Serious Eats: Recipes - Crisper Whisperer

Miso Soup

2011-12-13T22:25:00Z

Ingredients

serves Serves 4, active time 10 minutes, total time 45 minutes

2 pieces kombu, each about 4 inches square
8 cups cold water
1/3 cup red or white miso paste
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 leek (white part only) or two shallots, finely sliced
1 carrot, peeled and finely sliced
1 red bell pepper, finely sliced
8 shiitake mushrooms, stems removed and caps sliced
4 handfuls baby spinach

Procedures

Place the kombu and water in a medium pot and let sit for 30 minutes. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat and simmer for five minutes. Remove kombu. Ladle out one cup of the broth into a bowl and stir in the miso paste and soy sauce until smooth.
Add the leek to the broth and simmer for five minutes. Then add the carrot, bell pepper, and shiitakes and simmer for three minutes more. Add the spinach and simmer for one minute. Remove from heat and stir in the miso mixture. Serve hot.

Classic Apple Crisp for Thanksgiving

2011-11-22T22:00:00Z

[Photograph: Carolyn Cope]

Every November, I inadvertently put the innermost workings of my mental and emotional states on display for the public in the form of our Thanksgiving menu. Am I feeling restless, maybe a little bored with life? Here's turkey mole and a sweet potato salad with chili-lime dressing. Getting all ambitious and secretly trying to take over the world? May I present you with blue ribbon Roast Turkey with Prosciutto-Hazelnut Crust? Feeling slightly unhinged and craving the comforts of home? (Who, me? What, now?) Then it's pure American tradition all the way.

This Thanksgiving we'll be doing our best to replicate a bustling American family gathering from across the Atlantic, in a city which, for all its charms, possibly does not contain a single residential oven large enough to accommodate a heritage turkey. Once again, the contents of my soul will be on display at the table.

The stuffing will be from the Silver Palate. The green beans will be cooked just the way Grandma makes them. And dessert will be the most perfect, uncomplicated apple crisp for which you could ever give thanks. Whether or not your own Thanksgiving table has psychoanalytic implications, if you're searching for classic apple desserts to please a crowd, this is the one.

About the author: Carolyn Cope is the voice behind the popular food blog Umami Girl. A recent transplant to London, she's trying her best to act nonchalant in the company of courgettes and aubergines. Find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Special equipment: Deep-dish pie plate or 2-quart casserole

Ingredients

serves Serves 8, active time 20 minutes, total time 85 minutes

For the Filling:
3 pounds apples peeled, cored, and cut into 1/4 inch slices
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Pinch of salt
For the Topping:
1 cup rolled oats
1 cup light brown sugar (lightly packed)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup cold butter, cut into small dice

Procedures

Preheat the oven to 375°F with a rack in the center. To make the filling, combine the apple slices with the lemon juice in a large mixing bowl and toss to coat. Add the sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt, and toss gently until apples are evenly coated with other ingredients. Set a deep-dish pie plate or 2-quart casserole on a baking sheet and pour filling into pie plate or casserole.
To make the topping, combine the oats, brown sugar, flour, and butter in a small bowl. Pinch all ingredients together with your fingers until it forms a coarse crumble with no loose flour, oats, or sugar. Distribute topping evenly over apple mixture. Bake until topping is browned and filling is hot and bubbly, about 65 minutes. If topping starts to brown too much, cover it loosely with aluminum foil for the duration of baking. Let cool for 10 minutes or so and serve warm.

The Crisper Whisperer: A Seriously Delicious 'Green' Smoothie

2011-10-25T18:45:00Z

Those of you who have been reading this column for a long time know what I mean when I say that I'm generally not afraid to let my freak flag fly. But there is one secret I've been keeping tucked away in the back of the crisper for quite a while now, behind the fresh thyme that's starting to dry itself and the three homeless stalks of leftover lemongrass.

I think I've been hiding it because I didn't want you to judge me or to label me. Once you've lived past the publication date of your high school yearbook, you don't want to be labeled by other people unless the label starts with "50 Best" and appears in a national publication.

Still, once you've lived past the publication date of your grad school yearbook, a freak flag that wants to fly is a tough thing to keep down. Grad school for me was like a career-and-a-half ago, at least. So I think it's time to come clean with you and let the kale chips fall where they may.

I have a green smoothie habit. It's serious, it's daily, and it's affected my ability to lead a normal life. It's affected my ability to want to lead a normal life. There, I said it.

Here's what happened. A little while ago, I celebrated a round-numbers birthday. The couple of years leading up to that birthday were pretty rocky in a handful of ways, the worst of which was losing my dad to cancer. Since childhood, I've always been interested in what it means to live a healthful lifestyle and at various times I've been variously committed to actually living a healthful lifestyle. I don't want to invoke the words "mid-life" or "crisis" here, but let's just say that the culmination of those events was the purchase of a pricey high-speed blender and a renewed interest in living beyond my life expectancy.

