Pastelon - Puerto Rican Sweet Plantain Lasagna

This is an exercise in rejecting reality.



Today is not Monday.

You will wake up at 10 am.  And the whole day will be ahead of you.



You will not have to sit in a lecture hall.  Or stand over in a cadaver in an anatomy lab trying to differentiate one anatomical landmark from another.  You will certainly not have to learn all of the cranial nerves, all of their branches, and all of their endpoints.

I mean, really.  That would just be crazy.



You will not be a medical student.  You just. Will.  Not.

End of story.

You will not be asked fifty times by people who you have not thought about once in three months, how your summer was.  You will not smile and answer, "Relaxing.  Low key.  Happy.  How was yours?"



You will not wish that you could go back three months.  To the beginning.  And do it all over again.

You will not wish that because you won't need to.  You are on a permanent vacation, baby.  Live it up.

You are on a plane headed to Puerto Rico.  You are going to sip tropical drinks by a pool and eat nothing but plantains and yucca for three months straight.  You are going to meet your new Latin lover.  And have the kind of relationship like they have in the movies.  Fun, carefree, no strings attached.

(Your mother will not remind you constantly that you don't have time for Latin lovers.  You need to get serious.  Find the one.  Like, now.  Pronto.  Yesterday, in fact, would have been ideal.)

Yeah.  That would be the life.  Maybe.  Someday.

But for now.

For now, while you do in fact have to wake up and go to class and plunge a scalpel into some unsuspecting cadaver's neck until you find something that resembles the subclavian artery.  At least you can dream.

And eat pastelon.  A lasagna that is at once sweet, salty, savory, tangy.  Delicious. Truly an explosion of flavor in every bite.  The thought of which might just get you through your first day back at school.  Maybe.  Possibly.  Hopefully.

You have until tomorrow night to email me your recipes for REGIONAL RECIPES: PUERTO RICO! 



Pastelon or Sweet Plantain Lasagna
Serves 4, adapted from The Noshery

1/2 lb grass-fed, local beef
1 onion, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 green bell pepper, minced
1/2 cup cilantro, roughly chopped
2 tsp adobo
2 tsp oregano
2 tbsp white wine vinegar
1 envelope sazon
2 bay leaves
8 green stuffed olives, halved
1/2 cup raisins
1/4 cup tomato sauce
4 ripe plantains, peeled and sliced into strips
3 eggs
2 tbsp milk
1-2 cups shredded mozzarella
salt

1. Preheat the oven to 350.  Spray an 8x8 inch baking pan with cooking spray or grease it with butter.

2. Combine beef, onion, pepper, garlic, oregano, adobo, sazon, cilantro and vinegar in a medium bowl.  Mix well.

3. In a medium, nonstick skillet, heat 1 tbsp olive oil.  Saute the beef mixture, breaking up the beef with a wooden spoon, until brown.  Add in the tomato sauce and raisins.  Simmer for 8-10 minutes.  Set aside.

4. In another nonstick skillet, fry the plantain strips until brown on both sides until slightly crispy, 2-3 minutes, either by lining the pan with vegetable oil or cooking spray (guess what I did).  Drain on a plate with a paper towel and set aside.

5. To assemble the pastelon, layer half of the plantain strips on the bottom of the pan.  Cover with all of the beef and a layer of cheese.  Top with the remaining half of the plantain strips.  In a separate bowl, beat the eggs together with the 2 tbsp of milk.  Pour over the top of the baking pan and allow to sit for a minute so that the egg sinks in.  Top with a final layer of cheese.  Bake for 20 minutes.  Allow to sit for a few minutes after removing from the oven so it will slice more cleanly.

This is my submission to Regional Recipes: Puerto Rico!  And also to Presto Pasta Nights, which is being hosted over at Once Upon A Feast!

Symon's Soppressata Pizza with Fried Egg and Shasha Sauce

When Michael crawled into bed at 3:30 last night smelling of double malt whiskey, ashtrays, and downright debauchery, I knew that something was up. 

He had an episode of Iron Chef to film in the morning.  And if there's one thing I've learned about my adorable, bald, alarmingly imaginary husband.  It's that nothing comes in the way of Iron Chef.  In a "bros before hoes" kind of way.



"Where have you been?"  I demanded.  In as insisting a voice as I could muster at half past three am.

