I have a little problem. I'm addicted to cookbooks, food writing, recipe collecting, and cooking. I have a lot of recipes waiting for me to try them, and ideas from articles, tv, and restaurants often lead to new dishes. I started losing track of what I've done. So now I'm taking photos and writing about what I've prepared—unless it's terrible in which case I forget it ever happened.
I imagine when the day comes that I’m living on that quaint, scenic, stretch of land in rural Italy, this is the kind of thing I’ll have for lunch every day during artichoke season. And, there will be wine from nearby and olive oil from my neighbor of course. I do live a rich fantasy life. Until then, I can now get locally grown artichokes right here at home, and I’m very excited about that. The other day, I went on a bit about our local Austin food scene and incredibly fresh asparagus, and then we received artichokes for the first time ever from our CSA. I was beyond thrilled to find them in the box, and I just happened to have a good idea for how to use them sitting in my stack of recipes to try. In the March issue of Living, Roman-style braised artichokes were shown served with hard-boiled eggs with pine-nut sauce. I followed the recipe almost exactly for the artichokes and delighted in the aroma of garlic and wine from the oven as they cooked. For the eggs, I took a turn from the exact suggestion in the magazine since I had some arugula in my herb garden that I was planning to turn into pesto. I topped my eggs with the arugula pesto and a few extra toasted pine nuts for garnish.
I used to live in fear of cleaning artichokes. It seemed like the most daunting task in the kitchen. I think I’m finally getting used to it somewhat. I’ve learned to work quickly, have lots of lemons at the ready, and focus on how delicious the finished dish will be. Having a bowl of acidulated water ready for the trimmed artichokes is key, and having a cut lemon to rub on each artichoke while you’re trimming it is helpful too. I pulled off the loose outer leaves, cut off the top, trimmed the stem and peeled it, cut them in half, and spooned out the choke before dunking them in the lemon water. A plate is useful to keep the cleaned artichokes submerged in the water. From that point on, this dish couldn’t be easier. The halved artichokes were placed cut side up in a Dutch oven and topped with white wine, olive oil, red pepper flakes, minced garlic, salt, and herbs. I used parsley, oregano, and basil from my garden and skipped the mint since I didn’t have any. The liquid was brought to a boil on top of the stove and then the dish was transferred, covered, to a 350 degree F oven to continue cooking for about 45 minutes. The eggs were simply hard-boiled, peeled, halved and arugula pesto was spooned on each with a few toasted pine nuts.
The artichokes were completely tender and flavorful from the wine, olive oil, and garlic. With the eggs with pesto, some crunchy, toasted bread, and a glass of wine, it made an almost perfect, light meal. The only thing missing was a view of the rolling, Italian countryside. Some day.
Have you seen the book My Favorite Ingredients? I saw it mentioned a few times here and there, and then when I finally had a look at a copy of it, I had to bring it home. The book is by Skye Gyngell, and she is the head chef at London’s Petersham Nurseries Cafe. She describes her cooking as produce driven in that she takes inspiration from what is at its freshest and what flavors would complement that ingredient best. Her intention is to not interfere with the ingredients too much, to let them taste of themselves. That results in recipes that are very doable and very delicious when made with produce at the peak of its season. Each chapter in the book focuses on one ingredient, and it is shown in several different types of dishes. In the asparagus chapter, there’s a beautiful dish involving a tomato dressing and creme fraiche, one simply prepared with ginger and garlic, and a gratin of white asparagus. I’m really looking forward to cherry season, because the chapter about cherries has a cherry cordial and brandied cherries I want to try. There are chapters for tomatoes, nuts, fish and shellfish, vinegar, apples, cheese, and more. I currently have six pages marked, and those are just the recipes with ingredients that are in season right now. The dish you see here today is from the garlic chapter, and I had locally-grown garlic to use from my CSA. It was minced and then mixed with yogurt to make a tangy, flavorful sauce for a spicy, fried egg.
