Archive for the 'pasta' Category

Zucchini Linguine

Published on September 9, 2011 in Italian and pasta. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , .

Don’t you just love it when you randomly start making something, and it turns into something mindblowingly delicious? Something that you could eat every day and never get sick of? Something that you can’t stop raving about to your perplexed but grateful husband while simultaneously shoving it in your mouth?

Well, this is that something.

It all started when I was cruising food blogs and found a bunch of intriguing posts centered around raw zucchini cut into the shape of spaghetti. Now you all know how I love zucchini (don’t you?). And as it’s in season, there’s a lot of it to love. But I wasn’t feeling the raw angle and I felt like it needed a bit more oomph (as my mother would say) or substance, so I decided to combine it with actual spaghetti. Totally meta. And yet not too heavy because it ended up being half zucchini spaghetti and half real spaghetti.

And then the plot (and dish) thickened. I had some lovely roasted heirloom tomatoes lying around and decided to toss those in.

And then (yes there’s more), I was thinking about a recipe from Gwyneth Paltrow’s cookbook (stop rolling your eyes, I didn’t actually purchase it, just saw a recipe on some website; but I have looked at it and there’s some good, if not groundbreaking, stuff in there, so don’t hate, people) where you bread and fry zucchini slices and thought that sounded nice, but too much of a pain to execute. So I came up with the idea of a cooked butter-parmesan-panko gremolata-type topping (translation: fancy breadcrumbs). That turned out to be a very good idea, to the point that I now want crunchy cheesy lemony breadcrumbs on pretty much everything.

The bottom line is that the result of my meandering, puttering day of cooking and fiddling is a damn good dish that I will be making again and again. And you should too.

Zucchini Linguine

2 medium zucchini, julienned lengthwise on a mandoline (or spiral slicer)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 garlic cloves (preferably roasted), chopped
1 cup roasted cherry tomatoes (optional)
1-2 tablespoons half & half
Juice of 1/2 a lemon
Black pepper
Salt
3/4 lb. spaghetti
1/4-1/2 cup pasta water, reserved

Topping:
1-2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup panko breadcrumbs
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese, freshly grated, plus more for garnish
Zest of half a lemon
2 handfuls (about 20 good-sized leaves) of basil, chiffonaded and separated

Put a large pot of water on to boil. Cook the spaghetti til al dente and reserve 1/2 cup of the pasta water (before draining!).

In a nonstick sauté pan, melt butter over medium heat. Add the breadcrumbs and cheese, stirring to combine. Keep stirring continuously and cook until breadcrumbs start to brown. Turn off the heat and stir in the lemon zest and 1/2 the basil. Check for seasoning.

Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in a large sauté pan. Add garlic and zucchini, cooking until just softened, but still holding its shape, about 3 minutes. Add the half & half and let it thicken a bit. Turn the heat down to medium-low and stir in tomatoes (if using) and lemon juice; season to taste with salt and pepper (chili flakes would also be nice).

Add the pasta to the zucchini pan and cook for a couple minutes, adding a bit of the pasta water to loosen things up a bit. Transfer the zucchini pasta mixture to a serving dish and garnish with the breadcrumb topping. Season with more salt and pepper, the remaining basil and more Parmesan.

Basil Pesto

Published on August 8, 2011 in Italian and pasta. 6 Comments Tags: , , , , , .


I have somehow managed to not kill my basil plant — it is, in fact, thriving on our windowsill with a view of Ground Zero — and like the Freedom Tower, it’s growing like gangbusters, so it’s time to make some pesto!* As this is one of our easy summer go-to dinners, it’s ridiculous that I’ve waited til now to post this, but there it is and here you go.

Modeled after the one and only Patricia Wells’ recipe from this fabulous tome, this pesto is made with basil. If you’re feeling frisky, however, you can substitute another herb in there, like cilantro or parsley or even sweet pea shoots (which I realize is not an herb). And if you don’t have pine nuts (as I often don’t), leave them out or use walnuts or pecans or some other meaty nut.

This go-round I happened to have a delicious balsamic-infused Parmesan they were sampling at Whole Foods the other day (and which G and I took liberal advantage of). Called Sartori Bellavitano and sporting a lovely balsamic-induced edible brown rind, it’s the kind of cheese you crumble off little chunks of here and there and happily nibble away on, only to realize with a sinking kind of horror, that you’ve just ingested half a pound of said cheese. I somehow managed to restrain myself sufficiently to grate enough for the pesto, which gave the dish a nice little kick. I wouldn’t mind some lemon zest sprinkled over this either, just for fun. And if you feel guilty that there are no veggies in there (am I the only one who does this to myself? Please say no), toss in some halved cherry tomatoes or even a cup of broccoli florets or a scoop of cannellini beans (which would combat the protein scarcity guilt complex, a completely different — but equally debilitating — illness). Or just have a salad and some nice bread with whatever’s left of that Parmesan.

