the thin chef

I am still alive, AND I am still (I think) a blogger. Some major life changes are going on at Chez Thin Chef, so I’ve been on another planet. But I promise to share everything soon, and have some fab new recipes and pictures to share in the coming weeks. If you’ll still be around to read them… (please say you will!)

Until then…

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After a weekend of indulging in one too many cupcakes and other not-so-good-for-us foods, last Monday night called for a clean, healthy dinner. Grabbing some of the CSA squash I had stashed in the freezer in August, and a bunch of beautiful red mustard greens and locally grown tomatoes from last week’s box, I made a brothy, rustic soup to detox our systems.

This soup actually came together a little randomly. I originally planned on a minestrone when I grocery shopped, so I had beef broth and a parmesan rind on hand for that. They went in. So I guess this is a minestrone-like vegetable-barley soup. If you’re making this now and you live anywhere north of, say, Orlando, definitely use canned tomatoes instead of the pale, mealy ones available in the grocery store. Even our CSA box tomatoes are realllly pushing it w/ their ripeness, but cooking them in the broth helped a lot.

I wanted something for body besides the veg, so I added some quick-cooking barley, mainly because we were starving and didn’t want to wait an hour for the soup to cook. In hindsight, I wish we’d waited—the quick-cooking kind of barley isn’t even close, texture-wise, to pearled barley. Other than that, I think this was a pretty tasty soup…not my best work, but good for a simple, healthy meal.

Vegetable-Barley Soup
serves 4 to 6

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, roughly chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 quarts low-sodium beef, chicken, or vegetable stock (the richer the better)
2 tomatoes, diced
1 sprig fresh rosemary
2 sprigs fresh thyme
1 parmesan rind (optional, but highly recommended)
1/3 cup pearled barley
2 big handfuls stemless dark leafy greens (such as mustard greens, Swiss chard, or kale), chopped
3 cups chopped summer squash
Grated parmesan and extra-virgin olive oil, for topping

Heat a large stockpot over medium heat. Add oil and onions, and cook until onions start to soften, about 3 minutes. Add garlic, and stir frequently until everything is soft and gold. Pour in broth, then add tomatoes (with any accumulated juices), herbs, and parmesan rind. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Taste broth, and add salt if needed.

Add barley, stir, and cover. Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer soup for 30 minutes. Add greens and squash, and stir to combine. Cook 20 to 30 minutes more, or until the vegetables are very tender and the barley is cooked. Remove herb stems and parmesan rind. Top each bowl with a generous amount of parmesan cheese, and a drizzle of good olive oil. Serve.

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It’s so chilly in Birmingham right now, especially in the wake of Ida’s daylong downpour yesterday. I woke up thinking of a comfy bowl of hot oats. At this point, there’s probably not much I can tell you about oatmeal that you don’t already know. But I had this idea today, and it turned out to be a yummy one: I cooked my oatmeal in Georgia apple cider. I also added chunks of Alabama apples and a generous dose of cinnamon while the oats cooked, so the whole thing ended up like the interior of a sweet-tart apple crumble. I prefer tangier flavors to sweeter ones, so I didn’t add any brown sugar, but I might next time to round it all out. At the last minute, I spied a bag of shredded coconut and decided to toss some in. It was absolutely perfect.

How do you like your oatmeal? Do you have any favorite cooking liquids besides the standard water and/or milk? Add-ins that make it a go-to breakfast? Do share. I’m rediscovering my love of this rustic morning food.

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After my somewhat anxiety-inducing msakkhan attempt, I felt like taking on a simpler Arabic dish. Fortunately for me, imjadara, one of Jason’s very favorite meals, is pretty fail-safe. A couldn’t-be-simpler combination of brown lentils and white rice is topped with a tangle of super-soft, golden onions that are cooked until melted and sweet and a crunchy little salad of cucumbers and tomatoes. The onions are, in the opinion of chez Thin Chef, what really makes the imjadara (say im-JUH-duh-ruh…roll the r) come together.