First, the yogurt was mixed with the minced garlic and salt and pepper, and that was left to sit so the flavors could mingle a bit. Next, butter was browned with a few sage leaves in it, and I used leaves from my new sage plants in my garden. When I read this recipe with browned butter with sage and garlic yogurt, I knew this was going to be good. The browned butter was used to fry the eggs, I used some beauties from a local farm, and sliced red chiles were added as well. To serve, a dollop of garlic yogurt was placed on the plate, the egg and some chile slices were added, and that was topped with the sage leaves and a little drizzle of brown butter.
This couldn’t have been simpler, and the flavors couldn’t have been more right. Rich, nutty, brown butter with earthy, herby sage and cool, savory, garlicky yogurt all to accompany a nicely fried egg with a hint of chile heat was, well, a pretty good breakfast to say the least. I’ll probably be mentioning this book a lot, and since I’m eyeing the crab cakes with corn puree and chili oil as I type this, that just might appear next.
I don’t know why I didn’t cook Greek food more often in the past. I’ve always really liked Greek food, but I felt like I didn’t know enough about it. That excuse is about to become a thing of the past. I received a review copy of Vefa's Kitchen, and this is a comprehensive guide to all types of food from every region of Greece. Central Greece has a rich history of cheese production because sheep and goats spend winters in mountain pastures full of green grass. Messinia, in the Peloponnese, is the country’s leading olive producer, and the mountains of Arkadia are where the best feta is made. Venetian influence on the Ionian Islands is apparent in Italian-sounding dishes like pastitsada, but the cuisine has taken on a character of its own. And, we have the island of Cyprus to thank for lovely, lovely halloumi cheese. There’s a simplicity to a lot of the cooking in that it’s the freshness of ingredients that brings great flavor. Grilled fish with just olive oil and lemon and maybe parsley or oregano is as good as it is because of the fish itself. That being said, there are plenty of complex dishes involving pastry or pasta, but there’s always a clear link to seasonality. I could have focused on the salad chapter alone for days with options like potato salad with octopus, broiled zucchini halloumi and lettuce salad, and grape and lettuce salad with kefalotiri. First, I had to try the fried salt cod with garlic sauce and artichoke soup.
I was thrilled when I finally found some salt cod locally since I’d wanted to try cooking with it for ages. I had imagined it would have some aroma as it soaked in water to remove the salt. I let it soak for 24 hours, and changed the water four times keeping it tightly covered with plastic wrap as it sat in the refrigerator. Happily, it didn’t have a strong smell at all, and 24 hours was plenty of time to remove excess salt from this particular piece. After rinsing and drying the cod, which had already been skinned and de-boned, it was cut into chunks. A batter was made from flour, olive oil, beer, and salt and pepper, and that was set aside for one hour. Just before frying, whipped egg whites were folded into the batter before the cod chunks were coated. The crispy, golden fish pieces were served with a garlic sauce made from, obviously, garlic, but also cooked potatoes, bread crumbs, red wine vinegar, water, olive oil, and salt and pepper. I was thrilled with the crunchy, fried cod and the garlic sauce was a nice, although somewhat thick, accompaniment.
Next, I used some spring artichokes in a simple, pureed, and chilled soup. This was a lot like vichyssoise with the addition of artichokes. Big, green, globe artichokes were cleaned and peeled to the heart and stem and then sauteed with onion and leeks in olive oil. Speaking of Greek artichokes, there was a great story about them with a slideshow on The Atlantic site the other day. Once the vegetables had softened, stock was added along with some chopped potatoes, parsley, and lemon juice. That all simmered for about 20 minutes, was allowed to cool, and was then pureed in a blender. The soup was poured through a strainer and then refrigerated for a few hours. Just before serving, I tasted it and thought it was missing something. That something was the Greek yogurt that was to be whisked in at the last moment. The yogurt’s acidity gave the soup just the zip it needed. The chilled soup was velvety smooth, and the vegetable flavor was spring in a cup.
