Standard summer side dishes re-imagined

 

Barbecue and picnic season is upon us—I can almost smell the hamburgers sizzling on the grill or a brisket doing a long, slow burn all day long. What do you serve with them? Why potato salad and beans, of course. Does that ever sound ho-hum to you? Do you wish for some change. Here are two of my favorite recipes that re-imagine those side dishes.

Aunt Reva’s good beans (serves a small army)

Aunt Reva is gone but her recipes and the good times at her table linger on. She and Uncle Charles had a guest ranch in East Texas where my kids and I spent many happy days and nights and ate lots of good food on a porch overlooking a small lake, My idea of heaven.

These beans are so easy. Put them in the crockpot on low and forget them all day if you want. One word of caution: if, like me, you abhor green pepper, don’t omit it here. It makes all the difference.

1 3 lb.-4 oz. can Ranch Style beans

1 28-oz. can diced tomatoes (or two 14 oz.)

1 onion chopped

½ green pepper, seeded and diced

Drain beans but do not rinse. Put into crockpot with other ingredients and simmer all day on low.

Lemon potato salad (serves 8)

Years ago TCU Press had a fan group called Bookish Frogs. We used to have occasional programs, featuring one of our authors and accompanied by a potluck supper. Sue Winter, once a neighbor and always a fellow church member, brought this dish and nothing would do but I have the recipe. I’ve fixed it a lot since that day. It’s a bit of trouble but well worth it.

6 medium red potatoes

1 small onion, finely diced

½ cup diced celery

¼ to ½ cup diced celery

Small jar of diced pimiento (I often omit)

For the sauce:

2 tsps. fresh lemon peel, grated

3-4 Tbsp. lemon juice, fresh

3-4 Tbsp. salad oil

1 Tbsp. salt (don’t skimp)

¼ tsp. pepper

Make sauce ahead. Boil potatoes in jackets until tender. Here’s the hard part: peel and dice potatoes while still warm—they absorb the dressing much better. Add onions, and pour sauce over all. (When I was a kid, I remember the cook at the hospital where my dad worked telling Mom to dice potatoes while warm and pour vinaigrette over them to make traditional mayonnaise potato salad. Same principle is at work here.) Add remaining ingredients and chill before serving.

 

A couple of quick and easy pasta dishes for fishy people

 

Several years ago a book titled Jam Today: Cooking with what you’ve got made a great impression on me. The idea was to cook out of your pantry. Of course, the author also had access to her husband’s huge vegetable garden, an advantage I was missing (both the husband and the garden). Still that book was where I learned about Pisces, the fishing board from which I order tuna, and the idea of cooking out of the pantry has always intrigued me.

During quarantine, Jordan and I stocked enough to cook out of the pantry for five years. But the cottage has limited pantry space. (One of my pie-in-the-sky dreams is to have a kitchen expert redesign my tiny kitchen.) My basic pantry is a deep drawer next to the sink, but stocking cans in a drawer means you must pull each out to read the label—a pain. The other day I did an inventory of canned beans: four pintos, two cannelloni, one each red, kidney, navy, and black. Not everything is in that drawer—there are cans in a cabinet above my cooking corner that I can’t reach, cans in another cabinet next to the sink that I also cannot reach, and, yes, cans in my bedroom closet. Want cream of celery soup to make Louella’s rice? You’ll have to go on a hunt.

But there are things I routinely keep on hand—tuna, prime among them (I buy it by the case). I also keep canned salmon, artichoke hearts, anchovies, pasta of course, green and white beans for three bean salad and because Sophie loves canned green beans. I could and probably should weed out my drawer and take the rarely used items to a food drive at church—that can of Spam that lurks in my closet, for instance. But a tiny part of me is somewhat of a hoarder.

All that is by way of leading up to today’s two recipes, both of which you can, if you’re like me, cook out of your pantry. Want a quick lunch or a light supper? Whip up one of these, toss a green salad and you have it. Or maybe you’re late getting home one night—a work reception or happy hour with friends—and you’re hungry but not very.  You’ll notice that they are almost identical and certainly start out the same way. The first you’ll also note is called Midnight Pasta—meant, perhaps, for sophisticates home late after an evening at the theater.

Midnight pasta (serves two)

½ lb. pasta, such as spaghetti or linguini

Salt

Olive oil – 3 Tbsp.

