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Granola.
Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it. I kind of left it behind awhile back. There were the variety of store-bought granola-type bars that my daughter favored when she was young, which were too coyingly sweet.
Read MoreGranola.
Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it. I kind of left it behind awhile back. There were the variety of store-bought granola-type bars that my daughter favored when she was young, which were too coyingly sweet.
Read More"How many more days are we going to be eating this?"Ah, the familiar refrain from many years ago, of me questioning Gran Fran about the never-ending quantity of our beloved Ribollita.
Literally reboiled, this stew-y soup got us through many a cold evening. Gran Fran started making it when I was in college and the last one I made was very recently, seeing as it goes from 90 degrees to 40 degrees from one day to the next, out here in San Francisco lately.
And so, I am now the proprietor of many plastic lidded containers to friends and family of said soup. I cannot make fewer than 15 servings. No matter how hard I try, how small the pot is that I use, or how many ways to Sunday that I reduce all of the ingredients, I always, always end up with a huge pot of soup. The only saving grace in having gallons of this soup is that I have plenty of friends, vegetarian, vegan or otherwise who seem to never get enough of my Ribollita.
I would gladly eat this hearty soup for every meal, especially since you can alter the flavors just by adding or subtracting herbs, changing the kinds of beans you use or sometimes adding a little red wine. But, the issue here, is not the awesome taste of all the ingredients coming together. No, it's the huge amount of carbs included in the recipe, which of course makes the soup even more tasty. Not only are there beans, pasta and potatoes, but also a good hunk of white or Italian bread.
Remember when only doctors or scientists used the term "carbs"? Sometimes you'd hear about it on the news, but it made no never-mind to me. I just wanted me some good, filling soup, you know? Now, I have to worry about all manner of ingredients and how they come together to create some kind of evil within. It was nice to come home and see Gran Fran working on her soup, without a care in the world about whether or not she might be struck down for combining bread with pasta, let alone then adding potatoes.
Well, all I know is that when I moved out to San Francisco 17 years ago, I had to get some recipes stored up for inexpensive, filling meals. And, if they reminded me of Gran Fran and Joe, then all the better. So it was that the Ribollita became my first foray into large scale cooking for roommates and a revolving cast of characters. At 22, I had no worries about weight or nutrition, but plenty to worry about when it came to cashflow.
I kid you not, for a mere $6.00 a pot, you can easily feed 8 people. And, it's veggie and vegan friendly, so as the new one in the house, it made for a great first meal to be able to cook for the varying diets of my roommates. I recall having Gran Fran on the phone (well before my cell phone made an appearance so of course, the phone had a cord, which flowed from my tiny room through the hall into the kitchen) advising me how to make the tomato paste puree with the herbs, oil and garlic.
All the while, Gran Fran would ask things like "Are you making a nice roast beef to go with it? Or, of course you could serve tofu, but, you know, I don't go in for those sorts of things." I knew then, just as much as I know now, how important it is for us to cook "together". All these years later, we still call each other when we're cooking, going over ingredients, temperatures, serving suggestions.
Enjoy your Ribollita tonight, tomorrow night, the next, and maybe well into next week. Oh, and don't think about the carbs, just the excellent goodness of the soup!!
