Fried Okra

I do not hail from a part of the country where okra is a staple. No, no. I'm from the other side. The anti-okra side. The confused okra side. The side that sees the weird foreign slimy vegetable and think: "Really?" 

But my anti-okra statement was predicated on nothing if not so much as a misunderstanding of southern cuisine. If you see an ingredient that you don't like, bread it and fry it. Which 100% of the time = crazy delicious.

And so it is with okra. And as it was available at copious cheap amounts at my local farmers market, I decided to test my southern style by "frying up a batch".

And it can't be simpler. Slice okra. Add cornmeal and flour. Maybe some spices. Fry. 

But I don't trust my okra knowledge, not yet. And so I drew inspiration from a self-proclaimed southerner. 

And so I set myself the task of frying up the most questionably authentic okra I've ever attempted. And it was delicious. So delicious. It won't win any awards for nutrition, but damn, I want to make this every day. 

Ingredients

-A fair amount of okra (I would say about 3 handfuls was enough for 2-3)

-A splash of milk or cream (I used cream, but honestly, you could even omit this)

-1/4 cup self-raising flour

-1/4 cup cornmeal (yellow or white, I use yellow)

-1 tsp paprika

-1 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

-1 tsp achiote (if you have it, really any spice works)

-salt and pepper to taste

-Vegetable oil 

Method

Mix your breading. Combine flour, cornmeal, and spices and season with salt and pepper.

Wash and slice your okra into small rounds, no more than a half an inch thick. Place slices in a large bowl.

At this point, heat the oil in your pan. You want to have enough oil so that it just barely covers the bottom of the pan (if you add too much, you may end up with soggy okra which would be a tragedy).

If using the milk/cream, add it now to the okra. Remember, just a splash! Mix the okra and cream well.

Now add the breading to the okra, again stir to combine and make sure each piece is coated.

Test the oil in your pan to see if it's ready. Throw a piece of okra in and if small bubbles emerge around it, you're good to go. You don't want to see a crazy rush of bubbles, otherwise your pan is too hot.

It may not look beautiful, but, trust me, it's delicious.

Add the okra in a single layer to the pan and leave it alone. Really. Don't indulge the inclining to stir. Let it fry. (Otherwise, you'll lose the breading.)

After a few minutes, about 2-3, see if the bottom of the okra is turning golden-brown. If so, you are now ready to flip. Turn the okra over with a spatula and now let the other side fry up nicely.

When both sides are nicely golden brown, take it out of the oil and leave it to drain on paper towels. Serve hot and enjoy.

Beet and Fennel Salad

Mmmm beets.
Better yet: beets and fennel.
Better even still: beets, fennel, and vermouth.
Oh yes.
I have recently subscribed to the big daddy of online food forums: chow.com. And now I receive daily emails with suggested recipes. Like salads that include beets, fennel, and vermouth. Which confirmed my suspicions that I had indeed made the right choice in joining the millions on the site.
To be honest, I had no idea how this recipe would turn out. I rarely cook beets (due to their rather unfortunate tendency of staining your hands for days), but I thought, "What the heck?", live dangerously and make a beet salad.
And it was worth it. Absolutely. I know the picture may look a tad odd, but I guarantee the flavors will make up for the slightly ostentatious redness of the dish.
I cooked the beets myself but almost every grocery store now sells those of the pre-cooked variety, taking your cooking time down from 45 minutes to about 15. The dish which results from those 15 minutes looks so elegant and out of the ordinary, well, you'll find yourself claiming that you really did slave for hours to create the perfect side dish for your meal. We all know better but go ahead, take the credit.
You deserve it.

Ingredients
6 medium red or Chioggia beets
2 large fennel bulbs
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter (1/4 stick)
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper"
1/3 cup dry vermouth
2 tablespoons whole-grain Dijon mustard
Juice of 1 medium lemon
1/2 bunch chives, finely chopped
1/2 bunch tarragon, leaves picked, finely chopped

Method
1.  Place the beets in a large pot, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil over high heat. Once
boiling, reduce the heat to medium and simmer until the beets are fork tender, about 30 minutes.
Drain, then peel under cold running water. Set the beets aside to cool.

2.  Trim any green tops off the fennel and slice the bulbs in half lengthwise. Remove the core from
each half and slice the bulbs lengthwise in 1/4-inch-thick strips.

3.  Return the large pot to the stove, add the olive oil and butter, and heat over medium heat. When
the butter foams, add the fennel, season well with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring
occasionally, until just tender, about 5 minutes.

4.  Add the vermouth, mustard, and lemon juice and bring to a simmer. Meanwhile, slice the peeled beets
into 1/4-inch-thick rounds. Add the beets to the pot and cook until warmed through, about 5 minutes
more. Stir in the herbs, taste, and adjust the seasoning as desired.

Sautéed Shredded Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Toasted Pecans

Brussels sprouts. I think everyone can agree this is a love/hate relationship vegetable. When I was young (and wonderfully foolish), I used to think they were mini-cabbages or heads of lettuce. Not that I wanted to eat them, mind you, but I found it amusing that these things seemed fit for a gnome's table.