4 garlic cloves, sliced

4 oil-packed anchovy fillets

Pinch of red pepper flakes

1-1/2 Tbsp. tomato paste

Half of a small lemon, zested

For garnish: chopped basil or parsley

Grated Parmesan on Pecorino

Cook pasta, stopping it before it reaches al dente because it will cook more in the sauce; Reserve one cup of pasta water and drain off the rest.

Combine oil, garlic, anchovies, red pepper, and salt in skillet. Cook two or three minutes, making sure the garlic does not burn. Add tomato paste and cook another minute.

Stir in the drained pasta, lemon zest, and some of the pasta water. Stir so that sauce coats each strand of pasta, adding more water as needed. Test to be sure pasta is now cooked al dente.

Squeeze juice from half of the half of lemon over pasta, add parsley or basil, and toss. Taste for salt. Spoon into pasta plates and drizzle with a bit more olive oil. Top with grated cheese, and pass lemon quarters

Pasta with tuna, capers and scallions (serves three to four)

¾ lb. pasta, such as spaghetti or linguini

3 Tbsp. olive oi

3 garlic cloves, sliced

3 green onions, thinly sliced (separate white and green parts)

8 – 10 anchovy fillets

3 Tbsp. drained capers

1 cup herbs of your choice, roughly chopped—parsley, basil, celery leaves

1 5 oz. can tuna, drained

Optional: pinch of red pepper flakes

Lemon wedges for serving

Cook pasta and drain, reserving one cup of the water

Combine oil, garlic, white parts of the scallion in skillet. Cook at medium heat for a minute or two and then add the anchovies, pressing on them with a wooden spoon until they almost disintegrate into the sauce. Add some of the pasta water and reduce until it is almost gone. Add remaining water, herbs, and tuna. Stir to coat each pasta strand.

Serve in pasta bowls and pass lemon wedges. Offer optional red pepper flakes, chopped green onion tops, and grated Parmesan or Pecorino.

Buon appetite!

 

Breakfast for dinner

 

Picture fromnthe web illlustrates the
chunky nature of ranchero sauce

For a few years, a small group of neighbors used to hold occasional potluck parties that we called “Brinner parties,” brinner being our word for breakfast for dinner. I like the concept, because sometimes when I don’t know what I want for supper, scrambled eggs and bacon just fit the bill. So at these brinner parties, we got a wild assortment of eggs, breads, casseroles, fruit salads—the possibilities are endless.

The other day I fixed a casserole that I remember Jacob really liked when he was younger. He was late coming home from golf practice, so I never heard how he likes it now, but the rest of us thought it was grand. It puts together the things you want in a big breakfast—sausage, potatoes, eggs, and cheese.

Sausage casserole

2 lbs. ground sausage—you can choose according to your taste: mild, hot, sage, maple, whatever

1 (30 oz.) bag frozen, shredded hash browns

Salt and pepper

8 oz. sharp cheddar cheese, grated

6 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 cup whole milk (or half and half if you want to make it really rich)

2 Tbsp. chopped fresh chives, optional

You’ll have to cook the sausage and potatoes in batches, even in a large skillet. First brown the sausage until all pink is gone and it is crumbly. Drain off extra grease. Cook the potatoes, following the directions on the package. Season potatoes with salt and pepper to taste.

Mix together sausage, potatoes, and one cup of cheese, and spoon into a 9x13 lightly greased casserole dish.

Separately whisk eggs and milk. Pour evenly over ingredients in casserole dish and sprinkle remaining cheese on top.

Bake at 350^o for 30 minutes. Sprinkle with chives for garnish, and let sit five minutes or so to collect itself.

I halved this, and it fed four of us with enough left over for a couple of breakfasts. The casserole can definitely stand on its own and does not need sauce, but I happened to have ranchero sauce on hand (leftover from Easter brunch). I spooned the sauce over my breakfast portion, and it was delicious—talk about gilding the lily.

This is my favorite ranchero sauce recipe, and the only one I’ve found that calls for scrambled eggs rather than poached (the latter are not popular in this house, though I love a good poached egg). You’ll note I’ve put optional by the green pepper—I do not like green pepper, and it does not like me, so I never cook with it. To me, it would totally alter (no pun intended) the taste. It’s better without, but I leave that up to you.

