fun with beets

I don’t usu­ally post a pile of recipes here, but Fri­day night I was faced with a nice bunch of golden beets that needed to be used. I made a loaf with the beet greens and then grated and sauteed the beets with a parsnip.

The mother recipes I began with were out of Jean­nette Ferrary’s and Louise Fiszer’s The California-American Cook­book: Inno­va­tions on Amer­i­can Regional Dishes. But since I was miss­ing some ingre­di­ents and had some oth­ers on hand, the final prepa­ra­tions ended pretty dif­fer­ent from the orig­i­nals. Both seemed like good ways to honor ingre­di­ents that are now in season.

John usu­ally only grudg­ingly accepts beets at the table. How­ever, he thought both of these were keep­ers, so I thought I’d bet­ter write them down before I for­get what I did.

If this were a proper food blog, I’d have way­laid the plates on the way to the table before serv­ing them. But the food was long gone before I had a chance to think of that. Maybe I should have posted pho­tos of the dirty dishes after all the beet con­coc­tions had been devoured…

Loaf of Beet Greens

  • Olive oil
  • Beet greens, tops of 1 large bunch (ca. 3 large beets), includ­ing stems, chopped
  • 1 clove gar­lic, minced
  • 1 medium onion, chopped fine
  • 1 ser­rano chili, seeded, mem­branes removed, slivered
  • 3 eggs
  • 1/2 cup shred­ded cheese (I used Trader Joes’ Quat­tro Formaggi)
  • 1/4 pound good firm tofu, cut in 3/8 inch cubes
  • salt
  • pep­per
  • small sprin­kling of nutmeg

Pre­heat oven to 350. Saute beets, onion, gar­lic and chili in oil until wilted, ca. 5–8 min­utes. Salt and pep­per to taste. Remove from heat.

Mix eggs, cheese, tofu and nut­meg in bowl, and then stir into beet green mixture.

Pour into greased loaf pan and bake 25 min­utes. Allow to set 10 min­utes before serving.

Serves 4

Root Veg­eta­bles in Tequila Lime Butter

  • 3 table­spoons butter
  • 3 large beets, golden beets pre­ferred, ends removed, peeled and grated
  • 1 medium parsnip, peeled and grated
  • zest of 1 lime
  • juice of 1/2 lime
  • 1 table­spoon sugar
  • 1 1/2 table­spoons tequila
  • salt
  • pep­per
  • 2 table­spoons minced cilantro to gar­nish (optional)

In a bowl mix together lime juice, zest and sugar. In a saucepan saute beets in melted but­ter over high heat for 3 min­utes. Add salt and pep­per. Add tequila, and then lime mix­ture, and cook for 3 more min­utes. Serve gar­nished with cilantro.

Serves 3–4


January 27 2009 | Categories: rambles | Tags: | 3 Comments »

bacon is not a vegetable

So you’re a veg­e­tar­ian? No prob­lem! Peo­ple brought five dif­fer­ent veg­etable dishes!”

For any veg­e­tar­i­ans out there: How many times have you heard this bit of reas­sur­ance, only to go to the table and be faced with plate after plate of beautifully-grown veg­eta­bles that have been trans­formed into some­thing other than a veg­etable dish?

Green beans and onions cooked with chicken stock and sprin­kled with bacon?
Spinach with…bacon?
Mashed pota­toes with…bacon?
Brus­sels sprouts with…bacon?

For­tu­nately I’m not the strictest of veg­e­tar­i­ans. If the only options are veg­gies with bits of meat incor­po­rated into the dish, I’ll try to leave the meaty bits on the plate or eat around them. But there are plenty of folks I know who would decline the offerings.

We veg-heads are used to bring­ing our own dishes to these gath­er­ings. We also try to help out in the kitchen and tact­fully try to make gen­tle sug­ges­tions for sub­sti­tu­tions. But at a time of year when peo­ple focus on tra­di­tions, this is a del­i­cate issue that risks frac­tur­ing a fam­ily into upstarts and traditionalists.

There’s one easy sug­ges­tion that might please almost every­one at the table: Instead of putting bacon in every dish, why not fill a condi­ment dish with crunchy bacon bits that peo­ple could heap on top of their veg­gies? The veg­e­tar­i­ans would avoid it, leav­ing even more for every­one else! Also, you could offer a fla­vor­ful sauce on the side that could keep the bacon fans happy.

And of course, try­ing new prepa­ra­tions could come up with new fam­ily tra­di­tions. This Thanks­giv­ing prob­a­bly the most unusual dish was some­thing Olinda next door shared with us: a sweet and aro­matic prepa­ra­tion of sweet pota­toes and guavas. The plate looked sim­i­lar to tra­di­tional yams, but every­thing was heady with the aro­mas of fresh-baked guavas, some­thing that reminded me of the per­fume of flowers.

Olinda ran a Mex­i­can restau­rant until her recent retire­ment. Although sweet pota­toes and guavas is a tra­di­tional cel­e­bra­tory dish in Mex­ico, it unfor­tu­nately wasn’t one that ever showed up on the menu of her restau­rant. And I doubt that you’d ever see it offered at any main­stream Mex­i­can eatery.

