Eggplant Phyllo Pockets

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real talk: cleaning out the fridge before a big move. i've admitted to my slight hoarder tendencies before. This summer, i've been forced to confront the true extent of my problem.

it's been a delicious problem to have. 

every get together I've hosted this summer has been catered by the results of a culinary scavenger hunt, with points to the dish using up the most cans, jars and icy treasures from the freezer.

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enter these adorable little guys. eggplants in search of a home. in my belly.

luckily, i found sheeets of phyllo lurking between last summer's pitted sour cherries, homemade chicken stock, and many small baggies of citrus zest, left over from my dalliance with middle eastern cuisine last year.

the tahini had already met its end with a can of garbanzos as very tasty hummus.

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this appetizer is extremely versatile. i used a martha recipe as a jumping off point, but ending up with a different flavor profile thanks to the jar of sun dried tomatoes that's been hiding in the cheese drawer of the fridge and the basil growing against all odds in vases on my counter.

the eggplant is a soft and silky complement to the crispy layers of phyllo, and the sherry vinegar gives it tang, the red pepper a bit of bite, and feta and tomatoes a salty undertone.

but this would work easily well with spinach and feta, for a variation on spanikopita, or ground lamb with golden raisins and lots of smoky cumin for a heartier snack.

any way you fill them, you won't regret having an extra roll or two of phyllo in your freezer. just don't try to move it cross country.

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Eggplant Phyllo Pockets
Adapted from Martha Stewart
  • About 2 to 2 1/2 lbs eggplant
  • Extra-virgin olive oil, for brushing
  • Coarse salt and ground pepper
  • 3/4 cup crumbled feta cheese (3 ounces)
  • 4 to 5 sun dried tomatoes, drained of oil and chopped
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon red-pepper flakes
  • 4 tablespoons fresh basil leaves, finely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
  • 10 sheets frozen phyllo dough, thawed

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Slice the eggplants in half lengthwise, brush cut side with olive oil. Place cut side down on lined baking sheet and roast about 20 to 25 minutes until tender. Let cool just enough to handle, and scoop eggplant flesh from skins. Roughly chop and place in large bowl.

Add feta, tomatoes, spices, basil and vinegar to eggplant. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Lightly oil 12 regular sized muffin cups, or spray with Pam. 

Keep your stack of phyllo dough sheets covered with a damp paper towel while you're working. On a very very lightly floured work surface, lay out one sheet of phyllo. Lightly brush with olive oil. Stack another sheet of phyllo on top and brush with oil, and repeat until you have 5 sheet of oiled phyllo stacked up. Cut into 6 squares.

Take each square and press into muffin cup, as if you were creating a small muffin sized pie. Fill with about a 1/4 cup eggplant mixture. Gather up ends of phyllo to create a little pouch and press to hold close. Brush with more oil.

Repeat with each square of phyllo, and with remaining phyllo sheets.

Bake until golden, about 30 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

pretzel dogs

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when i saw these bad boys on joy the baker, they solved an immediate problem. what to bring to a superbowl party hosted by a foodie couple that requested witty treats?

witty these are not, but they are the perfect homage to new york street food. soft, warm pretzels with just the right amount of chew. salty, savory, you-know-they-aren't-good-for-you goodness of a hot dog.

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food really is the best part of sports, isn't it?

plus, i've been wanting to get into the pretzel bread game.

while it is completely ridiculous, the somm and i are more or less regulars at an amazing las vegas restaurant.

if we don't live in the same city, our favorite restaurant might as well be somewhere else anyway, right? we're just doing our best to prove proximity is overrated.

right? actually, not. not for husbands, and definitely not for pretzel rolls.

that restaurant has the best pretzel rolls i've ever eaten, hands down. i tried to recreate them, but failed. failed hard.

then we went to oktoberfest in munich. i ate my body weight in the bretzels the lovely madchen sold from their charming wicker-baskets wearing their dirndls.

there may also have been beer. take this as your subsitute gratuitous manchego shot. man, we love our fuzzy little mascots. also, i may have been too (tipsy?) busy eating pretzels to actually take a photo of them.