Stories like this are supposed to end with the narrator laughing at herself with her friends over three rounds of tequila shots, I know. But even after the (ahem...non-)crisis element of this particular story subsided, I found I was still whizzing up vegetables in the blender every morning and guzzling them down with a big smile on my face.

I found that green smoothies and all the other plant-fringe goodness I was whipping up in my kitchen, were making me not only a little livelier, a little fitter, a little more bright-eyed in the morning—but also more than a little happier. So I figured I'd share that happiness with you.

Green smoothies are named as such because they contain leafy greens and sometimes other vegetables. Often they are actually green, but sometimes, like when you add berries, they're not. People drink them because they're an efficient way to pack a lot of plant-based nutrition into a relatively small package. But the clincher is that many of them actually taste great, too. You'd never know that there's a salad's worth of spinach in the recipe below, unless you feel like thinking about it to put a smile on your face. Even peppery greens like arugula and mizuna play nicely with fruits and herbs. If you like to experiment with flavor combinations in your mainstream cooking life, you'll enjoy the same creativity with green smoothies.

For most greens (kale not included, in my experience), you don't need a high-speed blender (like a Vitamix or Blendtec) to make a good smoothie, though the process will be quicker and the result creamier if you do. A banana, an avocado, or a small handful of nuts is very helpful to good texture, and a few dried dates will bump up the sweetness in a relatively nutritious way. But beyond that, it's fun to vary the other ingredients. Try mizuna, mango, banana, lime, and cilantro, for example—or whatever your palate desires.

What about you all? Do you secretly or boisterously drink green smoothies? If so, what are some of your favorite tips and tricks? And just a quick note: sometimes when I write a post with the words "health" and "vegetables" in it, a few of you leave comments with question marks and the words "meat" and "saturated fat!" and "maybe you should familiarize yourself with the recent studies of..." in them.

I just want to say that I've done the reading, I've thought about it seriously, and that's just not the freak flag I choose to fly. Maybe some of you would prefer a ground beef smoothie thinned with heavy cream. If that makes you happy, I will gladly stand by your side, toast your meat smoothie with my green one, and laugh with you about the weirdness of the world. I hope we'll both live to be 100 and enjoy every bite along the way. Cheers!

Special equipment: High-speed or regular blender

Ingredients

serves 2, active time 5 minutes, total time 5 minutes

1 medium orange, peeled and seeded
1 medium banana
2 cups raspberries (frozen are great)
3 ounces baby spinach (about 2 cups packed)
5 dried dates, pitted
2 tablespoons ground flaxseeds (optional)
1 cup ice, if not using frozen berries

Procedures

If you're using a regular blender, roughly chop the orange, banana, spinach, and dates. If you're using a high-speed blender such as a Vitamix or Blendtec, simply place all ingredients in the blender in the order listed.
Add 1 cup water to the blender. Blend until completely smooth, stopping to push ingredients toward the blades if necessary. Add a bit more water, if desired, to reach the smoothie consistency you prefer. This may be especially necessary if you're using a regular blender. Divide between two tall glasses and serve immediately.

The Crisper Whisperer: Squash and Quinoa with Cilantro-Lime Dressing

2011-10-11T21:15:00Z

In these middling days of autumn, with weather neither hot nor cold, I tend to gravitate toward equally noncommittal vegetable dishes. They'll commit to being full of the flavors and colors of the season, but beyond that, they don't like to be pinned down.

Take the attached recipe, for instance. It's a bright, beautiful bowl of roasted dumpling squash, baby spinach, and quinoa, tossed together with a zingy cilantro-lime dressing and a few crunchy pepitas. Is it a salad? Sure, you could call it that if you feel like it, and even serve it chilled. But if you're in the mood for a warming main at dinner, you could just as viably ignore its salad-like tendencies and serve it hot. Maybe even with a green salad on the side, to really confuse matters.

Luckily—like many things in the world that are worth getting to know—this meal is easier to like than it is to understand. It will leave you satisfied, even if it also leaves you guessing.

