Have you ever cooked beets?

 

One day last week I was going to Central Market and Jean was coming for supper, so I was free to cook whatever I wanted. Usually when my family is out and Jean is here, I like to experiment. She’s a good audience for things they won’t touch. But this day I had decided on a sheet pan dinner of spinach, artichoke hearts, and salmon.

The trip to Central Market changed my mind. Guess what did it? Lovely fresh beets with beautiful, lush greens attached. I couldn’t resist. But the thought of salmon and beets in the same pan—or on the same plate—was not appealing. I repeat this a lot, but my mom always told me food is half eaten with the eye. My eye was offended at the color combination, so I switched to cod.

Beets are one of those things that people either love or hate. Jean and I both love them. Perhaps you mom made Harvard beets, cooking the vegetable in a sweet-and-sour sauce. Maybe you had canned beets. Maybe you never ate them. Even if you like them, you may not have ever cooked raw beets.

First step is to separate the beets from the greens—cut the stems at the beet, leaving maybe an inch. Rinse the greens and let them drain. Peeling raw beets is at best an exercise in frustration and at worst, impossible. My mom always boiled them, and Aunt Reva—that wonderful country cook who taught me so much—showed me that if you boil them and let them cool until you can handle them, you can hold them under running cold water and the peel slides right off.

But I like roast beets better than boiled these days. Scrub the beets thoroughly to remove any dirt that may cling. Then if you prefer, cut a square of foil for each beet, coat with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper—bake at 400 about an hour. Beets are done when you can easily slip a fork into them. For the sake of simplicity and shrinking my footprint on earth, I omit the foil. Just coat the beets lightly in olive oil and bake. The bigger the beet, the longer it takes to cook, so try to get similar sizes. Some recipes suggest cutting beets into sections for faster cooking, but cutting a raw beet is as difficult as peeling it. The day I cooked them I had a couple of large beets that took well over an hour—just keep testing with that fork every few minutes.

Once they are soft, you can peel and do whatever with them. They are fully cooked at this point, but my mom used to slice them and put them in a saucepan with a bit of water and the greens. When the greens wilted, she served them with vinegar. I prefer lemon and butter—and salt. One warning: cooked beets are juicy and the juice stains (it is often used as a natural dye). Be careful of wooden cutting boards, clothes, etc.

Last week I cut the beets into chunks instead of slicing. Here’s what I did for the sheet pan supper:

Ingredients:

3 good-sized beets, with greens (washed)

Olive oil as needed

Lemon butter – about four Tbsp. butter seasoned to taste

One loin or filet of cod (about 12 oz.)

           Line a sheet pan with parchment paper. Lay the greens out on the parchment. Drizzle olive oil over the greens, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cut the cod into serving pieces (I had enough for each of us for supper and some left for my lunch the next day). Arrange the fish on the greens, and then place beet chunks artistically between the fish pieces. Season fish with salt and pepper. Roast at 350 for 20 minutes. Test at center of thick piece of fish to see if it flakes easily.

While fish is cooking, melt butter and mix with lemon juice to taste. The juice of a half lemon should do it for most people. Add a pinch of salt and pepper. If, like me, you can only use one heating element at a time (either the toaster oven or the hot plate but not both) you might want to make the butter sauce ahead and just give it a stir at serving.

Plate greens (they will appear shriveled and will be a bit crisp but delicious), fish, and beets. Drizzle lemon sauce over all.

Note: we always think of beets as dark red, but they do come in gold and some shades in between, with almost no difference in taste.

 

There’s tuna in my closet!

Years ago l discovered a mom-and-pop fishing business in Oregon. They don’t use nets, so the dolphins swim along next to their boat, and their tuna and/or salmon is only cooked once during the canning process (most commercial fish is cooked twice). With their product, you get pure, clean fish—no additives. But you must order by the case. No individual sales. Yep, I have a case of tuna in my closet. You can only eat tuna salad so often, so I find other ways to serve it. With summer and sandwich time coming, here are a couple of suggestions. Please don’t be afraid of the anchovies!

(The cannery always has a supply of tuna; the supply of salmon is spotty, but when you can get it, it puts all other canned salmon in the shade. Alternative: Wild Planet or other canned product that specifies “wild caught.”)

