Pesto over Gnocchi

Dear Devon,

Basil might be the king of herbs, but my taste buds had mounted a full blown rebellion against King Basil until quite recently. Back in early April, I was a lucky guest at my friend Madeleine's rooftop dinner party. It was at her dinner party that I fell in love with basil and its pulverized sibling, pesto. She set down an easy dinner of salad and pesto over corkscrew pasta. This meal changed my summer eating habits: I've made pesto a half dozen times since that night, heaping it over everything from pasta to potatoes and incorporating it into salad dressing.

This summer, I have tried to avoid too much hot cooking, relying on quickly grilled veggies, lots of salads (olive oil consumption is through the roof), tons of fruit, and pesto everything. I am a firm believer in minimum preparation for maximum tastiness. Pesto has definitely helped me achieve this. It requires no cooking, and its ingredients are easy to come by. A food processor is helpful, though you can make it without one- something I haven't tried, but am willing to contemplate. Lot of garlic is essential for good pesto, and so is really nice basil (but that goes without saying).


I toss the pesto over a batch of soft, ridged gnocchi. The gnocchi cradle the thick pesto in their deep grooves. Topped with freshly cut tomatoes, this dish celebrates the bounty of the summer garden.

Pesto over Gnocchi

Big bunch of fresh basil
3 cloves garlic
1/3 cup grated parmesan cheese
handful of arugula
1 green onion
1/4 cup walnuts
gnocchi
fresh tomatoes
1/2 cup olive oil or more as needed

Place toasted walnuts and parmesan cheese in the food processor. Whiz until finely grated. Drop in peeled garlic, roughly chopped green onion, basil, and small handful of arugula. With the machine running, add olive oil in a slow steady stream through the feed tube. Remove from the food processor, scraping down the sides with a rubber spatula. Taste for seasoning. The parmesan cheese is already salty, so wait until the end before adding any more salt.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add fresh gnocchi and cook until the pillowy gnocchi floats to the top, less than 5 minutes. Drain and set aside in a large serving bowl. Pour fresh pesto over gnocchi. Toss to lightly coat. Chop fresh tomatoes into bite sized pieces. Add cut tomatoes to gnocchi, gently toss together. Finish with a sprinkle of olive oil for richness and a grating of parmesan cheese.

Grown-up Mac and Cheese

Dear Michelle,

I did not intend to share this recipe, mostly because we've been sharing a lot of pasta dishes lately. So I didn't measure, I didn't write anything down, and I didn't photograph the process. I cooked the way I used to before we started sharing, and therefore caring about replication: by feel.

Jeff and I are not known for our culinary self-control. We are getting married in about two months (!), and therefore should be eating healthy and all that. I've said repeatedly in the past few weeks, "No more cheesy things! we need to eat healthy food! after this (pizza, or grilled cheese, or cake), we will eat fresh vegetables every night!" But then, it was cold out, we had been working on not-fun stuff all day, and have had several busy weekends recently, so when I exclaimed that I wished we could just have mac and cheese for dinner, Jeff volunteered to brave the elements and go to the cheese shop.

The Bedford Cheese Shop, that is. That place is one of my favorite shops in New York; if you live in the city, like cheese, and haven't been there, go directly. They are (mostly) very knowledgeable, not just about the taste of the cheese but about the food and wine to pair with it. For example, Jeff went in and told them we were making macaroni and cheese, wanted a cheddar, something soft and melty, and something with depth. He came home with a delicious English cheddar, sharp and nutty; a fontina, rich and creamy with a round flavor like swiss; and a sheep's cheese, hard, salty and irresistable.



We had a box of tri-color rotini in the cupboard, which I chose for the color and touch of additional flavor. While that was cooking, I steamed some broccoli, and started a bechamel sauce. Once the broccoli is semi-cooked, and pasta just short of al-dente, it all gets mixed up with the cheesy bechamel and some reserved chunks of cheese, then the whole thing gets dumped into a gratin dish and baked until heated, melty, and a little crisp on top. The resulting dish is so creamy and cheesy, but not stringy or rubbery. The pasta is tender, and the broccoli adds a nicely contrasting texture and flavor. I'd recommend eating this with a salad lightly dressed with a mustard vinaigrette.

I think it is the best mac and cheese I've ever had, and I wish I'd taken a photo of it, just-baked, for you. As it is, I've settled for photographing the leftovers I'm about to enjoy. And, tonight, we'll have some fresh vegetables. Maybe.



Mac and Cheese. Well, Rotini and Cheese.

