le sauce

vegetable tagine with preserved lemons

Tagine is a stew as easy as any other to make, but I hardly ever attempted it at home, preferring to eat it at a restaurant, strongly preferring to eat it on travels where Morrocan cuisine is established. The reason, the version I made at home was never as good. The reason for that? No preserved lemons until last week. I never bought them because I knew it would be so simple to make them once I got around to it. You can either buy or preserve your own. I recommend the latter so that you can serve them, cook with them or simply snack on them at will. And you will. We've gone through 2 whole lemons since opening this jar on the weekend and only one half of one went into this tagine.

a real pickle: preserved lemons

I "learned" to bake last year, by which I mean I no longer fly past any recipe that calls for flour. Now, while my eyes still grow wide and I stop breathing as I read through a recipe containing flour, I read through the recipe. Then I actually make the thing with flour. And my blood pressure still rises and I swear and things go wrong, but all of that to a lesser degree. Most importantly, I sort of understand baking now, why things are rising, falling, spreading, puffing up, become dense, shattering and collapsing at just the right moment, and that was where I wanted to get to with my baking experimentations. I'll continue to bake, perhaps more than ever before, but this year I choose to demystify...

fermentation.

You either got really excited just now or removed this site from your RSS feed. If you're still hovering over the delete button in consideration of the latter, wait for a minute! Sure, you're sort of right to wonder why people want to eat something politely named stinky tofu, and fine, you haven't tried natto but even the sound foreshadows the "no thanks" with which you might refuse it, but you love Morrocan tagine, right? And realize the quoi in its je ne sais quoi is the preserved lemon, right? You order extra pickles on your burger sometimes, and like pickled radishes with your falafel or lime pickle with your curry, yes? And even if none of these apply to you, look up "fermented salsa" in your browser, like right now. Seriously. People are losing their minds over the stuff. You want to get in on that, at least, I know it!

And for those of you who have been meaning to make everything from kimchee to kombucha for ages, we're going to do this right. As with the le sauce baking academy, I promise to research the hell out of the method and the recipes out there so we understand fermentation, but mostly so that we'll end up with the most ridiculously delicious, complex, in-your-face brined delicacies ever.

mango salad with hazelnut and lime dressing

My little cousins (well, they're really my cousins' kids) are strange. I think. This is not the kind of salad I'd expect them to like, and in fact, I warned them against it because of the red bird chili sprinkled through it--I had even more in mine than I cite in the recipe below. 

At first I thought they were asking if they had to try some of it, since it was laid out with the other food at a recent family event and the kids in our family are always encouraged to try everything.

So I said, "Oh, no, don't worry, it's too hot for you."

"But we can try a little, right? And if it's too hot, we don't have to take any more."

"Errr...ok...."

Seriously? They wanted a salad of fruit, nuts and herbs, that might be too hot for them? I was so not that sophisticated when I was eleven. There was also a nine-year-old, the sole vegetarian in her family for years by her own initiative, who raved about my olive oil cake with sauternes. But that's a story for an upcoming post. Weird, I tell you. In a good way.

But you, I fully endorse this recipe to you. I am biased, but I love it. It's nutty from the toasted almonds but because the base of the dressing is hazelnut oil. The most lip-smacking part comes from the lime flesh that is added to the dressing. Having made it both with and without, I swear it makes all the difference. I sometimes partake of mango salad at Thai restaurants, even though I know there's a little fish sauce spiking the flavour. This is the perfect vegetarian version, equally complex, balanced and delicious in it's own right. Again, biased, but I have to say, I prefer this one! Let me know if you agree?

lime and harissa yogurt marinade

A while ago I was singing the praises of yogurt marinades, especially for the grill. They stay put better than oil marinades and of course they add a creamy element. Not that I grill chicken or meats that might dry out on the grill, but if you do, I bet this would be the marinade for you too. I like it on mushrooms, zucchini and other juicy vegetables that I cut into thick slices to be skewered or grilled in a wire basket.

Greek yogurt is thicker than most but you can strain regular yogurt for an hour or two in the fridge to get the same consistency. Simply spoon a little more than a cup of regular yogurt into a cheesecloth-lined strainer set over a bowl and then refrigerate. And while just a little harissa adds the heat here and tons of flavour, a good substitute would be chili paste or sauce with a pinch of smoked paprika. You can take other liberties too, swapping lime juice for vinegar, honey for the marmalade. Just taste to find the balance of tart, sweet and spicy that you'd like. The marinade mellows a little on the grill so don't be afraid to make it a tad punchy.  

must make: crispy, savoury french toast, preserved lemons and eggplant bacon!

You know I like the savoury version of anything over the sweet, right? So when I came across this savoury french toast recipe on food52, I was sold--it even came with a recommendation to dunk it into hot sauce and to fry the toast more than you normally would. I mean, this recipe was made for me. Not that it needs improving, but cut into triangles, it is finger food fit for enjoying with a cocktail on a sunny deck--a lazy summer dinner. I highly recommend you make this recipe as written on food52 and execute it as suggested in the picture above.

