Bagna Cauda

Crudités platters tend to bore me. Quite honestly I can't imagine anyone getting very excited over sticks of supermarket vegetables and "white dip," not to mention that serving raw cruciferous vegetables should be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Don't get me wrong, fresh veggies are a welcome addition to any party table but let's be honest, that same old, sorry tray just isn't bringing it.
 
Then about a month ago I was planning a dinner party that took on a Northern Italian theme. Instead of serving the usual green salad after the entree, I thought it would be fun to start the meal with bagna cauda, a Piedmontese crudités platter. I had read about it multiple times and thought that if anything could change my crudités attitude, it was this.
 
Bagna cauda literally means "warm bath." Garlic and anchovies are slowly warmed in olive oil until the salty fish dissolves and the oil is completely infused with flavor. It is then served in a dish over a candle (think fondue) with an assortment of raw and cooked vegetables for dipping. Although cardoons (a vegetable resembling celery but tasting of artichoke) and Jerusalem artichokes are traditional accompaniments, pretty much any seasonal produce can be used. 

In the Piedmont region of Italy, this fragrant dish was traditionally served as a warming snack in late Autumn and early winter to the chilled vineyard workers out pruning the vines. It tastes best, according to experts, with the new season's wine and a convivial atmosphere.
 
By the way, I now adore crudités platters.

Bagna Cauda
Some recipes emphasize the olive oil while others call for larger proportions of butter. This preparation uses both in a wonderful balance but can be tweaked to personal taste.
 
3/4 cup olive oil
8 cloves garlic, finely minced 
One 2-ounce can oil-packed anchovy fillets (about 12 fillets), chopped
3 tablespoons butter
Salt, if needed
Assortment of raw and blanched vegetables for dipping

In a small saucepan heat the olive oil, garlic and anchovies over medium-low for 6-8 minutes, whisking occasionally, until the anchovies have dissolved and the mixture looks muddy. Add the butter and whisk until melted. Taste and sprinkle in a bit of salt if necessary. Pour into a serving dish, ideally one that fits over a flame (but not necessary) and serve with crudites.

Green Herb Garlic Bread

It may be the American way but I always felt that serving plain old bread alongside spaghetti was redundant. Don’t get me wrong, if it’s there I’ll eat it but does a boiled heap of white flour really need slices of baked white flour to wash it down? In the case of garlic bread, absolutely.

There’s something about a toasty loaf slathered with melted butter and chunks of real garlic that make it a different animal altogether. And when you add freshly chopped green herbs, it’s anything but redundant.

I served it with the Italian Wedding Soup I wrote about last week and couldn’t help but notice that Tristan polished off three quarters of the loaf. I’d say it was a hit.

Green Herb Garlic Bread 
Feel free to use parsley alone or any combination of fresh herbs that you have on hand. It's the perfect accompaniment to soups, stews, salads and yes, spaghetti.
 
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped 
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon finely chopped basil leaves
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 loaf crusty ciabatta bread or a large baguette
 
Preheat oven to 350˚F.
 
In a small mixing bowl, stir together the butter, garlic, herbs and salt.
 
Slice the ciabatta in half lengthwise and spread each half evenly with the herbed butter. Place cut side up on a sheet pan and bake for 15 minutes.
 
Sandwich bread back together and cut into slices.

French Baked Eggs

If you want to get my goat, tell me that you have egg substitute in your refrigerator. Just writing it makes me shake my head in despair. Why on earth would anyone choose colored, preserved egg whites from a carton over nature's most perfect food? Are we that obsessed with cholesterol points? Have we forgotten that mother nature is a crafty engineer and put some lecithin in the yolks to neutralize the cholesterol?

Sorry, I'll get off my soap box.

But I do love eggs. They would easily make it on my list of top 5 edible must-haves on a deserted island (along with greens, cheese, garlic and bread). Fluffy scrambled, buttery fried, poached with oozing yolks...

Today is Sunday, and Sundays are perfect for making leisurely breakfasts. Since I had a bit of cream left over from Thursday's panna cotta, I immediately thought of French baked eggs. They're easy as pie to make, plus they look and taste luxurious. A drizzle of cream, a notch of butter, some fresh herbs and garlic and you've got yourself one of Sunday's finest.

French Baked Eggs
Serve with buttered toast and fresh fruit.
Serves 2

2 cloves garlic
Handful of fresh herbs (I like chives and parsley)
2 teaspoons butter
4 teaspoons cream
4 eggs
Salt and pepper

Preheat broiler on high and place oven rack 6 inches below heat source.

