Chocolate and Zucchini

The title of this post is an homage to one of my favorite food blogs, Chocolate and Zucchini, which I read regularly for ideas. Her food and her blog are much more sophisticated than mine, and her writing is really an inspiration: it's fun, it's fresh, and it stretches the limits of how I think about cooking and food. If you like my blog? You'll like hers better.
Anyhow, today I'm offering a recipe for Zucchini Spice Bread, along with some photographs of the delicious artisan chocolate from D, an early Valentine's gift. It has to be refrigerated, and he knew that it would be impossible to hide, so it was gifted last night instead of today. I was more than happy to receive it a day early, because it is so. fantastic. A chocolate experience beyond any other.
The chocolates he purchased me are from Vosges Haut Chocolat, a chocolate boutique that specializes in luxury chocolates married with exotic ingredients in an "East meets West" theme: "The infusions of rare spices and flowers combined with premium chocolate give a delicate balance of flavor, leaving you with a layered and lingering sensation of spice and chocolate." Kind of pretentious sounding, but the idea is great and the chocolate is magnificent, so it evens out in the end. It comes in a beautiful purple box -- the dark truffles didn't have a bow on them, but D asked nicely and they were happy to oblige. I tried the Balsamico truffle last night, made with balsamic vinegar with a topping of hazlenuts, and it was a delicious combination. I'm slightly jealous of D, who went with a bolder flavor: Black Pearl, made with ginger and wasabi with a topping of black sesame seeds. I'll have to get myself one of those sometime -- it seems so good! I'm a little disappointed that three of the truffles are flavored with anise, which is not something I usually enjoy, but there's a good chance that those will be good anyhow, even with that licorice flavor.
Besides the chocolates, which perked me up immensely, yesterday was not such a good day -- it snowed over a foot here, and most people didn't come in to the office. I got stuck outside for over a half an hour because the door was jammed shut, and I had to open up the library in under ten minutes. Not fun. Today it was the same story. It's a real pain being the only person here in the mornings, especially given the creep factor: the library is big, cold, dark, and completely still, although the occasional professor will sneak in after-hours, giving me a great scare as I'm running around humming to myself. Add that to a variety of other lame things -- including the foot of snow and my feet getting wet on the walk home -- and I was not a happy camper. So I decided to bake some zucchini bread. Baking always makes me happier: the careful measuring out of ingredients, the feeling of the raw dough in my hands, the scent of the bread blooming in the oven... it's so soothing. Plus, we had a zucchini that had been hanging around for quite some time in the fridge, and while it wasn't even near extinction -- it was nice and firm, rather than old and mushy -- it was time for it to become food. So zucchini bread it was.
I got this recipe from my good old standby friend, The Bon Appétit Cookbook. God, I love this cookbook -- although it was a gift, it's extremely inexpensive for the amount of recipes you get, and it comes with a free year-long subscription to the magazine. If I were in the market for a new cookbook? I'd buy this one. I also really enjoy the orange and white motif: very classy. Another thing I like about it is that its index is well-planned. So many cookbooks have shoddy indexes, which really works against them, because what kind of person wants to wade through a jumbled mess of words just to find an appropriate recipe? Not so with this cookbook: within minutes after deciding that the weird foods in our pantry couldn't be combined into one satisfactory dish, I was able to whip up this bread. Thank you, beautifully organized index! You have saved me once again!
Now, a word of warning: I halved this recipe, because it required two zucchini and I only had one. It came out perfectly; in fact, the standard recipe seems like it would be too big for the pan size it requires. I guess it would fit, but it would definitely take too long to bake: the recipe requires an hour and a half; with the halved recipe, I baked it in an hour. I think that an hour and a half is too long to wait for zucchini bread! Especially since I wanted to serve it at dinner.