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but munich? way further than either my husband or my vegas pretzel rolls.

back to the kitchen!

here's the thing about pretzels. the dough starts out nice and easy like a basic brioche or other buttery bread dough.

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looks like play-doh, right?

finished up with a nice coat of butter, chunky salt and fresh cracked black pepper. and into the oven!

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the magic of the pretzel – like the bagel – is the boil. in highly acidic water.

victory for these little suckers came from dumping an entire box of baking soda into the boiling water.

this is how you get the dark, chewy crust.

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these were so good and so easy, i'm doubling down on the pretzel challenge. these were great – seriously, amazing sports-watching food, or even breakfast food if you're so inclined, and you know who i'm talking about - but they aren't the pure pretzel i've been craving.

plus, i recently sleuthed out that the real professionals use food-grade lye to boil their pretzels.

i'm going to say that again. lye.

you know, the stuff half-pint and pa used to make SOAP in the little house on the prairie books?

i know we live in an internet age, but i feel like there is a line you cross when you start ordering such products online. friends, it is a line i have now crossed. get ready. pretzel rolls are coming soon!

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and if you need to borrow some food-grade lye to bake along with me . . . i'm pretty sure i now have a lifetime supply.

Find the pretzel dog recipe and really super easy to follow instructions here.

baby artichokes, i win

baby artichokes

aren’t they cute?  they look so innocent.  you can almost hear them whisper: hello.  i’m small, adorable and green.  take me home and turn me into something yummy!

devious little buggers.

first few times i tried to make some magic with baby artichokes, i just couldn’t get it right.  and to be honest, the problem was me.

a confession – i hate kitchen waste.  i hate, for example, peeling a watermelon and feeling like half the watermelon is still attached to the rind.

i had to do breathing exercises to get through my knife skills class because to make those exquisite, perfect, 2 in by 1/4 in by 1/4 carrot batons or petit brunoise potato dice, you leave most of the vegetable behind.

control issues?  what do you mean control issues?

anyway.  you have to let that go with the baby artichokes.  check this out.

artichoke carnage

i don’t know if you can tell, but the pile of discarded baby artichoke leaves DWARFS the tender, pale green hearts.

but friends, you must be ruthless.  if you don’t, your baby artichokes will end up woody.  inedible.  they will mock you from under their yummy, tangy, lemony glaze.

if you truly can leave no artichoke leaf behind, go find yourself one of those jumbo dudes.  i’ll even share my momma’s top secret artichoke cooking technique.

are you ready? 

wrap in plastic wrap and nuke it until it’s tender.  try not to think about whatever it is that’s leeching into your food fromthe plastic.  melt some butter (also feel free to nuke that).  good to go.  is there anything better? 

did i hear you say aioli?  yeah, that works.  or mayo, on a spoon from the jar.  no biggie.

anyway, back to our petit artichauts.  now that you’ve gone and really stripped them down, you’re ready to introduce them to their friends lemon, garlic, white wine, and thyme. 

they’re going to get along swimmingly.

sauteing artichokes

let me tell you, these were some tasty artichokes.  they were tender and sweet.  the dressing was a wonderful balance of acid and tart and savory herbally goodness. 

but, jeez louise, they just aren’t as adorable as they were at the start, right?

bowl of artichokes

this leads me to lesson number two today.  i didn’t get my artichokes soaking in lemon water quite soon enough, and the artichokes went from green to . . . a, uh, slightly less appetizing tan color.

the irony – and i may need an english teacher here to tell me if this is real irony or alanis morissette irony – it was my endless futzing with them for photographs that kept them from the lemon bath they needed to look good in the photographs. 

the somm feels their pain, let me tell you. 

so, don’t be like me.  strip your artichokes, soak your artichokes, serve them to the ones you love.

