swiss chard gratin

Hello!

This week I’m dropping in with an easy little recipe for Swiss chard gratin. Now that Halloween is behind us, my thoughts are turning to Thanksgiving dinner and which dishes will make the cut. I haven’t decided if I’ll roast a turkey. Or maybe a goose? A glazed ham never disappoints. I’ve even been toying with the idea of a crown roast or salt-crusted rack of lamb or some other dramatic dish.

For those of you who look forward to turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce all year, this must sound like nothing short of heresy. But alas, we have no set Thanksgiving ritual in my family. For most of the 90s, for example, we chose a different country or region each year and fashioned our holiday feast around its cuisine. (Ireland was my favorite, if you’re curious. Followed by Cajun.)

But back to this gratin. This is the only dish that’s Thanksgiving 2016 approved thus far. I made it for a cooking class I taught during my Paris culinary retreat in September and it struck me then what a wonderful holiday dish it would make. I served it alongside chicken with roasted turnips and grapes (recipe coming soon) and it was the perfect creamy foil for those earthy-sweet flavors.

So to all the Thanksgiving purists: This gratin may not be traditional, but I’m thinking it will do your turkey and cranberry sauce proud.

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Swiss Chard Gratin

• 1 large bunch (about 1 1/2 pounds) white-stemmed Swiss chard
• Sea salt and freshly-ground pepper
• 3 tablespoons butter
• Squeeze of fresh lemon juice
• 2 shallots, minced (should yield about 1/4 cup)
• 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup crème fraîche or heavy cream
• Freshly-grated nutmeg (optional)
• 1/2 cup grated aged Comté or Gruyère cheese

Trim the stems from the chard, discarding any that are wilted. If any stems seem tough, peel them with a vegetable peeler to remove the strings. Bring a large pot of generously salted water (it should taste like the ocean) to a boil. Cut the chard stems crosswise into slices about 1/2 inch thick. Coarsely tear the green tops. Drop the stems into the boiling water and simmer for 5 minutes. Add the green tops and continue to cook until the tops are wilted and the stems are just tender, 3 to 5 minutes longer. Set a colander over a large bowl or pot. Drain the chard well, pressing on it with a flexible spatula or ladle to get out as much water as possible. Reserve the cooking liquid.

While the chard is cooking, generously butter a gratin dish. Set aside.

Meanwhile, make the bechamel: Melt the butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the shallots and cook, stirring, until soft and translucent, but not browned. Stir the flour into the shallots and cook for about about one minute, stirring constantly, to cook out the raw flavor. Measure out one cup of the chard cooking liquid and add it to the pan. Bring to a boil, whisking constantly, until the sauce thickens. Add the crème fraîche and bring just back to a boil. Remove from the heat. Season to taste with lemon juice and nutmeg.

Arrange the drained chard over the bottom of the gratin dish. Pour the bechamel over the chard, sprinkle the cheese over the top and heat under the broiler until golden brown and bubbling. Set aside to rest for a few minutes before serving.

Recipe adapted from Anne Willan, The Country Cooking of France

gluten-free almond pancakes with honeyed oranges and pistachios

Here’s a fun fact about me: I’m a pathological perfectionist.

We’re talking self-flagellating, obsessive, crazy-town style perfectionist. Can’t-sleep-at-night, panic-attack, stomach-ulcer style perfectionist. Or at least I used to be until pretty recently.

I grew up in a household that, while it never felt poor to me, never felt quite abundant either. I always felt loved and cared for, but there was a lot of coupon-cutting and bargain hunting. There were big bricks of government cheese. We lived in a trailer park for a while. Add to that the fact of growing up bi-racial in a tiny, rural town in Illinois in the early 80s (mine was the only brown skin for miles and miles), and you’ll understand the intense fear of judgement I felt as a kid.

Being good at things, or rather, being PERFECT at EVERYTHING!!! became my mantra and my armor. It got me out of the sleepy midwestern town I grew up in. It made me the second person in my family (after my mom) to attend a 4-year college. Hell, it got me into Yale. 

It gave me the courage to move halfway around the world with $200 in my pocket and build a life in a foreign country. To be honest, that perfectionistic, never-good-enough, you-can-do-BETTER! drive served me in many ways.

But lately, perfectionism, with its attendant anxiety and insomnia and sense of insecurity have started to wear on me. I no longer want to forgo sleep in order to get a project I’m working on just right. I’m not interested in motivating myself out of fear. I’ve discovered that falling on your face can be a valuable form of instruction. 

Also, trying to be perfect (or even good) at everything is exhausting. It doesn’t leave enough time for laughing and snuggling and lazying around on Sunday afternoons.