Serves 8
3 large Idaho or other baking potatoes, peeled, sliced, washed and dried 3 carrots, peeled, washed, diced 1 large onion, minced 5 Tbs. Olive oil Salt and pepper 16 to 18 cups boiling water 1 cup elbow macaroni or other small pasta. 1 package frozen corn 1 package frozen peas 1 can chick peas, drained and well rinsed 1 can pink kidney beans, drained and well rinsed 1 can cannelini beans, drained and well rinsed 2 slices country bread
Seasoning Ingredients: 1 large bunch basil, stems removed, finely minced or 1 ablespoon dried basil 2 T tomato paste 6 T olive oil salt pepper crushed red pepper flakes 2 cloves garlic, finely minced
Optional Garnish: Shards of Reggiano Parmigiano or Asiago cheese Additional crushed red pepper flakes
1. Soup: Heat olive oil in a heavy, nonreactive stockpot. Add potatoes, carrots, and onion. Sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper. Add bay leaf. Cook vegetables over medium heat, stirring often, until golden. 2. Pour boiling water over vegetables. Bring to a boil over high heat. Stir. Reduce heat to medium low. Partially cover pot and simmer soup for 45 minutes 3. Bring soup back to the boil over high heat. Add pasta. Stir. Reduce heat to medium. Cook for 8 minutes or until pasta is almost cooked. 4. Add corn, peas, chick peas, cannelini, and kidney beans. Stir and cook for about12 minutes over medium heat or until corn and peas are cooked and beans are hot. 5. Break bread into very fine pieces bread .Crumble into soup. Stir, incorporating bread bits into soup by pressing them against the side of the pot. Remove soup form stove. 6. Seasoning: In a small bowl, combine tomato paste, olive oil, basil, salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, and garlic. Fold seasoning mixture into soup. 7. Serve soup, with grated cheese if desired
Here’s the deal, sometime around Junior High, Gran Fran began adding leeks to the mashed potatoes. Even though I was a fairly easygoing pre-teen and teenager, for that matter, but the addition of leeks brought out my full-fledged wrath of pre-teen-dom in all its glory.What in the heck was she thinking? How could you improve upon the creamy goodness of a nice batch of russet potatoes, boiled, dried over the flame, salt, butter and milk added, and mashed? Now, she had added some soft, green things, that made the potatoes taste downright wrong.
The bigger issue was, you had to eat what was on your plate, which should be expected. Now, I know in my heart this is wrong, but with my own daughter, we’ll call her Iz, I make modified versions of what I’m eating, with less spice, or none at all. This was an okay solution when she was small, but she has just turned 10 and it is sort of crazy to serve two meals in a household of two.
To be fair, Iz will always try new things and sometimes discovers dishes she likes. But, this is only at other people’s houses, not mine. Yes, I know, it’s my own doing, but I still like to talk about it. And, the odd thing is, she loves to cook and will make all sorts of things that she will not eat. Final thought on Iz is that she has a good palate and will eat lots of different things, including sweet potatoes, Brussels sprouts, and all manner of veggies, meats and carbs, just not with any sauce or spices. But, how could I not love a kid who counts bacon as a food group?
Last night, a friend showed up to cook dinner and brought along potatoes and leeks. I cornered him and grilled him on how he was going to prepare them, warning him that he’d have to leave if he planned on making them into a smushy mess of mashed-like potatoes. He assured me that he would be making a gratin of some sort, and was then allowed to stay.
Gran Fran was kind enough to share her recipe with me, which, as now that I'm an adult, actually sounds like something I might like. But, I don’t have the courage to make it, for fear that Gran Fran’s look of disappointment (from back in the ‘80s) will come back to haunt me. And, I’m probably just a little bit too stubborn to admit she might be right on this one.
Serves 6 as a side dish
• 5 Russet Potatoes, peeled, washed, and cubed • 3 cloves of Garlic • 2 Leeks, white and light green parts only, thoroughly washed, dried, and diced • 4 Carrots, peeled, washed, sliced into discs • 4 Stalks of Celery, peeled, washed, and sliced • 4 Tbsps. Butter • 1/2 cup milk or cream, slightly warmed • Salt to add to water
(the right way, as far as I’m concerned) Serves 8/Serves 6 as a side dish
• 5 Russet Potatoes peeled, washed, sliced • 4 Tbsps Butter • 1/2 cup milk or cream, slightly warmed • Salt to add to water
Gran Fran and Joe always honored our birthdays with a special meal (ask for anything, and they’d make it for the birthday kid in question) and an excellent homemade cake. In honor of my recent birthday (no, I won’t tell you how old I am) and my daughter’s (she turned 10), I found it fitting to recount my first attempt at frosting, which, until this past week, was known as dipping sauce here on the West Coast.