Mince garlic and herbs; toss together.

Place two individual gratin dishes on a baking sheet. Drizzle 2 teaspoons cream and place 1 teaspoon butter into each. Place under broiler for 2 minutes or until hot and bubbly. Carefully sprinkle half the garlic herb mixture over the bottom of gratin dishes. Return to broiler for 1-2 minutes or until fragrant. Crack 2 eggs into each dish, being careful not to break the yolks; sprinkle with remaining garlic herb mixture. Season with salt and pepper. Return to broiler and cook for about 5 minutes or until whites are firm and yolks are soft. Serve hot with buttered toast.

Collard Green Puree

When I was living in Winterthur, Switzerland, my favorite street vendor was a man by the name of Hansueli. He was tall and trim with a long mane of thick curly hair. His impeccable language skills indicated that he was well traveled, as did his earthy garments. He operated a very popular crêpe stand: vegetarian, all organic, both sweet and savory. No matter the time of year, there was always a long line of eager customers. I loved the chana masala crêpe with mango pickle relish but my absolute favorite was the spinach and cheese for seven francs. It consisted of velvety smooth, pureed spinach with a sprinkling of fresh mozzarella encased in a papery-thin, warm crêpe. He folded it just so and I honored that by eating it with absolute precision.

From time to time I crave that smooth spinach. It was so much more convenient in Switzerland - Rahm Spinat was sold in a bag full of individually frozen squares, making it a snap to heat up a little or a lot. I’ve tried making it from scratch but never to the same effect… until last night.

I was pan frying halibut and thought it would look stunning atop a mound of pureed greens. Two fresh bunches of collard greens sat in my fridge so I thought, why not? A quick dip in boiling water, a sauté of onion and garlic in a hot skillet and a spin in the blender was almost all it took to create a puree that would make Hansueli proud.

* By the way, the leftovers made an incredibly tasty breakfast: a toasted crumpet spread with warm collard green puree topped with a poached egg. It doesn’t get much better than that!

Pureed Collard Greens
This makes a wonderful side dish, crêpe filling or base for a poached egg. It can also be made with spinach, kale or chard.

2 bunches collard greens, cleaned and stripped from stems
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 tablespoon flour
Milk or stock
Pinch of nutmeg
Salt to taste

Cover the bottom of a large pot with 2 inches water; heat until boiling. Add collard green leaves and simmer, stirring occasionally, until tender and bright green, about 5 minutes. Drain, coarsely chop and set aside.

In a medium saucepan, heat butter and olive oil over medium heat until melted. Add onion and garlic; sauté until translucent and soft. Sprinkle with flour and cook, stirring constantly, 2 more minutes. Remove from heat.

In a blender, pulse onion mixture and a third of the greens. Drizzle milk through the top as needed. Continue this process until all greens have been pureed and desired consistency has been reached.

Transfer back to saucepan and heat over medium-low. Add a pinch of nutmeg and salt to taste.

Roasted Roots

It's April in Seattle. This means a few tantalizing, sunny days sandwiched between 25 days of umbrellas and rain boots. This year, just for kicks, Mother Nature decided to play a cruel joke on us sun-starved Seattleites: she let it snow on April 1st. Ha ha, good one. Now I get April Fool's.

As long as this chilly, damp weather remains, I'll continue craving me some stick-to-your-ribs comfort food. Luckily yesterday, I had a beautiful assortment of farmers market root vegetables to play with: tiny potatoes, yellow baby carrots, celery root, turnips and garlic. A few minutes of peeling and chopping, a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkling of salt and pepper and a nice roast in the hot oven is all it took to turn that crunchy produce into sweet, caramelized heaven.

Simple dishes like this warm my soul and make me hopeful of what's to come.

Go ahead Mother Nature, bring it.

Roasted Roots
Simple oven roasting imparts an intensified, concentrated sweetness to root vegetables. Roast with a few sprigs of sturdy herbs (like rosemary) or toss with soft, leafy herbs (like parsley) after vegetables are cooked.

2 lbs root vegetables of choice, washed, peeled (if desired) and chopped
Whole garlic cloves, skin on
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Line a shallow, rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

Place vegetables on baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil. Sprinkle with coarse salt and pepper and toss to coat evenly. Spread to a single layer and roast in oven 40-50 minutes or until vegetables are tender, golden brown and beginning to caramelize. Be sure to stir once or twice during roasting.

*Serving ideas: roasted roots taste scrumptious alone, on pizza, in soups, as a sandwich filling with goat cheese or tossed with pasta.