I’m work­ing on Olinda to get her to divulge her recipe, but until I’m suc­cess­ful here’s a link to a recipe in the Texas Monthly that looks very sim­i­lar. Yes, it looks like a lot of sugar. This is a sweet dish, but I’m sure you could adjust the sugar to your lik­ing. But what­ever you do, don’t scrimp on the guavas!

(If you don’t have access to fresh guavas, there are a num­ber of recipes on the web that use the some­what eas­ier to find guava jam.)

December 03 2008 | Categories: rambles | Tags: | 2 Comments »

pretty isn’t everything

Many years back I planted a rose gera­nium plant (Pelargo­nium grave­olens) and was close to pulling it out. The leaves had that inter­est­ing rosy, grassy rose-geranium scent, true enough, but the plant was sprawl­ing, leggy, and in its under­wa­tered spot looked nice only a cou­ple months a year.

What gave it a reprieve was the recipe in the Chez Panisse Desserts cook­book for rose gera­nium pound cake, a del­i­cate, sub­tle cloud of a dessert where even a tiny slice kept you cap­ti­vated with its hard-to-guess source of fla­vor. And the lit­tle ruf­fled leaves that you baked into the top of the cake were an awe­some decoration.

The kitchen remodel a cou­ple years ago involved a bull­dozer in the garden–usually not good news for the plants under its treads. The orig­i­nal rose gera­nium got squashed and dug up, and its orig­i­nal home is now a slab of con­crete in the din­ing area. (Check out the funny descrip­tion at Las Pil­i­tas nurs­ery for Pen­ste­mon Mar­garita B.O.P., a really cool plant that suf­fered a sim­i­lar fate, though for­tu­nately not until after it had been prop­a­gated. I never knew what the “B.O.P.” stood for until I read the note.)

Last week­end I finally bought a replace­ment. The small plant looked iden­ti­cal to what I’d grown before, but this one had a dif­fer­ent species name on the label, G. cap­i­ta­tum ‘Attar of Roses.’ The Dave’s Gar­den writeup shows big­ger, almost ivy-geranium-sized flow­ers on the plant, and the descrip­tion puts it at half the size of what I had before. And the scented gera­nium list at Herbal­pe­dia says there are at least 50 gera­ni­ums that have a rose scent.

Based on what I’ve seen from the plant, how­ever, I’m skep­ti­cal that my plant is much dif­fer­ent from the pre­vi­ous one. I’m not tak­ing chances. It went into the ground where it’ll be screened by a few other herbs.

Here’s the recipe in case you get moti­vated. Also check out the Herbal­pe­dia list above where you’ll find six­teen other recipes, plus lots more ideas of what to do with scented geraniums.

15–18 small rose gera­nium leaves
1 1/4 cups unsalted but­ter, soft­ened
1 1/3 cups sugar
3/4 tea­spoon vanilla extract
3/4 tea­spoon rose water
1 table­spoon plus 1 tea­spoon Cognac
6 eggs
1/8 tea­spoon mace
1/2 tea­spoon salt
1/2 tea­spoon cream of tar­tar
2 2/3 cups unsifted cake flour

But­ter and flour a 9-inch spring­form pan or a 10-inch bundt or tube pan. Rinse and dry the rose gera­nium leaves and arrange a dozen of the in a ring around the bot­tom fo the pan, under­sides up. Arrange the rest in the center.

Cream the but­ter until very light and fluffy. Beat in the sugar and con­tinue beat­ing until the mix­ture is fluffy again. Beat in the vanilla, rose water, and Cognac. Add the eggs one by one, beat­ing to incor­po­rate each one thor­oughly before adding the next one. Beat until the mix­ture is smooth. Mix the mace, salt and cream of tar­tar into the flour and sift the flour over the but­ter mix­ture in four por­tions, beat­ing just until each one is mixed in. Care­fully spoon some of the bat­ter into the pan to anchor the leaves in place. Pour the rest of the bat­ter into the pan and smooth it. Tap the pan on the counter to force out any air bubbles.

Bake in the cen­ter of a pre­heated 325 degree oven for about an hour and a quar­ter, or until a tooth­pick inserted in the cen­ter comes out clean. Cool. Turn out of the pan and option­ally dust lightly with pow­dered sugar that’s been stored with a vanilla bean. (I like it just fine with­out this step.)

August 07 2008 | Categories: my garden | Tags: | 2 Comments »

tomato sculpture

I was brows­ing the web for recipes for cap­rese salad, the clas­sic salad of Capri using plum toma­toes, moz­zarella, basil, olive oil salt and pep­per. I didn’t encounter any rev­e­la­tions as far as ingre­di­ents or pro­por­tions, but I found sev­eral images of a pre­sen­ta­tion method where the tomato was sliced and then reassem­bled with slices of the cheese and basil interfiled.

Caprese salad tomato tower

Cap­rese salad tomato tower

Cool, I thought. But what if you use two toma­toes of dif­fer­ent col­ors? Here’s a first draft of this idea, using Mr. Stripey with the first fruit from Chero­kee Purple.

Before I add this to the menu at Spago, I’d try to be sure the toma­toes were more sim­i­lar in both size and shape. Also, cleaner, more uni­form cuts through the buf­falo moz­zarella would have made for a neater pre­sen­ta­tion.

July 28 2008 | Categories: rambles | Tags: | 2 Comments »