Fragrant cumin is the only spice my mother-in-law uses for this. (I think some recipes call for cinnamon, or other sundry warm spices.) This relies on very inexpensive ingredients that can be stocked and kept on hand at all times. A study in simplicity, this is a perfect meal for Arabic cooking 101.

Imjadara (Arabic Lentils + Rice)
serves 2 for dinner with leftovers
My in-laws serve this with plain yogurt for spooning on top. I love the yogurt added in, but it’s also perfectly fine without it.

5 large yellow or white onions, sliced thinly
5 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 cup brown lentils, rinsed and picked over
1 cup white rice
2 1/2 cups water
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 large, ripe tomato
1 cucumber, peeled and seeded
1 small lemon

Combine onions and 3 T oil in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring occasionally and adding splashes of water when the pan looks dry, until onions are very soft and quite brown, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine lentils, rice, water, salt, and cumin in a large Dutch oven over high heat. Bring to a boil, then cover and lower heat to medium-low. Keep mixture at a bare simmer, stirring it every so often. Cook for 20 to 25 minutes, or until water is absorbed.

While imjadara cooks, dice tomato and cucumber, and place in a medium bowl. Squeeze lemon over bowl (watch for seeds) and drizzle with 1 T oil. Add salt to taste, and stir to combine.

Fluff imjadara with a fork, drizzle with remaining oil, and taste for seasoning. Serve with a generous topping of caramelized onions, the tomato-cucumber salad, and plain yogurt, if you so desire.

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Last week’s CSA box contained a plump, perfect little pumpkin. The only pumpkins I’ve ever done anything with are the ones you carve a toothy grin and funny eyes into. I’d read stories about the type of pumpkin you actually cook, but I’d never attempted it.

Of course there are about a million things one can do with pumpkin puree (or just roasted pumpkin, for that matter) but the first thing that came to my mind was pumpkin bread…or, better yet, cupcakes that taste like pumpkin bread. Though I’m not usually one for sweets, pumpkin-spice bread is definitely a seasonal favorite…and if there’s ever a reason to eat cream-cheese frosting, well, you can sign me up.

Since we all know I’m not a baker, I went to Smitten Kitchen for a cupcake recipe, and looked to Elise for a cream-cheese frosting. I also called on my friend Amy, baking expert and photo stylist extraordinaire, to keep my scattered brain on track and to help make the pictures extra pretty.

Deb’s cupcake recipe called for cloves, but we subbed allspice. And, thanks to my gorgeous little pumpkin, the puree we used was fresh. I really do think it made a difference, though these will still be awesome using canned. And though the frosting tasted fabulous with just 3 cups of powdered sugar, I threw in probably another 3/4 cup in for extra fluffiness.

Below is how I roasted my pumpkin. If you have a food processor and you want to make something using pumpkin puree, I highly recommend making your own. It’s super easy and very fulfilling. Obviously, the yield depends on the size of the pumpkin you use…mine was probably 5-6 pounds, and it made right around 2 cups of puree.

Homemade Pumpkin Puree

Preheat the oven to 375º. Cut very top off pumpkin, to get rid of the stem, and discard. Use a long, sharp knife (one that’s heavy-duty) to cut the pumpkin in half lengthwise. Use a grapefruit spoon (or a regular one) to scoop out the strings and seeds. Save the seeds for roasting, or just throw it all away.

Place pumpkin cut side down, and cover loosely with foil. Roast until very tender, aynwhere from 50 minutes to 1 1/4 hours. Let cool until you can handle it, about 30 minutes. Scoop flesh from skin into a food processor. Process for 1-2 minutes, until it’s totally smooth.

If the puree seems overly wet (some pumpkins have a lot of moisture), strain through cheesecloth, squeezing out excess moisture. Use as you would canned puree.