I'm also crazy into citrus right now (that's a gimlet in the picture above, made with this delicious lime cordial), so this recipe for preserving lemons via Canal House caught my eye. I love the idea of having them on hand for tagines and curries, which after all, are perfect for summer dinners, given the hot climes they originated in.

And lastly, hello, eggplant bacon! Where have you been all my life? I have yet to make this but I couldn't resist sharing it with you. If you tackle it before me, please report back. And don't forget to share the recipes in your must-make list, please! Thanks!

real lime cordial (for a true gimlet, of course)

When I came across this piece in The New York Times on how to make your own lime cordial as a means to creating a perfect gimlet, my mouth puckered and my breathing slowed and I can't tell you for sure but I'd bet my pupils dilated. I get very excited about the idea of making something from scratch that is better or more authentic than a store-bought version I'd never considered trumping. It's why making ricotta, mayonnaise and mustard at home was such a revelation for me. But bringing gin into the mix and the promise of a true gimlet--the likes of which I've never had before and may never be able to order at an establishment, no matter how fine--had me clearing time in my week to make real lime cordial. Immediately.

It's a three day process that takes very little effort, though it seems I missed out on the hardest part. First, I bought more limes than I ever have before, washed and scrubbed them meticulously (the idea of "conventional" (read: sprayed) lime rinds steeping for days in something you're going to drink should drive you to do the same), after which I had to finish another task...so I asked James if he could please, well, just peel these limes with a vegetable peeler like the article called for. The author insisted that this was simpler than using a microplane, and resulted in better flavour since a little of the bitterness of the peel was needed, and you do remove a veil of pith no matter how carefully you peel away. Turns out a peeler making its way down small, round limes is a recipe for mishap. There was some cursing (I'm sure my name was cited) and a loud trip to the bathroom to retrieve a bandage, on which James passed me working at my desk and asked sharply, rhetorically, "Have you ever peeled small, round limes with a vegetable peeler??" He'd already gone to the trouble of juicing them, the next step in the process, and you can imagine how that went after he'd nicked himself. It's too bad he doesn't like gin drinks as much as me or this might have been all worth it to him...

sesame somen noodles with enoki mushrooms, napa and sprouts

Soba noodles are wonderful for many reasons, but the two that matter to me are that they're delicious and they play so well with others--meaning they suck up any flavour thrown at them. After a very quick boil in little water (because they're short, I don't boil them in huge pot of water like I do with linguine, even though you're probably supposed to) and a dip in a no-cook sauce of soy sauce, sesame oil and scallions, you have a meal on your hands. Great soba noodles can be hard to find, because instead of being 100% buckwheat flour, or close to it, they've often been cut with a lot of wheat flour, making the texture and taste different from better quality, more pure soba. However, there are times I want a more subtle, less sweet noodle than buckwheat noodles, like when I have a slightly more complex sauce, and one that does the same great job of absorbing flavour. Enter the somen noodle.

Made entirely of wheat flour (and salt and water), they're thin like soba noodles and springier than pasta, and they suck up a ton of sauce. They seem just as starchy as soba noodles so I rinse them in cold water after cooking them too. They're my noodle of choice for this tangy sesame sauce but if you can't find somen noodles, rice noodles would work really well too, or by all means, use soba. 

The sauce here has a big job, to flavour the food it touches long after it's not around to be sipped itself anymore, just like a marinade.  So, like a marinade, it's got big flavour: heat from that minced garlic and ginger, sweetness from a little sugar, tartness from orange juice and, most importantly, that sesame oil used both in the sauce and to sautée the vegetables is my must-have flavour with somen and soba noodles.

Unlike most recipes, this is not one you want to serve immediately, because the sauce makes everything slushy before its had time to be absorbed. You can eat this after a half-hour with the noodles sitting at room temperature or after a chill in the fridge. Essentially, this is a noodle salad, a perfect make-ahead meal, and it's kind of pretty too. The beautiful white colour of the somen strands made me opt for enoki mushrooms, sprouts and napa, as opposed to shiitake mushrooms or red cabbage for crunch. Feel free to make your palette more noisy where mine is neutral. And leave that red chili out if you want too. Red or not, you know I wasn't ever going to leave chilies out of mine. 

