Tag Archives: side dishes

Sauteed Broccoli Rabe and Potatoes

Have you noticed by now that people are trying to convince you to do just about everything with bacon?  Sometimes it’s simple (candied bacon), sometimes it could occasion a little eyebrow raising (though you can’t write it off if it’s David Lebovitz‘s bacon ice cream), and sometimes it’s just not going to ever happen in my kitchen (bacon vodka).  But it does make for amusing reading, if nothing else–click here and here if you want to see just how outlandish it can get.

(And yes, I can’t deny it, we are all susceptible: I did after all make bacon spice cookies a while back.  It’s no fun to be Serious Cuisine all the time is it?)

So–even with everyone jumping on this bacon bandwagon, using lard or bacon fat is still a bit out there.  (When did you last eat an apple pie made with lard?)  But even though it’s head-spinning to try to keep up with these things, it looks as if these animal fats aren’t quite so bad, or at least not in comparison with their trans-fat laden substitutes. (My crude understanding of this being to stay away from vegetable fats that are solid at room temperature).

Broccoli Rabe Potatoes in Bacon Fat (2 of 2)

I don’t know if I was inspired by healthier living (nor can I really say that with a straight face, we’re talking pork fat here), an attempt at kitchen frugality, or just this bacon craze, but I’ve recently been saving the (massive amounts of) drippings that render from our CSA bacon.  As this bacon is from heritage breed  pigs, it is by no stretch of the imagination lean.  But it’s amazingly good.  So good, that why would I not want to draw out the flavors of a Sunday breakfast through the week, especially if I can convince myself I’m being virtuous by, well, um, using bacon drippings?

I’ve made broccoli rabe pan-fried with potatoes many times since I first read about it on Leite’s Culinaria.  The slightly bitter but fresh tasting rabe with crisped soft potatoes is a perfectly rib-sticking winter food.   The original recipe is from Julia della Croce’s Italian Home Cooking and thus calls for olive oil.  I’ve found that it’s equally wonderful with bacon fat–all those meaty aromas melding into your potatoes and flavoring your greens.  Either way, it’s just right for mid-January.  And I guess it means I’m trendy.

Broccoli Rabe Potatoes in Bacon Fat (1 of 2)

Sautéed Broccoli Rabe and Potatoes, inspired by and adapted from Julia Della Croce’s recipe available here or here

Note:  The original recipe uses olive oil, so if you don’t like, don’t have, or just don’t eat pork, fear not as I can assure it’s equally wonderful either way.

  • 2 Yukon Gold or similar potatoes, unpeeled
  • 1 bunch broccoli rabe
  • salt
  • 4-6 tablespoons bacon fat or extra-virgin olive oil
  • 6 large garlic cloves, smashed and peeled

Put the potatoes in a deep bot and cover with cold water to cover by an inch.  Bring to a boil, and then reduce heat to gently boil for about 20 minutes until the potatoes are just tender when pierced with a knife (total time will depend upon the size of the potato).  Lift the potatoes out of the water (don’t drain the water but rather leave it in the pot as you will be using it momentarily).  Allow the potatoes to cool.

Trim the rabe:  cut the hard ends off and (ideally) peel the stalks with a vegetable peeler.  Cut off the florets and then chop the stems into 3-inch chunks.  Return the potato water to a boil, adding the salt and extra water if needed.  Then add the stalks, boil for 2-3 minutes, then add the florets, and cook 2-3 minutes more, until  stalks are tender but not mushy.  Note this blanching process doesn’t just cook the rabe but also draws out bitterness.

Peel the skin off the potatoes–it will come off easily using your fingertips alone and cut each potato into 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick pieces.

In a large skillet, heat the fat or oil over medium heat.  Add the garlic and saute gently until soft, just a few minutes, and remove the garlic to a bowl.

Raise the heat to medium-high.  When it is hot, (and only when it is hot; this helps prevent sticking and promotes crispiness) add the potatoes, and sauté until they are golden and crisp all over, about 10 minutes.   Add the rabe and garlic cloves, and continue to saute until the greens are well-coated with the fat or oil and are heated through.

Adjust for seasoning and serve.

White Bean Puree with Sage Brown Butter and Walnuts

Sometimes a small change can make all the difference.

This is something I’m trying to remember as I continue to generate new years resolutions for myself.  I’m not one of those people–the ones who wave their hand with dramatic flourish, throw their head back, and declare “Me?  I don’t do New Years Resolutions.”  I probably veer towards the other extreme, as it’s only January 2nd and I have an ambitious to-do list including reorganizing the house, finally getting pictures on the wall, catching up on the various foreign languages I’ve studied, coming up with new activities to do with my children, and finally  sticking to a great new exercise regimen…if only my energy and stick-to-it-ness were as boundless as my list-making ability is prolific.

So I’m trying to remember that it’s the tiny tweaks that make the biggest difference–and maybe for no reason other that you are more likely to follow through with them.   

One small change I made a few years back was to start making soup stock from scratch.  Though it requires that you’re generally “around” for a few hours and that you have the forethought to clear some space in the freezer, there’s not much more to it than that.  I know some people can get rhapsodic about how some kitchen technique or another cosmically altered the course of their life, but I’m not dramatic enough of a personality to demarcate my life into “before” and “after” homemade stock eras.  Even with that, I’ll still say that whenever I use homemade stock, there’s an extra depth of flavor and complexity in even the most simple things you make–it’s a simple routine to get into that reverberates through everything that emerges from your kitchen.