Special equipment: Sheet pan

Ingredients

serves 4, active time 15 minutes, total time 45 minutes

1 medium dumpling squash
3 tablespoons good olive oil, divided
3/4 teaspoon sea salt, divided
1 cup uncooked quinoa, rinsed in a few changes of water and drained well
5 ounces baby spinach
Juice and zest of 1 lime
Freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1/4 cup hulled pumpkin seeds (pepitas)

Procedures

Preheat the oven to 450°F. Cut the squash into quarters. Scoop out and discard the seeds and stringy pulp. Cut each squash quarter into 1/4-inch-thick wedges. Place squash wedges on a baking sheet and toss with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil and 1/4 teaspoon of the salt. Spread the wedges in a single layer in the pan. Roast for about 30 minutes, until tender and slightly browned. Set aside to cool slightly. (Alternatively, if you have a convection oven, it's great to use here, at 400°F.)
Meanwhile, place the quinoa in a 4-quart pot over medium-high heat. Cook, stirring, until lightly toasted, about two minutes. Add 2 cups of water and bring to a boil over high heat. Simmer, uncovered, until quinoa turns translucent and water is almost absorbed, about 10 minutes. Then stir in the baby spinach all at once, place a lid on the pot, and cook over low heat for 5 minutes more.
To make the dressing, whisk together the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, the lime zest and juice, the remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, and freshly ground black pepper to taste.
In a large bowl, place the roasted squash, quinoa-spinach mixture, chopped cilantro, and pumpkin seeds. Drizzle with the dressing and toss gently to coat. Serve warm or at room temperature. Keeps well in the fridge for up to three days.

The Crisper Whisperer: The World's Second-Easiest Fig Dessert

2011-09-27T21:30:00Z

Since the dawn of humanity, figs and nakedness have gone together. I know, that sounds like the opening line of the worst seventh-grade history report any kindhearted teacher has ever been forced to read. But don't worry, we're not going down the road you think we are. I'm talking about the nakedness of the figs themselves.

There are all sorts of wonderful ways to cook up figs. Some of the best ones involve pizza dough, or flaky pastry, or cured meats and piquant cheeses. But since fig season is short in many parts of the world—and since figs are positively jewel-like all by themselves—sometimes the best thing to do is to simply eat them out of hand for a snack or for dessert. I mean, just look at them. A naked fig makes a perfect dessert.

That's why this recipe is for the world's second-easiest fig dessert. Let's say you're a fan of figs just the way they are. Even so, sometimes you want something a little warm and jammy after dinner. Or maybe you have some company to impress without a lot of effort. Or maybe you had to buy your figs at the supermarket, and they're not quite as succulent as they could be. That's where broiled figs with vanilla and honey come in.

Fire up the broiler, add a touch of vanilla and honey to your fig halves, and in ten minutes you'll have a sweet little treat on your hands. They'll be practically naked, yet delicately enhanced.

Special equipment: Broiler, baking sheet or pan

Ingredients

serves 4, active time 5 minutes, total time 10 minutes

8 perfectly ripe fresh figs
1/2 vanilla pod
1/4 cup honey, for drizzling (you won't use it all)

Procedures

Preheat the broiler (on low, if you have a choice), with the top rack about six inches below the heat source. Cut each fig in half from stem end to base. You'll be broiling the figs cut-side up, so if your figs aren't symmetrical, try to make the cut such that you'll have as stable a base as possible on the uncut side. Arrange the fig halves cut side up on a baking sheet.
Slice open the vanilla bean with a paring knife and scrape out the seeds with the tip of the knife. Spread a bit of seeds on the cut side of each fig half. You don't need a lot to get a great vanilla flavor.
Drizzle the cut side of each fig half lightly with honey. Again, you don't need too much. Place the pan on the top rack of the oven and broil for a few minutes, until the tops of the figs are bubbly and very lightly browned. (It takes about five minutes in my oven, but broilers vary substantially.) Serve warm by themselves or perched atop a small bowl of vanilla ice cream or Greek yogurt.

The Crisper Whisperer: Caramel Apples for Labor Day and Beyond

2011-08-30T13:55:00Z

For the past few growing seasons, I've been thrilled to see more and more varieties of summer apples popping up at my farmers' market. Though many people, at least in the northeast, associate apples with autumn, plenty of heirloom varieties are ready to eat in mid-summer. That makes me happy for lots of reasons, not least of all because now I get to make caramel apples for my Labor Day barbecue and feel totally legit about it.

This is a simple and delicious recipe for caramel apples adapted from Martha Stewart. Partly because it's super-cute and partly because I had a hells of a time finding popsicle sticks here in London, I used sturdy twigs to spear the apples—it worked great.

Smallish apples are a nice choice to serve at a party where there may be other desserts to sample. Pretty much any variety will work fine, but I especially like the combination of a tart apple with the sticky-sweet caramel and salty peanuts.

Adapted from Martha Stewart's Caramel Apples and Caramel Lady Apples.