Tuna melt

For too long I resisted tuna melts when everyone else was crazy about them. But finally I experimented, adapting Ina Garten’s tuna salad to my own taste. Another of my food biases was that I didn’t much like Swiss cheese; I wanted cheddar on everything. My goodness, have I learned. Here’s how I make a tuna melt:

2 slices rye bread

Sliced Swiss cheese as needed

Tuna filling:

1 7 oz. can tuna, water-packed

A drizzle of olive oil

1/2 c. minced celery (please remember to string the celery first—something I recently realized I never taught my children

1/2 c. green onions, sliced thin

2 Tbsp. Lemon juice or to taste

Salt and pepper

1 tsp. anchovy paste (you can omit, but it won’t be as good)

Mayonnaise to bind

Drain tuna. Flake it in small bowl and drizzle with olive oil (you can use oil-packed tuna, but my closet tuna is all water-packed). Add celery, onion, salt and pepper. Separately mix about a half cup of mayonnaise with lemon juice and anchovy paste. Dress the salad, mixing thoroughly, and taste for seasoning; if too dry, add a bit more mayo cautiously—you do not want tuna soup.

Toast the bread; top it with generous helping of tuna, and cover with cheese. Make sure filling and cheese extend all the way over the edge of the toast; otherwise you’ll get charred bits of bread which detract from appearance and taste. Broil (I suggest medium setting) until cheese is bubbly and melted. Watch carefully to avoid burning.

Sprinkle with chopped parsley or minced tops from a green onion and serve immediately. You’ll need a knife and fork.

Makes two sandwiches.

Pan bagnat

Pan bagnat is a French sandwich of lightly dressed vegetables, hard-boiled egg, tuna, and anchovy served on a roll, baguette, or other artisan bread. Despite the French origins, I like to make it on a ciabatta roll (Italy’s answer to the French baguette). While some recipes call for a larger round loaf (with the top sliced as you would do if you were using the bread to serve soup or a dip), I prefer to use ciabatta rolls (Italian) and make individual sandwiches. Note: you must prepare this at least four hours before serving. Overnight is okay.

Two ciabatta rolls, split

6-7 oz. canned tuna (ether oil-packed or drizzled with oil after flaking)

1 hard-boiled egg, sliced thin

¼ seedless cucumber, sliced thin

½ small red onion, sliced thin

1 Roma tomato, sliced thin

3 anchovy fillets, or 2 tsp. anchovy paste – divided use

¼ c. sliced, black olives (optional because I do not eat olives)

For the dressing

1 garlic clove, minced

1 tsp. red wine vinegar

½ tsp. Dijon mustard

2 Tbsp. olive oil plus 1 tsp.

Salt and pepper

Split the roll and scoop out a bit of the center bread, so that it is hollow and ready for the filling. In small bowl, mix 1 tsp. olive oil and one anchovy fillet. Using a pastry brush, brush that mixture all over the inside of the roll. In the same bowl, mix garlic, vinegar, Dijon, remaining two anchovy fillets and 2 Tbsp. olive oil; if any of first mixture remains, just incorporate it.

Layer vegetables and tuna on the bottom piece of bread, usually in this order: cucumber, tomato, onion, tuna, olives, egg slices. Drizzle vinaigrette over all—you don’t want a soggy sandwich, so you may not want to use all the dressing; just save it for another use. Put top on sandwich and press hard.

Wrap the sandwich in foil and put it in a plastic bag. Weigh the sandwich down for about ten minutes—a large heavy can of vegetables will work or a saucepan of water. Theoretically you could stand there and press on it for ten minutes, but that would get tiresome.

Refrigerate at least four hours before serving. Makes two sandwiches.

 

Improvisation in the kitchen

 

Scallops Proven

Two nights recently Jordan and I found ourselves eating alone, and we got creative. One night I announced that we had too many vegetables that needed to be used. Jordan had brought some roast chicken back from her weekend at the lake, so we improvised on a stir-fry. That was bold because Christian prides himself on the Asian meals he cooks for us and we were, as it seemed, encroaching on his territory (that night he actually did join us and said it was good, though he was probably just being polite). Jordan did this for three:

Jordan’s stir-fry

2 Tbsp. canola oil

Chopped broccoli and asparagus

Shredded Brussel sprouts and carrots (for color)

Sliced onion

1 cup or more diced chicken, cooked

2/3 c. chicken broth

A good splash of soy

1 tsp. ground ginger (optional)

1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. corn starch dissolved in an equal amount of cold water

           Sauté vegetables until soft. Broccoli will take longer, so will onion; shredded vegetables go in last; when vegetables are crisp-tender, add chicken. Pour in broth and bring to a low boil. Stir in cornstarch mixture. Let the dish cook at a low boil—it will gradually thicken.

We ate it in soup bowls as is, but you could serve over rice.

