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Pasta with Sicilian Cauliflower

05.16.2015 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

On Mother’s Day, The Child and I brunched at a waterfront cafe; we sat outdoors and enjoyed the sunshine and the view, if not the speedy service. We were in no hurry, and slow service has benefits for conversation, leaving you with more space to fill, bringing up topics that might not have occurred to you if the waiter had remembered to bring milk and sugar for your coffee the second time you asked for it, rather than the third.

It was around the time we had to ask for salt – isn’t that standard on restaurant tables anymore? – that the conversation turned to The Departed, and how unpleasant a dinner table could be with him at it, no matter how good the food. The Child and I don’t eat at the table anymore; even though we’ve replaced the table and the paint and the wall decorations we still cannot seem to relax and converse over dinner in our home, although it never seems to be a problem when we go out to a restaurant. We discuss that fact, and then talk about The Departed’s children, and their table manners, and his eating habits, and then we are back to admiring the beautiful weather and joking that he can now enjoy it more, since he doesn’t have to spend his days in a cubicle anymore.

The Child mentions his girlfriend, the one she had contacted on Facebook, the one she tried to warn. After that incident, I visited his Facebook page a few times, and noticed the girlfriend was still liking and commenting on all his posts, although she had indicated to The Child that she had doubts about him, planned to break up with him.

She’d had a change of heart, apparently, and messaged The Child to let her know: She ended things with The Departed. As it happens, she ended them right around the time he lost his job.

We both smirk a bit, and the fact that the coffee I am sipping is now cold from its long wait for cream and sugar suddenly doesn’t bother me at all.

What things appear to be versus what they are: It isn’t always easy to sort out, but a little patience and being open to all the possibilities seems to go quite a long way.

A few months ago, I ran across a recipe in the New York Times for Braised Chicken Legs, from a new cookbook by Cal Peternell called Twelve Recipes. I made the chicken that night, because it had the one key ingredient I required at that moment: everything I needed to make it was somewhere in my house. The Child devoured the chicken, then a second helping, and then complained bitterly that I’d made something so delicious in such a small quantity. I made the chicken again a few days later, and again a week later, and for a while, once a week until I’d exhausted the supply of frozen chicken thighs in my freezer.

Then I thought, if this Peternell guy’s chicken is that good, I wonder what the other eleven recipes in that book are like? So I actually ordered a copy of the cookbook, something I usually avoid doing, since if I bought every cookbook that piques my interest I’d be featured on a special episode of Hoarders. The book arrived, and I loved it, and marked off a dozen recipes, which sounds like I marked off every recipe in the book, except that the book – by my math – has far more than 12 recipes in it.

No, I don’t know why this is. California math, maybe?

It doesn’t matter: the cookbook is wonderful, offering up base recipes in a relaxed conversational style, and encouraging the home cook to use what’s at hand or what takes their fancy. If you’ve got a little of this or that, throw that in. If you’re in a mood for French style, omit this and add that. He doesn’t offer quantities when he does this; taste the food and when you like it, you’ve got it right. The book is also chock full of handy cooking tips, like heat the pan first, then add the oil – it reduces scorching. Basically, Peternell is offering not so much recipes as cooking lessons: here are some guidelines, but where you go with them is up to you.

After marking off the recipes, I proceeded to make the chicken several more times, and then, finally, we were chickened out, so I moved on to the section on pasta.

I started with the recipe for Cauliflower, Sicilian Style, because, as with so many things I do, I had everything on hand, and in this case, I was looking for new ways to serve cauliflower, which is healthy and hearty and doesn’t deserve to be steamed all the time just because I can’t come up with a better idea.

In this recipe, cauliflower gets the Brussels sprout treatment, in which it is pan-roasted to sweet perfection. I loved the “Sicilian” treatment, with the addition of pine nuts for crunch and bits of sweetness from the raisins. The Child didn’t care for it, mostly because of the raisins. The recipe can be made luxurious with the addition of some saffron, which I planned to do, but then missed the step where I was supposed to add it, so I simply left it out. If you go this route, add the saffron to the onions.

Since The Child didn’t care for this dish as much as I did, I didn’t end up making it over and over. But I did discover there’s a much better way to cook cauliflower than the way I have been cooking it, and since it’s so simple and requires no real recipe,  pan-roasted cauliflower has been making regular appearances at dinner.