Special equipment: 12 popsicle sticks or sturdy twigs

Ingredients

serves 12, active time 30 minutes, total time 30 minutes

12 small apples
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 cup salted peanuts

Procedures

Pull the stems out of the apples and cut a small X with a paring knife where each stem used to be. Push one end of a popsicle stick or twig about an inch into each apple where the X is.
In a medium, heavy saucepan, combine the sugar and the water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring once or twice with a wooden spoon until the sugar dissolves. Watch carefully and adjust the heat to maintain a controlled boil. Boil undisturbed for about 10 minutes, until the caramel turns a dark amber color. Remove pot from heat. Very carefully add the cream. The mixture will boil up furiously. Stir vigorously with a wooden spoon. Let the caramel cool for about five minutes. While the caramel is cooling, finely chop the peanuts. Line a large plate or a baking sheet with parchment paper and spray with cooking spray or lightly coat with a neutral-tasting oil.
One at a time, hold each apple by the stick and swirl to coat in the caramel. Let excess caramel drip back into the pot. Roll coated apple in chopped nuts. Set each apple on the parchment to cool completely. Serve immediately or store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to three days.

The Crisper Whisperer: Zucchini and Pesto Pizza

2011-08-16T16:45:00Z

I find myself suddenly a resident of London, where August means crisp 65-degree days and chilly nights instead of sticky, sandy, lingering afternoons on the Jersey shore. Because my lizard brain will forever associate a snap in the air with snappy new back-to-school clothes and the optimistic ambition of new beginnings, I've had an unusually industrious end to the summer. It's a good thing, because I'm having to relearn everything from how to tell time and temperature to what to call zucchini and eggplant at the farmers' market.

It's not exactly a hardship. Far from it. But while I'd like to think of myself as all about the shiny new adventures and total cultural immersion, I've noticed a funny countervailing trend in the dinners I've been cooking in our new kitchen. There's been a ton of pizza, two tons of pasta, and a volume of vegetables that would certainly have broken my kitchen scale if my kitchen scale had arrived yet. Ah, well. You can take the girl out of Jersey. It's a good thing a Jersey shore kitchen in August is a fine, fine place to be.

This pizza clearly originated in the mind of a Jersey girl. But now I can vouch for the fact that it tastes just as good no matter where you are—and no matter what you call a zucchini. Like many pizzas, it's a flexible recipe. Just make sure you slice the zucchini as thin as possible so it will be tender by the time the pizza is done.

Special equipment: Pizza or half-sheet pan, pizza stone (optional), mandoline (optional)

Ingredients

serves 4, active time 15 minutes, total time 30 minutes

1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons cornmeal
1 ball pizza dough (homemade or purchased)
1 cup of your (or my) favorite basil pesto, divided
2 medium zucchini, very thinly sliced (a mandoline works wonders here)
4 ounces feta cheese, crumbled
20 oil-cured black olives, pitted

Procedures

Preheat the oven to 550°F (or as high as your oven will go up to 550°F), with a pizza stone if you have one. Prepare your pizza pan or baking sheet by brushing with the olive oil and sprinkling evenly with the cornmeal. Roll or stretch the dough to cover the surface of the pan.
Slice the zucchini as thinly as possible, on a mandoline if you have one or with a very sharp knife. Place zucchini slices in a bowl and toss with half the pesto. Spread the remaining pesto evenly over the dough and top with overlapping slices of zucchini. Sprinkle the feta and olives overtop. Bake until the dough is cooked through and the zucchini is tender, 8 to 15 minutes, depending on thickness. Slice and serve hot or at room temperature.

The Crisper Whisperer: How to Make Fruit Leather

2011-07-19T16:00:00Z

Fruit leather tastes good and is pretty good for you, no question. But let's treat the subject of this post like what it is: an Emergency Response System. If you're inundated with fruit, which is bound to happen this time of year due to overgrowth or simply over-enthusiasm, fruit leather is a fun, volume minimizing, and surprisingly simple emergency response mechanism.

You can make fruit leather with almost any summer or fall fruit. Berries, cherries, stone fruits, apples, and pears—they all work beautifully. Choose ripe or very ripe fruit, and remove any blemishes. You can leave skins on or remove them. I usually leave them on for the nutritive value, but if you want a perfectly homogeneous leather, you'll need to remove them.

Taste your fruit so you know how sweet it is. Added sweetener is purely optional, though honey does offer a nice bit of additional chewiness. Keep in mind that as the puree loses its moisture content, flavors and sweetness will concentrate, so the leather will be sweeter and more intensely flavored than the puree.

Seasonings are where you can really get creative. A pinch of cinnamon and nutmeg with your apple or pear puree makes apple pie or pear crisp leather. A little vanilla with berries really makes you glad you didn't just settle for store-bought fruit leather. You can add liquors, chopped nuts, you name it. Your leather is as nimble as your imagination. (That sounds wrong for so many reasons, I know—but it's right.)