Followed by, "Did you know that alcohol decreases your sperm count?  How are we supposed to have cute, bald, alarmingly imaginary children if you are going to be out drinking until all hours of the night!  I might as well just cover you in spermicide.  It would be just as effective and at least it wouldn't ruin your liver."

I was irate. In case you couldn't tell. 

I really want cute, bald, alarmingly imaginary children.

He grunted some incoherent response.  And then rolled over and spooned me.

Sigh.

That man.  I just can't stay mad at him.



The next morning, I woke up before him (shocker) and went to check my email.  Only to discover a message from my best friend telling me that rumor had it, Michael had heard that Batali and I had been cooking together the day before.  And, in a fit of rage and jealousy, took to the local bars like the good Eastern European that he is. 

Oh my poor baby.

And so.  Like the cute, not-bald-at-all-in-any-way, alarmingly imaginary wife that I am. I  made him some morning after food.

Pizza covered in salty fatty delicious cured meats, fresh mozzarella, and this sweet tangy spicy shasha sauce that his grandmother used to make.  The perfect hangover cure.



Do I know how to appeal to a man's senses, or what?



This is not only for those who have imbibed to excess and thus have woken up feeling slightly  less than par, however.  Oh, no.  This is good for just about any morning after.

The morning after you receive an email informing you that, guess what!  School is starting on Monday and - what luck - you can go pick up your first set of lecture notes on Friday at 10AM, for instance. 

Or, the morning after you spend two hours waiting in a doctor's office just so he can point to a black line on a screen and say things like, "Here is a picture of where your stress fracture used to be."  And then send you on your merry way.

Or, and here's my favorite. The morning after.  Period.  Because really, any day is a good day to make this pizza.  (Even though, I should note that Symon originally intended for it to be a sandwich.  But I have problems with my inability to not mess with a good thing.)  So do it.  Now.

And while I'm already on the subject of ordering you around.  Please send me your entries to Regional Recipes: PUERTO RICO!  They are due by Tuesday at midnight!



Soppressata Pizza with Fried Egg and Shasha Sauce
Serves 4, adapted from Symon's Live To Cook

For the pizza dough:
3 cups bread flour
1 tbsp yeast
1 cup water
2 tsp sea salt
2 tbsp olive oil

1. Mix the yeast with 1/4 cup lukewarm water.  Add in a pinch of sugar.  Allow to foam (approximately 5 minutes).  If it never foams, then the yeast is probably dead/defunct - not good.  Get a new jar of yeast.

2. In a stand mixer, mix the flour with the remaining water, sea salt, and olive oil.  Add in the now-foamy yeast.  Mix on setting 2 for 2 minutes to knead.  If too wet, add more flour.  If too dry, add more water.  Turn into a greased bowl and cover with a damp cloth.  Allow to rise for at least two hours.

Shasha Sauce:
6 hot banana peppers (I used random hot peppers from Whole Foods since I couldn't find banana peppers.  Really they were labeled as "mixed peppers".)
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup yellow mustard
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
3/8 cup sugar
1/6 cup AP flour

1. Slice off the top of the peppers and remove the seeds.  Coarsely chop them.  Toss them into a food processor with the garlic, mustard, and vinegar and puree.

2. Pour the puree into a nonreactive saucepan.  Add the sugar and bring to a boil over high heat.  Love the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. 

3. Mix the flour and a quarter cup of water into a smooth paste.  Whisk it into the simmering liquid and return the mixture to a simmer.  Cook, stirring regularly, until very thick.  Let the sauce cool, pouring it into a nonreactive container and refrigerating for up to a month.

Sandwich:
1/2 red onion, sliced paper thin
3 oz soppressata (dry-cured Italian salami), sliced thin
4 large eggs
3 oz prosciutto, sliced thin
1 ball fresh mozzarella, approximately half a pound, sliced thin
1 batch pizza dough
1/2 cup shasha sauce
1 medium heirloom tomato, thinly sliced

1. Soak the onion in a small bowl of ice water for 2 minutes.

2. Preheat the oven to 500.  Spread the pizza dough out on a sheet of parchment paper to desired size and thickness.  Spread the shasha sauce over the top of the dough in a thin layer (it's incredibly spicy so a little goes a long way). 

3. Layer the pizza with the red onion and tomato slices.  Place the salami on top of the tomato.  Place the mozzarella on top of the salami.  Place the prosciutto on top of the mozzarella.