Zucchini Spice Bread
Begin by buttering and flouring a standard loaf pan, and preheating the oven to 350º. Whisk together 1-1/4 cups all purpose flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, and 1/8 a teaspoon of baking powder. I must confess -- I eyeballed that last one. I'm in the market for some odd-measured measuring spoons, but I haven't gotten around to buying them yet.
In a mixing bowl, beat 2 smallish eggs (I always buy large eggs, but I picked out the two tiniest. Can you tell that the recipe calls for three eggs?) with an electric mixer until they're foamy. I used my KitchenAid for this, using the wire whisk attachment, and it only took about 2 minutes for the eggs to reach the desired consistency. Gradually add 1 cup sugar, beating until the mixture becomes thick and pale -- with a hand electric mixer, this should take about four minutes; in the KitchenAid, it took only two. Slowly beat in 1/2 a cup of vegetable oil, then add 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract.
On a low speed, beat in the flour mixture in three additions. You don't want to add the flour too quickly -- this prevents it from incorporating properly and you'd end up with lumpy batter. Once the batter is smooth, fold in 1 cup grated zucchini. I used a cheese grater to grate my zucchini, which proved difficult. Next time I'll just use a peeler and a knife like a normal person. You can also fold in 1/2 a cup of chopped toasted walnuts, but I didn't do that: not only did I not have any walnuts anyhow, I'm not too fond of them in my zucchini bread.
Pop the bread in the oven for about 1 hour, until a toothpick comes out clean. The top should look dry and crusty. Let it cool in the pan for about five minutes, then remove and allow to finish cooling on a rack. Or just dig in to the warm bread -- it stays together pretty remarkably, even when it's hot.
For dessert? Did I mention the snowstorm that we were hit with? Somehow, a lot of snow piled up on our balcony, and D was able to get some fresh snow for an authentic snow cone topped with maple syrup. He's been wanting to do this for years, and there was finally enough snow -- clean, pure, just-fallen snow -- that he was able to feed me two whole cups. And there's plenty more where that came from. I'm both happy and upset about the amount of snow we got: not enough to cancel work, but enough to make me a proper snow cone. Deeeeeelish.

Salade Niçoise Sandwiches

Although a specialty ingredient is required for this recipe, it's still really fun to make -- if you can get your hands on some olivada, a intense black olive paste made from pitted and brine cured black olives. We could not find this ingredient, and I'm afraid to say that the sandwiches suffered slightly as a result. Instead, we used an olive tapenade made primarily from green olives. I can only imagine how good the sandwiches with the black paste are -- I'm still looking for some good olivada, and I'm sure that Treasure Island, a "European-Style" market we go to often, has it somewhere.
Anyhow, these sandwiches are great to bring for lunch if you have access to a fridge, excellent paired with a bowl of soup for a dinner, and are easy to make in bulk. You just need some time to let them sit in the fridge. The recipe is another one from The Bon Appetit Cookbook (sponsored link) which I truly, truly love. It's a hefty tome, but it's beautiful and bright (I love the orange text and dust jacket, and the white embossed cover is a really nice touch) and it stays quite flat so you don't lose your place. I hold it open with a big binder clip when necessary and that works perfectly.
We made these sandwiches over the weekend while working on our graduate applications. He's done now, but at the time I believe he had two left, and we were working most weekends trying to get everything put together. These were a simple distraction and allowed us to continue our work practically uninterrupted as they sauced around in the fridge until it was eatin' time. We served them with some state fair potato salad (recipe forthcoming) and it was a splendid, fatty meal. Although fish is quite good for you, and we halved the amount of mayonnaise in both recipes, so it wasn't as naughty as it could have (or should have) been.
The recipe is named after a traditional French dish from Nice, Salade Niçoise (pronouced ne-shwa) that consists of tuna, egg, capers, green beans, artichokes, cucumbers -- a slew of things that aren't in these sandwiches. I suppose that's because they're a variation on the dish and wouldn't taste as good in this form, but it's hard to explain why they chose this name in that case. Most likely because it sounds fancy, and this is a fancy sandy. You could even serve it at a dinner party if the theme was right. The original recipe makes six, so something tells me that's exactly what the maker intended. I have cut it in half, to make three sandwiches -- save one for later and split it with a bowl of soup for a tasty lunch or dinner, if you've got a lot of soup. I'll bet this would be fantastic with red lentil soup.