You may have noticed that the cooking time in the recipe ranges from two to eight hours. I'm sorry about that, but given that the moisture content of fruits varies so widely, it's just how it's gotta be. Use your senses to determine when the leather is still just barely tacky to the touch, but it peels up easily from the parchment or silicone mat. That's how you'll know it's done. Store fruit leather in the freezer for eons, in the fridge for several months, or at room temperature for up to two weeks.

What about you? Have you ever made fruit leather at home? How do you like to make it?

About the author: Carolyn Cope is the voice behind the popular food blog Umami Girl. In late July, she'll trade the life of a CSA manager in New Jersey for the lively farmers' markets of London. Find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Special equipment: Half-sheet pan (heavy, rimmed baking sheet), parchment paper or silicone baking mat

Ingredients

serves 8, active time 10 minutes, total time 2 to 8 hours

3 cups washed, pitted, chopped fruit
2 tablespoons honey or maple syrup, optional
1 tablespoon lemon juice
A pinch of the spice(s) of your choice

Procedures

Preheat the oven as low as it goes (usually 150°F or 200°F — anything up to 200°F is fine) with a rack in the middle. Line a baking sheet with a piece of parchment paper or a silicone baking mat and spray lightly with cooking spray (optional, but it does help). In a blender, whiz all ingredients together to form a relatively smooth puree.
Pour the puree onto the lined baking sheet and tilt the pan to form a thin layer that is as even as possible. Bake the puree until it is still slightly tacky to the touch but peels up fairly easily from the parchment. Depending on the fruit you use and its moisture content, this can take anywhere from 2 to 8 hours, so use your senses.

The Crisper Whisperer: Garlic Scape Tart

2011-07-05T13:30:00Z

[Photograph: Carolyn Cope]

I have an affinity for garlic scape pesto that borders on the unnatural. Although I've previously suggested to you that there are at least seven worthwhile things to do with garlic scapes, the truth is that I rarely care to do anything with them myself besides whiz them with nuts, cheese, lemon, and olive oil in a food processor and eat them with a spoon. This inclination may be due to the fact that, in my heart of hearts, I seem to believe that I invented garlic scape pesto. (It's similar to the way I seem to believe that I invented the food blog, despite substantial late-breaking evidence to the contrary. But those are stories for another time, such as never.)

The more convincing thing that garlic scape pesto has going for it, which many other scapely preparations lack, is that the scapes are raw. When subjected to intense heat, scapes quickly lose their characteristic pungency and transform into a much milder, practically bean-like vegetable. It's not that there's anything wrong with a bean-like vegetable, mind you. It's just that, to me, raw scapes are special largely because they manage to communicate both mild-manneredness and assertiveness at the same time.

Still, there's no question that the optimal amount of garlic is highly contextual and situation-specific. Not every occasion is a garlic scape pesto occasion. For example, if you will be interacting with other people today, interviewing for a promising job tomorrow, or generally not looking forward to the possibility of sweating profusely, it may not be a garlic scape pesto occasion. In such instances, the garlic scape tart may be a more appropriate choice.

This garlic scape tart occupies a happy medium between raw and aggressively cooked scapes. The sliced scapes are baked gently in a custard of fresh ricotta and eggs, mellowing their intensity without obliterating their freshness. Combined with the lemon thyme, the scapes produce a positively aromatic filling that floats on top of the hearty crust.

About the author: Carolyn Cope is the voice behind the popular food blog Umami Girl. In late July, she'll trade the life of a CSA manager in New Jersey for the lively farmers' markets of London. Find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Teff crust adapted from Fine Cooking Magazine.

Special equipment: 10-inch tart pan with a removable bottom

Ingredients

serves 6, active time 30 minutes, total time 90 minutes

For the Crust
1 cup teff flour
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch dice
4 to 5 tablespoons ice water
For the Filling
1 cup thinly sliced garlic scapes (from 15 to 20 scapes with bud ends removed)
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup good quality fresh ricotta cheese (bought or homemade)
1 teaspoon fresh lemon thyme leaves (or 1 teaspoon thyme plus 1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest)
1/2 teaspoon sea salt, plus more for sprinkling
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Procedures

Place the flours and the salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment and pulse to combine. Add the butter and pulse until the largest pieces are the size of small peas. Sprinkle four tablespoons of the ice water onto the dough. Pulse until the dough begins to hold together. Add the additional tablespoon of water and continue to pulse if the dough is otherwise too dry to hold together. Turn the dough out onto a piece of waxed paper and shape into a disc by pressing quickly and firmly with your hands, repairing any cracks as you go. Wrap the dough in the waxed paper and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 375°F. Roll out the dough into a 12-inch-diameter circle about 1/4-inch thick. Press into the bottom and sides of a fluted 10-inch tart pan with a removable bottom. Roll your rolling pin over the top of the pan to remove any excess dough. Prick the bottom of the dough all over with a fork, then line the dough with parchment paper and fill with dried beans. Place the tart pan on a baking sheet. Bake for 10 minutes, then remove the parchment and beans and bake for 7 minutes more.
While the dough bakes, make the filling. Place the scapes, eggs, ricotta, lemon thyme, salt and pepper in a medium bowl. Beat with a fork until well combined. Pour the filling into the partially baked tart shell and return the whole thing to the oven for 30 minutes, until the filling is set. Cool to warm or room temperature before slicing and serving.