Let’s take the way-back machine to 1980, when, for my tenth birthday (oops, if you can do the math, you now know how old I am!), I requested a chocolate cake with mocha frosting. Our house was one of the few in the neighborhood with a Kitchen Aid stand mixer in it, and let me tell you, Gran Fran got a lot of use out of it. I say Gran Fran got a lot of use out of it, because the rest of us were not allowed to use it. If one of us did go near it, she would scream, in her high-pitched voice-of-fear “Don’t you dare go near that! It’ll cut your fingers off!” (Think back to the movie A Christmas Story…”you’ll put your eye out”, and you get the picture.)
Now, let’s talk about the stand mixer for a minute. There was a guard around the outside of the bowl and a lock on the machine that had to be closed for it to mix. Unless one of us actually tried to climb into the mixer, I really don’t believe there was much to fear. But, you will learn, as you read these posts, that there were many things in the kitchen to be a-feared of, from Gran Fran’s perspective, and it’s a wonder the five of us ended up cooking at all!!
But, for all of the screaming and words of caution, Gran Fran makes a mean frosting and cake, to boot. To this day, I have yet to find a frosting I prefer to hers, even at the fanciest of fancy bakeries. She whipped up that mocha frosting in a matter of minutes, cooled it and frosted the cake. Delicious!
OK, back to the dipping sauce scenario. Fast-forward to 1993, San Francisco. It was the first year I was out on my own, and I had made a birthday cake, for which I needed frosting. Store-bought was never offered in my house growing up, so it never even crossed my mind to buy it, rather than attempt to make it. How hard could it be? I mean, Gran Fran would whip it up in no time at all, so I figured I could handle it.
Oh, I couldn't have been more wrong. It was all going well, the baker’s chocolate was melting away with the sugar and butter in the double boiler, the very strong coffee was brewed and it all smelled right. But, once I got it off the stove and tried it, it was liquid. No amount of cold would get it to set. The cake came out great, but the frosting just wasn’t right.
There was no time left to fix work up another frosting, so I packed up the cake, covered the “frosting” and headed over to my friend Dennis’ house. Once there, candles were put on the cake, a loud and rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday to You!” was sung, and then it was time for serving. Out came the “frosting”. Dennis took one look at it, and asked “What’s with the dipping sauce for the cake? No frosting?”
At this point, the whole thing was so laughable, that I simply served the cake with the “sauce” on the side, which people did end up dipping the cake in. Over the next 15 years, I attempted frosting after frosting sometimes resorting to whipped cream, since you can’t mess that up, and even managed to make the dipping sauce work well with flourless chocolate tortes.
But, in 2009, my daughter, Iz specified that she would like me to try one more time to make actual frosting and not dipping sauce (which my “frosting” had become known as over the intervening years). How could I disappoint her on her big 1-0? So, back to the kitchen I went. But this time, I had Gran Fran on the phone consulting on the frosting, and Joe e-mailing me recipes from New York. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to report that the frosting was a success. I have no idea if it was the family support, Iz’s very heartfelt request, or if the stars were aligned that day, but I made an excellent frosting.
Hats off to Gran Fran for showing me as a child how to make the frosting, and for keeping my fingers intact and out of harm’s way (also known as the evil Kitchen Aid). And, Iz thanks you, too.
Craig Claiborne’s Recipe for Mocha Frosting
Frosts tops and sides of three 8-inch layers
You will need a candy thermometer and a hand or stand mixer
Ingredients
• 2/3 cup granulated sugar
• ½ cup water
• 2 egg yolks
• 1 cup soft butter
• 1 ½ squares (ounces) unsweetened chocolate, melted
• 1 tablespoon very strong coffee
• 1 ½ tablespoons rum
Method
• Boil sugar and water to 240 F. (Syrup forms a soft ball in cold water.)
• Beat the egg yolks until fluffy. While beating add the syrup gradually, and continue beating until the mixture is cool.
