Nick had bronchitis, so he wasn't eating anyway.

Last year the cooking method of choice for fennel was braising. First you caramelize the outside of fennel that's been cut into wedges. You then fill the skillet with equal amounts of white wine and chicken stock, so that the liquid comes about half way up the side of the fennel wedges. This goes into a 325 degree oven for about 40 minutes until it's meltingly tender.

The braising brings out all of the complexities and sweetness of fennel, while toning down the licorice notes that are one of the more prominent aspects of the vegetable. That's a good thing, because licorice and I do not get along. In fact, I just now went into the lounge here at work, saw a bag of black licorice sitting on the counter, and had to resist the urge to vomit. And when I waited tables, a snifter of Sambucca was carried at the full extent of my reach, especially if I was hungover. Braised fennel is obviously fabulous with pork or white fish, but my favorite way to eat it is on some grainy, hearty bread that's been smeared with goat cheese. Oohhhh...more food cravings.

This year, I've been enjoying raw fennel, especially as a light, pre-dinner salad. In this preparation, the scary, scary mandolin is used to very finely slice a fennel bulb.

It is then tossed with very good olive oil, drizzled with a bit of lemon juice, and sprinkled with coarse gray French sea salt. It's the sea salt that really makes it, as the occasional crunchy bits of pure saltiness are just perfect with the tangy fennel and the fruity olive oil. If you've never tried this kind of salt, I insist that you go to the store and get some. Right now.

It used to be that grey French sea salt could only be obtained from stores like Williams Sonoma, and it cost about $15 per pound. However, it can now be found at normal grocery stores like Super Stale, otherwise known by the misnomer Super Fresh. I haven't broken down the cost per pound, but a little tin of it is about $2. This salt has a cleaner, purer taste than regular sea salt, and it's just heavenly on things like baked potatoes, as it retains a satisfying crunch without being overly alkaline.

Back to tonight's salad--it was actually inspired by Ashley from Not Without Salt. She calls it a winter white salad, and it involves using the scary, scary mandolin to create matchsticks of apple, celery root, and fennel, and tossing them with thinly sliced leeks.


The vegetables are then tossed with a very simple creme fraiche vinaigrette, and finished with the aforementioned spectacular sea salt. If you would like to see a nicer picture than the one I have provided, see Ashley's blog.

(Nice presentation, eh?)

I was intrigued by this salad because it sounded delicious, I had some creme fraiche that I needed to use up, and I was curious about the celery root. Celery root is also known as Celeriac, and I have heard of it, but never tried it. It just so happens that Molly Wizenberg of Orangette has an article about celery root in this month's Bon Apetite. I didn't know this at the time, but it's a rather fortuitous coincidence, as she describes the vegetable better than I likely can, so you should see her article if you're interested.

As Molly says, it is an ugly, ugly vegetable.
Poor little guy.

Celery root is related to the celery found in bunches at the store, but it is not the same thing. However, it does taste a bit like celery. Its flavor is more complex and refined, though, and it has a lovely texture that's smooth and porous at the same time. It has none of that stringy ickiness that maligns the already unimpressive celery stalk.

Did I like it, though? Not especially. I'm not a fan of normal celery, and the celery root, while not overly celery-ish, did not do too much to place it in my favor. It was nice, though, with the apple and fennel.In her article, Molly Wizenberg wrote about a salad that combines apples, fennel and celery root, but she tosses them with a hazelnut vinaigrette made from hazelnut oil, lemon juice, vinegar, and Dijon mustard. I still have some leftover fennel and celery root, so perhaps I'll give this a try on my next night off.

Molly also mentioned that celery root makes a good gratin. This sounds lovely, so perhaps I'll try that, as well. I can already hear Nick saying, "Celery root? Again?"
But for now, I'll just eat an apple and pine for salmon, fennel, pesto, cheese, pasta....