March 17, 2010
Yogurt Cheese/Greek Yogurt
I caught Mark Bittman’s column today which reminded me of the batch of yogurt cheese I made last week. If you’ve never tried this before, and like Greek yogurt, give it a shot. We usually turn it into dips made with olive oil and the Middle Eastern spice blend za’atar (recipe included) or tahini, lemon juice and garlic. You can control the thickness and consistency depending on how long you allow the yogurt to drain. I usually drain my yogurt for 24 hours, yielding a cream cheese consistency. Draining for 8-12 hours would yield a consistency more similar to Greek yogurt. Omit the table salt if you enjoy Greek yogurt with sweet pairings, such as fruit and granola or drizzled with honey or jam. No special tools required, provided you own a colander, bowl and cheesecloth (or flour sack kitchen towel). It’s the easiest homemade cheese you will ever make.
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March 14, 2010
Broccoli Slaw
The snow piles have almost completely disappeared around here thanks to a week of sunshine and near 60 degree temperatures. What remains are a few slushy piles of white along the driveway where, less than a few weeks ago, mini mountains stood. The result of our snow plow. Our snow plow team, rather, known as Kyle and trusty sidekick Blue Shovel. They moved a lot of snow this year. Up and out by 5:30 am to make way for cars and early commutes to work. Working under the light of street lamps until 8 pm after a long day at the office, zigzagging back and forth across the drive in an attempt to make the following morning’s plow a little easier. Believe me, I offered to help. But to no avail. Kyle is a gentleman, through and through, and wouldn’t have me hauling snow. (After ten years he still insists on opening car doors for me. I’m a lucky girl.) And, on multiple occasions (read: daily) I insisted hiring a plow service would be worth its weight in gold. Again, to no avail. Kyle is a sucker for physical labor. He thrives on it and argues that as long as he is young and able enough to do it, he will. And that’s that.
We are both relieved to kiss the snow piles goodbye (fingers crossed we’ve seen the last of them). Though I’d argue this is the worst part of Winter’s end and Spring’s beginning. Happy as I am to see it melt, I’m not crazy about what the sparkling white snow leaves behind. Gray grass. Brown mud. Murky puddles. Crayola could name a really ugly brownish-grayish-blahish crayon color “March in Ohio”. Needless to say I’ve been craving a little bright green in my life. Enter Broccoli Slaw.
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March 11, 2010
Linguine with White Clam Sauce
People who know us well can attest that we are homebodies. As much as we love a night out on the town, either as a couple or among friends, nothing beats the comforts of our kitchen, our dining table, our couch. A reservation chez nous means casual attire (read: my hair is up, makeup is off, sweats are on), cheap entertainment a la Netflix, a bottle of wine and comfort food. This clam linguine is our default comfort food. I make it mid-week when nothing else sounds good, on Sunday evenings when grocery shopping didn’t fit into the weekend schedule and I’m left to forage through the pantry, or at the end of a long week when I just don’t have the energy to really cook (I could probably make this blind-folded, that’s how often it’s eaten around here). Such was the case a couple Fridays back when I couldn’t refuse a date night at home. While Kyle determined which of the Academy Awards Best Picture hopefuls to watch first, I made linguine with white clam sauce (or clam linguine, as we call it) while donning an over-sized hoodie, sporting a ponytail and armed with a hefty pour of Chardonnay. Comfort at its finest. My kind of Friday night.
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March 8, 2010
Roasted Beet and Carrot Salad with Watercress
I am a salad person. A vegetable devotee. A greens munching, carrot chomping, beet roasting enthusiast. An addict. Our vegetable drawer gets more action than fruit and dairy combined. I spend a ridiculous amount of time in the produce section, pondering the peppers and tubers and brassicas. I’m the person you want to run over with your cart because I’ve parked in front of the green leaf lettuce and romaine, searching for the best looking bundle. Yes, I’m that person. My crazy affinity for all things vegetable may be pushing the limits of social acceptance. Lunch is usually a head turning Tupperware of leafy greens. Head turning because people are in awe of its sheer size, not because they are necessarily pining for its contents.
That….is your lunch? Do you have to take, like, 4 beano or something?
Um, no, but thanks for your concern.
But over the past couple of months, green leafy salads have been MIA from the lunch hour. My trusty Tupperware containers sit idle. The vegetable drawer is wondering if it will ever see the likes of spring greens or spinach again. Over the course of a drawn-out-waaaayyy-too long winter, leafy lunchtime fare has been replaced with soups and heated leftovers, toast with peanut butter and oatmeal. Desperate as I am for springtime eats, my cold salad cravings remain dormant so long as snow piles abound. That is to say until I met this salad last week. A transitional salad, if you will. Part crisp and cool, part roasted and room temperature, this salad was made for March in the Midwest when Mother Nature is an evil flip-flopper.
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March 5, 2010
Red Lentil Soup
I’m considering renaming this blog ‘for the love of lentils’ or ‘the sentimental lentil’. Have you caught on to my mild obsession with this legume?
The past few sunny days we’ve been enjoying suggest that Spring weather might actually make an appearance before May (details on the exact date and time are forthcoming; Mother Nature is all about the element of surprise this year). But, alas, Winter still reigns which means soup is still on the menu. You won’t hear me complaining, especially when it comes to this red lentil soup. Kyle and I used to enjoy something very similar at a tiny Middle Eastern restaurant in Chicago. It was always served before the main course in a small white bowl with a generous wedge of lemon. While all of the food was authentic and fantastic, the soup won me over every time. Before finishing school and moving back to Cleveland, we asked The Nile’s ever gracious owner about the secret to his soup. He claimed there was really no exact recipe (which I took to mean he wasn’t disclosing the family secret), just a sauté of aromatics blended with stock, red lentils, turmeric and lemon (if my memory serves me correct). While this version isn’t The Nile’s, it’s pretty close and takes me back to my favorite college days.
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