Blueberry Overload Coffee Cake

2011-06-21T14:25:00Z

About the author: Carolyn Cope is the voice behind the popular food blog Umami Girl. In July, she'll trade the life of a CSA manager in New Jersey for the lively farmers' markets of London. Find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Adapted from Joy of Cooking.

Special equipment: 9 x 13 x 2-inch pan, electric mixer

Ingredients

serves Serves 10 to 12, active time 10 minutes, total time 45 minutes plus cooling

For the cake:
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups sour cream (or plain Greek yogurt)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 pound blueberries, washed and picked over
For the topping:
2/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
2/3 cup lightly packed brown sugar
2/3 cup finely chopped walnuts or pecans
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Procedures

Have all ingredients at room temperature. Preheat oven to 350°F with a rack in the center, and grease a 9 x 13 x 2-inch baking pan. In a large bowl, stir together the 2 cups flour, baking powder, baking soda, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. In a small bowl, stir together the sour cream and vanilla extract. In another large bowl, beat together the 4 tablespoons butter and the 1 cup sugar until lightened in color and texture, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating to incorporate after each addition. Then add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the sour cream in two parts and beating on low after each addition until just incorporated. Toss the blueberries with the remaining tablespoon of flour and gently fold into the batter. Scrape the batter evenly into the prepared pan.
To make the streusel topping, stir together the flour, brown sugar, nuts, cinnamon and salt in a small bowl. Pour the melted butter overtop and stir to incorporate evenly into the dry ingredients. Use your fingers to sprinkle the topping over the batter. Bake until a cake tester inserted in the middle of the cake comes out almost clean, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool in the pan for a few minutes before serving warm or at room temperature.

The Crisper Whisperer: Awesome (Herb) Sauce

2011-04-26T12:45:00Z

Whether you grow your own herbs and end up with a bumper crop or buy a big bunch at the supermarket and use a few tablespoons in a recipe, leftover fresh herbs can threaten to overtake your home, garden, and sanity as the weather warms up. Making this flexible recipe is like waving a magic wand in the general direction of the garden and—voila!—what was once a looming burden is suddenly awesome sauce.

Don't worry your pretty little head about quantities in this recipe. A few large handfuls of herbs, or a few smaller ones, will yield a perfectly tasty sauce. The point is to use up what you have. Whirl, taste, adjust, repeat to suit your particular taste buds. It's all very low-key, with one caveat: don't forget to check your teeth.

About the author: Carolyn Cope writes Umami Girl and manages a CSA in New Jersey.

Special equipment: Food processor

Ingredients

serves Makes about 1 cup, active time 5 minutes, total time 5 minutes

Fresh basil, cilantro, dill, parsley and/or chives totaling approximately 1 large supermarket bunch
1 garlic clove, smashed
Juice of one Meyer (or regular) lemon
1 cup sour cream
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Procedures

Remove any thick stems from herbs. Place all ingredients in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade and process until smooth. Serve as a salad dressing or as a sauce for grilled fish or poultry, tacos, a smoked salmon sandwich—you name it.

The Crisper Whisperer: Ratatouille in Buckwheat Crepes

2011-04-12T13:00:00Z

Ratatouille in Buckwheat Crepes is not a recipe. Well, technically it is a recipe, fine. But it's more than that, too. It's a first-rate problem solver. And frankly, it would like to be seen as one for a change. Do you think you're sick of words like mouthfeel, toothsome, and yummers? Try being a vegetarian brunch dish trying to make a name for yourself as a doer in this world.

First and foremost, Ratatouille in Buckwheat Crepes solves the age-old paradox of feeding brunch to a houseful of vegetarians without plunging them directly into diabetic coma. I love a good [insert baked good here] as much as the next guy, but it's always nice to have some variety on a brunch menu.