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I’m a little late on this, but I figured I’d add my voice to the overwhelming number of food-blog posts written in response to last month’s announcement of Gourmet magazine’s closing. I’m still shocked and disheartened by the news…as schmaltzy as it sounds, it kind of felt like a mentor or a personal leader was leaving me. I remember picking up the magazine when I was in college and completely losing myself in the pages, finally understanding my interest in food and writing could actually lead to a career. Stories on faraway places and beautiful—if not intimidating—recipes never failed to inspire me. Ruth Reichl is someone I have long admired, and I think what she did at Gourmet was fantastic. I can’t wait to see what she does next.

Luisa posted on Twitter that she was going through all of the Gourmet.com web-exclusive recipes and saving those she wanted to try. Rumor has it that when the magazine closes its doors, the web site will be kaput, too. I followed her advice and searched the Gourmet.com archives. I found 40 or so recipes to print and save. (I was like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep, grabbing anything that looked good, lest it be gone tomorrow!)

Among those was Roasted Cauliflower Barley Risotto, a lovely twist on classic risotto. Chewy and perfect, this is the kind of dish that sates you fully on a cold night…but would also taste great in the middle of summer paired with a glass of chardonnay. Even if you don’t want to make it this week, or even this month, do yourself a favor and print this recipe today, because there’s no telling if you’ll be able to get it the next time you think to make it. And you should make it…it’s absolutely fantastic.

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I come by my love of sharing a meal with people very honestly. When I was little, every calendar (or made-up, or self-imposed) holiday was an excuse for a cookout or some other occasion to get together and eat. So, every July 4, memorial day, birthday, school holiday, etc., my immediate and extended family (the ones who live in Orlando) would gather for a meal.

Aunt Glo, my grandmother’s diminutive, curly-haired, sweet-souled sister, was always in attendance, and almost always contributed something delicious. Aunt Glo is one of those cooks whose love is clearly evident in her food. Most of the classic dishes she makes are painstaking and laborious, but with every succulent bite, you are thankful she took the time. My childhood memories are infused with the foods Aunt Glo (who also has an unabashed love of hot wings) lovingly made for us. Luscious, velvety chicken soup with hand-rolled dumplinglike noodles, pickled macaroni salad with precisely diced vegetables and a sugary, vinegary dressing, and those 50s-style Bisquick/sausage/cheddar balls that are so bad they’re good…plus crumbly, nutty pecan balls—my favorite cookies of all time. And I can still taste the fresh peach ice cream Glo’s late husband, Web, made every summer.

She’s someone who is comfortable in the kitchen, having spent a large chunk of her life cooking in a kitchen so tiny it is smaller than most closets. She knows all the tricks of the trade, and everything she makes comes out just right. One of my favorite tricks of Aunt Glo’s is her ingenious way of steaming the buns for an entire batch of burgers. We would often gather at Aunt Glo and Uncle Web’s thimble-sized house for summer cookouts, drinking Susie’s sweet iced tea, playing horseshoes, and swinging in the shade on the metal glider. When the burgers came off the grill, Aunt Glo immediately put each one between a soft, white bun, and then placed them back inside the thin plastic bread bag, securing it with the twist-tie. In just a few minutes, the buns were steamy hot, ready for grabbing out of the bag and dressing with French’s yellow mustard, fresh Florida tomatoes and iceberg lettuce.

A burger in a condensation-coated plastic bag is a snapshot from my formative years. Every now and again, I need a sentimental reminder of those good old days. Sure, I love a good crusty bun surrounding a gourmet burger, but sometimes…sometimes simple and familiar are exactly what I want.

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As I’ve mentioned before, one of the best parts about marrying a man of Palestinian descent is the food. Jason’s mom, Salwa, is a truly wonderful cook…a master of her native cuisine. I realized this one day as we were eating mashi (stuffed squash), kibbeh (bulgur + lamb patties), and hashweh (rice + lamb) made by someone who is not Jason’s mom. It was fine, it was familiar…but it was not the can’t-put-down-my-fork delicious food Salwa makes.