Anyway, enough foolishness. I was in search of a vegetable side dish for dinner a few days back and I thought of the lowly sprout, so ignored by me in cooking. Well, those days are at an end. This was (believe it or not) one of the first times I had actually cooked the things raw (rather than frozen and re-heated in a microwave). And what better way to mask a vegetable than by putting bacon with it? Always guaranteed to please. The nuts were also an inspiration, giving just enough of a crunch and texture to the dish that made it all the better. The only time-intensive part of the dish was the endless shredding of sprouts. Unless you're handy with a mandolin (and even I won't dare to use one on these little mini-cabbages), you're setting yourself up for a lot of knife work. But worth it for the sprouts!!

Ingredients
2 pounds brussels sprouts
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 1/4-inch-thick slices bacon (about 6 ounces), coarsely chopped
1 large garlic clove, minced
2/3 cup low-salt chicken broth
Coarse kosher salt
1/2 cup pecans, toasted, chopped

Method 

Trim root ends from brussels sprouts. Using sharp knife or processor fitted with coarse shredding disk, thinly slice brussels sprouts into shreds. 
Melt butter with olive oil in large deep skillet over medium heat. Add bacon; sauté until golden, about 3 minutes.
Add garlic; stir 30 seconds. Add brussels sprouts and broth; sauté until crisp-tender but still bright green, 3 to 5 minutes. Season with coarse salt and black pepper. Transfer to serving bowl. Sprinkle with pecans.

Roasted Fennel with Parmesean

I'm a bit ashamed. Clearly this a work-in-progress photo. But as the end result was consumed in a matter of minutes, I can only be kinda upset that a final version photo didn't happen. Because this also marks a culinary triumph; one in which I was able to convince my roommate that not only is fennel delicious and useful for more than just sprinkling on salads, but that it's also uber-easy to make. Although now that I have accomplished this great feat, it means that she comes home with about 5 pounds of fennel from our weekly farmer's market. At least it's cheap!

Anyway, this recipe is an old favorite of mine. When I lived in Toronto, a friend of mine introduced me to Giada de Laurentiis. I was a bit skeptical a first (I mean, she smiles an awful lot) but when I tried some of her so-called "easy" Italian, I was hooked. Hooked enough to borrow my friend's copy of her recipe book and scan in every single page. So now I have Giada's glorious food wherever I travel. And, goodness me, is this recipe glorious. Mostly because it's so simple. Literally, you slice fennel, sprinkle it with olive oil, pepper, and salt. Roast it in the oven. Add parmesan to it. Roast it some more. And you're done! Well, now that I've given you the entire recipe, I feel foolish posting it but nevertheless...

Ingredients

4 tbsp olive oil, plus more for baking dish
4 fennel bulbs, cut horizontally and into 1/3 inch slices, fronds reserved
Salt and Pepper
1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese


Method

Preheat over to 375F. Lightly oil a 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish. Arrange the fennel in the dish.

Sprinkle with salt and pepper, then with the Parmesan cheese. Drizzle with the oil. Bake until the fenel is fork-tender and golden brown, about 45 minutes. Chop enough fennel fronds to equal 2 teaspoons, then sprinkle over the roasted fennel and serve.

Serves 4-6 (or just 2 if you're feeling fennel-y)

Braised Leeks with Goat's Cheese

I know, I know, this is the second braised leeks recipe I have posted. And since I swore that the first one was so delicious, why on earth would I try another one? Because this is just as delicious, that's why. I happened upon this recipe on the Guardian website, created by Yotam Ottolenghi (and no, I have no idea how that's pronounced) who is known for doing all sorts of good and right things with food.

I was intrigued by this recipe because it seems to do the exact opposite of the other braised leeks recipe: simmering the leeks in liquid before braising them. The result is a softer, much sweeter leek. The sauce that is made from all the leftover juices is decadent and makes the dish. Unfortunately, the nice charred taste you get from roasting the leeks first before simmering them is lost, but still, this recipe is wonderful as a chicken side dish (see next post) and hey, who are you to turn down anything with goat's cheese? I certainly can't.

Note: The original recipe called for goat's curd. Now, you may live on a farm and have easy access to this. I don't. So goat's cheese it was, and it scrumptious. The curd will just have to wait.

Ingredients

8 long, thin leeks
2 bay leaves
2 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
200ml dry white wine
3 tbsp olive oil
250ml water
Salt and black pepper
½ small red onion, peeled and finely chopped
20g currants
1 tbsp cider vinegar
2½ tsp sugar
3 tbsp sunflower oil
100g goat's cheese

Method

First prepare the leeks. Discard the green part, then cut each leek widthways into two, each about 10cm long, and wash.

Lay the leeks in a large, shallow pan, add the bay leaves and garlic, and pour in the wine, olive oil and water, so the leeks are half-covered in liquid.

Season, then simmer gently for anywhere between 30 minutes and an hour (I did this for no longer than 30 minutes), turning the leeks a few times during cooking, until a knife can be inserted through the middle without any resistance.

Once tender, use a slotted spoon to transfer the leeks to a plate and set aside. Strain the liquid into a small pan and reduce over a high heat until you are left with two tablespoons of sauce. Remove from the heat, add the onion, currants, vinegar and sugar, and season. Set aside so the onion and currants soften in the residual heat while you finish off the leeks.

Heat the sunflower oil in a large frying pan and fry the leek pieces for a couple of minutes a side, until lightly golden. Place on a plate and leave to cool to room temperature.

To serve, divide the leeks between four plates. Top with small chunks of goat's curd, followed by the onion and currant dressing.