Old habits die hard though. And despite my best efforts to chill the eff out, I can feel those old, hard-wired tendencies creeping in, triggered in part by the chaos of our recent move to a new house.

Which is why I have undertaken a new project. A sort of re-programming, if you will. (The irony of having an official project to work on being less perfectionistic is not lost on me, in case you were wondering!) Instead of rolling out of bed and into a day of doing, doing and more doing, I now do something nice for myself every morning. I take a bath. I read. I cuddle my cat, Loulou. I watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend on Hulu. I make myself pancakes. 

I cook up a stack of these fluffy beauties, brew myself a latte and sit down at the kitchen table with no phone and no computer and enjoy the morning sun streaming in the window.

I don’t always want to take the time for this new ritual. But most days, I do it anyway. And I’m happy to report it’s working. I’m not going to say my perfectionism has gone into full remission. But there’s something in the act of pausing and taking a moment to be kind to myself rather than punishing or demanding that sets each day off on a better footing.

Who knew the path to self-acceptance would be paved in pancakes?

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Gluten-Free Almond Pancakes with Honeyed Oranges and Pistachios

• 2 cups orange juice, preferably fresh-squeezed, strained
• 5 teaspoons mild-flavored honey, divided (optional)
• ½ teaspoon ground cardamom
• 4 medium oranges (I used cara caras)
• 1 cup heavy whipping cream
• 6 large eggs
• 6 oz cream cheese
• 2 cups almond meal
• ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons whole milk or half and half
• ½ teaspoon almond extract
• ¼ teaspoon cinnamon
• ¼ teaspoon ground ginger
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• Butter, ghee or high-heat oil for cooking pancakes
• ½ cup roughly chopped pistachios (roasted or raw)

*Notes: As you may have noticed, I'm trying to eat a lot less sugar and simple carbs. But I don't want to assume everyone else is, too. So the honey in this recipe is completely optional. If you're used to eating a relatively low-sugar diet, you can leave it out. If you're in the mood for a sweet treat, leave it in. You can even add a touch more if you like. :)

- If you can’t find almond meal, make your own. Place almonds in the bowl of a food processor or blender and process until they form a fine meal. You will be able to get a finer meal in the blender. Adding a tablespoon or two of sugar will help keep the almonds from turning to almond butter.

Place a sheet pan in the oven and preheat the oven to 200° F.

First, make the orange syrup. Place the orange juice, 2 teaspoons of the honey (if desired) and cardamom in a small saucepan. Bring to the boil over high heat, then lower heat and simmer until reduced to 1/2 cup (use a heatproof measuring cup to check). Set aside.

Slice the skin and pith from the whole oranges then cut them into rounds about ¼-inch thick. Place in a heatproof bowl and pour the slightly cooled syrup over the orange slices. Set aside.

Place the cream and one teaspoon of honey (if desired) in a large bowl. Whip the cream to soft peaks. Set aside in the fridge until you’re ready to serve the pancakes.

Make the pancakes: Place the eggs, cream cheese, almond meal, milk (or half and half), almond extract, cinnamon, ginger, baking powder and remaining 2 teaspoons honey (if desired) in a blender. Blend at high speed until the batter is smooth and homogenous, stopping occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl, about 1 minute. 

Heat a 6-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add about 1/2 teaspoon butter (or ghee or oil). When the butter has melted, pour about ¼ cup of the batter into the center of the pan. I usually just pour straight from my blender. You want to pour enough batter for a roughly 5-inch pancake. Cook until the pancake puffs up and there are bubbles in the center, about 45 seconds. Flip and cook until the other side is golden brown, about 45 seconds longer. Transfer the cooked pancake to the sheet pan in the oven. Carefully wipe out the pan with a paper towel and repeat until all the batter is cooked.

Makes about 16 small or 8 large pancakes.  

cracked crab with three sauces

I am currently knee deep in boxes and bubble wrap. On Monday, Beau and I signed a stack of papers that was at least two inches thick, which made this whole house buying business feel awfully real. The keys to our little bungalow will be in our hands tomorrow.

As you can imagine, I haven’t had much time to cook. Beau and I have been subsisting on scrambled eggs with whatever vegetables we have rolling around in the fridge and a couple tablespoons of Boursin thrown in. (On a side note: If you’re going to eat the same meal over and over again, I highly recommend this one. Scrambled eggs with Boursin is pretty sexy and it only takes five minutes to make!)

So, as I was saying, packing and paper-signing and calling movers and selling a ton of crap because our new house is smaller than this one hasn’t left me a ton of time to cook. But tomorrow is New Year’s Eve and I couldn’t imagine leaving you without a recipe for ringing in the new year!

