Showing posts with label sides. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sides. Show all posts
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Quinoa and Kale Tabouleh
The Setting: Spring! Yes, it has finally sprung here in the formerly frigid Midwest. Fifty-one degrees Fahrenheit and mostly cloudy never felt so good.
The Soundtrack: Washing machine, dryer, dishwasher...oh, the sounds of productivity!
Steaming up the Oven: Just the memories of yesterday's valiant-but-wanting baking endeavor. I'll save the details for another post, but let's just say even bacon couldn't save it.
The Scenario: A frolic on the lighter side....
I can barely spell tabouleh (tabbouleh, tabbouli), let alone pronounce it correctly, and I certainly won't act like I'm an authority on where it originated or what the most traditional recipe for this delightfully refreshing dish might be.
Here is what I think I know: tabouleh comes from somewhere in the Middle East/Mediterranean, and it generally contains parsley (so underrated), bulgur wheat, tomatoes, olive oil, and lemon juice. Also, it is delicious.
My spin on this sublime spring salad or side substitutes quinoa for the bulgur wheat and adds lots of kale and extra herbs to punch up both the nutrition and the flavor.
Disclaimer: Quinoa is not necessarily healthier than bulgur. Cup for cup, bulgur is much lower in calories and higher in fiber, while quinoa has higher levels of important vitamins and minerals like iron, B-6, magnesium, copper, and phosphorus. Unlike bulgur, quinoa is gluten free and contains all nine essential amino acids (making it a complete protein)...so it all depends on what you're going for. Quinoa is what I generally have on hand, and I love the unique texture and subtle, nutty flavor it brings to this dish.
Quinoa and Kale Tabouleh
1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 tsp freshly cracked black pepper
1 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 tsp granulated garlic
1 cup freshly cooked quinoa
5 leaves kale, woody stems removed
1 large handful each of fresh mint, basil, and flat-leaf parsley
1 small, white onion, finely chopped
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
In a small bowl whisk together the first 6 ingredients (lemon juice through garlic). This is the dressing.
Place the quinoa in a large bowl and toss with half of the dressing. Set aside.
Place the kale and fresh herbs in a food processor, working in two batches if necessary, and pulse or process just until finely chopped.
Add the chopped kale and herbs to the quinoa bowl along with the onion, tomatoes, and remaining dressing. Stir to combine. Cover and refrigerate until ready to eat (preferably an hour or longer, as it gets better as it sits). Best consumed within 4 days.
This salad makes a great vegetarian meal on its own, but Hoosband likes to serve it as a side dish with lamb or top it with canned salmon for a heartier main-dish salad.
Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.
Labels:
basil,
gluten free,
kale,
lemon,
mint,
parsley,
quinoa,
salad,
sides,
tabbouleh,
tabbouli,
tabouleh
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Sauteed Leeks
The Setting: A pretty gloomy Sunday outside, a pretty messy apartment in here.
The Soundtrack: Hoosband playing "daddy's got your foot" with Oia, and the resulting toddler giggles.
Steaming up the Oven: Toast.
The Scenario: The side dish you never saw coming....
I first experienced leeks as a side dish at the incredibly enchanting Ballyvolane House in North Cork, Ireland.
Sliced into oblong sections instead of the familiar rings, they were not immediately recognizable as the onion-cousin commonly found in Vichyssiose or cream of mushroom soup.
I had seen them fried, crowning green-bean casseroles; raw, shaved upon salads; and caramelized, atop gourmet burgers.
But never had I seen them stand alone as a side.
It didn't take many bites, however, to realize what I had been missing.
With their gentle onion flavor and inherent subtle sweetness, leeks were an undervalued culinary treasure!
I left the Ballyvolane House a freak for leeks, and my love has only grown since then.
Serve them alongside meat and potatoes, pair them with creamy polenta, or dish them up with a cheesy omelet.
Whatever you do, be sure to give them a try.
Sauteed Leeks
Leeks are notorious for concealing a good bit of dirt and grit within their rings and therefore must be soaked and rinsed before cooking. The absolute best set up I have found for cleaning and drying leeks is my OXO salad spinner, which conveniently contains a bowl for soaking, a strainer for rinsing, and a spinning mechanism for removing excess water.
4 large leeks
3 T unsalted butter
kosher salt
freshly cracked black pepper
Slice off and discard the fibrous, dark green ends of the leeks.
Slice each leek in half lengthwise.
Cut each half on the bias into 3/4-inch slices.
Place the leeks in the salad spinner.