• Add the butter bit by bit, until it has all been beaten in. Beat in the chocolate, coffee and rum.
Real Red Devils Food Cake
Makes three 8-inch layers
You will need 3 8 inch cake pans, preferably shallow, and a hand or stand mixer
(nope, no Non-reactive Pan or Pot to be seen in this recipe!!)
Ingredients
• 1 3/4 cups flour
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1 1/4 tsp. soda
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1/3 cup cocoa
• 1/2 cup soft butter
• 1 cup milk
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp. vanilla
Method
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
• Butter the bottoms but not the sides of the baking pans.
• Cut a waxed paper or parchment round to fit in the center-bottom of the pan, leaving a 1/4-inch uncovered around the edge. Butter paper.
• Sift together into bowl the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt and cocoa
• Add the butter, and 2/3 cup of the milk
• Beat 2 min.
• Add the remaining 1/3 cup of the milk, the eggs and the vanilla.
• Beat 2 more min.
• Pour into prepared pans. Bake until cake tests done about 30 minutes. Place pans on rack. Then turn onto cooling rack after 10 minutes
Ok, when you grow up in Queens, NY, you hear accents that you may not hear everywhere, which, I guess is true of any regional accents. You know the herb basil, you hear BAY-sil instead of BAH-sil, you get the idea. Well, who knew that the name of one of my favorite Italian dishes would open up a whole world of regional dialect discussion?
The dish in question was always known in our house as Pasta Fazool. Essentially, it’s a nice mix of garbanzo beans (chick peas) or cannelini beans, garlic, and pasta. Being quick, inexpensive, and easy to make, it was a family pleaser that appeared often on Gran Fran’s table.
The first time I realized there was some sort of issue with the name, was in my Italian language class in 11th grade. I was sitting there when Signora asked me what the word “Fagioli” meant. Immediately, I answered “Beans”, having studied the vocabulary list the night earlier. Good work, I was told, and class ended.
That night, we had Pasta Fazool for dinner. I told Gran Fran about Italian class, and she said, “Oh yes, that’s what we’re eating.” Huh? “The word I learned in school was Fagioli,” I said, somewhat bewildered. “Right,” she said, “Fazool.” Okay, now it was becoming an Abbott and Costello routine and I was waiting for my Dad to chime in with “What’s on second!” As the meal progressed and I became more befuddled, Gran Fran finally got to the root of the issue, which was really the root of the dialect, I should say.
Gran Fran’s family emigrated from the region of Campania, from towns near Naples, in Italy in the early 1900’s. They brought along with them a Neapolitan dialect, which was then mixed with Brooklyn English. Hence, words like fagioli became “fazool.” Making the soft “gio” sound into a harder “double z” sound. For some words, they left the end off completely: mozzarella became “mozzarel”; ricotta, “ricot.” Who would have thought that high school Italian would shed light on this, and shatter a family-wide identifier for a much-loved dish?
The years have gone by now, and we all still call it Pasta Fazool, when we’re together, but have given in to calling it Pasta Fagioli if in public, so as to be better understood. I know Gran Fran’s shoulders are raised and she is slightly abashed at my admitting the above, but someone had to tell her.
Pasta Fazool (or Fagioli)
Serves 6
(You can use fresh beans for this recipe, but allow an extra 24 hours for soaking and rinsing. If using canned beans, look for ones with little or lower sodium.)
You will need 1 heavy non-reactive skillet and 1 pasta or stock pot with a lid
Ingredients:
• 1 pound pasta (elbows, ditali, or any small pasta)
• 2 carrots diced
• 2 stalks celery diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 can beans (cannelini, chick peas, or kidney)
• ½ cup olive oil
• generous sprinkle of dried rosemary
• 1 bay leaf
• salt and freshly ground pepper
Method:
• Bring five quarts of well-salted water to a boil in a covered pot.
• Heat olive oil in a wide, shallow non-reactive skillet. When oil is hot, add carrots, garlic, celery, salt pepper, and spices. Sauté over medium heat until all ingredients turn golden.