4. Place in the oven and bake for 15-20 minutes or until bottom is browned and cheese is melted. 

5. Fry eggs in a small pan on the oven, sunny side up.  Cut pizza into four slices and top each with an egg.

This is my submission to Symon Sundays hosted over at Veggie By Season and it has been yeastspotted!

Mario Batali's Pennette with Summer Squash and Ricotta

It's been two days since I stepped off the Carnival Glory.  And still, the floor won't stop rocking.

This made for a pretty interesting experience on the stationary bike yesterday when, every two minutes, I became absolutely sure that the room had tilted on some kind of axis and screamed that everyone in the room should "Man the decks!" and "Head for the lifeboats!".

My fellow bicyclists were not pleased with me.  Although the treadmillers barely turned their heads. (It is New York after all.  When in doubt - avert your eyes.)




We had a pretty rocky last night, you see.  Heavy winds, strong downpours, lightning, thunder.

But don't worry.  We coped by dancing.  Drinking.  Breaking into the ship's spa in search of an open hot tub at 4AM.

We were trying to be rational in an irrational situation.  Because if the room is going to spin whether you're sober or not, you might as well not be.   (Yes, this is how the future doctors of American think.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.)

And so now I'm pretty sure that this persistent rocking that I'm experiencing is not actually landsickness but some form of alcohol withdrawal.  Nice.



But wait.  This sort of talk warrants an explanation.

Hence the question - how does one end up on a cruise to St. John, New Brunswick with somewhere around eighty-five of her fellow MD/PhD students, the head of the MD/PhD program, and his administrative assistant?

Funny you should ask.  You see, every year in order to get NIH funding we need to go on some sort of a retreat. Usually student run, it involves putting us all in the same place at the same time while we give presentations about our research for two days straight.  And bond.  There is a lot of bonding.

Normally, this occurs at a conference center somewhere on Long Island or in upstate New York.  To which we are asked never to return when we are caught skinny dipping in the conference center's pool at midnight/found drunk on the floor in the hallway outside our rooms/involved in some other form of ridiculously promiscuous behavior.

Having exhausted our conference center resources in the tri-state area, the program coordinator decided that so long as we were going to take part in such debauchery, she might as well plan to have the retreat somewhere where such behavior would go unnoticed.

And that was how I ended up on a five day/four night cruise to Canada.  That was also how I ended up having more fun than I think I've had all year.  MD/PhDs are just awesome.  Amazing people.  I love them.

The one place where the cruise was lacking in excellence, was in the food department.  I'm not sure what kind of a person it takes to mess up a caprese salad.  But they did it.  And so when I got home, all I wanted was to eat something delicious.  This pasta dish, from Mario Batalli's Molto Gusto.  Was so.  It.  Pasta with zucchini and mint tossed in a creamy ricotta sauce.  Local, fresh ricotta mind you.  Ricotta so tasty that I will never be able to go back to the tubbed version ever again.

Now this.  This is what should have been served to us in the hot tub at 3AM.  And yes.  I will be writing that in my comment card.

Remember to send me your recipes for Regional Recipes: PUERTO RICO by the end of August!



Pennette with Summer Squash and Ricotta
Serves 4, adapted from Mario Batalli's Molto Gusto

12 oz whole wheat penne
1 cup ricotta
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 cup parmesan cheese
2-3 tbsp warm water
4 summer squash/zucchini, sliced lengthwise and then crosswise into half moons
1/2 cup mint, coarsely chopped
1/3 cup reserved pasta water

1. Set the water for the pasta to boil.  Make sure to add plenty of salt to it.  Batalli recommends 3 tbsp.

2. Whisk the ricotta together with the 2 tbsp olive oil.  Whisk in the parmesan cheese.  Whisk in the water, adding 2 tbsp at first and then adding a third only if you want a more smooth, spreadable consistency.  Set aside.

3. Heat a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.  Add in the zucchini and saute for 4-5 minutes or until soft.  Meanwhile, hopefully your water is boiling by now.  Add the pasta to the boiling water and cook until just al dente.  Drain the pasta, first reserving a 1/3 cup of pasta water.

4.  Add the pasta and the reserved water to the pan with the zucchini.  Mix well.  Cover and reduce heat to low.  Steam together for 2 minutes.

5. Stir in the mint.  Season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.

6. Pour into serving bowls and top each with a dollop of the ricotta mixture.

This is my submission to Presto Pasta Nights, which is being hosted by the ever lovely Amy of Very Culinary.  I adore her.  You should send her a recipe. With pasta in it.

