I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve never had to learn how to make strawberry freezer jam. I’ve been even more fortunate in that I never even tasted store-bought jam until I was practically an adult.

As a result, I’m spoiled. Spoiled rotten. I turn up my nose at Smucker’s, and even those fancy top-shelf brand jams can’t satisfy.

I never had to learn how to make strawberry freezer jam because every year I saw my mom make it right in front of me. Sis and I got drafted to help pick strawberries in our grandparents’ strawberry patch. I recall crouching low, pushing through the leaves, and searching for the elusive strawberries Grandma insisted were still there even though we were sure we’d gotten them all.

Nowadays we buy our strawberries already picked from local growers. Rhode’s Strawberries, run by “Captain Bob” Rhode of Chesaning Showboat fame, is always our first choice. Most area growers this year, though, complained of small harvests and we wound up going about 35 miles away to find reasonably-priced berries.

let’s make strawberry freezer jam!

Making strawberry freezer jam is a snap because there’s no special recipe. In fact, deviation from the standard recipe is frowned upon because it will likely result in failure of the jam to set up properly. Just clean one quart of strawberries per batch of freezer jam. Have one package of Sure-Jell or other pectin on hand for each batch. Then chop up those berries. You could briefly, carefully whirl them in a food processor, or use a potato masher, but I find the chopper to be my favorite.

Oops, you can’t really see the chopper in that pic. Here’s a better one! See, it’s like a biscuit cutter, but darksided.

Add the sugar to the chopped strawberries. I’ve got a double batch going in this picture; that’s why there’s so honkin’ much. You can totally double batch it, but don’t even think of triple or more batches at a time. That’s crazy talk.

At this point in the process, if you’re gonna be snapping pictures, you’d better have someone else around, because the stirring and the pouring and the stirring again and the zomg fill the jars before jam sets madness is going on and things are, if not exactly hectic, then not quite “Let’s stop and compose an artsy photo” conducive.

See, for the above, after the lime went in the coconut sugar went in the strawberries, the water went into the pectin, the pectin-water went into the strawberry-sugar, and the pectin-water-strawberry-sugar went into the adorable little jars. And all pretty quickly too, because if you lollygag, the jam will set up before you get it into the jars, which isn’t a tragedy but is a bit messy.

The strawberry freezer jam recipe is in every package of Sure-Jell, and I’m including it below as well, with tips and commentary Kraft simply does not offer. Oo la la.

strawberry freezer jam recipe

Every time I’ve made strawberry freezer jam, and every time anyone I know has made it, I’ve gotten more jam than the recipe predicts (5). I always wind up with 6 cups or 6½ cups. So be prepared with extra clean jars/containers. In fact, that’s always a good idea when canning or preserving. You don’t want to stop in the middle of something time-sensitive to wash jars.

yield: 5–6 cups
special equipment: chopper or food processor; funnel
time: 60 to 90 minutes, plus 24 hours

1 quart strawberries
4 cups granulated sugar
¾ cup water
1 box Sure-Jell fruit pectin

Wash 6 cups’ worth of containers and lids in warm soapy water and dry thoroughly.

Hull and wash strawberries. Chop strawberries until they’re soupy and contain chunks in the size you desire.

Stir in the sugar. It won’t all dissolve right away. Let stand for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. While waiting, set out jars/containers where you plan to fill them, and get a ladle and a funnel ready if you have one.

In a small saucepan, mix water and pectin and bring to a boil over high heat. Stir constantly. Boil for 1 minute, stirring constantly and watching to be sure it does not boil over.

Remove pectin from heat and add to the strawberry-sugar mixture. Stir for 3 minutes or until sugar is dissolved. The sugar may not be entirely dissolved, but 3 minutes is all you need to stir, or less if the sugar dissolves quickly.

Immediately fill containers, ladling the hot jam through the funnel if you have one, leaving ½ inch head space to allow room for expansion in the freezer.

Cover containers with their lids and let stand at room temperature for 24 hours. Then the strawberry freezer jam is all ready to go into the freezer.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | 2 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: strawberries

Rice is born in water and must die in wine. – Italian proverb

Mm, risotto. The creamy arborio rice dish accepts all sorts of additions, especially vegetables of all kinds. One of my favorite risottos, right up there with mushroom, is asparagus risotto. When the asparagus season wanes and we’ve had our fill of steamed or pan-roasted, or oven-roasted, or with-an-egg-on-top asparagus, I like to make this risotto before the weather turns too hot to want to attend a stove for half an hour or more.

So many risotto ingredients are white: the wine, the rice, the cream, the cheese. Choose a light broth base, and you get a stunning white dish.

I fail at this. My base is brown, and tints the rice a pale amber. However, I LIVED.

The old proverb above refers, in part, to the wine customarily used in making risotto. Wine is added just before you begin pouring in the water/broth that the rice is going to absorb, to relax the starches with its acidity and add a subtle, fruity note to the dish.