May I propose the Cracked Crab Supper. This is our annual Christmas Eve meal, but it would make an equally fine New Year’s Eve spread. I look forward to cracked crab all year. We cover the table in newspaper, boil up a huge pot of Dungeness and serve a variety of sauces alongside. Everyone gets a crab cracker and a pick. Plates are strictly forbidden. After the meal, we roll the whole glorious mess into the newspaper and trot it out to the compost. Done and done. (Did I mention I love this supper?)

Fresh Dungeness bathed in melted butter feels quite luxurious. There’s also something about having permission to eat with your hands that feels  just a little bit naughty. Throw in a bottle (or ten) of champagne and you have the perfect meal for a New Year’s Eve gathering!

I wish you all a delicious end to 2015. And I look forward to writing you next from a new house and a new year!

xo,

Olaiya

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Cracked Crab with Three Sauces

• 6 Dungeness crab, 2-2 ½ lbs each
• 1 recipe Sauce Verte (see below)
• 1 recipe Spicy Smoked Paprika Aioli (see below))
• 1 recipe Drawn Butter (see below)
• 2 lemons, cut into wedges
• Several pounds of ice

*Notes: For everything you ever wanted to know about cooking and cleaning Dungeness crab, I refer you to my friend Becky’s excellent tutorial. She is a fantastic chef and knows pretty much everything there is to know about sustainable seafood. 

- If you would rather not cook live crab, you might be able to sweet talk your fishmonger into killing and cleaning it for you in the shop. Take it home and cook it immediately as the meat deteriorates quickly. Of course, you can always buy pre-cooked and cleaned crab from the store, but it's never as delicious as freshly-cooked. 

- Some people serve whole crab and have their guests clean them at the table. I find this a little off-putting (read: gross) for those who are not die-hard crab lovers and seafood aficionados. I prefer to clean the crab and remove the innards before serving.

- The crab can be cooked up to 6 hours in advance. Store in the refrigerator until you’re ready to serve it.

Heat a large pot of generously salted water over high heat. If you do not have an extremely large pot, you will need to cook the crab in batches.

While the water is heating, fill a large bowl or pot (or a clean sink) with ice. If you are cooking the crab in batches, be sure to save some of the ice for the rest of the crab.

When the water comes to the boil, place as many crab as will fit in the pot. Be sure they are completely submerged. Bring back to the boil and cook for 15 minutes. Transfer the crab to the ice and cover with cold water. This will stop the cooking. Once completely cold, remove the crab from the ice water. Clean the crabs if you didn’t have your fishmonger do it. Dry thoroughly and store in the refrigerator if not serving immediately. 

If you want to eat your crab cold (like we do), just take it out of the fridge about 20-30 minutes before you plan to serve it to let it warm up a bit. 

If you want to eat it hot, steam the crab for 5-10 minutes just before serving. The time will vary depending on how large your crabs are and how cold they are when they go in the pot. Taste the meat often as you steam the crab to be sure you don’t overcook it.

Serve crab accompanied by sauces and lemon wedges.

Serves 6-8.

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Sauce Verte

• 1 cup parsley, chopped fine

• 1/2 teaspoon thyme, chopped fine

• 1 tablespoon finely chopped chives

• 1 small clove garlic, minced

• ¾ cup olive oil

• 1 tablespoon capers, chopped

• 2 ½ tablespoons lemon juice

• Salt, to taste

Combine all the ingredients in a small bowl and stir to combine. Adjust seasonings to taste. Transfer to small bowls and serve alongside the crab. This sauce doesn't hold particularly well, so I recommend making it no more than an hour or two before you intend to serve it. 

Makes about 1 cup.

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Spicy Smoked Paprika Aioli

• 1 cup mayonnaise, preferably homemade

• 2 garlic cloves, grated on a microplane or minced

• 1 -3 teaspoons lemon juice, depending on whether your mayo already has lemon or vinegar in it

• ¾ teaspoon smoked paprika

• ¼ teaspoon cayenne, or to taste

• Pinch fine grain sea salt

Combine all the ingredients in a small bowl and whisk to combine. Adjust seasonings to taste. Transfer to small bowls and serve alongside the crab. This aioli can be made up to 2 days in advance and will get spicier as it sits. Store, covered, in the refrigerator.

Makes about 1 cup.

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Drawn Butter

• 8 oz (2 sticks) high quality salted butter

Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Once melted, the butter will foam. Skim the foam then pour the butter into a clear heatproof container like a Pyrex measuring cup. Wait for the milk solids to fall to the bottom then carefully pour off the liquid butter, leaving the solids behind. You can use cheesecloth if you want your drawn butter to be extra clear. I usually don’t fuss with the extra step since it wastes some of the butter. Heat the drawn butter in a small saucepan just before serving. Transfer to small serving bowls and serve alongside the crab.

Makes about ¾ cup.

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