I am also sending this to Two For Tuesdays!  Local ricotta, local summer squash, local mint...all REAL FOOD.

Double Chocolate Layer Cake

I can be vengeful when provoked.




I can do really evil things.  Like bake chocolate cakes with over a pound of chocolate in them. Cover them in ganache and buttercream flowers.

And then serve them at birthday dinners to unsuspecting individuals who think they're getting a slice of run-of-the-mill cake box chocolate cake.

Yeah.  I'm a veritable terror.



But this is what happens, I suppose.  When I tell people, "I can make you anything you want.  Anything in the world."

And they respond with "vanilla cupcakes with vanilla frosting".  Or "chocolate cake with chocolate frosting".  Or, "hey, can you just give me a six pack of Bud Light and some chicken mcnuggets and we'll call it a day?"

Who are these people.  Why am I friends with them.  Why am I related to them.



And.  The most important question.  What choice am I left with but to take things to extremes?  In a very "be careful what you wish for" kind of way.

This cake was so rich.  So chock full of the most chocolatiest of chocolates that money could buy (or at least that my limited student budget could buy.).  That it managed to serve 24 people.  With leftovers.

People were falling over left and right from chocolate comas.  (Good thing we were at a table full of medical students!  We could do super helpful things like measure heart rates and order people to call ambulances!).

And all I could say, smugly, was, "Don't look at me.  You people asked for it."

Next time maybe they'll learn from their mistakes.  Request something akin to a croquembouche.  An opera cake.  A mille feuille.

If not...well.  Let's not go there.  I wouldn't want to say anything that could be used against me in a court of law.



Remember to send me your recipes for Regional Recipes: PUERTO RICO!

Double Chocolate Layer Cake
Makes one 10-inch round double layer cake, adapted from Smitten Kitchen who adapted it from Gourmet

For Cake:
3 oz fine quality semisweet chocolate, I used Scharffenberger
1 1/2 cups how brewed coffee
3 cups sugar
2 1/2 cups AP flour
1 1/2 cups unsweetened cocoa powder (NOT Dutch process)
2 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp baking powder
1 1/4 tsp salt
3 large eggs
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups well shaken buttermilk
3/4 tsp vanilla

For ganache frosting:
1 lb semisweet chocolate, I used a mix of Scharffenberger and Ghirardelli
1 cup heavy cream
2 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp light corn syrup
1/4 cup unsalted butter

1. Preheat oven to 300 and grease two 10x2-inch round cake pans.  Finely chop chocolate and combine, in a bowl, with hot brewed coffee.  Stir until chocolate melts.

2. Sift together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.  In another bowl, beat eggs with an electric mixer until thickened slightly and lemon colored (about 3 minutes).  Slowly add oil, buttermilk, vanilla, and melted chocolate mixture to eggs.  Mix until combined well.  Add sugar mixture and beat on medium until just combined well.

3. Pour into cake pans and bake 1 hour to 1 hour and 10 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

4. Cool layers completely in pans, on racks.  The cakes can be made a day ahead of time with good results.

5. Finely chop the lb of chocolate needed for the ganache.  Bring the heavy cream, sugar, and corn syrup to a boil on the stove over low heat, whisking until sugar is dissolved.  Remove from heat.  Stir in the chocolate and butter until melted.  Allow to cool until it is of a spreadable consistency or put it in the fridge to speed up the process.

Summer Vegetable Ideas: Zucchini, Tomatoes, and Corn

I am on a boat.

I am on a boat headed towards Canada.

Or at least, I will be.  By the time your are reading this.

I will be gorging myself on maple syrup, learning the ins and outs of hockey, and decidedly not putting on my bathing suit in front of every other member of the MD/PhD program (including the head of the program, his administrative assistant, and their respective families).  I will hopefully have tried poutine for the first and last time in my life and will have frequented at least two Tim Horton's.

And then by Monday, I will be so sick of cruise food that I will be filled to the brim with the vim and vigor necessary to get my butt back in the kitchen. And start using up some of nature's finest.  Zucchini.  Corn.  Tomatoes.

I miss them already.  And I haven't even left.

In the meantime.  Will you take over for me?  Here are some of my favorite recipes to tide you over until I return! 