 

Pasta with Sicilian Cauliflower

Pasta with Sicilian Cauliflower
 
Print
Author: Adapted from Cal Peternell, Twelve Recipes
Ingredients
  • Salt
  • Olive Oil
  • 1 yellow onion, diced
  • I head cauliflower, cut into florets, florets cut into ½ inch thick pieces
  • 1 lb spaghetti
  • 1-2 garlic cloves, minced
  • crushed red pepper flakes
  • ¼ cup raisins, soaked in hot water to plump, then drained
  • ¼ cup pine nuts, toasted
  • parmesan cheese
Instructions
  1. Put a pot of salted water on to boil.
  2. Heat a skillet over high heat, and when hot, add 3 tbsp olive oil, then the onion and a pinch of salt. Once the onion gets going, lower the heat to medium and cook until soft, stirring occasionally to prevent browning, up to 15 minutes. Set the onions aside.
  3. Wipe out the pan, then place back over high heat, and when the pan is hot, add some oil, the cauliflower, and a heaping pinch of salt. Stir to coat the cauliflower with oil, but then let it sit, untouched, until it browns on one side, then turn and let it brown on the other.
  4. Hopefully by now your water is boiling, so add the pasta and follow the package directions to cook.
  5. When the cauliflower is well-browned and tender, push it to the sides of the pan, and add the garlic and red pepper flakes to the center, with more oil if needed. When the garlic releases its fragrance, add the onion, and once it's heated through, stir in the cauliflower. If it seems dry, add some of the pasta cooking water. Add the raisins and pine nuts.
  6. When the pasta is ready, drain it and stir it in. Add salt and pepper to taste; serve with parmesan cheese if you like.
Notes
For a luxurious touch, add a pinch of saffron when cooking the onion. You can also toss in fresh parsley and oregano, at the end of the cooking.
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Categories // The Divorce, The Joy of Cooking Tags // cauliflower, pasta, The Departed

Cauliflower Gratin

12.06.2014 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

An amazing thing happened this week: I lost five pounds without trying.

I don’t want you to think I did something unsafe or unhealthy, or have some dangerous underlying medical issue that caused this. I don’t, and in fact, I was under a doctor’s supervision when it happened. She was weighing me as part of my annual physical.

According to the doctor’s scale, I weighed less fully clothed than I did just hours before, when I got out of the shower and onto the scale The Departed left behind. This was the same scale that, when we moved in together a decade ago, I got on and remarked that it seemed to give me a higher number than my own scale. I don’t remember the exact explanation I received, but whatever the reason, I was persuaded to toss out my own inaccurate scale, while his scale remained.

I debated sending the scale to him when I sent the rest of his stuff over, but he didn’t ask for it and I figured I shouldn’t have to pay for anything I didn’t have to.

My mistake. My new scale arrives Monday.

Of course, although losing five theoretical pounds gets me closer to my target weight – with no extra effort on my part – it doesn’t actually help my clothes fit any better, so I need to continue on my diet until an accurate scale gives me a more agreeable number and the clothes in my closet agree. I’m fine with this, as I’ve discovered the wonders of calorie-counting apps, and have had no difficulty saying No to dessert recently.

The only thing I really miss is baking – it’s the part of cooking I love most – so I’ve set about finding recipes for things I can bake that aren’t cookies or cakes or The Child’s beloved tuna-noodle casserole, but that still warm my soul, as well as part of the house, at least while the oven is on.

I’m getting better at keeping vegetables in the house, so this week was pleased to open my vegetable drawer and discover a head of cauliflower. In the meat drawer below – mostly used for cheese – I found half a piece of Gruyere, buried beneath the Parmesan and Parrano. Surely, there must be a way to make a nice winter dinner out of the fridge, and it turns out there is: A nice cauliflower gratin.

You could serve this as a side dish, or bring it to a potluck, much as you might with a nice macaroni and cheese, but it also works nicely as a main dish if you have some good bread to serve alongside. It’s substantial and filling, not too gooey or cheesy, with mild flavors set against a nice crunchy topping. You can make this ahead of time and store it in the fridge, then just bring it to room temperature when you’re ready to bake and serve it. It reheats well, and makes a nice lunch the next day, and the day after that.

This recipe is lightly adapted from Ina Garten’s recipe.

