Sesame-Crusted Baked Tofu

Like a blank artist's canvas, I love the transformative potential of tofu. You can coat it in any spices, and it takes on that flavor. You can bake it, and the texture changes.

Every tofu recipe I make is a little bit different.

It keeps life interesting.

This tofu dish is just delicious. The tofu soaks in an Asian marinade with a bit of heat. The sesame seeds add a bit of texture and crunch; they're slightly toasted by the time the tofu finishes cooking. The baking (a major change I made to the recipe) keeps the dish even healthier.

Served on a bed of greens, it's the perfect vegan supper.

It's back to the drawing board for me. I've get several more blocks of tofu in the fridge to experiment with!

Raw Kale Salad with Apples and Almonds

Last weekend I walked through the farmers' market with my friend Marie. The farmers' market had the last remnants of summer produce, and all the fall produce was already in. We meandered slowly through the stalls, taking it all in.

The apples kept catching my eye. We debated whether to buy them. They'll be there at the market all winter, holding on long after the grapes and leafy greens and heirloom tomatoes are gone. By February, I know I'll be sick of them.

But these were the fresh-picked apples. It had been 10 months since there were crisp, new apples available. They're fantastically different, almost unrecognizable from their counterparts that had graced farmers' market stands all summer.

I bought them (if you hadn't already guessed I was leaning that way). And they were fantastic.

Those apples and a beautiful bundle of kale inspired this salad. I wanted something that would showcase both ingredients. It comes together in minutes, and the individual flavors elevate when combined.

The salad keeps beautifully over night, so it's perfect to make ahead to bring to a early morning brunch (or mid-afternoon book club meeting). 

Barley Risotto

It's 61 degrees right now. Absolutely gorgeous out. I spent the morning outside, walking to the post office to pick up a much-awaited package, getting pumpkin muffins from my favorite local bakery, enjoying a rich cup of coffee.

Today is the day to be outside, to enjoy the spring day that's been given to us as a special treat. It's a day to visit the farmers' market and pick through the vegetables without freezing your hands.

It's not really a day to make barley risotto, although if you made it, you wouldn't complain. Barley risotto is perfect for those cold winter nights when wind whips at your windows and you want nothing more than to be curled up on the couch with your down comforter. It's for those nights when you're tired of soup.

This risotto has got a little more bite and texture to it than its arborio risotto cousin. It's a little healthier for you, with a bit more fiber than usual. The cheese is totally optional, and I've been omitting it lately, but it's certainly delicious, and it will make the risotto a bit creamier. The barley risotto on its own lacks the creaminess of arborio risotto, but I find that a welcome change. It's hard to eat risotto five day sin a row as leftovers, but when it's barley, you can get away with it.

And, best of all, pearled barley is cheap. The grocery store around the corner sells a bag for $1.19. That makes about 10 servings of risotto.

Swiss Chard Cannelloni

Every once in a while, I start something and just want to give up. You know that feeling where absolutely nothing is going right. Maybe it's the day when you get home from graduate school, which you went to after work, and all you have the energy to do is microwave the last bit of leftovers from a previous dinner. Then, when you're carrying the hot bowl across the floor because, really, you can't be expected to wait two minutes for it to cool down, you drop it, sending your dinner flying across the floor. And you think, maybe I wasn't meant to eat dinner tonight after all.

That's how I felt with these cannelloni.

It all started with the swiss chard filling. I put my onions on to caramelize in my hot July kitchen, and an hour later, they weren't even close to the color or taste I desired. I sauteed down the swiss chard, which disappeared into almost nothingness in the pan, nowhere near enough to fill pans of cannelloni. Then, I added the mascarpone and parmesan. They seemed like such a good addition as I was measuring them out, but once mixed in, they gave the whole mixture this unusual pinkish color. I threw in an egg to bind the mixture together, and immediately regretted it. The whole mixture looked a little slimy.

I responded by hurriedly pouring the filling into a jar before it had cooled and putting it in the fridge. Then I deleted almost every picture of the swiss chard filling from my camera because I just knew it wasn't going to work. I almost threw the filling in the trash.

But when I woke up the next morning, my pasta maker was calling to me from the top of our kitchen cabinets. It's been so long since you've made homemade pasta, the little voice echoed.

So, forgetting everything that had transpired the day before, I climbed up on a stool and got it down. And, somehow, my luck began to change. The pasta dough came together beautifully. It rolled out in somewhat even sheets that were easy to cut. The cannelloni squares boiled up in less than two minutes and became even easier to work with as they sat and dried a bit. My tomato sauce benefited from the simple addition of onion and butter. And making the cannelloni was much easier than making the shrimp tortellini I had attempted for my first homemade pasta recipe.

I prepared three fillings for the cannelloni, out of necessity, really. My swiss chard filling didn't fill as many cannelloni as I originally intended, so I whipped up a quick tomato, onion and mascarpone filling. When they ran out, I mixed some boiled peas with mascarpone so that I could use up the leftover noodles. By the time I finished, I had three pans of cannelloni: one for dinner that night and two to freeze up for future consumption.

The real test came at dinner that night.

I pulled the cannelloni out of the oven after a 20-minute cook. The sauce bubbled. The parmesan grated on top was browned. I slid the cannelloni out of the pan and onto my plate, being sure to scrape up all the extra sauce. I sliced into the cannelloni with my knife and took my first bite.

Perhaps they weren't such a disaster after all.