Commenting will be sparse this weekend but try not to miss me too much.  I'll be back on Monday with a killer. And I mean KILLER recipe that you do NOT want to miss!  You should put a note in your google calendars.  I'll wait while you do so.



Linguine with Raw Tomato Sauce.  It's supposed to be.  Um.  Not so hot in Canada.  BUT I'm sure there will be some kind of heat wave somewhere out there.  So cool off with this laughably easy and seriously delicious pasta dish.  And use heirloom tomatoes. Because I'm obsessed with them.



Sweet Corn and Wild Mushroom Soup.  Because corn won't be this delicious forever. 



Spiced Carrot and Zucchini Barley.  A middle eastern inspired side dish that would go perfect alongside a nice piece of meat.  Or throw some chickpeas into it and call it a meal!  (That's what I would do.)



Seared Flounder with Zucchini and Toasty Garlic Mojo.  An oldie but a goodie from the days before I knew how to take pictures.  Please excuse me for that.




Linguine with Zucchini, Lemon, Capers, Pine Nuts, and Herbs.  AKA. One of the best things I've ever eaten.

Italian Sausage and Summer Squash Pasta

I have a theory about zucchini.  Multiple theories actually.

The first being that they may or may not have brainwashed me.

Alternatively, they may or may not have implanted some kind of chip in my mind that allows them to control my actions from some remote location.

A headquarters of sorts. 

It's an either/or kind of situation.



All in the name of achieving their ultimate goal (and here is where my next theory comes in).  Of creating a new world order.  Staging a takeover, if you will.

Achieving world dominance.



I am convinced that they are sitting around in a crevice in a mountain somewhere.  With walkie talkies.  Black eye masks.  Tattoos.  Remote controls that are governing my every movement.




How do I know?

I went to the Farmer's Market in Union Square on Saturday with a list.  That list did not have a single summer squash on it.  Oh sure, it had items like eggplant.  Tomatoes.  Peppers.  Basil.  Preferably purple. (Although this too failed me when it proceeded to wilt within an hour of arriving at my apartment.  For shame.)  But no summer squash.

(You see.  I don't even really like summer squash.  At least not in comparison to the myriad of vegetables out there that I crave on a daily basis.  And yet, have you noticed the abundance of zucchini around here lately?  A recipe a week.  For how many weeks now?  A lot.  A.  Lot.)

Anyway, back to the Farmer's Market. I walked down there.  All the while thinking to myself, I do not need zucchini this week.  No siree.  Don't need it.

And then, I step onto the scene.  And to what vegetable do I beeline first?

I'm not even dignifying that with a response.

You know what vegetable.

And the thing is, that we can try to fight them.  Try to resist.  Build walls and trap doors within the subconscious layers of our minds (Inception-style) so that if they try to enter, they'll just get lost amidst the mire and confusion.

But they'll be back.  In full-on, bumper crop fashion.  And when they are.  We won't stand a chance. They'll be everywhere.  Watching us.  Biding their time.

You'll see.



Remember to email me your entries for Regional Recipes: PUERTO RICO by the end of the month!

Italian Sausage and Summer Squash Pasta
Serves 1

2 oz pasta, I used whole wheat rigatoni
1 link spicy Italian chicken sausage
1 zucchini or summer squash
1 tbsp parmesan cheese
salt and pepper to taste
basil

1. Set a pot of water to boil.

2. Heat a nonstick skillet over medium high heat with a little bit of olive oil or cooking spray.  Remove the sausage from it's casing and, breaking it up into chunks as you go, add it to the pan.  Use a wooden spoon or spatula to break the sausage up as it cooks, creating crumbles.

3. Cut the zucchini or summer squash into dice.  When the sausage has just gotten crispy, around the time when the water for the pasta is boiling, add the zucchini to the sausage pan and add the pasta to the boiling water.  Cook the pasta to desired consistency.  When it is done, strain, and add to sausage pan.  Saute for about 30 seconds, mixing and stirring frequently.  Add salt and pepper to taste.

4. Pour pasta mixture on a plate.  Top with parmesan cheese and basil.  In this case - purple basil!  Enjoy.

This is my submission to this week's Presto Pasta Nights, which is being hosted by Katie of Thyme for Cooking and to Weekend Herb Blogging which is being hosted by Marija of Palachinka, and to Two for Tuesdays!

Michael Symon's Heirloom Tomato Salad with Red Onions, Dill and Feta

Most people spend most of their lives waiting for three small words. 