Place the spinner in the sink, and fill the bowl with enough cool water to cover all the leeks, leaving at least an inch of space at the top of the bowl. Use your hands to break up any larger sections of leeks and remove any visible dirt or grit so that it sinks to the bottom of the bowl. Let the leeks soak for 5 minutes.
Lift the strainer-portion of the spinner out of the bowl and rinse with cool water. Gently shake the strainer once or twice to remove excess moisture. Set aside.
Poor the soaking water out of the plastic bowl and rinse out any remaining dirt or grit (aren't you glad you got rid of all that?). Place the strainer back in the plastic bowl and attach the lid.
Press the spinning mechanism to dry the leeks as much as possible.
Melt the butter in a large saute pan over med-high heat. Add the leeks and 1/2 tsp black pepper.
Cover and cook 5 minutes. Stir in 1 tsp kosher salt, scraping up and incorporating any browned bits on the bottom of the pan, re-cover, and cook an additional 5 minutes. Stir the leeks, again scraping up and incorporating any browned bits. Taste and season with additional salt and pepper if desired.
Serves 4.
Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Fried Okra
The Setting: It is downright gorgeous outside right now. Might have to bust out the stroller and go for a jog...which is probably a good idea after Saturday's big dinner.
The Soundtrack: 9 to 5. Has there EVER been a better threesome than Dolly, Lily, and Jane?
Steaming up the oven: Toast.
The Scenario: Time for the next in the series of Music City in the Midwest recipes. Let's hear it for Fried Okra!
It may not be the kind of exotic bizarre food that would attract the likes of Andrew Zimmern, but okra is SCARY.
Long and pointy with slightly sappy fur, the pods themselves are a little on the intimidating side. When you throw in the--let's just say it--mucus-y slime from the interior, this domestic freak show is like a durian on your doorstep.
I understand the fear. I felt it myself as a child.
My mom would order okra at restaurants, and I'd curl away in my seat in terror.
But then I sampled a steaming bowl of gumbo and lived to ask for seconds. There was OKRA in that?
The next time I saw little golden puffs of fried okra on my mom's plate, I found my body uncurling in curiosity...I found my hand creeping toward her plate and reaching for a crispy okra nubbin...And I found the okra DELICIOUS.
These days it's pretty hard for me not to order fried okra when I see it on a menu. But it's easier to resist knowing that I make a pretty darn good version at home.
Fried Okra
Okra plants, actually a close relative to the Hibiscus, grow well in warm climates. Hoosband and I first made fried okra from our own homegrown okra, but now we rely on the freezer section of the nearest grocery store.
~for the buttermilk bath~
1 1/2 lbs frozen cut okra
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1 egg
2 T kosher salt
3 T hot sauce
~for the breading~
1 cup four
1 3/4 cup yellow cornmeal (not corn muffin mix)
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp black pepper
~for frying~
peanut oil
Place frozen okra in a double layer of gallon-sized zip-top bags, set aside.
In a small bowl, thoroughly whisk together the buttermilk bath ingredients. Pour buttermilk mixture over okra, seal bags, and gently shake to coat. Allow okra to thaw in the buttermilk mixture in the fridge overnight.
In a large bowl whisk together the breading ingredients. Set a sieve inside the bowl so that it is filled with the breading mixture.
Heat a depth of 1-2 inches peanut oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saute pan or cast-iron skillet over med-high heat. To check the oil, run your fingers under cold water and flick a few drops into the oil. If the oil is ready the water droplets will jump and spatter; if they jump too violently, your oil may be too hot.
Line a baking sheet with paper towels and place a cooling rack on top.
Working in batches, use a slotted spoon to transfer okra to breading mixture and shake to coat completely. Lift up the sieve and shake off excess breading before transferring the okra to the hot oil.
Fry the okra just until light golden on all sides.
Use a spider or heatproof slotted spoon to transfer the okra to the prepared cooling rack. Repeat with remaining okra and breading.
Once a batch of okra has drained and cooled, it can be transferred to a serving bowl or foil roasting pan to make room for remaining batches.
Serve immediately. Okra can be warmed through in a baking dish or foil roasting pan at 350 degrees F if desired.
Guest Feedback:
Average Score on a scale of 0-5, 0 being "Never again. Need to set my mouth on fire to extinguish the memory" and 5 being "Woohoo! When can I eat that again?" 4.6
Comments: "Very surprised. Very refreshing, even fried." "Good for kids! Definitely will be making it!" "My kids even loved it." "Very Good."
This recipe was featured in a post called Music City in the Midwest for Foodbuzz.com's 24x24 event, for which 24 food bloggers from around the world are selected to host dinner parties within the same 24 hours and blog about them.
Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.
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