I haven’t even finished reading the book yet, and I already have several pages marked of more things I want to try. Stuffed pastas, chicken pilaf wrapped in phyllo, baked giant beans, and kataifi and cheese rolls are just a few. I’m also really looking forward to using summer’s stars, zucchini and eggplant, in several Greek specialties. I hope to visit Greece some day, and while I’m daydreaming about that, I can learn more about the country through its food.
This might sound like a curious mix of things to call a pizza, but stick with me because this was exciting. Back when I first talked about the book Stir: Mixing It Up in the Italian Tradition, I said something about how it wouldn’t be long before I tried the brioche pizza. Well, it was only a couple of months, and the brioche pizza is but one part of the story. This is also about how I finally made homemade ricotta. You see, one of the ingredients for the pizza is fresh ricotta, and there’s a recipe for that in the book too. I had been saying for months that I wanted to try making ricotta and quark and mascarpone, but I kept avoiding those projects. Everyone told me how easy it is to make ricotta and asked why I’d never done it. Deeba at Passionate About Baking inspires me by making several fresh cheeses including ricotta, and the Cosmic Cowgirl has instructions for three different ways of making it on her site. And so, at last, it was time, and if I was going to do this, I was going to do this right. I headed out to a farmers’ market on a chilly first day of spring morning and purchased a gallon of incredibly fresh, locally produced cow’s milk from Way Back When Dairy. I quickly learned that making ricotta is so easy it’s silly and that really fresh milk makes really delicious ricotta.
That gallon of whole milk, three quarters of a cup of distilled white vinegar, and a tablespoon of salt were placed in a large pan and brought up to 140 degrees F while stirring constantly. Then, it was left to continue warming to 175 degrees F. The separated curds were then spooned into a cheesecloth-lined mesh strainer with a base that was sitting in a large bowl. The strainer needs a base so that it can stand above the liquid that drains. It drained for about an hour, and voila, beautiful ricotta was born. That was the key to this pizza’s toppings. Ricotta with honey and pistachios is a natural fit, and then pushing those flavors a little by contrasting the sweetness with some savory heat was what resulted here. Those toppings just happened to have been on brioche dough.
Don’t call the butter police. I know this will sound like a lot of butter, but that’s brioche. The dough was started by mixing sugar, warm water, and yeast. Flour, additional sugar, and salt were combined, and then eggs and the yeast mixture were added to that in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a dough hook. While mixing the dough, it was necessary to stop from time to time and pull the dough down off the dough hook and then continue. Then, softened butter was added one tablespoon at a time allowing each bit to be incorporated before adding more until the 16 luscious tablespoons of butter had been added. The dough was briefly kneaded by hand on a floured surface and was left to slowly rise in the refrigerator for at least four hours or up to two days. It was a lovely dough that was actually very easy to roll out for pizzas.
To make these pizzas, pistachios were fried in olive oil and then removed, drained on paper towels, and were coarsely chopped. After the olive cooled a little, red pepper flakes and sliced garlic were added to it. That flavored oil and some of the pepper flakes and garlic were brushed onto the rolled out pizza dough. The oil was topped with chopped pistachios and scoops of fresh ricotta. The pizza baked for about thirteen minutes, and then it was drizzled with honey and sprinkled with fleur de sel. I should explain that this isn’t really the kind of pizza to serve for eating several big slices while watching the game although I’m sure it would taste just as good whether a game was being watched or not. Rather, this is more of a pizza to cut into small pieces to be enjoyed with a cocktail. The rich dough was a very suitable platform for the creamy ricotta, sweet honey, and spicy hit of pepper. I wasn’t sure Kurt would love this, and neither was he. After tasting it, he claimed that the toppings really worked well together, and I couldn’t have agreed more. I also thought it was a great use of my very first fresh ricotta.
