Cranberry-Quince Chutney

Cranberry sauce. You can't have Thanksgiving without it. Although a (small) part of me holds a fond remembrance for the canned sauce (you know, the one that held the "can" shape), there is something true and good about making your own. And thankfully, unlike pumpkin, England embraces the cranberry (as they also feature cranberry sauce as part of their traditional Christmas meal) which makes it relatively easy to find in the markets around this time of year.

Along these lines though, I can't help but yield to the experimentalist when it comes to cranberry sauce. Every food website even marginally connected with the US right now features at least 10 recipes for varieties on the sauce. Thick, thin, spicy, sweet, you can find almost any ingredient or style you could imagine. After spending way too many hours on the internet scrolling through versions of the "world's best cranberry sauce", I ended up going with the recipe found in my ancient copy of the Thanksgiving 2009 issue of Food & Wine. This was perhaps the last physical copy of a recipe magazine I ever purchased, but it has proved its use for two years now and I can't fault it yet. Although I would never make a quince cranberry sauce in the US (good luck trying to find them in Arizona), England also seems to be busting out all over with the fruits currently, making tracking down ingredients a cinch. It did make an absolute vat-full of sauce however, so if you're NOT planning on feeding 30 people at your next Thanksgiving, you might want to think about halving the recipe.

Time: 1 hour

Makes: 6 cups

Ingredients
1 tbsp. canola oil
1 small onion, minced
2 tbsp. minced fresh ginger
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1 star anise pod
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup cider vinegar
3 quinces (8 ounces each), peeled, cored, and finely diced
1 Granny Smith apple: peeled, cored, and finely diced
1 12-ounce bag fresh/frozen cranberries (or 340 grams)
1/2 cup golden raisins

Method
In a large saucepan, heat the oil. Add the onion, ginger, garlic, allspice, and star anise and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until the onion is softened, about 5 minutes.

Add the sugar, vinegar, and 1 cup of water and bring to a simmer. Add the quince, apple, cranberries, and raisins and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until thick and jammy, about 25 minutes.

Discard the star anise. Serve the chutney warm or chilled.

Fried Chickpeas with Chorizo and Kale

This is the best kind of "weeknight dinner" recipe. It's fast, simple, and perhaps the tastiest thing in the world. It also is phenomenal because it also technically could count as a "one pot" dish. Although I'm not sure Bittman would classify it as a main course, I've always thought of it as one. Basically because it's so delicious I never want anything else.

Although Bittman technically calls for spinach with this recipe, I prefer kale. It's texture is a bit richer and it fries up wonderfully under the broiler, giving it the perfect toasted crispness to go with the chorizo and chickpeas.

Also, for this recipe, the use of Spanish chorizo is a must. Any other sausage doesn't have the rich pepperiness of the Spanish variety and the simplicity of the dish requires a bit more of a kick from the meat. If you want to up the tastiness/smokiness factor even more, I recommend adding even more paprika (and perhaps even some cayenne) to the chickpeas as they're frying in the oil. It boosts the flavor wonderfully.

Paprika-ed chickpeas

Ingredients

1/4 cup olive oil, plus more for drizzling

2 cups cooked or canned chickpeas, as dry as possible

2 tsp. paprika

Salt and black pepper

4 ounces chorizo, diced

1/2 pound spinach, kale, or chard roughly chopped (I prefer kale)

1/4 cup sherry

1 to 2 cups bread crumbs

Method
Heat the broiler or grill.

Put three tablespoons of the oil in a skillet large enough to hold chickpeas in one layer over medium-high heat. When it’s hot, add chickpeas and sprinkle with salt and pepper and the paprika.

Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until chickpeas begin to brown, about 10 minutes, then add chorizo. Continue cooking for another 5 to 8 minutes or until chickpeas are crisp; use a slotted spoon to remove chickpeas and chorizo from pan and set aside.

Add the remainder of the 1/4 cup of oil to the pan; when it’s hot, add spinach and sherry, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and cook spinach over medium-low heat until very soft and the liquid has evaporated. Add chickpeas and chorizo back to the pan and toss quickly to combine; top with bread crumbs, drizzle with a bit more oil and run pan under the broiler to lightly brown the top.