I think it’s to get a bottle of wine opened up so you have to finish it. Yes, you have to finish the wine, by hook or by crook.

If in the mood, I love the attentiveness risotto requires. Adding 1 cup of liquid at a time, and stirring until it’s absorbed is a bit meditative, if you’re weird that way. I am.

One cup down, 4 to go. One glass down, several to go.

The liquid is absorbed, and a small flurry of activity gets cooked chopped asparagus, cream, Parmesan, and salt and pepper stirred in until you could cry at the pinnacle of starchiness and smoothness.

One last look. Now eat.

asparagus risotto

This is an excellent risotto base recipe. Substitute ½ to 1 pound of any other vegetable or vegetable combination. Just make sure the vegetables are cooked to your liking before adding to the risotto at the end. Adapted from a recipe by RiceSelect.

1 pound fresh asparagus spears, diagonally sliced into 1-inch pieces
3 cups water
2 cups vegetable broth (I like Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base the best)
1 tablespoon butter
½ cup chopped yellow onion (1 small onion)
1 cup uncooked arborio rice
⅓ cup dry white wine
½ cup heavy cream
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon salt
¼ 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

Have all ingredients measured and ready before preparing the asparagus risotto. You’ll be glad you did.

Steam or pan-fry asparagus until crisp-tender. Set aside.

In a 2-quart saucepan, bring water and broth to a simmer. Turn down the burner to its lowest setting and cover to keep warm. This water-broth mixture is what we will add to the arborio rice, cup by cup, until it’s all absorbed.

In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Cook onion in the butter about 5 minutes, or until soft. Add rice and stir for a couple minutes, coating each grain in the butter-onion mixture. You may notice some browning in the pan as the rice’s starch hits it. That’s okay; just don’t let the rice itself brown.

Add wine and stir until it’s absorbed. The wine will sizzle but it won’t jump out at you dangerously. Just thought I’d let you know so you aren’t too surprised. What the wine will do is deglaze the bottom and quickly soak into the rice.

Now it’s time to begin cooking the rice. You’ll be stirring almost constantly for perhaps 20 minutes. Turn the heat up to medium-high, and pour in 1 cup of the water-broth mixture. Stir frequently until the liquid is absorbed.

Continue this process: Once the cup of water-broth mixture is absorbed, add another cup of it and keep stirring. Repeat until all liquid is absorbed, or until the rice is tender. I’ve always used the entire 5 cups of water-broth mixture.

You’ve made risotto! Now’s the part where we make it awesome risotto. Stir in the cooked asparagus, cream, Parmesan cheese, salt, and pepper. Mix well.

Leftovers keep well in the fridge and freeze well too. It’s even good cold. Enjoy.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | One comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: asparagus, rice

It’s asparagus season, it’s baseball season, it’s school music program season, it’s kitten season.

All of these pale, though, compared to the One Season to Rule Them All.

Pie season.

Fruit pies are the pinnacle of the home baker’s art — sweet and tart, ensconced in a flaky crust. I’d go so far as to say they’ve always been an indicator of a farm cook’s prowess.

When I was just a wee browncoat I read the entire series of “Little House” books. Tacked onto the end of the boxed set is a slim volume called The First Four Years. The First Four Years covers the time just after Laura and Almonzo were married, and they set out to build their own household. It’s an unusual volume in the series in that it doesn’t bear the editorial stamp of Laura’s daughter, Rose, who edited and polished up the rest of the series to give it a smooth narrative and familiar themes.

The First Four Years is rougher and darker than the rest of the series as a result. Almonzo develops what sounds like a viral joint condition similar to rheumatoid arthritis which makes it difficult for him to work with his hands, weather disasters constantly eradicate their crops and efforts to get ahead, and Mr. and Mrs. Boast come off as pathetically creepy when they make Laura a modest proposal to adopt her new baby, their reasoning being that the Boasts themselves cannot have any but Laura and Almonzo could always have more.

we’re getting to the point

There were happy and amusing spots in the narrative, though. One which stood out to me as a child was near the beginning of the book, when Laura and Almonzo moved into the house he’d built for them. She marveled at the kitchen’s modern conveniences, like the pull-out bins for flour and other dry staples. I flashed back in recognition to my house’s kitchen, which had been remodeled when I was six or so. Before then, however, the cupboards had a couple of those same bins along the bottom, which, for the uninitiated among you, open in somewhat similar fashion to an expanding file folder.

laura’s rhubarb pie

The other humorous moment I remember from the book was the first time Laura made a pie in her new home. Almonzo brought home the threshing crew for lunch, and Laura had been wracked with nerves, sixteen years old, hoping everything she’d cooked would turn out satisfactory.