The last time I browsed the newsstand in a book store, I was hoping to find something new to me. Tucked back behind Bon Appetit and to the side of Donna Hay I found Cuisine, a publication from New Zealand which I’d never read. It takes a little longer to appear on the racks in the States, which is why the issue I bought is from September. It’s full of incredible photography, a lot of wine info, and many, many recipes I want to try. There was an article about informal entertaining and dishes that can be easily eaten with just a fork, and that’s where I came upon these braised chickpeas. First, I saw the photo with the crispy onions on top of browned haloumi in a bowl of chickpeas, and then I flipped the page and read about the mojo verde that adorns it all. That was it. I had to make this dish.
I used dried chickpeas which I soaked overnight before cooking, but rinsed and drained canned chickpeas would also work. While the chickpeas cooked, I mixed together the mojo verde in a food processor and fried some thinly sliced shallots since they could sit while the rest of the dish was prepared. I decided to use shallots for the crispy topping, but onions were used in the original recipe. To begin the braise, finely chopped onion, garlic, broken pieces of dried red chiles, and ground cumin were sauteed in olive oil. Tomato paste was stirred into that mix before the cooked chickpeas and some of their cooking liquid was added. That was left to simmer until the liquid had almost disappeared, and then I added a mix of fresh greens that I found at the farmers’ market. There were spinach leaves and mizuna and a few small kale leaves which were washed, stemmed, and torn into pieces. While the greens wilted their way into the chickpeas, the haloumi was quickly pan-fried in olive oil.
The chickpeas were full of flavor from the onion, garlic, and dried chiles and those flavors wound into the greens as well. Haloumi can’t help but be delicious. The same goes for crispy shallots, and the mojo verde with cilantro and sherry vinegar was a touch of herby acidity in the dish. This could make a very good, little starter stacked nicely with the frizzy shallots on top, but I’m glad I served this as a main course because I would have wanted more than just a small plate of it.
The recipe is not available on Cuisine’s web site, so I’ll include it here. Braised Chickpeas with Spinach, Haloumi, Crispy Shallots, and Mojo Verde Chickpeas: 1 1/2 cups dried chickpeas, soaked overnight (or two cans of chickpeas, rinsed and drained) 2 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for frying haloumi 1/2 yellow onion, finely chopped 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped plus 2 cloves garlic smashed 3 small dried chiles such as chile de arbol, crumbled 2 teaspoons ground cumin 2 tablespoons tomato paste 4 big handfuls spinach leaves or small leaves of other greens, washed, drained, stemmed, and chopped or pulled into pieces 1 package haloumi, cut into ¼ inch slices Salt and pepper to taste
-Drain the soaked chickpeas and place in a large saucepan with water to cover by two inches. Add the smashed garlic cloves and one crumbled chile. Bring to a boil and simmer until chickpeas are tender, about one to two hours. When cooked, reserve the cooking liquid. -While the chickpeas are cooking, prepare the mojo verde and fry the sliced shallots as described below. -In a large saucepan, heat two tablespoons olive oil and fry the onion until soft. Add garlic, crumbled chiles, and cumin and fry for an additional minute. Stir in the tomato paste. Add the cooked, drained chickpeas and two cups of the reserved cooking liquid. If using canned chickpeas, add two cups water. Season with salt and pepper and simmer until most of the liquid has evaporated. -Add the spinach and/or greens and stir to combine. Check seasoning and adjust as needed. -As the greens wilt into the chickpeas, fry the haloumi slices in olive oil until golden on each side, about one minute per side. -Serve the braised chickpeas and greens with a few slices of haloumi on top. Drizzle haloumi and chickpeas with mojo verde, and top with crispy shallots.
Mojo Verde: 3 cloves garlic 1 teaspoon cumin seeds, toasted and ground 1 teaspoon sea salt 1/2 cup tightly packed cilantro leaves 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar 4 tablespoons olive oil -Place garlic, cumin, and sea salt in a mini food processor and process until smooth. Add the cilantro, vinegar, and olive oil. Process again until smooth and emulsified.