Serve hot or at room temperature.

Yield: 4 servings.

Spiced Brown Sugar Carrot Bread

Well, I've finally done it. I gave in to the power of the veg box. No longer will I trawl the aisles searching desperately for fresh swede, tomatoes, or spinach. No, no. Every Tuesday, like clockwork, a very nice man deposits a very large box of farm-fresh vegetables outside my doorstep. Alongside any other little niceties I've decided to order from them that week. Which has recently included squash, bread, and even a pumpkin for Halloween. Just to make my veg box people (Abel & Cole) extra-loveable, they have a habit of including free things each week with their delivery. This week was milk. Bless them.

But with the powers of the veg box come great responsibilities. The household now has more fresh nutritious vegetables than it often knows what to do with. We have heaps of onions. Bags of potatoes. Gallons of spinach. And acres upon acres of carrots. This has produced more than a few glorious stir fries, but you can only use so many carrots in one stir fry before things start to go...a bit orange.

So what better way to use up all the bounty of the earth than to make quick breads? Carrots are particularly fabulous for this purpose, and considering that we're moving into the winter season, they are wonderfully warming. Despite the fabulous successes of previous carrot bread recipes, I went out on a lark and took the first one I could find from the Internet. I was particularly struck by the use of cardamom in the recipe. So, why not? Come on Food & Wine, show me what you got.

And, oh yes, that worked quite nicely. The crispy brown layer of sugar on the top makes this bread particularly more-ish, and the inclusion of cardamom is a nice subtle layer that doesn't override the other traditional flavors of vanilla and cinnamon. I do however highly recommend making sure you have greased your pan adequately. Despite loving attention to detail, my bread refused to unstick from its loaf tin moorings, resulting in far more crumbs and bite-size pieces than standard "slices". Ah well, still tastes great.

Makes: 1 loaf

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoons cinnamon
1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon crushed cardamom seeds
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1 cups packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup canola oil
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Grated zest of 1/2 lemon
1 1/4 cups shredded carrots (about 7 ounces)

Method:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°. Coat 1 8-by-4-inch loaf pan with cooking spray or grease and lightly flour the pan.
2. In a medium bowl, combine the flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, cardamom and salt.
3. In a large bowl, beat the eggs with the light brown sugar and granulated sugar until smooth. Add the oil in a thin stream, beating at high speed until the batter has doubled in volume, about 2 minutes. Beat in the vanilla and lemon zest. Fold in the shredded carrots. Beat in the dry ingredients at low speed in 3 batches, mixing well between additions.
4. Pour the batter into the prepared pan, filling it two-thirds full. Bake in the middle of the oven for 50 minutes to 1 hour, or until a cake tester inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean. Let the loaf cool in the pans for 10 minutes before turning them out onto a rack to cool completely.

MAKE AHEAD Wrap the bread tightly in plastic and store at room temperature for up to 3 days or freeze for up to 2 months.

Nori Chips

I love to snack. Particularly before dinner in that 5-6pm dead space when you know it's too early to eat a full meal but late enough in the day when your brain naturally tends towards thoughts of culinary pleasure.

But snacking, as we have been told so often, is dangerous. Sure, you tell yourself you'll only nibble, so as to take "the edge off" but not spoil your dinner. But, if you're like me, this plan often comes to ruin. The cheese, the crackers, the nuts. Too often they do exactly what you had feared. Fill you up before you can enjoy the glories of dinner. This is a problem.

Which is why nori chips could perhaps be the best thing for the perpetual snacker. They are absolutely delicious: just enough saltiness to satisfy that nut/chip craving, but light enough so that it's physically impossible to spoil your dinner with them. They are literally "melt in your mouth" delicious.
Again, I must thank Bittman for this recipe. In his vegetarian cookbook, he repeatedly sings the praises of "seagreens" (seaweed to you and me). He puts them in everything as a filler, topping, or side dish, but I was more intrigued by the snack version of nori. Just as he promised, they literally took seconds to make (and seconds to eat). As long as you can find seaweed sushi wrappers in your grocery store, you're golden. No extra special version is required. Dark sesame oil is best for these, just because it adds just another hint of flavor, but whatever oil you can find will work perfectly.