The crew was impressed by the food, relieving Laura. She put the rhubarb pie out. One man took a bite, paused, and reached for the sugar bowl. Lifting the top crust and generously spooning sugar on the rhubarb filling, he joked that the best kind of pie was one where you could control how much sugar was in it. Yeah, she’d forgotten to add the sugar.

with rhubarb pie, try not to forget the sugar

There’s a reason rhubarb is known as pie plant. Familiar to people in the past, rhubarb was rarely used in cooking before sugar became commonly available, because it’s so incredibly astringent. I kind of proved this in my savory rhubarb experiment, in which I found out it was very difficult to make rhubarb tasty without sugar.

The beauty of fruit pie is that balance between sweet and tart. Try not to freak at the 1-⅓ cups of sugar in this rhubarb pie recipe. The rhubarb needs it, and you’ll still have that distinctive rhubarb tang.

Rhubarb’s the first pie fruit of the season. Try to get a pie made with it before the rhubarb’s gone. You won’t be sorry.

rhubarb pie

I haven’t done a pie crust tutorial yet, and for that I apologize. If making your own crust, please, please just use the recipe on the Crisco can. Note that the shortening was reformulated several years ago to make it virtually trans-fat free (the label says 0 grams). You’ll be disappointed with butter. Use shortening, use ice cold water, add just enough water til the dough comes together cohesively, and don’t play with the dough too much, and you’ll have a flaky crust. Trust me.

oven: 450°F (then 350°F)
prep: 15 minutes (assuming pie crust is already made)
total time: 1 hour 15 minutes

pastry for a 9-inch double crust pie
4 cups chopped rhubarb
1-⅓ cups granulated sugar
6 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon butter

Preheat oven to 450°F. Roll out bottom crust and place in 9-inch pie plate. Trim edge of pastry.

In a medium bowl, combine sugar and flour. Sprinkle ½ cup of the sugar-flour mixture on the bottom pastry crust in the pie plate.

Dump the chopped rhubarb on top of it.

Sprinkle the remaining sugar-flour mixture evenly on top of the rhubarb.

Cut the butter into 6-10 smaller bits and dot the rhubarb with them.

Roll out top crust and cover the pie. Trim, seal edges, and crimp. With a sharp knife, make a few slashes in the top crust to allow steam to escape.

Place pie in 450°F oven on bottom rack. Bake for 15 minutes, then lower the oven temperature to 350°F and bake another 45 minutes, or until top crust is very slightly golden and fruit is bubbling.

Remove pie from oven and let cool on a rack for an hour or more. If you cut into a warm pie, it goes all over the place! If you can resist long enough to let it cool completely, you won’t have watery juices pouring out from the slice you just cut.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | 2 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: rhubarb

Sis and Mom were thrilled with the dinner party. “You can do this anytime,” they cooed conspiratorially, and they began plotting holiday schedules. “Thanksgiving, Christmas…no, Mom will still do Christmas…Easter….”

I hadn’t hosted an event of this magnitude before. A bit over a month ago my sponsor, Foodbuzz, contacted me with the offer to host a pasta and wine-pairing dinner party using free coupons supplied by Buitoni Riserva. That shit’s expensive, so I jumped at the chance.

the asparagus mistake

I picked up 5 packages each of fresh pasta agnolotti, which is is a jumbo half-moon shaped ravioli. One was wild mushroom, and I planned to toss it with roasted asparagus and chives, drizzle it with olive oil, and top it with freshly ground black pepper and goat cheese. Unfortunately, I didn’t consult my sister the asparagus roasting expert, and left it in the oven about 20 minutes instead of the 5 she said was correct, and the asparagus came out limp and mushy.

My aunt, Linda, brought over a bunch of chives she snipped from her patch, some blooming with crunchy-oniony flowers atop them. They were too pretty to ignore, so they got put out on the table.

The guest list: Mom and Dad, Jennifer and Dale Javier (he said he wanted to be called Javier), Mom’s best friend Leeann and her daughter (and my friend) Angie, and Linda. I asked Leeann which wine she wanted to drink. “Oh, I love all white wine,” she said, so I poured her the La Noble chardonnay I’d picked up and a teeny glass of fino. Fino is very dry sherry that I drank a lot in Spain and it always makes me think of briny olives, tapas, dancing sevillanas, and walking home through the Parque de María Luisa at seven in the morning.

Not everyone was into the wine thing, though. Dad and Javier mixed themselves up some massive bloody marys.

Check out this spread! Angie made that vibrant salad, Mom brought the relish tray, and there’s the wild mushroom agnolotti along with the four cheese (Quattro Formaggi) agnolotti, and the red sauce I mixed up for the latter.

where’s my two dollars?

There’s Linda and the view from the other side of the tablecloth. That’s right, tablecloth. Cloth napkins. Frawnch fries. Frawnch bread. Kwissssmassss. Pardon me, I’m channeling Better Off Dead.

The top is the wild mushroom agnolotti with the asparagus/chives/black pepper/olive oil/goat cheese topping I mentioned. The left/bottom is the four cheese agnolotti with a roasted red pepper and kalamata olive sauce, topped with fresh basil. And supposed to have grated parmesan on top, but I forgot to get it on there for the pic. That sauce was the bomb.