Crispy Shallots: 2 large or 4 small shallots, skinned and thinly sliced 1/4 cup olive oil - Place oil and sliced shallots in a small frying pan and slowly bring up to bubbling. Continue cooking until the shallots are golden, about 10 minutes. Remove shallots and drain on paper towels.
I’m trying to remember how I chose this oyster dish to start our Christmas Eve meal last week. There’s an entire chapter devoted to oysters in John Besh’s My New Orleans, and I wanted to make every single recipe. I believe I decided to try this one first just because it’s so incredibly easy and it wouldn’t keep me in the kitchen for long. The oyster gratin could also have been served as an hors d’oeuvre with the breadcrumb topping applied to each half shell, and it wouldn’t have taken much longer. The oyster and artichoke soup could have mostly been prepared in advance and would have been delicious. The crispy fried oyster salad was another option, but I’d love to get some Louisiana caviar to present that dish properly. And, that’s just some of the oyster chapter. The book is divided seasonally starting with crawfish and Mardi Gras dishes, moving on to feast days and shrimp season, then fish followed by summer vegetables and crab season. There’s a chapter for gumbos and one for Thanksgiving, one for pork since Chef Besh raises his own hogs, and a final chapter for Reveillon or the feast served on Christmas Eve. It’s a beautiful book, and I’m enjoying cooking from it.
For these oysters, the intention was to grill them to impart some smokiness, but I was too lazy for that. I broiled them instead. A compound butter was made with garlic, crushed red pepper flakes, chopped chives, thyme leaves, and lemon juice. Slices of that butter were placed on top of each shucked oyster in its half shell, and then the oysters were broiled for a few minutes until they started to curl. They went from broiler to plate to our mouths in minutes.
These were simply fresh, spicy, and garlicy, and I should have made a dozen or so more than I did. I can’t wait to taste them off the grill when I make this again. I’ve tried a couple of other things from the book including the fall greens salad with blue cheese and pumpkin seed brittle. The vinaigrette with sherry vinegar and walnut oil was nutty and lovely with the blue cheese and cayenne-spiced pepita brittle. Also, the green tomato and pepper jam was sweet, tart, spicy, and just what some goat cheese on crostini needed. I’m already looking forward to Mardi Gras and strawberry season and all the other reasons to use this book throughout the coming year.
Perhaps this post should have come with a hippie food warning. Wheat berries with lots of vegetables isn’t exactly decadent, drool-worthy fare. But, considering that I spared you the millet pilaf of last weekend and the brown lentil salad on mixed baby greens from last Wednesday, I was hoping you’d have a look at this dish. I cut this recipe from an issue of Living magazine eight years ago. Of course wheat berries are a whole grain and are very good for you, but they’re also nutty-tasting, filling, and delightfully chewy. Since my fall CSA just started last week, I was happy to use the eggplant, yellow squash, and tatsoi from my first pick-up in this. The dish also includes chopped, canned tomatoes, garlic, and fresh oregano, and with that mix, it takes on that pleasing pizza parlor aroma that works as well as a dinner bell.
First, the wheat berries were placed in a large saucepan and covered with water which was brought to a boil, and then they simmered for 40 minutes until tender. When the wheat berries were about half-way cooked, I started sauteing the vegetables. Minced yellow onion and garlic were sauteed in olive oil and once softened, chopped eggplant, yellow squash, and broccoli were added. After cooking for a few minutes, chopped, canned tomatoes were added with fresh oregano, and that was left to simmer for 10 minutes or so. Last, the cooked and drained wheat berries were added, and I tossed in a handful or two of fresh tatsoi leaves just because I had them. After the wheat berries were incorporated and warmed through, the dish was ready to serve, and I topped it with chopped parsley.