Note: you could use one kind of cheese here; having three just makes it extra-special. If you want a stronger garlic flavor, throw the garlic halves into the bechamel while it is thickening, then remove before combining everything.

1 lb pasta (something small, preferably something that will really hold a sauce well)
about 3/4 lb cheese, 1/4 lb each chedder, sheep, and fontina (go for the best here; it makes all the difference)
about 3-4T butter
about 1/4 c flour
about 2 c whole milk
two heads of broccoli, about 4 inches in diameter each, chopped into smallish florets (about an inch long by 1/4 -1/2 inch wide. Should be small enough to eat with a bite of pasta) and peeled lengths of stems
1-2 cloves garlic
1 7x10" or 9x9" gratin dish.


Start a large pot of water boiling for the pasta. Go hang out for a little bit.

If you haven't already, cut up the broccoli into florets. Start this steaming, and get a large bowl of cold, cold water ready. After just a couple of minutes, start testing the broccoli; you don't want it quite done, but barely tender enough that you can push a knife into it with a little effort. Once done, plunge into cold or iced water and leave.

Preheat oven to 350F.

Cook pasta till not-quite al-dente, then drain and rinse under cold water.

Grate 2/3 each cheese, keeping separated. Crumble or chop what's left into small chunks (no larger than a 1/4 inch/). Get out and measure milk, butter, and flour. Rub gratin dish with halved garlic slices.

Melt butter in saucepan or skillet over medium-low heat. Add large handful of flour, and stir with whisk until it smells very slightly toasted, but has not turned color. Add milk slowly, whisking the entire time. Once thickened (it will take about 5 minutes), add the grated hard cheese in handfuls, whisking to combine fully in between handfuls. Do the same with the cheddar, and lastly with the fontina. If sauce gets too thick, add another 1/4 c milk, whisking in slowly. Once all of the grated cheese is combined and sauce is smooth, add 2/3 of the chunks of cheese. Add to pasta along with broccoli, then put all in gratin dish. Sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top. Put in oven till cheese is melted, and pasta looks a little bit crunchy on top, 20-30 minutes. Heats up well, but is not quite as good the next day.

Jeff's Pasta with Sausage-Tomato-Pepper Sauce

Dear Michelle,

I think Spring might be my favorite time of year. All of the seasons have their upsides, though I imagine the recent warm weather is only reason I can say that of Winter right now. While Winter does mean cashmere and boots, fires and stews, it is easily my least favorite season. So I am thrilled by the first day that I open the windows because it is too warm in the house, and I can feel the outside air and hear the birds in the backyard. Spring brings with it the promise of sandals and skirts, and fresh, fresh, plentiful produce.

With the returning warmth, my appetite always starts to change. I begin to crave salads again, and other lighter fare, but the occasional cold day sends me back to the comfort food of Winter. Jeff made this warm, rich pasta dish for dinner on such an evening, and we ate it curled up on the couch while watching a movie.

For many years after we'd moved in together, it was understood that I'd be cooking dinner. This wasn't something we decided, but rather one of those things that just ends up that way. Then, slowly he started to cook more and more. He started off with the simple things, like hot dogs, then graduated to fried perogies with caramelized onion and fresh chopped tomato, and then one night he surprised me with this truly incredible spicy pasta sauce. I'd called to tell him to take care of dinner, as I was going to be home late, and I showed up to Jeff hovering over a pot of spaghetti sauce, which tasted AMAZING. He'd roasted hot Italian peppers, then combined them with sauteed onion, garlic, canned tomatoes, olive oil and butter, some herbs de Provence, and a dash of vinegar to pick it all up.


In this version of the sauce, Jeff first pan-cooks some sausage. He has a particular method for this, which he claims is the best; the links are pan fried, whole, until they brown, then split down the middle with a spatula and flipped to cook and crisp the inside. Once cooked through and browned sufficiently, the sausage is pulled from the pan and chopped. While that is cooling, the onions and garlic cook in the sausage fat, then everything else is added and the whole thing simmers for a while. The resulting sauce is perfect. It is rich with sausage, tangy and sweet from tomatoes and vinegar, spicy from the peppers, and softened by the butter. He usually tries to save a little extra for me, since I like to oven-cook eggs in the leftovers the next day.





I don't know what Jeff will master next, but I'm looking forward to it.


