Showing posts with label parsnip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parsnip. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The Ultimate Winter Couscous
I had a couple of little butternut squashes that I’d been neglecting, and a turnip collection sat hopeful but lonely in the vegetable bin. It was time to find a good winter dish where they’d be put to use. That didn’t take long once I grabbed my copy of Plenty . The recipe really is called the ultimate winter couscous, but I don’t think that means you have to stick to it too precisely. You could use any type of winter squash, and turnips weren’t even mentioned in the ingredient list, but I was sure they’d be fine. What was in that list was carrots, parsnips, shallots, dried apricots, chickpeas, chopped preserved lemon, harissa, and lots of spices. The vegetables were to be roasted until tender and sweet, and I could imagine the smell of the spices filling the kitchen before the oven was even warmed. I think this is the ultimate winter dish because it really couldn’t go wrong. It was full of warm spice flavors, sweet roasted charm, and perky acidity and heat.
First, big chunks of all the vegetables needed to be roasted, and I used carrots, parsnips, turnips, and butternut squash. Shallots were added to the roasting pan along with cinnamon sticks, star anise, bay leaves, ground ginger, ground turmeric, hot paprika, chile flakes, olive oil, and salt. After roasting for a bit, chopped dried apricots, chickpeas, and a little water were added to the pan. Just before the vegetables were ready, couscous was added to boiling water with saffron and olive oil. After the couscous had absorbed the water, butter was added, and the couscous was mixed and fluffed. When the roasting pan was removed from the oven, a big spoonful of harissa and some chopped preserved lemon rind were stirred into the vegetables. The couscous was served topped with the roasted vegetables and some chopped cilantro leaves.
This was such a fragrant dish, and it hit on just about every flavor you can name. The preserved lemon added little sparks of brightness here and there while the cilantro brought some fresh herbiness. The flavors of all the vegetables had become sweeter and more intense from roasting, and the spices permeated each bite. This was an ultimate winter dish, and I’ll remember it next time my butternut squash or turnips or parsnips are feeling overlooked.
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First, big chunks of all the vegetables needed to be roasted, and I used carrots, parsnips, turnips, and butternut squash. Shallots were added to the roasting pan along with cinnamon sticks, star anise, bay leaves, ground ginger, ground turmeric, hot paprika, chile flakes, olive oil, and salt. After roasting for a bit, chopped dried apricots, chickpeas, and a little water were added to the pan. Just before the vegetables were ready, couscous was added to boiling water with saffron and olive oil. After the couscous had absorbed the water, butter was added, and the couscous was mixed and fluffed. When the roasting pan was removed from the oven, a big spoonful of harissa and some chopped preserved lemon rind were stirred into the vegetables. The couscous was served topped with the roasted vegetables and some chopped cilantro leaves.
This was such a fragrant dish, and it hit on just about every flavor you can name. The preserved lemon added little sparks of brightness here and there while the cilantro brought some fresh herbiness. The flavors of all the vegetables had become sweeter and more intense from roasting, and the spices permeated each bite. This was an ultimate winter dish, and I’ll remember it next time my butternut squash or turnips or parsnips are feeling overlooked.
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Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Braised Root Vegetables with du Puy Lentils and Red Wine Sauce
"This dish is for when you want to fuss a bit" is how Deborah Madison begins her intro to the recipe. True. It’s also for when you want incredible, lingering aromas in your kitchen and a richly flavored sauce. I would also say this is a mind-changing meal for anyone who thinks vegetables are boring. I read Local Flavors last summer and made use of some local bounty with a few recipes from the book. I also tucked this recipe into the back of my mind for when winter arrived. The stew is made with parsnips, carrots, mushrooms, and herbs, and it’s served with lentils and potato puree. I just happened to have some du Puy lentils sent to me by my favorite Parisian cowgirl and a little package of dried porcini from our nearby Italian market, and the time had come for a slow-braised meal. So, yes, there was some fussing and use of several pots and pans and lots of chopping, but it was all very simple and very worth it.