I know it looks like something that makes you think dessert better be really good, but it’s not like that, I promise. That pizza parlor thing I mentioned about the tomatoes, garlic, and oregano give the dish a lively flavor while forming a sauce. The fresh, crunchy, sauteed vegetables contrast with the chewy wheat berries and give lots of varied texture. Admittedly, I like hippie food, but the flavors here were so good it might not belong in that much maligned category.
The time had come for a meal with a little meat in it, or chicken, but that’s still meat, so I set about browsing through books for inspiration. I pulled Donna Hay’s Flavors from the shelf and once again realized how really interesting and appealing everything in that book is. There are nine chapters in the book and each is devoted to a particular flavor. It shows particular flavors used in very different preparations, and it makes you stop to consider what basic tastes work with one another. This balsamic chicken with garlic couscous dish is from the garlic and onion chapter. The chapter begins with a quick discussion of types of onions and garlic and some basic preparations, and then each recipe has an accompanying photo of the delectable-looking food. It was difficult to decide which meal I wanted to try, and I ended up making a few things from the book over the course of a couple of days. I’ll be posting the other items soon.
The balsamic chicken was started by marinating boneless chicken in balsamic vinegar, chicken stock, crushed garlic, and sugar. I tend to greatly reduce or entirely skip the sugar in recipes when it’s intended to balance acidity because I like a little tart spunkiness. Two tablespoons of sugar seemed excessive at any rate, so I only used about two teaspoons. The less sweet marinade did its work for 20 minutes while garlic was sliced and green beans were cleaned. I used whole wheat couscous which was cooked with chicken stock. The chicken breasts were sauteed on each side before the marinade was poured into the pan. It finished cooking through as the marinade thickened into a sauce.
To finish the couscous, sliced garlic and thyme were sauteed in a little butter and the cooked couscous was stirred into that mixture. Kurt commented on the couscous being the best ever, and I let him know that it could be because of the half a stick of butter in it. I re-read the ingredient list a couple of times and did the weight to volume conversion a few more times to be sure, two ounces equals four tablespoons, but yes, it was half a stick of butter. It was worth it. The couscous was fantastic, and the chicken was just as delicious as it looked in the book. The marinade thickened nicely into a sauce, and it left the chicken flavorful and tender. The garlic, both raw in the marinade and butter sauteed to savory wonder in the couscous, added character to the meal as it always does. This meal was a winner from Donna Hay, and there’s more of the same throughout the book.
Clearly, I’ve been busy lately because it’s been quite a while since I posted anything labor-intensive that requires multiple days of preparation. And, that’s definitely not what you’ll find here today either. When quick and easy cooking is also enormously delicious, I’m on board. This dish is classically Italian in that six simple ingredients come together to make something unbelievably pleasing. It’s from the September, I think, issue of Saveur. There was an article about canning your own tuna, and this was a suggested way to use that canned tuna. See above statement about quick and easy, because I did not can my own tuna. However, I did place an order with Market Hall Foods which included an exceptional can of Ortiz tuna. It was so delicious that now I’m very curious about the Ventresca. If anyone has tried this, I’d love to hear your opinion of it.
This meal was made for multi-tasking. While the pasta water came to a boil, there was ample time to slice garlic, chop parsley, open the can of tuna, heat the olive oil with crushed red pepper and sliced garlic, add the tuna, and dress a couple of small plates of arugula with oil and vinegar. Al dente spaghettini was tossed with the oil, garlic, pepper, tuna, parsley, and some reserved pasta boiling water. Devouring ensued. At the risk of fawning, I have to say again that this was really, really good tuna. It breaks apart and swirls into the olive oil and twists its way among the strands of pasta. With the hit of crushed red pepper and the garlic, the flavors are sculpted into a situation of give me more because my plate is already empty. Use homemade canned tuna, or get something great like the Ortiz, and try this soon.