Second—and here's the really great part—you may have noticed that ratatouille, with its eggplants, peppers, and summer squash, is not exactly honest early-spring fare. It's pretty summery, if we're calling it like it is. Maybe you don't much care about such seasonality. But some of us have a cheeky locavore image to maintain, and for that reason and others care about at least the appearance of seasonality. That's where the crepes come in. Serve all the ratatouille you want at the beginning of April. Just tuck it into a buckwheat crepe, and no one will be the wiser.

Buckwheat crepes adapted from The Silver Palate Cookbook. If you don't already own that wonderful book, please consider treating yourself to a copy.

About the author: Carolyn Cope writes Umami Girl and manages a CSA in New Jersey.

Special equipment: Heavy 5-quart pot, 7-inch crepe pan or nonstick skillet, Food processor

Ingredients

serves Serves 6 (makes 16 crepes with extra filling)

For the Ratatouille
1/3 cup olive oil, divided
1 medium eggplant, cut into 3/4-inch dice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large red onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 orange or yellow bell pepper, diced
2 zucchini, diced
1 28-ounce can whole tomatoes
Pinch of cayenne pepper flakes
2 tablespoons capers
1 teaspoon sugar
For the Crepes
2 1/2 cups milk
4 tablespoons butter
1 cup sifted buckwheat flour
1 cup sifted unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 eggs
Vegetable oil for the pan

Procedures

For the ratatouille: Heat half the oil over medium-high heat in a heavy 5-quart pot. Add the diced eggplant, sprinkle with the salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until browned, about 5 minutes. Remove eggplant to a dish. Heat remaining oil in the pot. Add onion and peppers and cook, stirring occasionally, until starting to soften, about five minutes. Add zucchini and cook two minutes more.
Return eggplant to the pot. Crush the whole tomatoes with your fingers and add to the pot along with their juices. Stir in the cayenne, capers, and sugar. Bring to a boil. Partially cover the pot, reduce heat to maintain a simmer, and cook until vegetables are very tender and sauce has thickened, 20 to 30 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature, spooned into crepes. Ratatouille keeps well in the fridge for several days and usually tastes even better the second day.
For the crepes: Place the milk and butter in a small pot. Warm over medium-low heat until the butter melts. Set aside to cool slightly.
In the bowl of a food processor, combine the buckwheat flour, all-purpose flour, and salt. Pulse for a moment to blend. Then, with the motor running, carefully pour in the milk and butter through the feed tube. Add the eggs one at a time and process until just blended. Let stand for 30 minutes.
Next to the stove, set a dinner plate covered with a kitchen towel. Place a 7-inch crepe pan or nonstick skillet over medium heat. Brush with vegetable oil and heat until smoking. Pour 1/4 cup batter into the pan while swirling the pan with your other hand to spread a thin layer of batter evenly over the bottom of the pan. Cook for about 3 minutes, until the underside is nicely browned. Flip and cook 1 to 2 minutes more, until the second side is nicely browned. Slide the crepe out onto the towel-covered plate and repeat until all the batter is used. Brush a little bit of oil onto the pan before cooking each crepe. Cooked crepes keep well in the refrigerator for a day or so and also freeze beautifully, layered with waxed paper and tightly wrapped.

The Crisper Whisperer: Shrimp with Kale and Shiitakes

2011-03-29T18:00:00Z

These adolescent days of early spring are awkward for vegetable lovers. The mailbox is full of magazines bursting with peas, asparagus and even strawberries. The air is flush with anticipation. Bellies are all a-rumble. But for many of us, twiddling our thumbs and leaning awkwardly with our friends against the walls of the middle-school gymnasium during the slow dances, the fertile days of real-life spring are still months away.

What to eat during this ungainly season? Doritos with French onion dip? Pepperoni pizza? Munchkin donuts? Oh wait, this isn't a real eighth grade dance. All we need to do is stick with earthy, savory winter produce like kale and shiitakes for a little while longer while nature continues to work its magic. In the grand scheme of adolescence, it's hardly traumatizing at all.

This quick dinner is a last hurrah for our favorite winter vegetables. It's packed with both nutrients and flavor to tide you over until real life begins to approximate the verdant spring beauty portrayed in the glossies.

About the author: Carolyn Cope writes Umami Girl and manages a CSA in New Jersey.

Special equipment: 12-inch skillet

Ingredients

serves serves 4, active time 20 minutes, total time 20 minutes

2 tablespoons butter
1 onion, thinly sliced
1 pound shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and thinly sliced
6 cloves garlic, chopped
2 bunches Lacinato kale, stemmed and chopped into bite-sized pieces
1 1/2 pounds shrimp, peeled and cleaned
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup heavy cream (optional)

Procedures

Melt the butter over medium-high heat in a wide frying pan. Add the onion and shiitakes and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, for one minute.
Add the kale by the handful and cook, stirring occasionally, until wilted and almost tender, about 3 minutes. Push the vegetables to the sides of the pan to make room for the shrimp. Then add the shrimp and cook, stirring occasionally , until not quite opaque, about 3 minutes.
Add the soy sauce, wine, and cream if using, and cook until sauce has thickened slightly, 2 to 3 minutes. Serve immediately.