Spinach-Ricotta Gnocchi and a Simple Tomato Sauce

There have been only a handful of times in my life when I've had really good gnocchi.

Thomas's apartment in Brooklyn where I had my first ricotta gnocchi. They were light, fluffy and tender, things I didn't know gnocchi could be. Each one had the little indentations added by hand.

A little Italian restaurant in Brooklyn where I had butternut squash gnocchi this fall. Each one was like a little pillow, and my fork just sliced right through them.

A roadside restaurant we stopped at while journeying to a villa in Italy several summers ago. These were potato gnocchi. Perhaps they were really as amazing as I remember, or perhaps I was overtaken by the scenery  The restaurant overlooked the Amalfi coast, and our charming host ended our meal with espresso with lemon peel and shots of limoncello.

And now, thanks to Marcella Hazan, I can add these spinach-ricotta gnocchi to the list (and I can cross it off my summer cooking plans list).

Marcella Hazan is the sixth woman on Gourmet Magazine's list of 50 Women Game Changers in food history. Gourmet Magazine wrote: "Marcella made Italian cucina make sense. She broke it down for us, explained the regions, and her meticulous recipes are so reliable. She banished the red-sauce image forever."

Hazan is considered to be one of the foremost authorities on Italian cooking. She discovered her passion after she married an American man who was enamored with food and struggled to create the dishes from her Italian childhood out of the American supermarkets. She initially turned down a cookbook deal, saying she didn't write in English. Her husband Victor ended up recording all of her recipes in English and has continued that for all of her cookbooks.

Some of her most popular cookbooks include Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, Marcella's Italian Kitchen and Marcella Cucina.

Not only were her gnocchi tender and full of flavor, her simple tomato sauce was one of the best I can remember and couldn't have been simpler. A can of whole tomatoes, an onion peeled and cut in half and some butter simmered for 45 minutes and savored for much longer.

Be sure to check out the other bloggers who all tried recipes by Marcella Hazan this week:
      Val - More Than Burnt Toast
      Joanne - Eats Well With Others
      Taryn - Have Kitchen Will Feed
      Susan - The Spice Garden
      Claudia - A Seasonal Cook in Turkey
      Heather - girlichef
      Miranda - Mangoes and Chutney
      Mary - One Perfect Bite
      Kathleen - Bake Away with Me
      Viola - The Life is Good Kitchen      

Collards with Nit'ir Qibe

Two days before my big Ethiopian birthday dinner, I met my good friend Alyna in the city for some wine shopping. I had my menu planned, my spice mixes made, and I felt like I was in good shape for Saturday night. I was used to having six or seven friends over for dinner, and I thought having sixteen for dinner would be a similar experience. I even had two crockpots lined up to keep food warm while the other dishes simmered way.

Boy was I wrong.

Alyna throws beautiful dinner parties several times a year, and she started in with questions. How would I keep drinks cold? Did I have enough serving dishes? Enough serving spoons? How would I keep dishes warm?

I started to feel like I was in a bit over my head.

I got home that night, made truffles, and googled "throwing a dinner party." I got Deb Perelman's advice (from Smitten Kitchen) a little too late. She suggested ordering what you can (perhaps ordering injera instead of making it from scratch would have been helpful), planning dishes you can whip together quickly (does the red onion, tomato and mint salad count?), and having only one piece de resistance.

Oh well.

I'll take her advice into account next time I plan a meal. I do think these collards with nit'ir qibe would have satisfied Deb's list of entertaining criteria. Once chopped (which can be done well in advance), they only require occasionally stirring for about 30 minutes before they're done.

See the collards tucked in the back of the plate, about 11 o'clock? As our cooking progressed and we got more overwhelmed, we stopped photographing. This is the only picture of the collards that survived. 

Pizza with Broccoli Raab and Roasted Onions

I get excited about any recipe that calls for just a pinch of red pepper flakes. Two years ago, Cooks Illustrated wrote an article remaking pasta alla norma. In the recipe, they wrote that "a small measure of red pepper flakes added a suggestion of heat."

That small pinch of red pepper flakes totally transformed the recipe. After each bite melted away, I was left with just the smallest suggestion of heat. I was hooked. So, when I read the ingredient list for Smitten Kitchen's pizza with broccoli raab and roasted onions, I was delighted to see a pinch of red pepper flakes added into the broccoli raab as it cooked. This tiny ingredient makes a huge difference. Do not leave it  out.

Although broccoli rabe just came into season here, I see why Deb from Smitten Kitchen made this recipe in January. It involves roasting onions for at least 30 minutes, and then letting your oven preheat to 500 degrees (!!!) for about an hour. It involves standing over the oven to slide your pizza in and take it out. Thankfully, it got down to the 70s tonight, and with a fan in the window the cooking experience was quite pleasant.

The recipe called for a chiffonade cut, which I had only heard mentioned before but had never actually attempted. Kitchen Daily had this great tutorial, which made the chiffonade cut feel more manageable. It involved making lots of adorable piles of broccoli rabe leaves and cutting them into careful, even-sized strips.

The grocery store only had olives with pits, so I used a handy trick Brooklyn Larder showed me a few months ago. I put the olive on a cutting board, placed the palm of my hand on it, and pressed down as hard as I could. When I removed my hand, the pit was exposed and easy to remove. The finished product is a little messy looking but still delicious.

The finished product was light and nutritious. This is my new go-to pizza recipe.