Spicy Tomato, Pepper, and Sausage Pasta Sauce

I'd bet that this will work with almost all pastas but angel hair and tiny pastas like orzo. We've had it with spagetti, fettuccini, orrechiette, and penne, and also used it as pizza sauce before. If you do not use sausage, saute the onion in several tablespoons of olive oil. Fresh basil is a great addition in the summer, as are rosemary, thyme, and oregano or marjoram. If you use a sweet pepper instead of a hot one, add some pepper flakes or hot sauce (Jeff uses Sriracha) for a kick.



about 1lb garlic sausage
1 sweet or hot pepper, deseeded
1/2 large or one small onion, diced (Jeff used a Vadalia for sweetness)
1 large can whole, peeled tomatoes (look for those with lower sodium), liquid reserved
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
2 T butter
Sherry vinegar to taste
pepper
herbes de Provence
grated hard cheese as desired
about 1/2 lb pasta


Drizzle pepper with olive oil on baking sheet, and sprinkle with herbes de Provence and salt. Roast at 400F until very soft, or even till slightly browned.

Start a large pot of water boiling for the pasta, adding salt once it does.

Place sausages in pan over medium-high heat, and let cook till browned. Split open with a spatula (they may have started to split on their own), then turn upside down to cook the inside. Remove once crispy and cooked through; let cool and then chop. Reduce heat to medium-low, remove all but about 2 T of fat from pan, and add onions, stirring occasionally. Once onions start to become transluscent, add garlic and cook a few minutes longer. Open tomatoes. Pull out and squeeze to break up with your hands (I love this part!), directly into the pan. They tend to squirt tomato juice, so beware. Add half of tomato juice from tomato can, reserving the rest. Add vinegar, starting with about 1 T and adding additional to taste.




Adjust heat to maintain a steady simmer. Chop and add pepper, and hot sauce or pepper flakes if necessary. Add herbes de Provence. Add sausage back in. Simmer for at least a half hour, adding reserved tomato juice as necessary, starting the pasta cooking at the appropriate time. Take off of heat, stir in butter, and then drained pasta. Sprinkle with cheese if desired.

Baked Ziti

Dear Devon,

A few nights ago, my good friend and neighborhood buddy came over for a first look at the new place. I had the day off and decided to prepare what I thought would be an easy meal of baked ziti. But minutes before she arrived, I found myself standing over a steamy sink frantically scrubbing at tomato-sauce-encrusted pots. Tessa isn't the type of person to stand on ceremony. She came over in her after work clothes (something I fully support), but with a six-foot ladder standing in my living room and the tricky oven, a devastated kitchen was hardly how I wanted to greet her. Needless to say, our night was filled with gossip, hearty laughter, and of course, yummy food. Tessa was a particularly good sport, taking a large container of baked ziti home with her.

Cook's Illustrated is my favorite food publication. Its appearance in my mailbox draws my wide smile and excited giggle. Though I read the magazine cover to cover, I seldom cook any of the recipes. Perhaps after reading their extremely thorough discussion and how-to, I no longer feel the need to make the dish. With this magazine I am a passive observer, a culinary couch potato. But given how methodical the writers are, I assumed the recipes would be essentially foolproof. It was with this thought that I attempted their "baked ziti" recipe from issue 97 (March & April 2009).

The recipe seemed harmless enough. It asks for some unorthodox methods like substituting cottage cheese for ricotta, half cooking the ziti pasta, and making both a cream sauce and a tomato based sauce. Written out, there were only five steps. I had made baked zitis many times before, always with good results and minimal effort. How hard could this recipe be? Technically, the recipe was simple, but in terms of work, it was overload. The recipe should have come with a warning label: Do not attempt without 1) electric or manual dishwasher (meaning not you) 2) a mile of counter space 3) a dozen wooden stirring spoons and half as many pots, mixing bowls, or any large bowl shaped containers.

Attempting to make this in a New York sized kitchen is an absolute joke. My favorite instruction read: Off heat, stir in...Translation: move to the only empty burner not used in the last 10 minutes because every inch of counter space and table tops are occupied. While the results were pretty fantastic, I don't think my baked ziti in the past was that bad.

Though I found serious faults with the recipe, I do plan to use some of their suggestions. For instance, I like the substitution of cottage cheese for ricotta cheese. I liked seeing the large curds between the layers of pasta. In addition, using cottage cheese avoided that gluey texture of loose ricotta in baked pasta dishes, lasagna included. The use of two sauces was also a nice touch. The cream helped to subdue the sourness of the tomato. However, making separate sauces is a bit too much work. In the future, I'll add a bit of cream to the tomato sauce instead. I also liked their suggestion for half cooking the pasta. The idea is to allow the pasta to fully cook once incorporated with the sauce in the oven. The Cook's Illustrated recipe asks for diced mozzarella to be mixed in with the pasta. I forgot to add this extra cheese, but it didn't affect the taste and I'm not sure I will use it next time either.