Artichoke Antipasto

Not at all adapted from David Tanis’ Heart of the Artichoke, unless you count my smart-ass, alcoholic asides.  Original recipe here, buy the book here.

  • 10 to 12 baby artichokes
  • Zest and juice of one lemon
  • Olive oil
  • 1/3 cupish white wine
  • 3-4 sprigs of thyme
  • 2 small garlic cloves, chopped
  • Small pinch red pepper flakes
  • Parsley to taste

Open the bottle of wine, pour yourself a glass.  Quality control.

Fill a bowl with water and squeeze in the lemon juice.  Don’t be shy.

Tell the baby artichokes their time has come.  One at a time, chop off about the top third of each artichoke, or maybe a little less.  Pull off the hard green outer leaves until just the tender lighter green leaves are left.  Slice them in half, lengthwise, and add them to the lemon water.  Immediately.

Heat your (non-cast iron) skillet and add olive oil and let it get warm.  Drain the artichokes and add them to the pan with some salt and pepper.  Then add the wine and thyme and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the artichokes are tender when you test them with a fork, about 10 minutes.

Add the garlic and red pepper flakes (to taste!), and cook for a minute or so until the garlic starts to smell and loses that raw garlic bite.

Take the pan off the heat, add the lemon zest and parsley.  I don’t think I added the parsley.  I’m not a huge fan, plus my little plant hasn’t been doing so well, and I honestly just never really remember to garnish.  But, by all means.  Arugula would also probably work here.

David Tanis says you can let them cool to room temperature to serve as a part of an antipasto platter.  They didn’t really last that long for us.  Nom.

pseudo single lady eggplant caponata

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i do a lot of pseudo-single-lady cooking.  forget rachel ray, if the somm is out of town, dinner needs to take about 15 minutes to get from the fridge into my mouth.  this tends to limit the repertoire to, well, zucchini hash and a fried egg if i can muster the energy to chop something.  or olives and a very large glass of wine if it’s been one of those days.

yeah. classy.  i’ll be sure to get that recipe up here one of these days.

anyway, when i’m a pseudo-single-lady who has her $%*! together and isn’t too hangry at the world to cope with cooking, i’ll make a big pot of something that’ll last all week to use in various forms for lunch and dinner.  like a big pork tenderloin or a pot of braised chicken that’ll go in salads or on pasta.  mmm.

this is one of those type of recipes.

eggplant caponata is kind of like the italian version of ratatouille.  but it has more eggplant than tomato.  and you chop the veggies up into smaller pieces.

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and unlike tomatoey ratatouille, which i melt into almost a stew, the eggplant in caponata tends to hold its shape and texture even as you saute and simmer it.  and it ends up more as a dip.  or like salsa?  do you know what i’m getting at here?

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the type of caponata i like to make is pretty tangy.  lots of capers and olives and some red wine or sherry vinegar to zing it up.

the secret ingredient?  pine nuts.

no one would call a pine nut crunchy.  but against the silky smooth texture of the eggplant, tomato, and red pepper, they give the caponata a much needed bite.  and a nice toasty, nutty layer of flavor to the dish.

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don’t be like me and totally forget about your pine nuts and let them get slightly too toasty on one side while staying oddly nakedly blonde on the other.

just keepin’ it real, folks.

so, i’ve made caponata for family dinners when the somm’s home.  i made a huge batch, and it just got better all week.  the yogi came over and we spread it on french bread, crumbled some feta on top, broiled it and had it in our faces in under 15 minutes, FTW.

look, here i’ve served it with pork.

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shocking, i know.  i pretty much have served everything i’ve made this summer with pork.  thank god it’s dropping into winter weather this weekend so i can give my old friends the short ribs some love.