Basil Pesto

1 lb./1/2 kilo dried pasta
2 fresh garlic cloves, roughly chopped
2 cups loosely packed basil leaves
Sea salt to taste
1/3-1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup Parmesan, freshly grated, plus another 1/4 cup for sprinkling
1/4 cup pine nuts

Put a large pot of water on to boil and cook your pasta of choice, reserving a scoop of the pasta water. Toast pine nuts in a dry skillet over medium heat, flipping regularly so they cook evenly. Don’t leave the kitchen while you’re doing this.

Put the garlic, basil and sea salt in the bowl of a food processor (this recipe fits perfectly in this) and whiz into a paste. Add the olive oil slowly through the feed tube thing while running the motor, scraping down the sides if necessary. Pour the pesto into a large serving bowl, stir in the cheese and a few tablespoons of the pasta water. Taste for seasoning. Stir in the pasta and serve with lots of black pepper and more Parmesan.

* Full disclosure: the basil in the photo is not from my plant and, honestly, if I had used the leaves from my plant, I’d have no plant left.

Macaroni & Cheese

Published on June 10, 2011 in Main Courses and pasta. 0 Comments Tags: , , .


Something is wrong in the world. Or, more accurately, with me. I just realized that I have yet to include a recipe for macaroni and cheese. A classic comfort food. A surefire winner with kids (and everyone else except lactose-intolerant types). Gooey, cheesy happiness. What’s the matter with me?! I must get right on this.

I think there are two camps when it comes to mac ‘n cheese: the keep-it-simples and the jazz-it-uppers. I’m more of a keep it simple kinda gal — like why add a bunch of stuff when you don’t really need it? But for you jazz-it-uppers, I’ve got a few suggestions for you: throw in some dijon mustard, cayenne or herbs when you add the nutmeg…or for a healthy addition, toss in 1/2 cup of  veggies (try steamed broccoli florets, zucchini matchsticks, peas, halved cherry tomatoes). But you don’t want to get too crazy. After all, it’s cheese, butter and pasta. It’s kind of perfect already.

Notes: If it’s 95º outside, like it was yesterday, you may not feel like turning on the oven, so just skip the baking part. It’ll still be good. But the baking really brings it all together and enhances the gooey factor, so keep that in mind. Also, instead of bread crumbs, you can use some threatening-to-go-stale crackers (like I did) or even potato chips (to up the 50s kitsch factor).

Macaroni & Cheese

1 lb. (500g) cooked macaroni (or some other hollow, tubey-like pasta of your choosing)
4 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup flour
2-1/2 cups whole milk
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, preferably freshly ground
1 teaspoon salt
1/4+ teaspoon black pepper
2 cups grated cheese (I like a combination of sharp cheddar, Gruyère and Parmesan)
5-7 Tabasco (optional)
2 tablespoons breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese, grated
1 tablespoon butter, melted
Flat-leaf parsley or basil, finely chopped for garnish

Cook macaroni in a big pot of salted water until very al dente (or a bit longer if not baking). Drain well.

Meanwhile, heat milk over low heat in medium saucepan and keep warm.

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. Stir in flour and keep stirring for about a minute or two. Slowly pour in warmed milk, whisking continuously until sauce thickens.

Remove the pan from the heat. Add salt, nutmeg, black pepper, cheese and Tabasco (if using) and stir until melted. Add macaroni to sauce, stirring gently to combine.

Toss together breadcrumbs, Parmesan cheese and butter. Sprinkle over macaroni mixture. Serve.

IF BAKING:
Pour mixture into a 9″ x 13″ or 2a quart baking dish and add topping. Bake at 350°F (180°C) until sauce is bubbling and top is golden brown, about 20-25 minutes. If you can stand it, let it sit for 5 minutes before serving.

Cravings

Published on February 2, 2011 in Beans + Legumes, Breakfast, Cakes, Cookbooks + Cooks, Cookies, Inspiration, Mexican, pasta and Soups + Stews. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Hello, it’s me. Sick again. Yippee. It sucks really. I don’t know how mouth breathers do it. Breathing through your mouth is very unpleasant.

Anyway, I spent some time clicking away on some of my favorite food sites last night and wanted to share some things I’m craving…even though I can’t taste anything. But you go have fun. Really. It’s okay.

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Soup. More soup. We like soup. This soup. Smitten Kitchen delivers (as usual).