           Another night we planned to have bay scallops Provençal—simply scallops in a wine sauce. But Central Market ordering flummoxed me again. I thought I was ordering a lb. of scallops. Come to cook dinner and I had a quarter pound. As luck would have it, Jordan had mistakenly purchased some Krab (whitefish disguised as crab) and I’d stuck it in the freezer when she brought me the canned crab I wanted for canapes. So we had Scallop/Krab Provençal. And it was good. Here's the basic recipe that I played with:

Scallops Provençal

1 lb. bay scallops (you can use sea scallops, but they are more expensive and you’ll have to cut them into quarters, so just start with the smaller ones)

Salt and pepper

1 heaping Tbsp. flour

4 Tbsp. butter (divided)

2 shallots, minced

1 garlic clove, minced

¼ c. parsley, chopped fine

½ c. dry white wine

Juice of one lemon

Heat two Tbsp. butter in skillet. Sauté scallops until brown (hint: layer them flat and do not stir for two minutes; then flip and brown the other side). Add shallots and garlic and cook briefly. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and flour and toss to coat thoroughly. Stir in wine and half the lemon juice; cook until thickened. Stir in parsley and serve with remaining wedges of lemon. Nice with noodles, mashed potatoes, or rice.

A word about Krab: I told Jordan when it’s spelled with a K, it’s faux, but it turns out I was mistaken. However that spelling is like a red light: check ingredients carefully. On the other hand, the whitefish was good, and in this day of rising prices you might prefer it. The bay scallops were something like $10/lb.; the Krab, close to $2.50.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Thinking ahead to Easter

In my family, Easter dinner has always been one of the major holidays for family to get together and have a special meal. Now is not too early to start planning, and I’ve given it some thought. This year, we will have Christian’s family. Christian and I have learned to meet in the middle about what I cook and what he wants to eat but cooking for his family suggests some reconsideration on my part.

Given my absolute choice, I would cook a leg of lamb or a good spring lamb stew, but I don’t think the Burtons eat lamb. I suspect salmon is also ruled out for that a reason (beside salmon for eleven is an investment), and a beef roast just sounds too heavy to me. Chicken? Cooked how? One thing I don’t do is fry chicken—lots of restaurants do it better than I do.  Finally I landed on turkey—everybody likes it, and to avoid repeating Thanksgiving, I’d serve some sauces rather than gravy. I really had tonnato sauce in mind—a wonderful tuna sauce for cold fish or poultry. I am, however,  the only one in the house who would eat that. I am probably the only one who also envisions cold turkey. When I said sauce, Christian said, “Yes. We can have cranberry sauce.” Back to Thanksgiving. I gave him what I hope was a withering look.

I haven’t solved the sauce dilemma yet, but we pretty much have a menu. The appetizer will be love dip from Central Market because all the Burtons love it. Turkey breast with sauce (I have asked Christian to take charge of deciding between a turkey which he could fry and two breasts), potato salad (with a bit of pickle juice in the dressing, and I’ll take some out for Tom Burton and Jacob before I add onion), and marinated vegetables, which Julie, the vegetarian in the family, will love.

Because I really want to try it some time, I thought of a pavlova for dessert—those showy confections of meringue topped with fruit, but I’m afraid to experiment and I think making a pavlova ties up your oven for a long time. Maybe a Black Forest cake from the bakery.

We will also have guests for brunch that day, and I’m debating store-bought quiche vs. homemade. If I get ambitious, I’ll make and freeze early in the week—one  and serve them with fruit and rolls.

My family has been eating this marinated vegetable salad for years—a friend served it when my kids were still very young. It’s a favorite, and you can tailor it to the taste of your family, though with such diverse tastes you’re going to hit some and miss others.

Marinated vegetable salad

Green beans—yes, canned work better than fresh or frozen; cut but not French cut. For eleven people I’ll probably use two big cans. They are the backbone of the salad.

Shredded carrots

One small head of broccoli, blanched and cut into small flowerets

One small head of cauliflower, blanched and cut into small flowerets

A red onion, sliced and added in rings

Artichoke hearts – I prefer canned to frozen; if fresh, trimmed and parboiled (just go with the canned

Brussel sprouts – optional; if used, trim and blanch, cut in two if large

Mushrooms – optional, sliced, raw

Commercial vinaigrette dressing—we prefer Paul Newman’s Own Oil and Vinegar (not the Balsamic vinegar dressing); you want enough to cover all the vegetables but not so much that you end with salad soup (it has happened in this house).

The salad as I first ate it had chopped iceberg lettuce and sliced avocado. The trouble with those is that they don’t keep well; any leftover salad will be fine in the fridge for several days, but lettuce will turn soggy, and avocadoes will brown. The ideal would be to serve them on the side.

Best to make this a day ahead and let the vegetables soak up the dressing. You can add more at the last minute if needed.