Salade Niçoise Sandwiches
Start with a 1-pound loaf of soft french or italian bread. Cut into three sections crosswise, then cut each piece in half. These will be the bases for your sandwiches. Open the slices so that you are working with six pieces of bread.
Mix 1 drained can of tuna packed in water with 2 tablespoons drained capers, 3 tablespoons of mayonnaise, and 1 tablespoon of fresh lemon juice. Season with ground pepper. Make sure the tuna and sauce are combined well.
Spread 1/2 a tablespoon of olivada on each piece of bread and cover each slice with a fair amount of arugula or watercress -- trim off the bitter, hard-to-chew stems as you're washing the leaves.
Spread the bottom slice of bread with approximately 1/3 of the tuna mixture -- there will be no leftovers that aren't in sandwich form -- and top with thin slices of tomato and red onion. Place the top piece of bread on the sandwich.
Wrap each individual sandwich tightly in aluminum foil and refrigerate for at least an hour. They get saucier the longer you can wait, so bear with the clock for as long as you can before digging in. The result? An intensely briny, delectable sandwich with just enough zest and flavor. Plus, it's not very complicated to make, and most of the ingredients are already in my kitchen. You can substitute the olivada with a homemade version by throwing some pitted, brine-cured black olives in a food processor and hitting "puree" until they form a tasty paste.

This post was edited on 2/6/2007 to add a link to the Red Lentil Soup recipe.

Early Morning Breakfast: Chocolate-Chip Orange Scones

I am not a morning person, but my job requires that I haul myself out of bed at the ungodly and depressingly dark hour of five thirty in order to shower and clothe myself properly before heading out into the wintry mix that is Chicagoland. I walk to work, by the lake and over the river, which may sound like a wonderful treat to those who do not live in Chicago. In 8º, 10º, or 0º temperatures -- colder by the lake, of course, and that doesn't even take the wind chill into account -- that mile-long walk is just a disaster. Maybe I'm not wearing the right gloves or something, but my hands are usually blue when I finally get to my building. I'm responsible for "processing" the morning newspapers, which essentially means that I get to carry them upstairs (thanks, guys, for putting them in the biggest puddle you could find. That is so cool of you!) and place them on sticks. Out to the floor they go, where no one ever reads them. Because they are on sticks, and newspapers on sticks are a hassle to read. Next time you're at a library that has newspapers done this way, read them, or at least shuffle them around a little bit, out of pity for the poor person that meticulously tapes down the loose pages and covers herself in newsprint before seven am.
I am fortunate enough (and oh so grateful) to have a boyfriend that will wake up with me, even though he doesn't have to be at work until eight am. Eight in the morning! Lucky dog. He prepares my tea while I blow-dry my hair (otherwise it freezes, and I'm afraid of getting frostbite on my head) and puts out a small breakfast for us. If we're lucky, the paper arrives ten minutes before I have to leave, and we get some quality time reading an article or two (often out loud, if it's me doing the reading, since I always think the news is outrageous: "Get THIS! Representative Debbie Wasserman Shultz (FL; D) buys her Valentino on Ebay!) before I have to dash.
This past weekend, we made some scones for breakfast. We'd been purchasing scones at our local (and new) Trader Joe's, and while they were tasty, there were only three per bag. That's not enough for a week! After seeing this recipe (again, from Bon Appetit Cookbook) we decided, late Sunday night, that this was the perfect breakfast for the week. Especially since we didn't have any other breakfast lined up for the next morning.
These are delicious, and they have kept extremely well. I don't know if it's just me, but I like to keep my bread and bread-based products in the refrigerator. I think it makes them last longer, which may or may not be true. This recipe made 22 small scones, and I'd like to make them bigger next time around. Not owning cookie cutters, we used a shot glass to cut the dough, but I think maybe a small wineglass would make a better sized scone. I think you could even just make rounds with your hands, but what do I know? The recipe calls for a cookie cutter, so... shot glass it was!