I, being the high maintenance femme fatale that I am.  Have spent the last eight months. Waiting.  For five.



But the thing about all this waiting is that what usually happens.  Is that you wait until you can't wait anymore. 

And then just when you throw up your hands, scream a few obscenities out your twelfth story apartment window, and pile up all of your running gear hope into a large box and shove it under your bed without looking back any more than twenty times.

Miracles happen.



I was lying in bed on Friday, midday.  Dawdling my life away.  When my cell phone rang.

The first three digits revealed that it was the Hospital for Special Surgery.  Sigh.  Great.  More insurance woes.  (Isn't being injured fun?  I might just be the only person with not one, but two insurance companies who I'm supposedly paying to cover me, but who up and down refuse to acknowledge that (a) I actually exist and (b) I am actually their client.  Although, I hate to tell them.  I have the insurance cards to prove it.)

"Hello," I said.  In as exasperated a tone as I could muster.

"Hi.  May I please speak to Joanne?"

"Speaking."

"This is Dr. Ranawat's assistant.  He just wanted me to call and tell you that your stress fractures are healed."

What sort of a bullshit prank call was this?  Healed?  Pssshhh.  Doubtful.  I hung up on her.  And immediately started typing out an email to my brother explaining why tugging on someone's heartstrings was not an acceptable activity for a Friday afternoon.

Phone rings again.  Same number.  God, these people are relentless! 

"Hello," I said.  More irate than ever.

"Hi, sorry we must have gotten disconnected.  Your stress fractures are healed."

"Look, miss.  I don't know who put you up to this but it's been very funny.  Hysterical actually.  I'm going to go on with my life now."

"No, Joanne.  You must not understand.  The MRI that you had on Wednesday?  Dr. Ranawat read it and wanted to tell you that the fractures are healed and that he'll talk to you about it more at your appointment on the 26th."

Wait.  I never told my brother that I had an appointment on the 26th.  How did she...

Holy crap.  My stress fractures are healed.  MY STRESS FRACTURES ARE HEALED.  MY STRESS FRACTURES ARE HEALED!




I spent this weekend celebrating.  There may or may not have been a mango-infused pina colada involved.  I may or may not have eaten my weight in chocolate ganache and buttercream frosting.

And now I may or may not have to start whipping my butt back into shape.  Because let's be real.  Remember the freshman fifteen?  From college.

Food blogger fifteen.  Right here.

And now that I have something to work towards.  Like, say.  Running an 8 minute mile again.  I think it's time I get rid of it.

Who's with me?

And really, with fabulous healthy food like this heirloom tomato salad.  It won't be so hard.  Although I will say that you have to actually use heirloom tomatoes for this, at least if you want to get the full delicious effect.  I used to be of the opinion that all tomatoes were created equal.  I was wrong.  Heirlooms tomatoes have such complex, intriguing flavors.  That they put regular old vine-ripened Camparis.  To shame.  And take what would be an otherwise ordinary tomato salad with feta and dill.  And make it something that you will actually start to crave.  Even if you are a self-professed salad hater.  Like some high maintenance femme fatales that I happen to know.

Remember to send me your entries for Regional Recipes: PUERTO RICO!



Heirloom Tomato Salad with Red Onions, Dill and Feta
Serves 4, adapted from Symon's Live To Cook

1-2 lb heirloom tomatoes, cut into chunks (Symon calls for 1 lb.  But I dare you to have the self control to only buy one pound of heirloom tomatoes when they are just sitting there.  So darn purty-like.)
1 red pepper, seeded and cut into chunks
1/2 red onion, sliced paper thin and soaked in ice water for 10 minutes
1 cucumber, thinly sliced (Symon only calls for 1/3 cucumber.  Who does that?)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 cup kalamata olives, whole and pitted
1 cup feta crumbles
1/4 cup fresh dill, roughly chopped
1/4 cup fresh mint, roughly chopped
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil (Symon calls for 1/2 cup.  Uh.  Yeah.  No.)
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Cut and prep all of the ingredients.  Drain the onion and pat dry.

2. Whisk together the garlic, red wine vinegar, olive oil and a pinch of salt.  Add in the cucumber, red pepper, red onion, olives, dill, and mint.  Let marinate for 15-20 minutes.

3. Stir in the tomatoes and feta.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

This is my submission to Symon Sundays, hosted over at A Year in the Kitchen and Souper Sundays hosted over at Kahakai Kitchen.