You begin with the sauce which contained a lot of the same ingredients as the braised vegetables. You can use the trimmings from the mushrooms and parsnips which will be braised in the next step. Those trimmings were combined with onion, carrot, celery, garlic, thyme, a bay leaf, and some rosemary and were cooked in a large pot until the vegetables browned. Meanwhile, dried porcini were rehydrated in warm water. After the vegetables browned, tomato paste, flour, red wine, and the porcini and the soaking liquid were added. That was left to simmer for 45 minutes, it was then strained and further simmered to reduce a bit, some soy sauce was added, and butter was whisked into the sauce. See, that was easy, but just a little fussy, right? When you smell the sauce simmering, though, and I have to pause on that memory for a moment, you won’t mind. Next, it was on to the braised vegetables. Carrots, shallots, and parsnips were browned in a wide skillet. Mushrooms, a bay leaf, thyme, and minced rosemary were added. Some of the sauce was poured over the vegetables, and they were simmered for 25 minutes. At the same time, the lentils were cooked in water and drained, and then butter and some sauce were added. One more step would have been preparing potato or rutabaga and potato puree, but I got lucky here. I had some leftover mashed potatoes in the freezer which made quick work of that part of the dish. Certainly, this could be prepared over the course of a couple of days. You could prep all the vegetables and start with the sauce one day, and then wait to braise the stew vegetables and cook the lentils the next day.
The potato puree was mounded in a wide, shallow bowl. Some lentils were placed next to it, and the vegetables nestled all around in the red wine sauce. I would argue this dish was the boeuf bourguignon of the vegetarian world. The sauce’s flavors were layered and complex. The braised vegetables and lentils were steeped in those flavors, and the potato puree rounded out this ideal, winter comfort food. Next time I decide I want to 'fuss a bit,' I’ll at least double the quantity of sauce so I can stock my freezer for a lazy day.
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You begin with the sauce which contained a lot of the same ingredients as the braised vegetables. You can use the trimmings from the mushrooms and parsnips which will be braised in the next step. Those trimmings were combined with onion, carrot, celery, garlic, thyme, a bay leaf, and some rosemary and were cooked in a large pot until the vegetables browned. Meanwhile, dried porcini were rehydrated in warm water. After the vegetables browned, tomato paste, flour, red wine, and the porcini and the soaking liquid were added. That was left to simmer for 45 minutes, it was then strained and further simmered to reduce a bit, some soy sauce was added, and butter was whisked into the sauce. See, that was easy, but just a little fussy, right? When you smell the sauce simmering, though, and I have to pause on that memory for a moment, you won’t mind. Next, it was on to the braised vegetables. Carrots, shallots, and parsnips were browned in a wide skillet. Mushrooms, a bay leaf, thyme, and minced rosemary were added. Some of the sauce was poured over the vegetables, and they were simmered for 25 minutes. At the same time, the lentils were cooked in water and drained, and then butter and some sauce were added. One more step would have been preparing potato or rutabaga and potato puree, but I got lucky here. I had some leftover mashed potatoes in the freezer which made quick work of that part of the dish. Certainly, this could be prepared over the course of a couple of days. You could prep all the vegetables and start with the sauce one day, and then wait to braise the stew vegetables and cook the lentils the next day.
The potato puree was mounded in a wide, shallow bowl. Some lentils were placed next to it, and the vegetables nestled all around in the red wine sauce. I would argue this dish was the boeuf bourguignon of the vegetarian world. The sauce’s flavors were layered and complex. The braised vegetables and lentils were steeped in those flavors, and the potato puree rounded out this ideal, winter comfort food. Next time I decide I want to 'fuss a bit,' I’ll at least double the quantity of sauce so I can stock my freezer for a lazy day.
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Labels:
carrots,
lentils,
local flavors,
mushrooms,
parsnip,
porcini,
potatoes,
vegetarian
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Sweet Potato and Root Vegetable Gratin with Sweet Potato Sauce
Having already planned the fried chicken night, my goal was to locate a light vegetable side to go with the leftovers the next night. Another piece of my goal was to use some winter roots one more time before the season is gone. Most people are doing their best to rush spring into place, but I wanted to hang on to winter for just a moment longer. In truth, winter is actually already gone here in Austin. It was 88 degrees last Friday, and it’s going to be about 80 each day this week. And, spring doesn’t really happen; it just flits by and waves as it ushers in the ferocious heat of summer. I’m not complaining, really, the summer heat doesn’t bother me too much, but I did want to pretend that winter wasn’t gone just yet.