• Toss the pasta into the rapidly boiling water and stir. Do not cover.
• Drain beans in a colander (use the same one to drain the pasta) and rinse under cold, running water. Shake colander to remove excess water from beans.
• Gently fold beans into carrot/celery sauce. Cook over medium heat until beans are heated through.
• Test pasta for doneness. Add 1/4 cup pasta water to bean mixture. Drain pasta and fold into the bean mixture. Cook about 4 or 5 minutes over medium heat, shaking the pan until all ingredients are distributed. Serves 4 as a main dish, 6 as a side.
The Pasta Fazool can be served warm or cold. It’s great with salad, and also with broccoli rabe on the side.
There is a trend with at least three members of my family. We like to cook at odd hours of the day and night. Actually, I don’t know if “like” is the right word; for me, at least, it is a habit borne of necessity. The habit does, though, make it possible to create full-fledged meals any day of the week, but at the expense of less sleep than a normal person should require. And, Gran Fran is the reigning queen of this domain.
As far back as I can remember, I heard the sounds of pound cakes being whacked out of baking tins, Kitchen Aid mixers whirring, and caught the smells of roasting meats at any hour of the day or night. If there was a need for a big dinner on a Friday, for instance, Gran Fran would stay up the night before until at least 3AM and then get up again at 6 AM to leave for work. She was always pleasant about it, but with a bit of “…No, no, that’s ok, I can do it myself,” whenever she was asked if she wanted help.
The results were always great, and made all five of us the envy of our friends, since we got food cooked from scratch that was better than you could get in most restaurants. As the years went by and most of us moved out, the cooking marathons became less frequent, usually revolving around homecomings of the older kids.
Being the youngest, I got to see the preparations for these events firsthand. The most memorable was one night when I was in college (yes, I lived with my parents through most of college, bless them for taking me in), I came home late with a friend, around 2AM. There was Gran Fran sacked out on the couch, still wearing her apron and headscarf (circa 1973 by home textile designer, Vera), glasses on, “watching” TV. Once I closed the kitchen door, she was roused enough to utter these two statements:
“I was just resting my eyes. The pot roast on the stove is ready. Want some?”
The friend I was with had not experienced the Gran Fran way before and was astounded to be asked this not only at 2AM but by someone who was seemingly asleep. Of course, the pot roast (served with steamed potatoes, naturally) was fantastic and my friend stated she would come back any time of the day or night to see what Gran Fran would produce.
So, in an effort to continue Gran Fran’s legacy of cooking all-nighters, I now do the same. Mine are usually at 6AM before my daughter wakes up and we have to go to school and work, but the results are the same. And, I hope that Gran Fran will see that for me, it’s also just a little bit of trouble, but that’s ok, I can do it myself.
Pot Roast a la Gran Fran
Serves 8
(You may have noticed by now that all of the recipes on the site “serve 8”. Think about it; we were a family of 7, so this was the necessary serving size for everything we made. You can’t imagine how hard it was to relearn how to cook all of this stuff in smaller batches when I moved out!)
You will need 1 heavy skillet and 1 heavy, deep Non-Reactive stew pan with a lid
Ingredients:
• 3 to 3 ½ lbs Bottom Round Beef, whole
• ¼ lb double smoked bacon, diced
• 2 Tbsp Olive Oil
• 2 Carrots, sliced into small pieces
• 1 White Onion, diced
• 2 cloves Garlic, minced
• 3 cups Dry Red Wine
• Salt and Pepper to taste
• ½ Tbsp Thyme (dried or a little less if using fresh)
• 1 Bay Leaf
• 1 Tbsp Tomato Paste
• 2 Tbsp Flour
Method:
• Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
• Boil diced bacon in 3 cups of water for 10 minutes.
• Refresh bacon under cold water by rinsing it briefly. Then, pat dry.
• Heat Olive Oil in large skillet.
• Add bacon, browning well on all sides.