Perhaps it’s because of this mastery she has in the kitchen, but I have been intimidated by the comforting, spicy dishes that Jason (and now I) crave. I’m generally up for anything in the kitchen, attempting dishes from various nationalities, undaunted. But I had yet to try an Arabic dish until yesterday.

Msakkhan (roughly prounonced “im-sohcken” with a throaty second syllable) was traditionally regarded as peasant food. Its origins are Middle Eastern, but it’s basically one version of a casserole that’s made around the world (the Greek version, moussaka, is more well known).

There are lots of recipes for this around the web. When I made it yesterday, I made a few missteps that I’ve corrected using my mother-in-law’s technique. I followed the online recipes and baked the whole thing together. The bread stuck to the pan and got pretty sogged in chicken broth, which was still tasty, but not like Jason’s mom’s. Come to find out, she bakes the chicken and the onion bread separately, then combines them at the end. So that’s what I’m recommending here and how I’ll make it next time.

Though extremely simple, this is a somewhat time-consuming dish, but really, the long cooking spans are largely hands-off. Reddish-purple sumac, the predominant spice here, lends a slight sweet-tanginess while the cinnamon and nutmeg add a warm aroma that’s comforting and perfectly balanced. If you can’t find sumac at your grocery store (and I’m doubting you will be able to), look for it in Middle Eastern or Mediterranean markets, or online at Penzey’s.

Msakkhan (Arabic Chicken on Onion Bread)
serves 4

1 1/2 generous tablespoons finely ground sumac
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1 lemon, juiced
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 small chicken, quartered
3 large red onions, peeled and diced
2 tablespoons chicken stock
4 to 6 small pita bread rounds

Combine sumac, nutmeg, cinnamon, pepper, and salt in a medium bowl. Reserve 2 tablespoons of the mixture in another bowl, and set it aside. Squeeze the lemon juice over the rest of the mixture, and use a fork to combine. Add 2 tablespoons oil, and stir to combine.

Trim the chicken parts to remove excess skin and fat. In a large resealable plastic bag or a large bowl, combine the spice marinade and chicken pieces, and turn chicken to coat it really well in the marinade. Cover, and refrigerate for 3 hours.

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onions and reserved spice mixture, and stir to combine. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, or until onions begin to soften. Add chicken stock, and stir. Turn heat to low/medium-low, and cover pot. Cook onions, stirring every so often, until they are meltingly soft and have turned a nice purple color, about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 400º. Spray a large roasting pan with nonstick spray. Remove chicken from marinade, and shake off excess. Place chicken in the pan skin side up, and roast until the internal temperature reaches 165º on an instant-read thermometer, about 45 minutes to 1 hour.

Spray a large rimmed baking sheet with nonstick spray. Place pita bread in one even layer on the pan. Brush lightly with remaining 2 tablespoons oil. Spoon onions evenly atop bread, leaving a 1/2-inch border all the way around. Bake for 25 minutes, or until bread is deep golden brown. Top each piece of onion bread with a chicken quarter, and serve remaining pita on the side.

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This was officially the first really chilly day in Birmingham, but the cold was slowly seeping in all week in the form of drizzly rain, cloudiness, and general ick. Instead of my go-to comforting soup or baked-something-or-another, I took one glance at our CSA box brimming with ripe tomatoes and huge stems of green and purple basil and had an idea. If it couldn’t be warm and sunny outside, I’d cook something that would make it that way inside.

I made a quick tomato sauce with lots of fresh basil and tossed it with whole-wheat penne for just the right amount of heartiness. It was bright and warm and just the perfect way to really bid farewell to the warm weather and usher in the lovely fall. If it’s still warm enough where you are to have red, ripe tomatoes and fragrant, fresh basil, this is a great last taste of summer.