Jennifer posed for an action shot! You can see a glass of red wine, which would be the shiraz Angie brought. I’d originally planned on cabernet to pair with the wild mushroom agnolotti, but we ended up breaking that out later. The red paired really well with the four cheese as well. Personally, I drank a little of the chardonnay and the shiraz and liked them both with both pastas. Maybe I’m just easy. Don’t answer that.

Dad warned Javier early on, “You’re not going to be getting any meat here tonight.” Of course they were going through that theater to tease me, but their little plan backfired. They chowed down and made happy noises just as much as everyone else did.

Notice how I ran out of serving dishes and dug into the storage containers. I’m so not prepared for this big party thing.

bring out your desserts

Linda made the coolest. Dessert. Evar. Think peanut butter pound cake. Slice it. Spread with peanut buttercream and blackberry jam. Top with another slice of pound cake.

That’s right. Linda made pound cake pb&j. Awesome.

Jennifer dipped strawberries in chocolate and served them on an appropriately-themed playing cards plate. Did I mention this was dinner and games night?

Mom and Leeann have been best friends for like 40 years, since Leeann moved in next door to Mom and Dad. <suckup>Did I say 40? I meant 20, because they couldn’t be a day over 40 themselves.</suckup>

euchre tournament!

Time to get our game on. With 8 of us present, and everyone liking euchre, we drew numbers, paired up, and had a little euchre tournament. To my chagrin, I was paired with Dale Javier, but he only fucked up once so I didn’t get to yell at him.

Jennifer and Mom were the winning team (never put people with shared DNA on the same team) and suddenly when it was over people began joking, “Where are the prizes?”

“Prizes?” I said, and a light bulb went on. An opportunity to divest myself of some excess goods! I got out some packaged rice/pasta sides I’d been planning to hand off to Linda, some product samples I’d received randomly in the mail, and some decks of playing cards from an estate sale I went to last week. Jennifer chose this lovely rice side dish to take home with her.

For her parting gift, Angie selected “stars of country music” playing cards and some instant coffee samples.

Then we played Perudo, or Liar’s Dice, and after that midnight was approaching, so the parent types and Jennifer and Javier left before they all turned into pumpkins. This left Linda, Angie, Bill, and me, and we broke out the Pictionary.

how to draw siamese twins in pictionary

how not to win at ingenious

Even with the adults gone, the wine kept flowing. We finished the La Noble and the Oak Leaf shiraz. Then we finished the Red Truck varietal red, and broke into the Clos du Bois chardonnay and Ravenswood cabernet, and Linda finished her Funky Llama chardonnay.

Wits and Wagers made an appearance, and then we closed out the night with Ingenious. Angie couldn’t remember if she’d played before and Bill was new to Ingenious, so I played with a handicap — I picked my tiles to play randomly. I got trounced as the newbies quickly picked up on the strategy and scored one Ingenious after another. I’m never believing Cranky Angie again! (Cranky Angie: I don’t think I like this. I don’t know if I want to play this. I know and understand Cranky Angie, because Cranky Amy always makes an appearance with new games too.)

what did i learn from all this?

I can put on a grownup party.

I can sip wine without getting too drunk.

Having smokers around leads to more smoking.

The Buitoni Riserva pastas are really good. The Quattro Formaggi Agnolotti was the hands-down favorite.

Good wine goes with anything.

Euchre needs to be more than a regional game.

roasted red pepper and kalamata olive pasta sauce

This sauce was the hit of the party. Salty, piquant, and complex, it goes well with simple pastas like cheese ravioli or agnolotti. I hesitate to post it as a recipe because it’s so simple, but it’s so good that it must be shared.

1 (28 ounce) jar red pasta sauce, like marinara
1 small (7 ounce) jar roasted red peppers
¼ cup kalamata olives

Purée the roasted red peppers and kalamata olives in a blender. Pour sauce and pepper/olive purée into a 2-quart pan and warm over medium heat. Serve over pasta.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | 4 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: asparagus, basil, cheese, chives, olives, pasta, sweet peppers, tomato

Everyone knows that a little fat in cooking is a Good Thing. Butter or olive oil brings out flavor, coats food, and makes it glisten and look pretty. What I want to know is the name of the god person who got the brilliant idea to use both at once.

butter and olive oil, together at last

The plain, quick-simmered aspargus I slapped up earlier is a homey preparation, perfect for quick weekday suppers. This asparagus, cut the same into 1-inch niblets, is fried in olive oil, butter, salt, and garlic for about 8 minutes or so. Infused with flavor, it works when you have company, or a bit more time to hover over the stove with the asparagus. Wait, what was that above? Let’s reiterate.

Butter.

Salt.

Olive oil.

Garlic.