Post Punk Kitchen is cooking up some quinoa goodness here

I’m a sucker for poppy seeds. Tim at Lottie + Doof is too.

Matt (of Matt Bites fame) is an incredible photographer and going to his site always makes me hungry. Like, this. Hello.

Winter makes me want to eat potatoes. I’m particularly obsessed with sweet potatoes right now. Give me a sweet potato roasted in its skin, slathered with butter, and topped with a healthy grind of black pepper and a sprinkle of fleur de sel and I’m in my happy place. Gluten Free Girl has taken it up a notch, and I’m feeling happy in a whole new way.

Never met a chocolate chip cookie I didn’t like. And this one from Orangette is, um, healthy. Sort of. Not really.

More soup. Again with the soup? Yes. Again with the soup. It’s for sick people. Heidi says so. Thank you 101 Cookbooks (my online food bible).

Last and perhaps least, if you’re feeling virtuous and/or enormous, pop on over to Bon Appétit and get yourself on a cleanse for food lovers. Doesn’t sound so bad actually. There is no lemon cayenne water involved. And chocolate is still on the menu.

Cold Sesame Noodles

Published on January 21, 2011 in Asian and pasta. 3 Comments Tags: , , , , , .

Back in the early 90s, after breaking up with a particularly unsuitable boyfriend (actor/bartender/alcoholic — quite the rollicking combo), my bestie best friend and college roommate, Janice, and I moved into a crappy walk-up on West 15th Street. Our place became a bit of a crash pad for friends and family returning home from traveling and/or looking for somewhere to pass out. Janice’s brother-in-law, Paul, stayed with us for quite awhile while his lovely wife Julie gallivanted around Southeast Asia (he’d taken a leave from his job and had to return; she’d smartly resigned from hers).

We had a decent kitchen and did cook quite a bit, but we also enjoyed many evenings of take-out. It’s New York. That’s what you do. And we became obsessed with these cold sesame noodles. Not just any cold sesame noodles, though; they had to be the cold sesame noodles from Empire Szechuan. And not from just ANY of the 132 or so Empire Szechuans plopped around the island of Manhattan. No, they had to be from the Empire Szechuan on Bleecker Street. I never figured out if Empire Szechuan was a chain, but I don’t think so because we sampled other Empire Szechuan cold sesame noodle offerings and they always came up short. (And don’t be fooled by the identical name; you’ve heard of the whole Ray’s Pizza brouhaha, no?)

But I digress. These cold sesame noodles were that perfect combination of sweet, sour and hot, and I loved how the cool slippery noodles combined with the crunchy cucumber and nice little bite from the scallions. Perfection.

The day our Empire Szechuan closed was a very sad day indeed. Our brief high hopes of the promised “renovation” were dashed by continued lack of any sort of actual renovation taking place. And then, the kicker, the nail in the coffin: a CVS moved in. And that was the end of the infamous cold sesame noodles.

I’ve thought a lot about those noodles. I’ve tried a lot of Empire Szechuans. It’s just not the same. But these are pretty close. RIP Empire Szechuan on Bleecker Street. RIP early 90s. Long live cold sesame noodles!

Cold Sesame Noodles

NOTE: Play around with the garnishes. Shredded carrots, julienned red peppers or cabbage are all nice additions. I’ve also sautéed some firm tofu cubes in sesame oil for a protein boost. But in a purist Empire Szechuan world, it’s really all about the cucumbers and scallions. Those are required.

Sauce:
1/2 cup peanut butter (creamy or chunky)
3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
1-1/2 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1-2 garlic cloves, pressed
2 teaspoons grated peeled fresh ginger (keep it in the freezer; it’s much easier to grate)
Hot red pepper flakes or a big squirt of Sriracha (optional and to taste)
1/3-1/2 cup pasta water or vegetable stock

1 pound thin spaghetti

Garnishes:
3 chopped scallions
1/2-3/4 seedless cucumber, cut into matchsticks
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1 tablespoon sesame seeds, toasted (optional)

Boil the spaghetti according to instructions. While that’s cooking, combine the sauce ingredients in a heavy saucepan and cook over low heat until sugar melts (you can also do this in a heatproof bowl in the microwave, but then your brain will be scrambled. Kidding!). Add some pasta cooking water or stock a bit at a time to thin out the sauce. You want the sauce to be thick enough to coat the noodles, but not gloppy.

Drain the spaghetti and rinse with cold water. Pour the sauce over the pasta and add the garnishes (reserve a bit of each to top the dish), stirring gently to combine.

Observe a moment of silence for Empire Szechuan on Bleecker and dig in. They are meant to be served cold or at room temperature (with a bit of time for the flavors to come together with the noodles), but no one cares if you just chow down immediately.