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@lifedeathanddinner
Life, Death & Dinner Has Moved!
Come find me on Substack!
This Gnocchi Is a Weeknight Win-Win
Store-bought gnocchi makes this one-pan supper simple as can be.
I love a sheet-pan dinner, which usually consists of whatever veg have been around long enough to look a little past their prime—bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, fennel... usually with a few fat slices of red onion thrown in— and a protein: chicken thighs, slabs of halloumi, or chunks of sausage. I toss the whole thing with olive oil, salt and pepper, and maybe a dash of vinegar, and roast it at 425 for what's usually less time than I think it will need. Start checking after 15 minutes, and flip what needs to be flipped.
Pictured above is the easiest-ever sheet-pan gnocchi recipe from Jake Cohen, whose new show "Jake Makes It Easy" premiered last week on A&E. I wrote about it for Cool Beans (here), where you'll find a link to the recipe.
I pulled it out of the oven a bit early to snap this photo while the tomatoes were still plump and vibrant, then stuck it back in to cook a little longer when friends came by for dinner. By then, the gnocchi (the store-bought, shelf-stable kind) had gone golden and the veg (which includes eggplant) had some burnished bits. If I'd had fresh ricotta I would have dolloped some on each plate before serving. Diced low-moisture mozz would also be great here, roasted along with the gnocchi and veg. Anyway, it was perfectly easy and there was only the one pan to wash up. Weeknight win-win.
Cauliflower a la Diabla
As part of my weekly contribution to the sustainable-food-focused newsletter Cool Beans, I ask chefs, cookbook authors, and other food folk what plant-based dish they make on repeat. This week, I talked to the wonderful Mexico City-born Barbara Sibley, whose restaurant La Palapa has been dishing up authentic Mexican fare on St. Mark's Place for almost 25 years.
She described a dish that's based on the classic Shrimp a la Diabla but swaps in cauliflower for the crustaceans. I was blown away—the cauliflower, blanched briefly in salted water and sliced, ends up a very similar shape and texture to shrimp, and was a great vehicle for the sauce, which was delicious and surprisingly simple to make.
What follows is the cauliflower version of the dish based on the recipe for Shrimp a la Diabla from "Antojitos: Festive and Flavorful Mexican Small Plates," by Barbara Sibley and Margaritte Malfy.
1 head of cauliflower, cut into large florets
¼ cup olive oil
2 tablespoons finely chopped onion
1 tablespoon minced garlic
3 dried ancho chilies, reconstituted in hot water, seeded, and cut into half-inch rounds
3 dried passilla chilies, reconstituted in hot water, seeded and cut into half-inch rounds
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
½ cup white wine
Blanch the cauliflower in boiling salted water for three minutes. Drain and run it under cold water.
Cut the florets lenthwise into 1/4-inch slices.
In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-low heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 to 3 minutes, until tender but not browned.
Add the chiles, and raise the heat to high. When the pan is hot, add the cauliflower, season with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring and shaking the pan to ensure even cooking, for 3 to 4 minutes, turning the pieces of cauliflower over a couple of times to coat in the sauce. Remove from the heat. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the cauliflower to a plate or shallow bowl, leaving as much pan sauce as possible in the skillet.
Return the skillet to medium heat. Stir in the wine, and simmer for about 30 seconds, then return cauliflower to the skillet. Raise the heat to high, and bring to a boil. As soon as the liquid boils, remove the skillet from the heat.
Divide the shrimp and pan juices evenly among dishes. Serve piping hot with tortillas on the side.
In my latest piece for The Forward, I explore the role of fresh herbs in Jewish cooking, and recreate a phenomenal Persian egg dish called kuku, which is packed with chopped fresh herbs, chopped walnuts, and dried barberries (or cranberries). The story and recipe are here.
Say Cheese (from the archives)
Glorious Carrots (from the archives)
Cabbage Is Having a Moment
It's funny that I felt I had to qualify the idea of cabbage being a Jewish ingredient in my latest article for the Forward. As I've mentioned, I'm writing a series about the most iconic Jewish ingredients, and for some reason, in the articles I wrote about raisins and sesame seeds, I didn't feel like I had to acknowledge that those foods aren't exclusively Jewish...
But with cabbage, I began the column with the line, "Lest I spark the Cabbage Wars..." — a reference to the "Hummus Wars" of 2008, in which Lebanese and Israeli restaurateurs butted heads over the origins and ownership of the ubiquitous Middle Eastern spread. I'm not kidding — you can read about it through a link in my cabbage story. Perhaps it's because it's hard to think about cabbage without thinking about cabbage's greatest hits, top among them kimchi, corned beef and cabbage, and sauerkraut.
So it was only after acknowledging cabbage's crucial role in other world cuisines that I went on to discuss it's widespread use in Jewish dishes from stuffed cabbage to slaw and salad to strudel (a recent discovery for me) to the beautifully caramelized wedges my friend Adeena Sussman offers up in her cookbook, "Sababa." (Those are based on a braised cabbage dish that's wildly popular in Israel.)
I had thought I might develop my own recipe for cabbage strudel, which is something I'd never tasted until a couple of weeks ago when I was researching the story, but I ended up coming up with something I found more delicious and special: a cabbage tart. I can't sing its praises enough, and it's super simple to pull together if you have some frozen puff pastry dough and a cabbage on hand. And who doesn't?
For the story and the recipe, click here.
An Ode to the Raisin, and a Recipe
I'm writing a series of articles about the most important ingredients in Jewish culinary history, and the little raisin turns out to be a biggie in the cuisines of Eastern and Western European Jews as well as those from the Middle East and elsewhere in the Jewish Diaspora.