Honestly, I know they look weird. Just try them. Your snacking self will thank you.

Ingredients
6 sheets nori
2 tablespoons dark sesame oil
Salt

Method
Put a skillet over medium high heat. Brush the nori with the sesame oil and sprinkle with salt. Put a single nori sheet in the pan and toast it until it shrinks up, about 15 seconds. Turn it over and toast the other side for 15 seconds.

Use scissors to cut the sheets into rectangular "chips". Serve within a few hours.

Vegetarian Posole with Mole

Anyone who knows me knows of my love of posole.
Or is it pozole?
Regardless, this is the single best thing about coming home to Phoenix. And not just any pos/zole. No, no. It must be made by Maria, goddess of Mexican cuisine, chef and owner of El Conquistador Mexican Restaurant. As is only right, she makes posole (both red and green) only on weekends, giving the broth time to marinate and thicken and become, in a word, wonderful.
Now, my personal favorite is her green variety. Made with pork, topped with slices of avocado and chicharrones (pork scratchings), and a healthy sprinkling of oregano, this soup is the stuff of dreams. Literally.
Because I'm unable to make the pilgrimage to the homelands very often, I'm always on the lookout for a posole recipe that could rival Maria's. And I have yet to find one. Too often they are thin watery things, with none of that fabulous deep rich flavor that makes Maria's so more-ish. Think more of a tortilla soup than a true hearty posole. And so I have been disappointed time and again when making them myself.
So when I saw a recipe in Bittman's Vegetarian cookbook, I was sure I was in for another let down. Yet my mother (who was a similar devotee of Maria's soups) has recently turned vegetarian, which has meant a sad new lack of posole in her life. I had to take pity and make this vegetarian version for her. We both knew it couldn't rival the Maria's, but still, we had to try.
And surprise, surprise! This may be the best homemade posole recipe I've found. Granted, there was a stunning lack of pork and thus it missed the rich meatiness to the original, but still, the thick broth, flavored with pumpkin seeds and tomatillos was spot on (also the addition of pork scratchings for my helping didn't hurt either). If I had a mind to make this for a non-vegetarian crowd, the addition of pork might send this recipe over the top to even rival Maria's version. I know this to be heresy, but still, Bittman deserves his credit for creating a vegetarian version of a soup that I thought to be solely within the realm of the meat-eating population.
Kudos, Bitty.
Kudos.

Makes: at least 8 servings

Ingredients
6 cups precooked hominy (i.e. canned)
1 1/2 cups freshly toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds, just toasted in a dry pan until lightly brown and popping)
4-6 cups vegetable stock (or chicken stock for the non-vegetarians)
1 large onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
4 medium poblano or other mild fresh green chiles, roasted and cleaned (I did mine under the broiler in the oven for about 5-10 minutes, remove the skin and seeds)
2 serrano or other hot green fresh chiles, roasted and cleaned (see above)
1 lb tomatillos (16-20 depending on size), husked and rinsed (canned are okay, but include their juices)
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons chopped epazote or radish greens (optional, I couldn't find any so mine was without)
1 tablespoon fresh oregano or marjoram leaves
salt and black pepper
1/4 neutral oil, like corn or grapeseed

Optional Toppings:
Sliced avocado

Chicharrones (pork scratchings/rinds)

Method
Place the pepitas and 1 cup of the stock in a blender or food processor; puree until smooth; transfer to a large bowl. Put the onion, garlic, chiles, tomatillos, herbs, and a large pinch of salt and pepper in the blend or food processor and puree until smooth (I had to do mine in batches, also add a bit more stock or water if necessary). Mix the tomatillo puree with the pumpkin seed puree.

Put the oil in a large pot over medium high heat; add the mixed puree and cook, stirring frequently, until it's dry, 10-15 minutes. Gradually stir in another 3 cups of the remaining stock; reduce the heat to a gentle bubble and cook, stirring occasionally, until thickened, another 15 minute or so.

Add the hominy. Taste and adjust the seasonings. Serve hot with various garnishes.