Eggplant Caponata

Adapted from the New York Times

  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 3 large garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 red bell peppers, diced
  • 1 1/2 pounds eggplant, chopped into 1/2ish cubes or close enough (see note)
  • 2 medium to large ripe tomatoes, diced (and peeled if you’re feeling fancy), or half a 14-ounce can diced tomatoes
  • 3 heaped tablespoons capers, drained
  • 3 tablespoons coarsely chopped pitted kalamata olives
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 3 tablespoons red wine or sherry vinegar
  • 1 good splash of red wine
  • Salt and Pepper
  • 1/3 cup pine nuts, toasted

Heat your oil in your skillet, add the onions and saute for a few minutes.  You probably don’t want to let them brown because they’ve got some more cooking to do, but I can never remember to stir and I’m usually chopping the eggplant or garlic and forget, and it works out ok.

Add the garlic and red bell pepper and saute for another few minutes to get the pepper softening.  Then add your eggplant and cook until it gets a little brown – maybe 10 minutes or so.

Add your tomatoes, olives, and capers, cook for a few minutes then add the tomato paste and liquids.  Cook until the liquid is just gone and the sauce holds together.  Taste it and see if the balance of tart and savory is right for you or if it needs more vinegar or maybe even a pinch of sugar.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.

You can either add the pine nuts now, or you can reserve and garnish as needed.  This helps keep them from going too soft in my opinion.

Caponata is best served warm or room temperature, but it’s pretty darn good on crackers straight out of the fridge too.

A note about eggplants: Many people find eggplant to be bitter if you don’t salt it first.  I usually buy the lighter purple eggplants.  Or the funky streaky looking ones. In part, if I’m being honest, cause they’re kind of prettier.  But I also think they’re sweeter and less bitter than the darker ones.  And I’m lazy and that’s my excuse to not salt my eggplant.  Feel free to salt yours if you have the patience or desire.  Also, the New York Times has you roast your eggplant.  I like the firm bite of a non-roasted eggplant, and didn’t really want to add the prep time, but I’m sure it’s lovely either way.  Aren’t you so glad you came for all this (not) helpful (completely subjective, not tested) advice!

 

romesco sauce

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we can do this the easy way or the hard way.

no, seriously.

there are a lot of steps here.

there are lots of ingredients to toast or roast and peel.  soak and chop.  saute and puree.  here are some of them.  the photogenic ones!  also the ones i didn’t forget to pose.

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note to self: do not become a wedding photographer.  although, who ever looks at those lined up photos anyway???   sigh.  two years later, i still have post-traumatic bridal stress disorder.

back to the romesco.  it makes everything better.  we even served it at the wedding.  at the meats on sticks station!  yum.

and don’t worry.  about the wedding or all the steps to the romesco sauce.  they’re worth it.  and they’re (generally) a great way to spend a saturday afternoon. and i’ll tell you when you can cheat – in the sauce, not the marriage.

are we done with that metaphor?  i hope so.

romesco is a spanish sauce that is mostly peppers, tomatoes, nuts and bread.  sounds weird but it is deeply satisfying.  it’s smoky, with a nice balance of sweet and bitter peppers, a touch of acid, a little chunky.  it’s a substantial sauce.  there are lots of ingredient and lots of steps, but don’t  be intimidated.  that just means lots of ways to make romesco the way YOU want it to be.

here’s how i make romesco.  i roast something.

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i take a break and go sweep the cat litter in the bathroom.  i wash my hands.  thoroughly.  gross.  i come back and toast something.  something like hazelnuts.

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then i go wipe down a counter or water a plant.  i have house cleaning ADHD.

back to the kitchen!  we’re going to take the skins off stuff!

roasted red pepper.  after you thoroughly blacken the skin – either on the stove or under the broiler, turning constantly! – let it hang out in a ziploc and get steamy.  then the blackened skin slips right off.  super easy.  but you know what?  the stuff that comes in a jar works too! and looks slightly less creepy than this denuded red pepper.

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the secret to taking those skins of the hazelnuts is rubbing them in a dishtowel.  a nubbier towel would have worked better than this, but isn’t it pretty?!  thanks mom.