To accompany the article, I came up with a simplified version of Claudia Roden's Tagliatelle Frisanal (with chicken, raisins, and pignolis), which originated in the Venetian Ghetto. (It's in her wonderful book "The Book of Jewish Food.") It's a dish I've riffed on a million times, especially when I have leftover rotisserie chicken in the fridge, because I almost always have raisins and pine nuts (or slivered almonds) lying around. The version in the Forward is particularly easy to make, and delicious in a comforting and slightly surprising way. That toasted-nut-and-raisin combo makes a very simple sauce sublime. Click here for the article. The recipe's at the end.
Open Sesame: The Magic of a Tiny-But-Mighty Ingredient
Like the story of Ali Baba, the tale of the sesame seed is a rags-to-riches story. What is it about this lowly seed that makes it one of the most iconic ingredients in all of Jewish culinary history? So begins a recent story I wrote for the Forward, the first in a series I’m doing on the most iconic ingredients in Jewish culinary history.
“So why the Chinese sesame noodles?” you may ask. Well, because when I was thinking about all the Jewish dishes that call for sesame seeds, I couldn’t leave out that delightfully comforting, utterly Americanized appetizer from a cuisine we’ve all but adopted. I even went as far as to come up with my own recipe, the delicious result of which is pictured above. The recipe is at the bottom of the Forward story, here.
Picking Petite Pearl Grapes
It’s been a week since I had the incredible pleasure of joining the team from Hudson Chatham Winery for their last harvest of 2022, and I wanted to post the images before this all becomes a distant memory.
We picked the gorgeous Petite Pearl grapes pictured here — over three tons of them, I believe — at a vineyard up past Albany. I got in my car at 6 a.m. and drove through the foggy darkness, then the pale pink and purple dawn, and on into a cool, cloudy day that was absolutely perfect for the hard work of picking. The rain held off for the six or seven hour seven hours we worked, and even while we scarfed delicious sandwiches when we were done. It was only as I got into my car to head home (to a very long, hot Epsom-salt infused bath) that the rain came down.
In any case, I can’t wait to drink the resulting vino… two years from now. Have I mentioned I’m not a particularly patient person? Since I have Hudson Chatham Wine on the brain, I’ll be heading there tonight to sample some of the new wine that is indeed ready to drink. Cheers!
Steven (above) and Justen (below) of Hudson Chatham Winery
A Happy, Hopeful New Year
In a blink we went from scorching, arid summer into crisp, clear autumn. Rosé to red wine. Watermelon to pomegranates. Strawberry shortcake to pumpkin-spice challah.
Pumpkin-spice challah? Well, yes. I’m not talking about the artificially flavored pumpkin spice of so many frappuccinos, of course. I’m referring to the gorgeous, fragrant holiday bread above. I used a recipe from Shannon Sarna’s wonderful “Modern Jewish Baker,” which augments her classic recipe with a generous mixture of warming spices along with some puréed pumpkin and a smattering of pepitas and flaky salt. The resulting loaves (the recipe yields two) are mildly sweet and spicy, crunchy on the outside and pillowy within. The flavor says Fall in no uncertain terms.
I wrote about this recipe for The Forward in 2017. The article is here, and contains a link to the recipe.
Challah is always celebratory, whether braided into a straight, oval loaf or the round ones reserved for Rosh Hashanah. Why do we make round challah for the High Holidays? Sarna eloquently explained it this way in an article she wrote for her website, The Nosher:
“There are many explanations: the circular nature of our year and seasons, or how a round challah resembles a crown, thus crowning god the king on the New Year. And there is also another explanation, that it is a way to distinguish the already sacred challah as something even more special and distinctive for the New Year. How is this night different from all others? Sweetness and fluidity and hope for the coming year.”
This extra-special challah, then, represents my hope for a particularly sweet New Year after several that have been, frankly, pretty sour.
By the way, I’m looking forward to reading and using Sarna’s brand new cookbook, “Modern Jewish Comfort Food.” More on that another time.
Meanwhile, shana tova — a good year — to all.
From Garden to Grill
Will wonders never cease? I made an eggplant. It went straight from garden to grill, and was delicious drizzled with a little tahini sauce. What a feeling, planting a seed and three months later plucking a splendid fruit from its hearty vine; slicing it while it’s still warm from the sun.
The Bear made cheesecake using a handwritten recipe of my mother’s. I don’t remember our mother ever making cheesecake. I wonder if my sister does. In any case, it’s quite delicious. When I'm back in the city — where my mom's little brown looseleaf binder of recipes is — I'll add the recipe.
Almost a week away from the farm and there were So. Many. Cukes. So… PICKLES. But it turns out I didn't do the greatest job with these — the brine wasn't that good because I tried to wing it. (Too lazy to look up Ted Allen's recipe for pickles, which I posted... oh my god, it was 10 years ago. Here's that post.
You had me at Maida Heatter, Deb Perelman — this blueberry crumb cake is absolute perfection. (And amazing with a little limoncello.) Folks, I recommend you find the recipe on the Smitten Kitchen website. This one’s a keeper.
Ventured out of the AC and into the garden to see what was for dinner. Clockwise from top left, surrounding stringbeans: green basil, purple basil, 2 kinds of cukes, baby spinach, red oakleaf lettuce, and butterhead lettuce. Dinner = pasta with pesto and a big salad.
Summer, I love you. This is grilled chicken (marinated for about an hour in olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, s&p) with raw veggies, Ardith Mae Farmstead feta, and oregano & mint from my garden.