What’s the word for one more than a triumvirate? Because this is one holy 4-ingredient mashup.

pan-roasted asparagus

If you choose to reduce the butter or olive oil, or if you prefer a fresher taste to the garlic, add the garlic near the end of the cooking time. Cooking the garlic and asparagus in less fat will increase the chance of the garlic overcooking and browning, which gives it an icky flavor. Cooked as specified in the recipe, the garlic will infuse the asparagus with garlicky flavor. Icky + garl?

method: stovetop
time: 20 minutes total

1 pound asparagus, trimmed and cut into 1-inch lengths
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
3 cloves minced garlic

In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic. Stir together.

Add asparagus and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | 3 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: asparagus

Rhubarb with caramelized onions? Rhubarb salsa? Rhubarb and lentil potage? I can hear you now, the ornery ones of you that is: What the hell, woman…rhubarb’s for pie. Crisps. Crunches.

For April’s Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24 event, I decided to explore the savory side of rhubarb, since there’s a ton of it growing about 50 feet from my front door. As rhubarb is technically a vegetable/herb, why not try some recipes that utilize rhubarb as a vegetable?

Hey, salsa has a tangy bite. I bet rhubarb could work in salsa. So I tracked down a viable candidate in The Joy of Rhubarb: The Versatile Summer Delight. It’s a classic Mexican salsa, with fresh cilantro, green onion (which made me happy; I can’t stand regular onions raw), lime juice, jalapeño for a bit of bite, barely-blanched rhubarb, and lots of sweet peppers and more sugar than salsa normally would have, to counteract the rhubarb’s bite.

Dad’s verdict? “It would be great on hamburgers. By the way, we’re having hamburgers tonight….” Subtle hint there, Dad. Yeah, he went home with some rhubarb salsa. Linda thought it had a bit of a bitter rhubarb taste to it and suggested more sweetener. I loved it. Fresh, crisp, clean salsa taste with the rhubarb adding uniqueness without overpowering it.

Overall verdict for rhubarb salsa: Two snaps up.

Jump to the rhubarb salsa recipe now or continue reading.

balsamic-rhubarb reduction

I swear, this was some fancy-pants shit I made. Asparagus with balsamic-rhubarb reduction (recipe here). It was dead easy, too. You cook down some balsamic vinegar and chopped rhubarb — along with a good little heap of sugar — until most of the liquid has evaporated and you get a thickish sauce. In this preparation, it’s served with roasted asparagus. You could really impress some guests with this stuff.

Dad’s verdict: Tasty, but the roasted asparagus was too soft. He grabbed a stalk of raw asparagus from the 10-pound bag I’d just picked and dipped that in the reduction instead. Linda’s verdict: “Too strong for asparagus. Would be really good with pork or something.” I liked the contrast between the tangy, balsamic-flavored reduction and the mild roasted asparagus, but I see her point. Comme-ci, comme ça.

Overall verdict for rhubarb-balsamic reduction: Two snaps sideways.

lentil and rhubarb potage

The original title of this Mark Bittman recipe is “Lentil and rhubarb stew with Indian spices,” but it’s too thick for a stew. So I did some Google-fu and discovered it was more of a potage, which also sounds fancier.

And man, it may be one ugly mofo of a dish, but damn, lentil and rhubarb potage is tasty. I was shocked. It had no added sugar. I was certain it would be inedible. But I had to try it, because it has cardamom in it, which is my new favorite spice ever.

Linda’s verdict: Really good and interesting. Nice balance of complex flavors. I’m transling from “Mmm” here, by the way.

Overall verdict for rhubarb and lentil potage: Two snaps up.

caramelized onion and rhubarb compote on herbed yogurt cheese

Hey Aunt Geri, I finally broke in the yogurt cheese maker! And all was good. This recipe, heavily adapted from one for caramelized onion, beet, and rhubarb compote, made me nervous. For one, it was another fancy-pants recipe. For another, I was adapting the living hell out of it. I’m not good at that sort of thing. Usually my adaptations tend to turn out more like the rhubarb mistake below. And for yet another thing, I was winging the whole herbed yogurt cheese thing. Entirely.

If you want to adapt the recipe like I did, simply make it without the beet purée, and add more maple syrup when you add the rhubarb, about 2 tablespoons worth. Trust me, you’ll need it. For the herbed cheese the easy way, go with a slightly sweet prepared cheese spread like Aloutte…because that was what I was shooting for. I put them in baked wonton cups, but they’d be better on small squares of puff pastry.

Dad’s verdict: “I really like the cheese and compote filling, but those wontons are like chewing on glass.” Linda’s verdict: “I love that filling!” Me? Shocked. And happy it worked. :p Cue the Smiths.

Overall verdict for caramelized onion and rhubarb compote: Two snaps way up.

rhubarb mistake

Since I had Mexican, Indian, and vaguely Italian (in the form of the caramelized onion and rhubarb compote), I decided to try incorporating rhubarb into a Thai curry. I’m not even going to link to the recipe I worked from, because the experiment was an utter disaster, and I didn’t follow the recipe exactly, so I don’t want to impugn the blogger who posted it.