Sesame Somen Noodles

For the sauce:
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp grated garlic
1 tsp grated ginger
1 c orange juice
2 tsp soy sauce
1/2 tsp mirin
1/2 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp kosher salt

For the noodles:
1 tbs sesame oil
1 red bird chili, destemmed, thinly sliced (optional)
300 g napa cabbage, thinly sliced on a bias, a small handful of leaves reserved for garnish
1/2 tsp salt
125 g bean sprouts, tails tipped, a small handful reserved for garnish
170 g enoki mushrooms, trimmed, a small handful reserved for garnish
180 g somen noodles, boiled and rinsed under cold water and drained well
3 tbs toasted sesame seeds

First, make the sauce. Heat sesame oil in a small saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic and ginger, stir and sautée for 1 minute. Add the remaining ingredients, bring to a boil and then reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer, uncovered, for 15-20 minutes or until the sauce has reduced by more than half (to about 1/2 cup.) Set aside to cool.

Meanwhile, proceed with the rest of the recipe. Heat the sesame oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the red chili, if using, for 30 seconds. Add the napa and half the salt, and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add the sprouts, toss well and cook for 30 seconds, then add the mushrooms and the remaining salt and stir well. Cook just until the mushrooms have wilted slightly. Set aside to cool slightly. 

Transfer noodles to a large bowl. Pour half of the sauce over them and mix with chopsticks or two forks, separating the noodles and coating them well. Add the napa and mushroom mixture and stir well. Pour a little more of the dressing over top, reserving about 1 tbs for serving, and mix the vegetables into the noodles. Set aside for 15 minutes to allow the mixture to cool to room temperature and absorb the sauce, or refrigerate if you wish to serve it cool.

Before serving, add the reserved vegetables, pour on the reserved dressing, and sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds.

Makes 4 small servings or 2-3 large servings. 

lemon and parm magic flavour sprinkles

I looooooove it when other people cook for me, and not just for the obvious reason. It's because I find it fascinating how differently they approach cooking to the way I do things. I'm not even taking about crazy new skills I haven't mastered. I'm talking about things like putting red peppers in a salad--that is a real-life example of the sort of thing that wows me. It's not that it's inventive, but I don't put them in my salad so when I get to have them in the salad you serve me at your house, I'm thrilled to be enjoying a new flavour combination.*

Another case in point: James' magical new flavour sprinkles. He's always grating and dusting parmesan on his food any chance he gets, but just recently he started to grate a little lemon zest and mix that in with the parmesan too. I still haven't gotten over how good this tastes on tomato sauced-pasta, and I was so zealous about it that I even put it on olive oil doused-rice.

And you know what? That was gross. I wasn't sure if it would be good but I have to say, little surprised at how bad it was. Really bad idea--so bad I got a little sad and started to second-guess my life choices for a moment. But then I got another idea: to add tamari. And that? That was good. Like really good. Like, it made me forget the bad olive oil + rice idea. It kind of makes sense, since a marriage of soy sauce and lemon is reminiscent of ponzu shoyu. In any case, I can safely recommend sprinkling lemon zest and parmesan on your next tomato sauce and if you dare, try some with tamari on a bowl of plain rice. And let's never speak of that other idea I had again.

 

*See how easy I am to please? You want to invite me over for dinner, don't you? The answer is yes!

must-make: baked beans and eggs, meyer lemon pudding cakes

sunny & citrusy. 

That's the theme of today's must-make list. Sunny eggs and lemon in everything.

Eggs in tomato sauce, or shakshuka, is almost typical weekend fare in our house. But eggs poached in baked beans? It never crossed my mind until I saw someone else do it, and then it made all the sense in the world. James' grandmother has a secret, unshared recipe for the best baked beans in the world, and I finally put his mom's best approximation of the recipe to the test this weekend. When the beans were baked soft and sweet, I cracked 4 eggs into the them and they went back into the oven for just under 10 minutes. Then they got a little lift from a squeeze of lemon at the end. (I wonder if Grammie uses vinegar in her baked beans--at the end. Maybe cider vinegar?) Some crusty bread on the side and we had a new favourite Sunday brunch special on our hands.  

The other beans I've had my eye on are these black beans made with citrus, ancho chilies and chipotles. They look so good, all black, saucy and spiked with cilantro, and I can imagine them spooned over rice or scooped up with a fresh, soft tortilla.

And since I'm the person at the table who always wants to order the lemon dessert over the chocolate one, I bookmarked this Meyer lemon pudding recipe as soon as I saw it. Definitely sounds like my kind of dessert. I love that they seem to require very little effort--that truly makes them my kind of dessert. 

So despite cold April showers (and some flurries this past weekend? Let's not even discuss it...)that had me sitting in front of a fire and, frankly, scared to step outside, things are looking bright in my kitchen. At least.

winter salad of fennel, orange and hazelnut

this is the kind of salad that i actually reserve for the colder months. there's the citrus, which makes me think of the holidays(!), and the boldness of crunchy fennel and whole parsley leaves that makes me take it seriously. because who wants a wimpy salad in winter? you need something a little richer right now, like something spiked with hazelnut oil and red wine vinegar. a salad that with a chunk of baguette--and a glass of wine--equals dinner.

 

especially when you add a little more fat...