• When bacon browns, remove from pan and set aside.
• Dry Beef well. Add to pan of hot oil.
• Brown well on all sides.
• In heavy stew pan, add some oil from the skillet.
• Sauté onions and carrots until golden.
• Sprinkle the vegetables with flour.
• Brown until golden over medium heat, 3 – 5 minutes.
• Add the browned meat to the vegetables.
• Pour wine into the empty skillet, bring to a boil, while scrapping the browned bits off the bottom.
• Add wine and vegetable scrapings to the Beef stew pot.
• If there is not enough liquid to cover the Beef, add water to barely cover the meat.
• Stir in tomato paste, thyme, bay leaf and garlic.
• Bring to a boil once more on the stovetop.
• Cover closely (Hi, Gran Fran)
• Place on lower rack of oven. Leave pan undisturbed in oven for 1½ hours, stir, put cover back on and simmer another 1½ hours.
• Before serving add braised pearl onions (see below) and sautéed mushrooms
Braised Onions a la Gran Fran
To be served in Pot Roast
Ingredients:
• 1 lb Tiny Onions
• 3 Tbsp Olive Oil
• 1 Bay Leaf
• Salt and Pepper to taste
• ½ cup Red Wine
Method:
• Peel onions by dipping in boiling water for 1 minute to loosen skins. Slip skins off.
• Heat olive oil in sauté pan and add Onions.
• Toss until golden brown.
• Sprinkle with salt, pepper, thyme and bay leaf.
• Add wine and bring to a boil.
• Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer 35 minutes.
• Remove from heat, add to Pot Roast and enjoy!!
The Pot Roast is best if served a day after you make it, since it absorbs all of the lovely flavors the spices and wine broth have let off. Serve with mashed or steamed potatoes.
I made a red sauce tonight. It wasn't, as my mother would call it, a real Ragu, since I made it without meat. I do believe that Gran Fran (my mom, for those of you who are new to this blog) thinks it's a crime to make the sauce without meat. But, these days, a girl has got to watch what she eats, and a heaping bowl of sweet Italian sausage, ground beef and braccioli are not on my list right now. So sad, but true.
The sauce in question uses many of the same techniques and ingredients as Gran Fran's (see the two recipes below), but mine has twice as much red wine, half the tomatoes and way more garlic. So, I hope she is pleased with my take on her classic, but I fear her wrath when she sees this post.
One thing I always do the same, is use a can of whole, peeled tomatoes (preferably from the San Marzano area) and smash them through a sieve or a strainer. It brings back very clear childhood memories.
As the youngest of the 5 kids, I ended up doing tasks that didn't require knives (of which there were only butter knives anyway, but more on that in a later post), fire (of which I was petrified until I was in my 20's) or heavy pans to lift. Thus, I ended up more often than not as the tomato smasher. Which, I know, sound super fun, especially since it involved sticking your hands in lots of smushy tomatoes.
But, it was inevitable that I always had a small scratch or cut on either or both of my hands. And, as a reader of this blog, Non-Reactive Pan, you will understand that the acid in the tomatoes burned my hands like no other. Then, to top it off, as the tomato smush dried, I got some sort of skin treatment (like a facial only horrible) which always left my skin dried out and smelling like tomatoes for days.
To this day, though, you will find me in my kitchen smashing tomatoes through the sieve for the sauce, all the while cursing the burning of my skin. In the end, it is always worth it, though the sauce tastes different from Gran Fran's, it's essence is the same as hers, and so it always brings me home.
Red Sauce ala Fran's Daughter serves 8
you will need a large, NON-REACTIVE saucepan with a lid.
Serve with pasta, or use this for pizza sauce or even just for dipping bread in. Oh, and, again, please remove the bay leaf before serving.
Red Sauce ala Gran Fran serves 8
you will need a large, NON-REACTIVE saucepan with a lid.
Sausage for Red Sauce ala Gran Fran serves 8
you will need a large, NON-REACTIVE saucepan.