Needing a light, wintry, vegetable dish led me to Taste Pure and Simple by Michel Nischan. This book is all about applying healthful cooking techniques to pristine ingredients to create dishes that are pure in flavor and not masked by excess seasoning or fat. Fruit and vegetable juices are reduced and made into sauces without added starches or butter, while the main ingredients’ true characteristics are allowed to shine. I’ve had this book for a few years, and the reason I haven’t cooked from it more is that I don’t own a juice extractor. Making this root vegetable gratin with sweet potato sauce depended on locating some sweet potato juice. I wondered if I could find a bottled vegetable juice that would be close or maybe even a squash juice. No such luck. I asked at Whole Foods, and the juice guy, who had never seen sweet potato juice, suggested I sweet talk the folks at the juice and smoothie counter into making some for me. Thank you again to the juice and smoothie counter ladies who so kindly played along and obliged my unique request. They had never juiced sweet potatoes but were willing to give it a try. Two large sweet potatoes produced a large plastic cup full of juice, and all the other ingredients I needed were very easy to find.
The gratin was built with layers of thinly sliced rutabaga, russet potato, sweet potato, and parsnip. The layers were stacked and repeated, and each layer was seasoned with salt and pepper. Minced onion was spread in the middle. This was covered and baked for 50 minutes. At that point, the gratin was removed from the oven, the parchment and foil covering was removed, the top was sprayed with oil, it was sprinkled with chopped parsley, chives, and sage, and it was returned to the oven for another 20 minutes. Meanwhile, the sweet potato juice was poured into a saucepan while leaving the collected starches at the bottom of the cup. It was reduced to one cup and then left to steep with sliced ginger, chopped Thai chiles, and lemon juice. I tasted this as it was stirred and strained the sauce once the ginger and chiles had imparted their flavors.
I wondered if the gratin with no cream or cheese or butter would taste of boringness and earth or if the root vegetables and onion would develop into something fantastic on their own. Develop they did. This was full of bright, vegetable flavor without any heaviness. There is plenty of moisture in the vegetables which prevented the gratin from being dry. Really tasting each vegetable layered upon one another was delightful. The sauce was sweet and spicy and rich but only in flavor. Really experiencing the simplicity of ingredients is a lovely thing, and it greatly reduces the guilt of eating fried food for two meals in a row.
Needing a light, wintry, vegetable dish led me to Taste Pure and Simple by Michel Nischan. This book is all about applying healthful cooking techniques to pristine ingredients to create dishes that are pure in flavor and not masked by excess seasoning or fat. Fruit and vegetable juices are reduced and made into sauces without added starches or butter, while the main ingredients’ true characteristics are allowed to shine. I’ve had this book for a few years, and the reason I haven’t cooked from it more is that I don’t own a juice extractor. Making this root vegetable gratin with sweet potato sauce depended on locating some sweet potato juice. I wondered if I could find a bottled vegetable juice that would be close or maybe even a squash juice. No such luck. I asked at Whole Foods, and the juice guy, who had never seen sweet potato juice, suggested I sweet talk the folks at the juice and smoothie counter into making some for me. Thank you again to the juice and smoothie counter ladies who so kindly played along and obliged my unique request. They had never juiced sweet potatoes but were willing to give it a try. Two large sweet potatoes produced a large plastic cup full of juice, and all the other ingredients I needed were very easy to find.
The gratin was built with layers of thinly sliced rutabaga, russet potato, sweet potato, and parsnip. The layers were stacked and repeated, and each layer was seasoned with salt and pepper. Minced onion was spread in the middle. This was covered and baked for 50 minutes. At that point, the gratin was removed from the oven, the parchment and foil covering was removed, the top was sprayed with oil, it was sprinkled with chopped parsley, chives, and sage, and it was returned to the oven for another 20 minutes. Meanwhile, the sweet potato juice was poured into a saucepan while leaving the collected starches at the bottom of the cup. It was reduced to one cup and then left to steep with sliced ginger, chopped Thai chiles, and lemon juice. I tasted this as it was stirred and strained the sauce once the ginger and chiles had imparted their flavors.