? I saw it mentioned a few times here and there, and then when I finally had a look at a copy of it, I had to bring it home. The book is by Skye Gyngell, and she is the head chef at London’s Petersham Nurseries Cafe. She describes her cooking as produce driven in that she takes inspiration from what is at its freshest and what flavors would complement that ingredient best. Her intention is to not interfere with the ingredients too much, to let them taste of themselves. That results in recipes that are very doable and very delicious when made with produce at the peak of its season. Each chapter in the book focuses on one ingredient, and it is shown in several different types of dishes. In the asparagus chapter, there’s a beautiful dish involving a tomato dressing and creme fraiche, one simply prepared with ginger and garlic, and a gratin of white asparagus. I’m really looking forward to cherry season, because the chapter about cherries has a cherry cordial and brandied cherries I want to try. There are chapters for tomatoes, nuts, fish and shellfish, vinegar, apples, cheese, and more. I currently have six pages marked, and those are just the recipes with ingredients that are in season right now. The dish you see here today is from the garlic chapter, and I had locally-grown garlic to use from my CSA. It was minced and then mixed with yogurt to make a tangy, flavorful sauce for a spicy, fried egg.
, and this is a comprehensive guide to all types of food from every region of Greece. Central Greece has a rich history of cheese production because sheep and goats spend winters in mountain pastures full of green grass. Messinia, in the Peloponnese, is the country’s leading olive producer, and the mountains of Arkadia are where the best feta is made. Venetian influence on the Ionian Islands is apparent in Italian-sounding dishes like pastitsada, but the cuisine has taken on a character of its own. And, we have the island of Cyprus to thank for lovely, lovely halloumi cheese. There’s a simplicity to a lot of the cooking in that it’s the freshness of ingredients that brings great flavor. Grilled fish with just olive oil and lemon and maybe parsley or oregano is as good as it is because of the fish itself. That being said, there are plenty of complex dishes involving pastry or pasta, but there’s always a clear link to seasonality. I could have focused on the salad chapter alone for days with options like potato salad with octopus, broiled zucchini halloumi and lettuce salad, and grape and lettuce salad with kefalotiri. First, I had to try the fried salt cod with garlic sauce and artichoke soup.
I know it looks like something that makes you think dessert better be really good, but it’s not like that, I promise. That pizza parlor thing I mentioned about the tomatoes, garlic, and oregano give the dish a lively flavor while forming a sauce. The fresh, crunchy, sauteed vegetables contrast with the chewy wheat berries and give lots of varied texture. Admittedly, I like hippie food, but the flavors here were so good it might not belong in that much maligned category.
To finish the couscous, sliced garlic and thyme were sauteed in a little butter and the cooked couscous was stirred into that mixture. Kurt commented on the couscous being the best ever, and I let him know that it could be because of the half a stick of butter in it. I re-read the ingredient list a couple of times and did the weight to volume conversion a few more times to be sure, two ounces equals four tablespoons, but yes, it was half a stick of butter. It was worth it. The couscous was fantastic, and the chicken was just as delicious as it looked in the book. The marinade thickened nicely into a sauce, and it left the chicken flavorful and tender. The garlic, both raw in the marinade and butter sauteed to savory wonder in the couscous, added character to the meal as it always does. This meal was a winner from Donna Hay, and there’s more of the same throughout the book.
This meal was made for multi-tasking. While the pasta water came to a boil, there was ample time to slice garlic, chop parsley, open the can of tuna, heat the olive oil with crushed red pepper and sliced garlic, add the tuna, and dress a couple of small plates of arugula with oil and vinegar. Al dente spaghettini was tossed with the oil, garlic, pepper, tuna, parsley, and some reserved pasta boiling water. Devouring ensued. At the risk of fawning, I have to say again that this was really, really good tuna. It breaks apart and swirls into the olive oil and twists its way among the strands of pasta. With the hit of crushed red pepper and the garlic, the flavors are sculpted into a situation of give me more because my plate is already empty. Use homemade canned tuna, or get something great like the Ortiz, and try this soon.