Slash-and-Burn Flounder with Barley Succotash Salad

Michael (Symon) and I are fighting.

Lovers' quarrels, you see.

Aren't we cute like that?  

(Although personally, I'm just in it for the make up sex.  But don't tell him that.  He thinks I have "principles" and "stances".  A "side to my story".  Lies, all around.)



We are fighting because I did not listen to a word he said in his recipe for slash-and-burn grouper.

I didn't slash.

I didn't burn.

I didn't even use grouper.



"You think you know a person...," he said solemnly.  As he shook his adorable bald head sadly and then stormed out of my imagination.

Sigh.  He's so hot when he's angry.



It's okay.  He'll be back.  (They always are.  Besides, we're only halfway through Live To Cook.  He can run.  But he sure as hell can't hide.)

And in the meantime, I'll be waiting here.  With this jerk seasoned flounder that was far too thin to slash or burn without turning the whole meal into a charred and completely disfigured mess (we are talking five car pile up kind of distortion.  Not pretty.).  But due to some island jerk seasoning that I bought while on a cruise to the Bahamas last year and the delicious lime and roasted bell pepper sauce that I listened to word-for-word-so-help-me-god (did you hear that, Michael honey?  I can so too follow directions.) was absolutely fantastic. 

That I served with Bittman's barley succotash salad.

A shameless attempt to make Symon jealous.  Because if there's anything better than make up sex.  It's make up sex tinged with a hint of jealousy.

In the words of that big red Kool-Aid man.  Ohhhhh yeahhh.




Slash-and-Burn Flounder
Serves 6, adapted from Symon's Live To Cook

6 6-oz flonder fillets (Symon uses skin-on black grouper)
2 tbsp island jerk seasoning that I purchased in the BAHAMAS last year
1 tsp olive oil
1/2 cup vegetable stock (Symon calls for shrimp stock)
juice of 2 limes
4 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1 roasted bell pepper, peeled, seeded and finely diced (I used green, Symon used red)
1/2 cup fresh cilantro

1. If your fish is thin, like mine was, then just seasoning with the jerk seasoning.  Heat 1 tsp olive oil in a non-stick skillet.  Fry the fish for three minutes, about 2 minutes on one side and 1 on the other, or until done.

2. If your fish is thick, like Symon's.  Preheat the oven to 375.  Cut a pocket horizontally through the fish about 2 inches wide and 2 inches deep.  Spread about a tsp of jerk seasoning in each fillet.  Heat an ovenproof saute pan over medium heat and add the olive oil when hot.  Pat the fillets dry with a paper towel, season lightly with salt and lay them in the hot pan.  lt brown for 3 minutes and then gently turn them.  Place the pan in the oven for 3-5 minutes or until the fish has reached an internal temperature of 140.  Remove fish to a warm plate and set aside.

3. Add the stock and lime juice to the same pan that you cooked the fish in.  Simmer and then reduce by half.  Remove from the heat and whisk in the butter and then the bell pepper.  Pour over the fillets and garnish with cilantro.

Barley "Succotash"
Serves 4, adapted from Bittman's How To Cook Everything Vegetarian

2 tbsp olive oil
1 cup pearled barley
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tbsp minced garlic
1 bag frozen lima beans
3 ears worth of corn kernels
1 green bell pepper, cored, seeded, chopped
2 scallions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup chopped parsley

1. Heat 1 tbsp of olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat.  Add the barley and cook, stirring frequently, until lightly toasted and fragrant, 2-3 minutes.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Stir in 2 1/2 cups water.  Bring to a boil, then cover and reduce heat to low.  Cook, stirring a couple of times, until the water has nearly been absorbed, about 20 minutes.

2. Put the remaining tbsp of oil in a deep skillet over medium-low heat.  Add the garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant.  Add the beans and sprinkle with salt.  Cover and cook until just tender/thawed, about 5 minutes.

3. Stir in the corn, bell pepper, and scallion and cook the mixture for a minute or two.  Stir in the barley and whatever cooking water remains in the pot (only about a tbsp).  Cover and cook another 5 minutes.  Stir in the parsley.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

NOTE - I would probably add some acid to this, maybe some lime juice.

This is my submission to this week's Symon Sundays, IHCC, Reeni's Side Dish Showdown, and Deb's Souper Sundays!

Please send me your dishes for Regional Recipes: PUERTO RICO!