Suffice it to say: disaster. Coconut milk wasn’t enough sweetness to balance rhubarb’s astringency, the rhubarb became gloopy, and it tasted awful. Oh well.

The experience did cement my dedication to you, the reader: You will never be subjected to a recipe I don’t absolutely love. I want everything you try to be something well-tested and well-liked before it ever hits this page.

Overall verdict for rhubarb mistake: Two snaps way down. Let’s forget all about it and move on to the rhubarb salsa recipe.

rhubarb salsa

Adapted from The Joy of Rhubarb: The Versatile Summer Delight by Theresa Millang.

2 cups finely diced fresh rhubarb
½ cup sweet red pepper, chopped
½ cup sweet yellow pepper, chopped
½ cup fresh cilantro, chopped
3 green onions, tops only, chopped
1 jalapeño pepper, finely chopped
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 tablespoons brown sugar, or to taste
salt and ground black pepper to taste

Blanch rhubarb in a saucepan of boiling water for 10 seconds. Seriously. Ten seconds. No more. Remove rhubarb promptly from heat, dump into a strainer, and rinse under cold water until rhubarb is lukewarm or cool. This is to stop the blanching process.

Place rhubarb in a glass bowl.  Add remaining ingredients, and mix well. Refrigerate at least an hour before serving to allow flavors to develop.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | 9 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: balsamic vinegar, cilantro, lentils, onions, rhubarb, sweet peppers

Do you have an asparagus patch or access to one? If you have any bit of yard at all and you like asparagus, there’s really no reason not to put some in. Asparagus is a perennial, takes up little room, and requires practically no care. Seriously. Mow or cut it down in the fall after it’s gone to seed, and that’s about it. This is one vegetable that absolutely weighs in on the positive end of the scale of labor cost v. return on investment.

the asparagus controversy: fat or thin stalks?

Nearly every cookbook I’ve ever seen that talks about asparagus says the thinnest stalks are tenderest and most flavorful.

And nearly every cookbook is wrong.

Yep, that’s it. I’m taking a stand. I’m right, and everyone else is wrong.

I shall proudly wear my badge of contrariness with pride and redundancy. Fat asparagus stalks are the best.

The fatties have more of that asparagus goodness to them, and less outer skin/stalk. They’re sweeter and have more flavor. Why on earth would anyone think the thin ones are better? Save the thin ones for roasting.

what happens to the very first asparagus of the season?

There’s so much that can be done with asparagus. Roast it, use it in quiches, risotto, or stir fries…but two things happen with the very first asparagus of the season.

1. A few bites get eaten raw. Really, it’s good.

2. It gets chopped up, simmered in a smidgen of water for no more than two or three minutes, and dressed with a little butter, salt, and pepper.

I think the quick simmer in enough water to just cover the bottom of the pan is the midwest version of steaming. My mom does it, my grandmas did it, they did it that way before there were microwaves. Like steaming, it cooks vegetables crisp-tender, so they are done but still have a bite to them.

So yeah, this isn’t so much a recipe as it is a simple way to prepare vegetables. But it’s wonderful for the freshest vegetables because it’s so simple. A great example of this is over at Cook Local. They made a balsamic rhubarb reduction as a dipping sauce for roasted asparagus, and then found themselves ignoring it entirely because the asparagus itself was so. Damn. Good.

After getting tired of plain asparagus this way, I’ll make risotto and quiche and roasted asparagus.

But for now, plain is So. Damn. Good.

asparagus, plain and simple

Measurements are loose and flexible. The only constant is putting in just enough, and only enough, water so that it doesn’t all boil away during cooking time. When trimming the ends of asparagus, don’t use the “bend and snap” method — you lose a lot of good, tender asparagus that way. Instead, trim the end with a knife at the point where the asparagus yields easily. You can feel the difference between woody and tender parts as you slice. And if where you sliced gave you resistance, you can always just slice again a bit further up the stalk.

half a pound to a pound of asparagus
½ to 1 teaspoon butter
salt and pepper to taste

Rinse the asparagus well. If the asparagus came from sandy ground, be sure to rinse under or remove the little triangular “leaves” that hug the side of the stalks, as sand will accumulate under there.

Trim the asparagus of woody ends. Chop into 1-inch lengths. Put chopped asparagus into a pan and add water to just cover the bottom of the pan, about ¼ inch deep.

Bring to a boil. This will happen quickly because of the small amount of water. Lower heat and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes. Two minutes will yield crunchier asparagus, three softer.

Drain asparagus and toss with butter, salt and pepper. Enjoy until you get sick of it. This means you are ready to move on to stage 2 of asparagus season: cooking it in something else.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | 2 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: asparagus

This baked penne recipe is entirely vegetarian, yet it’ll keep carnivores happy with its fennel-scented tomato sauce and meatless Italian sausage crumbles.