I wondered if the gratin with no cream or cheese or butter would taste of boringness and earth or if the root vegetables and onion would develop into something fantastic on their own. Develop they did. This was full of bright, vegetable flavor without any heaviness. There is plenty of moisture in the vegetables which prevented the gratin from being dry. Really tasting each vegetable layered upon one another was delightful. The sauce was sweet and spicy and rich but only in flavor. Really experiencing the simplicity of ingredients is a lovely thing, and it greatly reduces the guilt of eating fried food for two meals in a row.
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Labels:
parsnip,
rutabaga,
sweet potato,
taste pure and simple
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Winter Kaleidoscope
I returned home after a great week in Ireland and got to pick up some fresh CSA vegetables the next morning. The carrots, radishes, and daikon were bright and beautiful. It’s the crispness of radishes and the sharp, peppery flavor that I like, and I usually always eat them raw. However, I have been intrigued by a few dishes I’ve seen lately involving cooking radishes. I pulled Patricia Wells’ Vegetable Harvest from the shelf and found a warm salad nicely suited to the season and these fine vegetables I’d just acquired. In the book, Wells tells the story of the first delivery of fresh vegetables she received in Paris, how colorful and fresh they were, and the recipe that was included. That recipe is close to what you see here, but I had to make a couple of changes.
Jerusalem artichokes were to be included, but there were none at the grocery store and therefore none in my version of the dish. I also left out the turnips because I had both red and watermelon radishes. So, my vegetable melange included: carrots, red radishes, watermelon radishes, daikon, parsnips, and garlic. Now, the 16 cloves of garlic suggested in the recipe may sound like a lot, but they become mild and lovely as they cook. All the vegetables are to be very thinly sliced and then cooked over low heat with cumin, espelette, and a little olive oil. My pantry was missing piment d’espelette, I need to order some along with fennel pollen and more Aleppo pepper, so I used a small bit of cayenne instead. Everything cooked together, covered, for 20 minutes. Once on the plate, fragrant walnut oil was dribbled about, and I added some chopped parsley as well. The low heat ensures the vegetables retain some crunch but yield just slightly. I would suggest cooking the parsnips for a few minutes on their own and then adding everything else. Their texture was a little firmer than that of the other items, but it could have just been that the store bought parsnips weren’t as amazingly fresh as the CSA produce.
The dish was nicely spiced by cumin and cayenne, and the walnut oil accented it very well. It’s an uncomplicated preparation, but each element played an important part, so don’t skip the walnut oil or cumin. The colors were thrilling and added to the sense of freshness. This warm but crisp salad with some rosemary roast chicken made a simple and delicious fall meal.
Jerusalem artichokes were to be included, but there were none at the grocery store and therefore none in my version of the dish. I also left out the turnips because I had both red and watermelon radishes. So, my vegetable melange included: carrots, red radishes, watermelon radishes, daikon, parsnips, and garlic. Now, the 16 cloves of garlic suggested in the recipe may sound like a lot, but they become mild and lovely as they cook. All the vegetables are to be very thinly sliced and then cooked over low heat with cumin, espelette, and a little olive oil. My pantry was missing piment d’espelette, I need to order some along with fennel pollen and more Aleppo pepper, so I used a small bit of cayenne instead. Everything cooked together, covered, for 20 minutes. Once on the plate, fragrant walnut oil was dribbled about, and I added some chopped parsley as well. The low heat ensures the vegetables retain some crunch but yield just slightly. I would suggest cooking the parsnips for a few minutes on their own and then adding everything else. Their texture was a little firmer than that of the other items, but it could have just been that the store bought parsnips weren’t as amazingly fresh as the CSA produce.
The dish was nicely spiced by cumin and cayenne, and the walnut oil accented it very well. It’s an uncomplicated preparation, but each element played an important part, so don’t skip the walnut oil or cumin. The colors were thrilling and added to the sense of freshness. This warm but crisp salad with some rosemary roast chicken made a simple and delicious fall meal.
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Labels:
carrots,
daikon,
parsnip,
radish,
warm salad
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