Cauliflower and Tofu Curry

2011-02-22T15:30:00Z

This easy and delicious Indian-inspired curry is satisfying winter comfort food that just happens to be vegan. It is adapted from Weeknight Fresh & Fast by Kristine Kidd, who recommends serving purchased chutney alongside and fruit sorbet for dessert.

Ingredients

serves 4, active time 30 minutes, total time 50 minutes

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
1 14-ounce package extra-firm tofu, drained, patted dry, and cut into 3/4-inch dice
1 heaping tablespoon hot curry or vindaloo curry paste
1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes
1 head cauliflower, cut into 3/4-inch florets
Cooked brown basmati rice, for serving

Procedures

Heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat. Add the onion and sauté until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the tofu and sauté until warm, about 2 minutes. Add the curry paste and stir gently but thoroughly to coat the tofu well.
Add the tomatoes and their juices, the cauliflower, and 1 cup water. Bring to a boil, cover, and reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer until cauliflower is almost tender, about 15 minutes. Remove cover and simmer briskly until sauce thickens, about 5 minutes more. Serve spooned over rice. Leftovers will keep well in the fridge for a few days.

The Crisper Whisperer: Grapefruit-Vanilla Curd

2011-02-15T15:00:00Z

Life is complicated. I like it that way. Breakfast—or, if you prefer, dessert—is no exception. And that's why I don't mind telling you that fruit curd is one of my very favorite foods, even though I hardly have any interest in eating it.

About five years ago I got my hands on Sherry Yard's The Secrets of Baking, which is cleverly organized around master recipes (such as basic lemon curd and chocolate ganache) that can be used in or altered to make a wide variety of derivative desserts. It was an accessibly science-y cookbook before such books became commonplace, and I was instantly smitten.

I made the lemon curd as a filling for mini tart shells, which I served as a party dessert. The curd was such a hit with family and friends that I even eventually forgave the author for sending my first stand mixer to its untimely death with some faulty brioche-kneading instructions. (Kitchen-Aid's generous exchange policy didn't hurt, either—but that's a story for another day.)

The more I made that lemon curd, the more people loved it. They loved it so much that I started giving it as gifts, and then writing about giving it as gifts. (You can find the lemon curd recipe at that link, if you'd like it.) Soon other people started writing about my giving lemon curd as gifts (seriously—apparently people have less to do than I realized). Pretty soon the fact that I'm not all that interested in actually eating lemon curd seemed even less important than it originally had. See? Life is complicated.

This grapefruit-vanilla curd is my adaptation of one of the derivative recipes in the book. It's an elegant use for a bit of the season's best grapefruit and a Meyer lemon or two; and if you haven't caught on yet, it makes a lovely hand-made hostess or birthday gift. To tell the truth, I like it even better than the lemon curd. I like it so much, in fact, that I might even consider eating it.

About the author: Carolyn Cope writes Umami Girl and manages a CSA in New Jersey.

Adapted from The Secrets of Baking by Sherry Yard.

Special equipment: Food processor (optional); Candy or instant-read thermometer; Medium, heat-proof glass bowl

Ingredients

serves Makes about 2 cups, active time 30 minutes, total time 30 minutes

2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons grapefruit zest (grated on a rasp)
Seeds scraped from 1/4 vanilla bean
3 large eggs
4 large egg yolks
1/2 cup freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, from about half a large grapefruit
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice, from about 1 large lemon (use Meyer lemon if you can)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cut into small cubes

Procedures

Pour one inch of water into a medium pot that accommodates your heat-proof glass bowl without letting it touch the water's surface. Bring water to a simmer over medium heat.
In a food processor or mortar and pestle, combine the sugar, grapefruit zest, and vanilla seeds, and pulse or mash until well combined and very fragrant.
Combine the grapefruit sugar, eggs and egg yolks in the heatproof bowl. Whisk together for one minute to distribute the sugar. Place the bowl over the pot with simmering water and whisk constantly for about 30 seconds, or until the sugar is dissolved.
Add the grapefruit juice and lemon juice and cook, whisking frequently, until the curd reads 170° F and has the consistency of sour cream, about 10 minutes. Remove the bowl from the heat.
Whisk in the pieces of cold butter one by one until they are completely incorporated. Strain the curd through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean bowl. Serve as a condiment with scones or toast for breakfast, or spooned into tart shells for dessert. Will keep, tightly covered, in the fridge for up to two weeks, or frozen for several months.