Ranchero sauce

½ lb. bacon, diced

1 6 oz can tomato sauce

1 large tomato, diced

2 Tbsp. chopped green pepper, (optional)

¼ cup water

3 green onions, sliced

1 clove garlic, minced

½ tsp. chili powder

½ tsp. salt

Sauté the bacon. I find it easiest to dice bacon before cooking rather than hope it gets crisp enough to crumble. It is even easier if the bacon is slightly frozen. Then you can use a butcher knife and dice several pieces at once.

Drain bacon on a piece of paper towel.

Combine remaining ingredients and simmer gently for ten or fifteen minutes. Return bacon to the sauce. Spoon warm sauce over almost anything that sounds good to you. Hmm—pasta?

 

What can you do with matzo besides soup?

 

Susan Wittig Albert’s monthly newsletter, “All About Thyme,” this month included a link to a list of about forty easy Passover recipes. I clicked over and was soon lost in nostalgia. A practicing (almost devout) Protestant, I spent twenty years of my life with a Jewish man, seventeen of them married. I have been to formal seders, hosted less formal seders, served gefilte fish to my family. When we divorced, acrimoniously more’s the pity, I said the two good things came out of the marriage: four wonderful, beautiful, adorable children (now all but one in their fifties) and a taste for Jewish food. Those recipes brought the past rushing back to me.

There are some Passover dishes I won’t try this year. Gefilte fish, for instance, though I am intrigued that Martha Stewart makes it with salmon rather than whitefish and presumably does away with the gooey jelly part. My younger son used to love gefilte fish, but when I served it to him once when he was grown, it was one of the tastes he’d left behind (he no longer likes beets either). And I won’t try brisket with tzimmes or a kugel, but I hope to convince my local family that matzo brei would be a good dish for Easter breakfast. In the true spirit of recognizing all faiths, I will get hot cross buns just for me, because no one else eats them. I don’t see a chance for chopped liver and, after all, you can buy or make it year round.

But matzo is in season right now, so I’m going to make two dishes, one traditional, one not. My ex occasionally fixed matzo brei, and I’m hoping Christian will like the idea well enough to try. He loves migas, and the principle is the same. But while matzo brei is traditional, matzo crack is not. I never heard of it until recent years, but I’ve made it several times and we all like it. So there you have breakfast and dessert—you’re on your own for the stuff in between.

Matzo brei (serves 8)

1 pkg. (10 oz.) unsalted matzo

8 eggs, beaten

½ c. half and half

2 tsp. salt

6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, divided

Crumble the matzo into a fine mesh strainer set over a bowl. Put aside the crumbs in the bowl, and run cold water over the matzo pieces in the strainer for about ten seconds. You want the matzo softened. Stir the softened matzo, eggs, and salt into the crumbs in the bowl.

Melt 3 Tbsp. butter in a large skillet and pour in half the matzo mixture. Do not stir. Let it cook until the bottom is brown—about three or four minutes. Flip and again cook until bottom is brown. Remove to a warm platter, and repeat the process with the remaining mixture. Serve warm.

You can serve matzo brei sweet or savory. Sweet might be topped with jam or maple syrup or applesauce; for savory, either add sauteed onions into the mixture before cooking or top with chopped green onion. Either way serve the savory with sour cream.

Matzo crack

This tastes like really good English toffee.

4-5 matzo, lightly salted

2 stick unsalted butter

1 cup packed dark brown sugar

1 12. oz bag chocolate chips

1 cup chopped pecans

Sea salt

Line a jelly roll pan (my daughter is already saying, “What’s that?”—a rimmed baking sheet) with heavy duty foil, fold it up and over the edges. Then cover it with parchment paper.

Lay matzo on the pan, as evenly as possible

In a saucepan, combine butter and brown sugar and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Once it boils, cook until thick and foamy, about three more minutes. Still stirring. Immediately pour over matzo, spreading with a metal spatula until it is even. Be very careful, because nothing burns worse than hot sugar. Bake at 375 for ten minutes—toffee should be bubbling and crackling.

Remove from oven and place on a cooling rack; immediately sprinkle chocolate chips as evenly as possible. Let them soften for a couple of minutes and then use spatula to distribute evenly. Sprinkle with pecans and sea salt. Refrigerate just until chocolate hardens, perhaps 30 minutes; if you refrigerate longer, it will turn to concrete.

Using foil as a sling, carry matzo crack to a cutting board and cut into small squares. This will take your big, heavy, sharp knife.

A lot of work, you say. Yes, but well worth it.

Happy holidays, whatever holiday you celebrate.