And congratulations to Caronae of Run.Write.Therapy.Life for winning the CSN Giveaway!

Sultan's Delight or Hunkar Begendi or Turkish Beef Stew with Eggplant Puree

"It's not you, it's me," I said to my Blackberry as I flushed it down the toilet.

Flung it into the East River.

Placed it into that shoebox I keep in my closet that is filled with all the things I once thought I loved.  But was wrong about.  Very, very wrong.

(Lies, I tell you.  At least in this case.  Blackberry - it was definitely you.)



I should have known, really.

Because I'm the kind of person who knows these kinds of things at first sight.




But apparently I'm also the kind of person who makes excuses for the things I think I love.

So when my Blackberry broke within the first two weeks of my getting it.  The day before my marathon.

When it forced me to spend a good five hours walking up and down the streets of San Francisco, searching for a Best Buy. And didn't even think twice about the fact that I was going to have to run 26.2 miles the next day. I should have known that it did not have my best interests at heart.

I should have traded it in, then and there.

Instead of convincing myself that it was truly sorry.  Would try it's best to do better.  Would never do it again.  (Oh, the lies we tell ourselves to help us sleep at night.)

Right.



Then, after eight months had passed and I still hadn't set up my voicemail or programmed my mother's telephone number into it.  I really should have questioned our level of commitment to each other.

Now, maybe this was some kind of subconscious protective mechanism on my part.  After all, this phone was surely not built to last.

First the track ball went.  Then the internet stopped working.  Then it flew out of my hands and made straight for a sewer grate on 73rd and 1st.

Truly, it was better that I never really got attached.

Enter the Samsung Galaxy.  The new Android for AT&T. 

I set up my voicemail the day that I got it.  And I even put my mother on speed dial.  (Okay.  That's pushing it.)

Like I said.  I'm the kind of person who knows at first sight.  And this time.  I actually kind of believe that.



And so it goes with this stew.  This is actually the second time that I've made it, but when I first came across it in April of 2009.  As soon as I read the ingredients.  I was sure.

And then the heady scent of cinnamon, allspice, cayenne while cooking.  The creamy texture and luscious taste (though unfortunate appearance) of the pureed eggplant.

Took me from being sure to being absolutely downright certain.  Which is why I had to share it with you all again.  Because the previous pictures and post just didn't do it justice.  And because all of five people were reading my blog then.  And so, really, for many of you.  It's like I'm posting it for the first time.  Enjoy.

Sultan's Delight
Serves 4, adapted from Claudia Roden's Arabesque

1 tbsp olive oil
1 onion
1 1/2 lb beef (I used local, grass-fed extra lean stew meat!)
3 cloves garlic
1 tsp allspice
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cayenne
14 oz canned diced tomatoes
3 1/2 lb eggplant (3 large eggplants)
4 tbsp butter
3 tbsp flour
2 cups almond milk
1 cup whole wheat couscous

1. Preheat the oven to 450.

2. In a medium skillet over medium heat, heat the olive oil.  Add the onion, chopped, and saute until starting to brown, about 2-3 minutes.  Add the beef, allowing to brown on all sides.  Season with salt and pepper.  Add the garlic, cinnamon, allspice, and cayenne.  Mix together and let cook for one minute to allow the flavors to meld.  Add the tomatoes.  Bring to a boil and then simmer, covered, for 30 minutes.  Uncover and simmer for 30 minutes or until beef is cooked through and sauce has reached the desired consistency.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

3.  In the meantime, cut each of your eggplants in half and place them cut-side down on a baking sheet.  Bake for 30 minutes.  Allow to cool and then scrape the insides out into a bowl.  Strain the water out of them using a fine-meshed strainer.  Using a fork, mash the eggplant innards until they are almost paste-like.

4. Melt the butter over low heat.  Whisk in the flour and cook for 2-3 minutes.  Warm the almond milk in the microwave.  Slowly whisk the warm milk into the pan with the flour, adding just a bit at a time and whisking after each addition.  Simmer until thickened, about 10-15 minutes.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Stir in the eggplant.

5. Cook couscous in vegetable or chicken broth according to package directions.  Serve the stew over the couscous with the eggplant puree on the side.

This is being submitted to: Two For Tuesdays, A Worldly Epicurean's Delight which is being hosted by Janet of The Taste Space, and Presto Pasta Nights which is being hosted by Siri of Siri's Corner.