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hazelnuts are a traditional ingredient for romesco.  toasting them offers deeper flavor – and taking the skins off will make a prettier sauce.  i mixed them with marcona almonds (fancy pants spanish almonds that are super salty and a little oily but in a good-put-more-in-my-mouth-right-now kind of way) but you could just use marcona almonds.  or just regular almonds.  whatever floats your boat.

also going on during my toasting/roasting/prep/cleaning time is soaking some ancho chiles.  nora chiles are traditionally the central ingredient in a romesco.

my whole foods doesn’t carry them, and grocery stores are limited here in the urban metropolis that is NW DC. i’m pretty sure i couldn’t pick a nora pepper out in a line up.  ancho chiles, according to my “extensive” research, are a common substitute in romesco.

but, here’s the “secret” to my romesco.

it really is more of a glorified red pepper sauce.  i like the sweetness.  i add the ancho for a little bit of that smoky bitterness.  but whenever i try to go old school and use mostly dried peppers, i am just disappointed.

and, there are way too many steps here to not luuuuuurve the results.  because once you’ve roasted and toasted and soaked and chopped, you need to saute the ingredients together.  let them meet and mingle.  cocktail hour style.

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in this stage, you’re adding the bread, tomatoes, and garlic.

they’ll really get to know each other in the food processor.

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in a nod to the somm, i don’t add oil to make it saucy.  i used some chicken stock and some spanish white wine . . . this time a viura-chardonnay blend.  viura.  the somm and i spent our whole trip to rioja making people say it for us and failing to replicate the sound.  the v . . . not a v.  some weird v/f hybrid.  the inflection . . . much more nuanced than the american tongue is prepared to take on.  who would have thought txakolina would be easier to say!  sigh.

luckily, romesco is SUPER easy to pronounce.  and super easy to make, if you can stick through the roasting-toasting-soaking-chopping.

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and good on so much stuff.  burgers.  roasted potatoes.  crudites.  a spoon.  dig in!

Roasted Red Pepper Romesco

Super loosely adapted from the New York TImesRead the article about the awesomeness of romesco!

Smitten Kitchen has a good recipe too.

  • 2 red peppers
  • 3-4 peppadew peppers (or just use more red pepper or piquillo, like the NY Times)
  • 1 dried ancho chile
  • 1 medium to largish tomato
  • 6 cloves garlic (I am garlic CRAZY.  use as much as seems reasonable to you)
  • Handful hazelnuts (NY Times called for 15.  Hilarious.  Please, do not bother counting out your hazelnuts)
  • Larger handful marcona almonds (or, you know, 25)
  • 1 cup cubed baguette, stale or slightly toasted
  • 1/3 cup white wine
  • 1/3 cup chicken stock
  • 1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
  • 1 healthy sqeeze of lemon juice
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika (This is Spanish paprika.  I bought mine in Spain.  You don’t need to, they sell it here, but don’t use regular paprika, it won’t get the job done.)
  • Chopped fresh thyme

Soak ancho chile in hot water for about half an hour until soft.  Remove seeds.  Roughly chop.

Blacken the red peppers over a gas flame or under the broiler.  Place in a ziploc bag for 5 to 10 minutes, then slip off skins. Coarsely chop.

Toast hazelnuts until dark brown but not black.  Fold into dish towel and rub to remove skins.

Slice slight X in bottom of tomato – just enough to break the skin.  Blanche in boiling water for a minute, then peel.  Or skip this because you just can’t handle peeling ONE MORE THING.  Use canned tomatoes.  Or just leave the skin on.  It’ll add some fiber, that’s good, right?

Saute bread, nuts, garlic for a few minutes, until you can start to smell the garlic.  Add the tomatos.  Then the peppers.

Throw the mixture into the food processor.  Start the processor.  As it runs, add the liquids.  Season to taste with paprika, salt and pepper.  Garnish the with fresh thyme.  The sauce will have texture.  Delicious texture.