And it’s “baked penne” because I’ve never been able to replicate Italian restaurants’ baked ziti. I suspect their secret is oil and cheese in much more copious amounts than one can bear to consider under home kitchen conditions. Maybe it’s a hotter oven, or a shove under the broiler when it’s done. You know, if anybody knows the reason, inform me. I’m mostly pretty bumbling when it comes to reverse engineering.

But I’m zen about it, because the approximations to restaurant baked ziti are pretty good on their own. They might be missing the goat dandruff secret ingredient or whatever, but it’s hard to go wrong with pasta, mozzarella, a rich tomato sauce, mushrooms, and fake Italian sausage crumbles.

We don’t have ziti. We have penne. I’ve never seen a package of ziti. I suspect it doesn’t really exist.

While I was Googling to see if ziti pasta really existed (trust me: it doesn’t), I came across another baked ziti/penne recipe that used half provolone and added sour cream. Damn. Think I should try that next? I could make variations on this recipe forever.

I just wanted to show you some more mozzarella. Who doesn’t love cheese? The lactose-intolerant, that’s who. Ship them out onto ice floes.

There’s two ways to go about this dish. The time way and the dishes way. The time way, you cook the pasta al dente first, then drain it and use the same pot to sauté your celery and mushrooms, dump in (or make) the tomato sauce, and drop in the fake Italian sausage crumbles. The dishes way, you have two pots going and maybe even a sauté pan too, saving time but making more dishes.

So you got your pasta, your bulked-up sauce thanks to the fake sausage, and your grated cheese. Then you layer them in ze dish.

Repeat layering three times, and sprinkle parmesan on top, because who doesn’t want more cheese? I do not know why I’m affecting a French accent. This is Italian-themed food.

cheesy baked penne with fake italian sausage

I prefer to grate my own cheeses when possible. The coating on pre-shredded cheese seems to inhibit its melting properties. You’ll notice the difference in taste and gooeyness if you try grating your own. Meatless Italian sausage crumbles are found in 12-ounce packages in the freezer section. Morningstar Farms is one brand.

servings: 6–8
oven: 350°F
prep: 45 minutes
total time: 90 minutes

1-2 teaspoons olive oil (not extra-virgin)
8 ounces mushrooms, sliced or chopped into chunks
½ cup chopped celery
1 recipe i-can’t-believe-it’s-meatless tomato sauce or 1 (26 ounce) jar prepared pasta sauce
1 (12 ounce) package of frozen meatless Italian sausage crumbles
12 ounces whole wheat penne pasta, boiled al dente and drained (about 8 to 10 minutes)
12 ounces whole-milk or part-skim mozzarella cheese, grated
¼ cup Parmesan cheese, grated

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Heat olive oil in a 2-quart or larger pan over medium heat. Add mushrooms and celery and cook until mushrooms have released their juices, about 5 to 10 minutes (translation: until the mushrooms are cooked).

Add i-can’t-believe-it’s-meatless tomato sauce or the jar of prepared pasta sauce to the cooked celery and mushrooms. Add the meatless Italian sausage crumbles. Heat through, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes.

In a 3-quart baking dish, layer ⅓ of the penne, ⅓ of the sauce mixture, and ⅓ of the mozzarella cheese. Repeat layering two more times, and top with the grated Parmesan.

Bake for 45 minutes at 350°F, until cheese is lightly browned and bubbly.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | Leave a comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: cheese, meat substitute, mushrooms, pasta

Hello, my pretties. We’ll be quick today in honor of tax season. I have a zillion e-mail records to go through (the bane of online work) and missing 1099s to calculate by hand. My tax preparer, who also happens to be my best friend from grade school, is in 90 degree-plus Virginia this week, so I really can’t say which of us has it worse.

This red wine tomato sauce recipe can be subbed for a jar of any red store-bought pasta sauce. I like to double or triple the recipe and freeze it because hey, if I’m going to the work of making my own sauce, I may as well have some for next time.

But is it really work? Chop an onion, press a few cloves of garlic, open a can of tomatoes, and do some measuring. Twenty minutes on the stove, and it’s done.

There’s a secret to this tomato sauce. Your omnivore friends will think it has meat in it. The trick is fennel. An earthy, tangy spice used to flavor sausage, fennel is the spice that makes us think “meat.”

What do I like to do with this versatile tomato sauce?

• use it in lasagna
• top pasta with it and sprinkle with Parmesan (obvious)
• use it in baked penne (recipe coming, ooh)
• add mushrooms to it
• add soy burger crumbles to it
• add chopped red or green pepper to it
• add soy sausage crumbles to it

I-can’t-believe-it’s-meatless tomato sauce will happily take anything you wish to add to it. Go make it if you have a chance. I have Paypal receipts to sort through.

i-can’t-believe-it’s-meatless tomato sauce

The recipe calls for a large can of whole tomatoes, briefly whirred in a blender. You could instead use a 28-ounce can of tomato puree (make sure it’s made from only tomatoes) or even diced or crushed tomatoes, according to your preference. The latter will be a chunkier sauce. Adapted from Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites: Flavorful Recipes for Healthful Meals.