Right off the bat, I made some significant changes to the recipe, and a few substitutions: I added spinach and mushrooms, and swapped flour for cornstarch, and 1% milk for cream. I forgot to buy both diced canned tomatoes and mozzarella, so I omitted them. I also reduced the amount of grated parmesan cheese.

I won't deny that the dish turned out well. True to the article's promise, it was highly flavorful and moist. The pasta was not overcooked, and it plumped up beautifully. But was it really worth all that effort? I'm not so sure. My plan is to try it again, keeping some of their ideas, but editing down the labor that went into this one.

Baked Ziti
from Cook's Illustrated March-April 2009
(paraphrasing the recipe with my added comments)

1 pound whole milk cottage cheese
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese (the recipe asks for 1 1/2 cups)
1 pound ziti
5 medium garlic cloves, smashed
1-28 oz can tomato sauce
1-14.5 oz can diced tomatoes (omit, if as in my case, you forget to buy this)
1 tbsp sugar
3/4 tsp flour (recipe asks for cornstarch)
1 cup milk (recipe asks for cream)
8 oz shredded mozzarella
1 box frozen spinach, defrosted and squeezed of excess water
8 oz mushroom, sliced

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter 9 x 13 casserole dish.

Whisk cottage cheese, eggs, and parmesan cheese in a medium bowl. Mix in defrosted spinach and mushrooms. Set aside. In a Dutch oven, bring water to boil. Add in pasta and salt. When the pasta begins to soften, drain and set aside.

In another pot, heat oil and garlic over medium heat until fragrant. Stir in tomato sauce and sugar and simmer. (Note: cover the pot, or suffer the volcanic eruptions of thickening sauce.) Cook until thickened, about 10 minutes.

Stir cornstarch/flour into milk/heavy cream until dissolved. Transfer mixture to now empty Dutch oven and set over medium heat. Bring to a simmer and cook until thickened, 3 to 4 minutes. Off the heat, add ricotta mixture and 1 cup tomato sauce. Stir to combine. Add half cooked pasta. Stir to combine.

Pour pasta mixture into prepared pan. Spread remaining tomato sauce evenly over the pasta. Sprinkle with shredded mozzarella cheese. Cover baking dish with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil and continue baking for 20 minutes, until the cheese is bubbling and nicely browned.

Pasta Fagioli

Dear Devon,

I have way too much stuff! Over the past two weeks, I have gradually and awkwardly schlepped my books, furniture, cooking implements, clothes, and random junk into my new apartment. The move is nearing its final stages. Only the piano remains. I'm not foolhardy enough to try moving that by myself. Fear and a flight of stairs quickly extinguished thrift.

Given my increased level of physical exertion, I turned to black eyed peas as a good source of nutrients. I intended to cook enough for two or three servings, but accidentally dumped the entire one-pound bag into the pot. C’est la vie! My folly is your windfall, as you will discover the charms and versatility of the black eyed pea!

There is a lot written about how to cook dried beans. After trying various methods, I still don’t know which is the best. Here’s what I did:
Fill a large pot with water. Add one pound black eyed peas. Throw in a bay leaf. Gradually bring to a boil. Simmer on low heat for 1 ½ to 2 hours, or until the beans are tender. Drain and cool. Store in large containers.

Beans = pasta fagioli. The recipe is flexible and works with practically any type of bean: white beans, kidney beans, and even lentils. Use whatever greens you have in the fridge. I prepare this with kale, broccoli rabe, spinach, and sometimes beet tops. Canned beans can be substituted for quicker and easier cooking. My pasta of choice is large shells. I love the surprise of the smooth, salty bean nestled in the starchy shell. I haven't had time to stock up the pantry, so this time I used penne. It is a good substitute and a staple in my cupboard.


I had never used black eyed peas in this recipe before. I was surprised at the texture of the bean, which was a bit denser, not as smooth as the white beans I had used in the past. I needed a green that could easily balance the heartier texture of the black eyed pea. Kale, with its slight tang and darker flavoring, seemed like a good counterpart. I found that purple kale worked even better than green in this instance, making the dish more vibrant both in color and flavor. I finished it off with a dash of red chili flakes and a pat of butter for richness.

Definitely add this to your list of standing recipes. It is too yummy to set aside. Forkfuls of beans, pasta, and kale coated with a garlic, butter, and chili flake...is there anything better?