Chocolate-Chip Orange Scones
Get the boring stuff out of the way first: preheat the oven to 400º and butter and flour a baking sheet.
I'm big on "prepping," that is, getting my ingredients ready to go and making as many containers as I possibly can dirty by putting the readied ingredients into them before they go into the recipe. Nonsensical, but it makes me feel more organized. So, I'd get the zesting out of the way first. Zest an orange, thoroughly, so you have about 3 teaspoons of orange zest. Also, chop your chocolate. We had, on hand, some gigantic milk chocolate chips made by Ghirardelli. They came in a gift basket (from his father: thank you!) in a big blue tin, and they're very tasty. I think you can use any type of chocolate you like, but the recipe says semi-sweet. We chopped up the chips, since they really are gigantic, and ended up with about 1 cup of chopped chocolate. I do have to say, I'm a big fan of using a knife to chop up chocolate, rather than just purchasing chips. You end up with a lot of different sized pieces this way (especially if you do a rough chop) and that's just more pleasant in a cookie, scone, or other baked chocolate-chip good, in my opinion.
Whisk together 2 cups of all-purpose flour, 1/3 cup of sugar, 1 teaspoon baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, and 3/4 teaspoon salt until they are combined. Add 1/2 cup of butter (1 stick) which should be chopped up into manageable pieces and 2 teaspoons orange peel; rub into the flour mixture until it looks like a coarse meal. I have to stop for a moment to profess my love for my KitchenAid Stand Mixer, which was a gift from my great-aunt to my mother, who passed it on to me. I use it all the time, for everything from meatloaf to cookies, and it's one of my favorite kitchen tools of all time. Nevermind that I don't own a strainer, food processor, double-boiler, vegetable steamer, or a medium-sized pot: I have a KitchenAid! It can steam vegetables, right? Plus, it's gorgeous. I can't wait until I have to move into an apartment with a tiny kitchen and eschew a microwave so that the mixer can have a proper place of honor on the counter.
Back to the recipe. Now, mix in the chocolate. Yum.
In a separate container, combine 2/3 a cup of chilled buttermilk, 1 large egg yolk, and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract.
Add the liquid to the flour/butter mixture, and stir with a fork (or with your KitchenAid Mixer!) until it forms into clumps. Gather into a ball, then press out onto a lightly floured surface to about a 3/4 inch thickness. Of course, I used every last teaspoon of flour I had on the pan and in the dough, so I just used some parchment paper, and it didn't stick at all. Fabulous.
Using a 2-inch cookie cutter (the recipe says "heart-shaped," but I think they should be "crazy-shaped," or "circular," or "shot-glass shaped," which is just circular, I guess) cut out the scones, then roll up the dough and cut more scones. Repeat until the dough is gone.
Lay them out on your lightly buttered and floured cookie sheet, about 1 inch apart. You can stop now and put them in the fridge, then pop them in the oven in the morning for fresh-baked scones, but I don't have time for that. It is a really good idea, though.
Mix 3 tablespoons of sugar with the remaining 1 teaspoon of orange zest. Brush scones lightly with buttermilk and top with the sugar/orange mixture. Don't skip this step, because it makes the scones really fabulous. Bake until the scones are lightly browned on top and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. It should be about 15 minutes, 20 if they're coming from the fridge.
Eat them, commenting frequently on how light and refreshing they are. Must be the orange zest. These scones are delicious with tea, probably very good with coffee, and are an excellent thing to bring as a dessert for after lunch.