Time: 45 minutes
Special equipment: blender (optional)

1 tablespoon olive oil (not EVOO)
1 cup finely chopped onion (1 medium onion)
¼ teaspoon salt
2 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
2 teaspoons ground fennel
2 teaspoons Milford’s Buon Appetito Italian seasoning* or 1 teaspoon each dried oregano and dried basil
⅓ cup red wine
3 cups undrained canned tomatoes (28-ounce can)
½ to 1 tablespoon sugar
salt and pepper to taste

In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil on medium heat. Add the onions, sprinkle with salt, and sauté until soft, about 4 to 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

While the onions are cooking, whirl the tomatoes in a blender until just puréed and set aside.

When onions are soft, add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds.

Add the fennel, oregano and basil* and cook for another minute to coat the onions and garlic in the spices.

Pour in the red wine and bring to a boil. This will happen quickly, so have the puréed tomatoes handy, or have your canned purée, diced, or crushed tomatoes open and ready. Add tomatoes and sugar to the pan and mix well.

Cover and simmer gently for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste and season with salt and pepper to your preference.

* Just want to let you know that Milford Spice, a Michigan company, sent me a free sample of this seasoning. I also happen to dig it a lot.
** If using fresh herbs, use 1 tablespoon each of fresh oregano and basil and add them in the last couple minutes of cooking time.

© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | One comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: basil, fennel, tomato

This March was in like a lion, out like a lamb, just as it’s supposed to be, right and good. It’s a slow-brewing Easter revelation: for the past several days, we’ve had our eye on the forecast and those double digits creeping up from 40s to 50s to 70s. We’ve been talking about the weather forecast in awed, hushed tones: it’s going to be 75°F by Thursday! Maybe 80°F on Friday!

We so want to be true believers in meteorology, just this once. We’re ready, after months of snow and ice and wind and mud, to prostrate ourselves at the altar of the Mighty Blue Screen of Meteorological Prophecy.

And today, we are believers. It’s 56°F right now. We see whispers on Facebook: our Chicago friends wax poetic in their status updates about their glorious weather, and we close our eyes and smile, knowing that what’s in Chicago today will be here tomorrow.

in the hippie spirit

And since I’m in this warm hippie spirit, I’ll offer up a foodstuff so linked to hippes that it became an adjective all its own. I’m not too granola myself, but having gone to school in Ann Arbor, I’ve mingled with the granola crowd.

And let me tell you, they’re on to something. This maple granola, from King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking: Delicious Recipes Using Nutritious Whole Grains, is precisely what I’ve missed in every granola I’ve had until this point: fresh, balanced, and just crunchy enough. It doesn’t make large clusters of granola; rather, maple granola is more suited for the cereal bowl. I can’t tell you quite how it is as cereal though, because it became my habit to put a bit into a custard cup and spoon it, dry.

I was really happy with this maple granola and hey, it’s low-maintenance: stir it all together, a couple hours in the oven with 2 stirs, then store in an airtight container forever. Yay!

maple granola

I made half this recipe for 8 cups. Remember, granola is infinitely customizable. Substitute your own favorite nuts and dried fruit. Go crazy. You have my permission. Speaking of permission, this recipe is reprinted from King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking: Delicious Recipes Using Nutritious Whole Grains…with permission!

Yield: 16 cups
Oven: 250°F
Total time: 2½ hours

7 cups (24½ ounces) old-fashioned rolled oats

1 cup (3 ounces) flaked coconut

1 cup (4 ounces) wheat germ

1 cup (5 ounces) almonds, sliced or broken up

1 cup (3¾ ounces) pecans or walnuts, chopped or broken up
1 cup (5 ounces) sunflower seeds, raw or toasted

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup (11 ounces) maple syrup

¾ cup (5¼ ounces) vegetable oil

1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup (5¼ ounces) golden raisins
1 cup (4 ounces) dried cranberries

1 cup (4½ ounces) chopped dried apricots




Preheat the oven to 250°F. Combine the oats, coconut, wheat germ, nuts, seeds and salt in a very large bowl. Mix well. In a separate bowl, whisk together the maple syrup, oil and vanilla. Pour the syrup mixture over the dry mixture, stirring and tossing till everything is very well combined; its probably easiest to do this with your hands.



Spread the granola over 2 large baking sheets with rims. Your cleanup will be much easier if you line them with parchment paper.



Bake for 2 hours, stirring the mixture after 1 hour or so. Remove the pans from the oven and let cool completely. Transfer the granola to a large bowl and mix in the dried fruit.



Store in an airtight container at room temperature.



© Amy for Shiny Cooking, 2010. | Permalink | One comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: almonds, coconut, dried apricots, dried cranberries, maple syrup, oats, pecans, raisins, sunflower seeds, walnuts, wheat germ