Simple Tomato-Basil Penne
serves 2

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon anchovy paste or 2 anchovies, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
Hot red pepper flakes, to taste
2 large or 3 medium ripe tomatoes, cored and diced
1/2 pound whole-wheat penne
1/4 cup fresh basil, julienned
Coarse salt, to taste

Heat olive oil in a large skillet with high sides or a saucepan over medium-low heat. Add anchovy paste, garlic, and red pepper flakes. Cook, stirring often, until fagrant, about 2 to 3 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high, and add tomatoes. Stir to combine.

Meanwhile, cook pasta until just underdone, when it’s still just a little too chewy in the middle. Drain, reserving about 1/2 cup of cooking liquid, and add pasta to the pan with the tomato sauce. Toss to combine; if the pan looks dry, add a splash of the reserved cooking water. Cook until the pasta is al dente, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add basil, and stir to combine. Taste, and add salt if it needs it.

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When I wrote a twitter update recently about wanting a butternut squash soup recipe, my friend and fellow food lover Lytle (great name, huh?) suggested her creative recipe for butternut squash bruschetta instead. Apparently it’s based on dishes served at Urban Flats, a chic, fun, Florida-based restaurant, and ‘Ino in New York, which I have written about before. Though it took me a second to warm up to the idea, as soon as I saw the ingredients, I knew it would be something delicious, and Lyt assured me the dish had been a huge hit when she’d made it before.

I tweaked it a bit, adding things (plain garlic, not roasted) and taking things out (dried cranberries) to suit our tastes and what I had on hand, but I’ll include Lytle’s original ingredients, too, so you can decide how you want to make it. Everything she listed sounded like they’d be perfect additions. Jason and I had this for dinner with a simple green salad, and it was just perfect…but it would be a delicious appetizer, just served on smaller pieces of bread. (I cut mine into giant hand-size slices since it was dinner. And since I take any excuse I can to eat hand-size crostini.)

I also added some goat cheese at the last minute, after my first bite, because I thought the cool creaminess would be a nice accent. I was right—it was fabulous. So add some in, or not…it’s pretty darn good any way you make it. I’ll definitely make this again with the squash we get in our CSA box…and I imagine this would be delicious with any winter squash, including pumpkin. I have to give major props (in the most old-school R&B way possible) to miss Lytle for showing me an addictively delicious way to enjoy this seasonal favorite.

Butternut Squash Bruschetta
serves 2 dinner, 4 or 6 as an appetizer

2 cups peeled, seeded, and diced butternut squash, diced
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 to 2 tablespoons honey
1/2 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
Pinch of black pepper
2 cloves garlic, minced OR 1 head roasted garlic, cloves removed and roughly chopped
1/4 cup dried cranberries (use more or less, depending on your tastes, or leave them out altogether)
10 toasted walnuts, roughly chopped
2 tablespoons cooked and crumbled bacon (optional — but do it. Trust me.)
French baguette, cut on a bias into as many slices as you’d like
1/3 cup arugula, chopped (optional, but recommended)
Balsamic vinegar, for drizzling
4 tablespoons crumbled goat cheese

Preheat oven to 400º. In a medium bowl, toss squash with olive oil honey, mixing gently to combine. Add pepper flakes, salt, and pepper, stirring to coat. Add raw garlic, if using. Spread the squash mixture evenly on an ungreased baking sheet. Roast 10 minutes, then gently stir ingredients, then roast 10-15 minutes more, checking with a fork to see when squash are tender and slightly browned. Remove from oven, and let cool to room temperature.

Meanwhile, brush baguette slices lightly with olive oil, and toast in the oven until golden brown, about 3 to 5 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine the cooled squash mixture with roasted garlic (if using instead of raw), cranberries, walnuts, and bacon. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper, as needed. Arrange the toasted baguette slices on a platter and scatter the chopped arugula over the bread. Scoop a generous helping of the squash mixture onto each baguette slice, and garnish with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar, and top with goat cheese. Serve immediately.

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