"Spicy" "Orecchiette" aka Not-So-Spicy-But-Still-Awesome Farfalle

I've gotten into cooking a bit more lately, mostly because I have this divine new recipe source: the Bon Appetit Cookbook. It was a gift and came with a free year long subscription to the magazine, but we already have a subscription -- mysteriously, since no one will own up to purchasing it for us. It could easily be a "free offer" of some kind, but it's been delivered every month now like clockwork -- seems like a paid gift to me. Shouldn't they include a little note with that type of thing?

Yesterday, I made a "spicy" "orecchiette" with tomatoes, cannellini beans, and broccoli. It didn't turn out very spicy, and I couldn't find any orecchiette at either grocery store I went to, so I used farfalle instead. It was wonderful, and there was enough left over for lunch today for the both of us. I'm pleased to admit that he drank the small bit of remaining sauce straight from the container after the pasta itself had been consumed -- a good sign that it was a hit.

Not-So-Spicy-But-Still-Awesome Farfalle
Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy saucepan.
Add 1 cup diced onion
Saute until onion is clear and soft over medium heat, about five minutes.
Add 2 cloves minced garlic and 1 teaspoon of dried red pepper flakes.
Saute for another minute or so, until the pepper has infused the olive oil a bit.
Now, add 28 oz. of diced tomatoes -- the recipe says canned, but I did half and half (out of necessity, I admit, but it did taste great) and 1/4 cup of water.
Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium. Cook until sauce thickens, about ten minutes.
Meanwhile, boil a large pot of water for your pasta. When the water is boiling, throw in about two cups of dried pasta, preferably orecchiette. I used farfalle (also known as "little bow ties," at least when I was young) as I mentioned above. You should begin cooking the pasta when there are about seven minutes remaining on your sauce.
Cook pasta until it is almost al dente, but not quite, stirring occasionally so it doesn't stick. It should be quite firm to the bite. When you think there are about four minutes left for your pasta, add a few cups of uncooked broccoli florets. Tip: chop them up so that they are relatively bite sized; otherwise, they won't mesh well in the dish.
There should be about three minutes left on your clock now, so start corralling the diners while you add one 14 oz. can of rinsed cannellini beans and about 1/2 a cup of chopped fresh basil. Bring the heat on the sauce down to low.
Your pasta should be ready. Take about 1/2 a cup of the cooking liquid (which should be a nice green color) and stir it into the sauce. Drain the pasta and broccoli.
Add the pasta/broccoli combination to the saucepan and stir to coat.
Top with Parmesan cheese. I also recommend putting the dried pepper flakes on the table for extra topping, in case anyone dares to go spicier (which you should, in my opinion, but I like my spice).
Yell at everyone again to get to the table; dinner's ready.
You have yourself a meal. Serves two extremely hungry individuals for both dinner and lunch the next day (cold, which was just as delicious as it was hot). It would also serve four normal, non-ravenous individuals, with some left over.

I loved both making and eating this dish, mostly for it's high vegetable content. Coupled with the barely-there amount of fat, I feel really great about this pasta. I'm also slightly insane about my pasta sauce -- jarred just won't cut it, ever, and this sauce was so quick and easy that it wasn't a gigantic burden to make. Someday I'll share my recipe for authentic tomato sauce (but, like all good chefs, I promise to leave out a key ingredient so that the exact sauce cannot be properly reproduced anywhere but in my own kitchen) but I won't be making it for awhile, since tomatoes aren't in season right now and they're ridiculously expensive at the supermarket. I like to buy heirloom tomatoes during the summer straight from the farmer's market -- you can't beat the price, and they look and taste radically different than the ordinary supermarket tomato. Sorry, supermarket tomatoes, you're nice and all, but I find you... dull.

On that note, I'm off to fantasize about dinner tonight: homestyle macaroni and cheese from the American Heritage cookbook. This recipe dates back to 1803, so it must be good.