Cauliflower Gratin

Cauliflower Gratin
 
Print
Prep time
20 mins
Cook time
25 mins
Total time
45 mins
 
Author: adapted from Ina Garten
Serves: 6
Ingredients
  • 1 head cauliflower, cut into florets
  • 2 tbsp unsalted butter
  • 3 tbsp all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups hot milk
  • ½ tsp freshly ground pepper
  • ¼ tsp grated nutmeg
  • ½ cup grated Gruyere
  • ½ cup grated Parmesan
  • ¼ cup bread crumbs
Instructions
  1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Using a box grater, grate the Parmesan and Gruyere and set aside.
  2. Cook the cauliflower florets in the boiling water for 5 to 6 minutes, until tender but still firm. Drain.
  3. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the flour, stirring constantly, for about 2 minutes, until the mixture is a light golden brown. Pour the hot milk into the butter-flour mixture and stir until it comes to a boil. Boil, whisking constantly, for 1 minute, or until thickened. Off the heat, add 1 teaspoon of salt, the pepper, nutmeg, the Gruyere, and the Parmesan.
  4. Pour ⅓ of the sauce on the bottom of an 9 by 9 inch baking dish. Place the drained cauliflower on top and then spread the rest of the sauce evenly on top. Top with bread crumbs.
  5. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the top is browned. Serve hot or at room temperature.
Notes
I eliminated some of the extra cheese and butter from the original recipe, as I didn't feel they were needed. If you feel it needs something extra, grate an additional ¼ cup of grated gruyere, and add it to the bread crumbs topping. Then drizzle this mixture with an additional 2 tbsp of butter, melted.
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Categories // The Joy of Cooking Tags // cauliflower, cheese, Vegetables

Cauliflower, Leek, and Gruyere Soup

02.22.2014 by J. Doe // 4 Comments

I have a talk with the Cleaning Lady, and we say our goodbyes, and the whole thing is surprisingly easier than I thought it would be; it probably doesn’t hurt that I feel so bad about it that I cry as I tell her I simply can’t afford her services anymore.

 

The Child pitches in, as she had promised she would, and helps out with the vacuuming, and sometimes surprises me by making my bed for me or cleaning my bathroom. I do the same for her, and the whole thing is off to a good start, and she wants to talk about vacations. She remembers our trip to Belize, and thinks how nice it would be to go back, but without The Departed. It would, I agree, but it’s not in the cards. I show her the cruise I am thinking about, on a ship that leaves from Seattle (no additional airfare), everything included in the price (so I don’t have to spend the trip worrying about money). She looks at the video tour of the cruise ship, mesmerized by the size of it and all the buffets it has (she can eat what she wants and lots of it).

 

She keeps helping out around the house, and though I don’t love how she loads the dishwasher, I do love that she’s not only willing to do it, but loads it better than the Cleaning Lady, and in far less time than The Departed, so that even when we procrastinate a bit about cleanup, it’s not an insurmountable obstacle to having dinner at a reasonable hour.

 

It was on such a night that I made this soup: The Child cleaned the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher while I walked the Red Dog, and when I came home, I simply cooked in my clean-ish kitchen. I forget where I found this recipe, originally from the Saltie cookbook, but I had been waiting to try it. The Child likes both cauliflower and gruyere cheese, so I figured I had a winner on my hands.

 

The soup was very easy to make, and I made only two adjustments to the recipe: I omitted the cup of fresh parsley it called for, both because it seemed like too much parsley and also because I forgot to buy any; I also used packaged vegetable broth instead of chicken broth, since The Child theoretically might eat it. The soup turned out more brothy than I expected – I somehow thought that it would be a thicker, cheesier affair, at the end – but I didn’t mind. The cheese added a lot of flavor to the broth, and the final result was filling and oh so delicious.

 

I slurped with abandon.

 

The Child was more mixed in her praise, which is a roundabout way of saying that she couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. She thought oyster crackers might help. I thought it was perfect just as is.

 

Cauliflower and Gruyere Soup

 

Cauliflower, Leek, and Gruyere Soup
 
Print
Prep time
10 mins
Cook time
30 mins
Total time
40 mins
 
Author: slightly adapted from Caroline Fidanza of Saltie, via Grubstreet
Serves: 4
Ingredients
  • 1 head cauliflower
  • 3 tbs. unsalted butter
  • 3 tbs. olive oil
  • 4 leeks, white and tender green parts, thinly sliced
  • salt
  • 1 chunk Gruyère (about 5 ounces)
  • Vegetable stock, as needed (about 4 cups)
Instructions
  1. Prep the cauliflower: Remove the outer leaves, cut into large florets, and break apart into small florets with your hands or a knife.
  2. In a soup pot over medium-high heat, melt the butter in the olive oil. When the butter begins to sizzle, add the leeks and a pinch of salt. Sauté the leeks until they begin to wilt, about 5 minutes. Add the cauliflower and another pinch of salt, and cook the cauliflower and leeks until they start to come together, about 3 minutes longer.
  3. Add the gruyere, and give everything a good stir. Add just enough stock to cover the vegetables. Turn the heat down to low, and simmer until the cauliflower is tender, 20 to 30 minutes. At this point, the cheese will have mostly melted.
  4. Taste and adjust the seasoning and serve hot.
Notes
The original recipe calls for chicken broth, but I substituted vegetable broth. The original recipe also calls for the addition of one cup of fresh parsley at the end of the cooking, which I omitted.
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Categories // The Joy of Cooking Tags // cauliflower, cheese, leeks, soup

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