Pasta Fagioli
Serves 4

1 strip of bacon, chopped
2 shallots, sliced
2 cloves of garlic, smashed and sliced
half bunch of kale
½ cup chicken broth or water
pinch of red chili flake
1 cup black eyed peas, pre-cooked
pasta (preferably shells)
1 tbsp butter

Bring to boil one large pot of salted water. Add enough pasta for four servings.

In a large sauté pan, cook bacon. Drain off all but 1 tbsp of fat and add a tablespoon of oil. Roughly chop shallots. Smash garlic cloves and chop. Add onions and garlic to hot oil. Gently sauté over medium heat until slightly translucent. Wash kale thoroughly--I often find pockets of dirt and encrusted mud on the leaves. Remove the thick, fibrous stalk. Chop into nice 1 ½ inch pieces. Add to the sauté pan. When the kale heats through, about 5 minutes, pour in chicken broth. Cook over medium low heat for about 10 minutes. Salt and throw in a pinch of chili flake. Mix in cooked black eyed peas. Cook until beans are heated through. Toss in cooked pasta. Taste for salt. Finish with butter.

Simple Yellow Squash and Mushroom Penne

Dear Devon,

Cooking in someone else's kitchen is always a challenge. When you walk in, you don't know what you'll find. The simplest dishes can seem overwhelming when you don't have your favorite knife or trusty pan. Best case scenario, the kitchen is better supplied than the corner restaurant, offering an army of pans, gadgets, utensils, spices and herbs, salts and oils. In my experience, these kitchens are rare birds. Most have the requisite skillet, pot, and baking tray with maybe a wooden spoon or a spatula or two. These are the situations that really test me. I have to adjust how I cook to a new environment, which leads to innovative uses of limited resources and sometimes absurd situations. I love the challenge!

For the past few weeks, I've been staying at a friend's apartment. Her place is nicely situated on the main drag of a bustling neighborhood in Brooklyn. The food culture is amazing and really accessible. I've taken to eating out a lot during my stay, but occasionally, I do fire up the stove. The kitchen is tucked into a tiny corner of the apartment. It contains the mandatory stove, sink, and fridge...but not much else. A cutting board takes up the entire counter space. The stove is possibly the smallest I've ever seen. And most amazingly, her microwave is a toaster too!! It toasts amazingly well for a two in one unit. At the moment, the biggest challenge is getting the pan on the stove. The burners are placed so close together that the pan actually straddles several burners. Fitting a pan and a pot on the stove is a tight squeeze. But somehow, I've managed to figure out a way to control the temperature and cook some pretty fantastic food.


I didn't want the first meal I prepared in this kitchen, other than cereal, to be too strenuous. This simple yellow squash and mushroom penne was the perfect place to start. Simple in its execution; a pretty basic recipe. It allowed me to get a feel for the kitchen- how to set myself up, the pitfalls of the over-sized pan, etc. I must admit, a small kitchen isn't that bad. I'm an arm's distance away from the sink and the stove. In one spot, I can chop onions, wash squash, and saute mushrooms.

I didn't really think too much about this dish before I made it. It came together pretty organically. Both the squash and mushrooms looked nice at the store, so I bought them without any real intentions. I love mushrooms sauteed in a bit of butter and sprinkled with salt. The mushrooms exude a wonderful earthy flavor and become almost meat-like. The yellow squash with its delicate flavor and light texture pairs nicely with the dark tones of the mushroom. I browned both in melted butter to give them a nuttiness and a bit of color. I finished off the pasta with a light sauce made simply by deglazing the pan with a bit of red wine. Parsley lends a bit of freshness and olive oil for richness.

I suppose, it really isn't about how good your pans are or the size of your kitchen. In the end, fresh ingredients, a bit of organization, and basic cooking techniques can take you a long way.

Yellow Squash and Mushroom Penne
serves 2

two small yellow squash, sliced
5 oz. small mushrooms, sliced
1 clove garlic, crushed
1/4 c. white onion, chopped
1 tbsp butter
1/3 cup parsley, coarsely chopped
1/4 cup red wine
1/2 cup pasta water
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp olive oil
penne

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add enough penne for two servings.

In a large skillet, melt butter. Gently cook the onion and garlic until translucent. Add the squash and mushrooms. Spread out the mushrooms and squash into a single layer. Cook over a medium low flame, browning the squash and mushrooms on both sides. Sprinkle liberally with salt and toss. Add wine and pasta water to the skillet. Reduce the liquid until about half. Add cooked pasta, olive oil, and chopped parsley. Toss to distribute evenly.