White Bean Puree Sage Brown Butter Walnuts (1 of 4)

I love my legumes, so I’ve made white bean puree many times–but while always good, it was never tremendously exciting.   Instead, it was hummus’s poor cousin–a bit bland, with a texture that was smooth but not quite silky enough.

White Bean Puree Sage Brown Butter Walnuts (1 of 2)
But here’s a lesson in the amazing properties of good soup stock.   Simmered in nothing more than broth, this puree is remarkably rich and smooth, even before the first golden drizzles of brown butter sauce start puddling on its surface.  The walnuts are both a textural contrast and a mellow counterpoint to the puree, and the brown butter sauce enhances the qualities of both:  smooth and liquid like the beans, nutty like the walnuts.  (Not surprising, since the French term is beurre noisette–hazelnut butter).

A dish that can not just hold its own against its tahini-chickpea cousin, but even earns a rightful place on a well-appointed dinner menu–here, with a rack of lamb, grains, and green beans.  Not a bad New Year’s Day meal.  Not a bad lesson to keep in mind for the new year.

White Bean Puree Sage Brown Butter Walnuts (2 of 2)
White Bean Puree with Sage Brown Butter and Walnuts

Note:  If your New Year’s resoluations include not wasting food, assuage your conscience:  you can get through a good amount of fresh sage in this recipe.    We used a roasted turkey broth we had made from Thanksgiving remains, but I’ve included instructions for chicken broth below.

Puree

  • 1c dry white beans such as cannelini or great northern beans
  • 1 rib of celery
  • 1 carrot
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 2c chicken broth
  • 1 sprig sage (about 6-8 leaves per sprig)
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • sage brown butter sauce (below)
  • 1/2 cup walnuts

Brown butter sauce

  • 4T butter
  • 1 sprig sage leaves

Soak the beans overnight or at least for several hours if you can.  (If you forget to soak, cover the beans with water and bring to a boil for 2-3 minutes, turn off the heat and allow to stand for an hour before proceeding with the recipe).

Drain the beans and put them into a pot with the celery, carrot, garlic, and one sprig of sage.  Add the broth and about 2 cups of water.  Bring to a boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook gently for about 2 hours.  (Because you are going to puree this, you want the beans to be very soft).  When the beans start to soften, season with salt and pepper.  Add additional water (or stock) if the mixture starts to dry out.

When the beans are very soft, fish out the carrot, celery, and sage.  Drain the beans but reserve the liquid–you’ll need to add this liquid as you puree to get it to the desired consistency.  Puree in the food processor until creamy, adding liquid as necessary–I used probably a half a cup.  Reheat the puree very gently (I used a microwave) and remove to a serving bowl.

While the beans are cooking, toast the walnuts:  break up with your fingers or chop, then put in a small skillet over medium-high heat.  Toast, stirring frequently until the nuts brown and become more aromatic–be careful not to burn them, it can happen quickly.  Remove immediately from the pan.

To make the brown butter sauce, pluck the leaves of sage from the second sprig.  Melt the butter over medium heat (I used the same small skillet I used for the walnuts).  After the butter has melted, keep heating it–it will start to bubble and sizzle furiously, and then start to recede.  You’ll see brown solids begin to fall and collect at the bottom of the skillet while the butter turns caramel in color.  Around this time you’ll catch the butter’s nutty aroma rising from the skillet.  Add the sage leaves, stir, and remove to a bowl.

Make a well in the center of the puree, drizzle in the brown butter sauce, and sprinkle the toasted walnuts on top.

End-of-Summer Tomato Crumble

I keep seeing “tomato crumble” recipes, and I’ve generally let my eyes scan right past them.  It’s not perhaps for the best of reasons, just:  why would I want a crumble that was not a fruit dessert?  (Yes, yes, tomatoes are technically fruit, but you know what I mean).

But today I realized that my motley mix of cherry-red, striped green, and mustard yellow heirloom tomatoes had been pretty badly bruised en route home from the grocery store.  You can’t waste heirloom tomatoes (or any tomatoes), especially not in September in Massachusetts.  You just can’t.

Why this crumble idea came back to me now, I don’t know.  But I’m glad it did.  Flavorful with the best summer herbs, but still fresh-tasting, because the tomatoes’ relatively short stay in the oven leaves them with a soft-but-firm texture.  I didn’t have a lot of tomatoes to use up, but enough to share with my toddler, who surprisingly was clamoring for more.  Hence the only photo I can offer you is this one.

It went fast.

It’s a quick post because tomato time is winding down, I want to get this out to you, and it’s a Sunday night.  I hope you too are enjoying the last juicy moments of tomato season, and perhaps trying them in new ways too.

End-of-summer tomato crumble

  • 1-1/2 to 2 lb tomatoes (750g-900g or s0), chopped.
  • 1t dried thyme
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • salt and pepper

Crumble topping

  • 1c bread crumbs
  • 1t dried marjoram
  • 1t (scant) dried sage
  • 1/4c parmesan, grated (optional)
  • 2-3T olive oil

Preheat the oven to 375F (190C).  Mix the tomatoes, thyme, garlic, salt, and pepper in a bowl.  Spread in a gratin dish (or other oven safe dish).

Make the crumble by stirring the bread crumbs, sage, marjoram, and parmesan if using together.  Add the olive oil and stir until all crumbs are moistened.  Sprinkle over the tomatoes.

When the oven is preheated, bake for 20 minutes.  (While I didn’t do so, this dish would take well to being assembled beforehand, though perhaps I’d wait until baking to sprinkle the crumble on top).

Note:  I used dried herbs because I had just gotten everyone inside and started lunch–and I didn’t want to chance erasing my gains by running out back again.  You can substitute if you have more forethought than I.