Aloo Matar (Dry) and Samosa Pie

My generalized dislike of green peas is almost legendary in my family, even though by age 10 or so I had conceded that peas in the context of a dish that was not only about the peas was entirely acceptable. I fell for snap peas and snow peas early and hard, as most kids do, but the pyramid of naked green peas as the vegetable du jour remains on my least beloved list. Split peas, however, were never on my bad list, as I've always categorized of them more as a lentil than anything else.

When I cook with peas, I tend toward using snow peas or snap peas, and I like them equally well (slightly) cooked or raw. I don't usually buy frozen peas, because I have so little use for them. However, I can think of a few uses for peas where they really shine, and the dish wouldn't be the same without them: 1) My mother's Spring chicken noodle soup, 2) raw in a salad or straight out of the garden (shelled, of course), and 3) potato-pea samosa filling.

Lately, I've found myself eyeing every restaurant listing for samosas that I can find. I prefer to know ahead of time what style of samosa is available, so I usually need to ask questions. Phyllo is not my favourite pastry for the samosa oeuvre, nor is puff pastry - the first being too shattery (or leathery), and the second being too rich and too thick. Since I am both fundamentally lazy and afraid of frying things, I decided that I should simply make one big samosa - i.e. a pie - using my usual all-purpose pastry shell, and make up my own filling: potato and pea, of course - my favourite samosa.

Having never made samosas before, I started looking at recipes for fillings and concluded that they were simply a dry aloo matar (mattar, muttar, mutter), and simply made up my own recipe as I went along. I was thrilled with the filling, and happily mounded it into the pie crust to bake in the oven.

The samosa pie was quite pretty, I think, and absolutely delicious - with one caveat: the peas were overcooked. Now, this wasn't the end of the world (although overcooking peas is a kind of tragedy) largely because I have an aggressive hand with the seasoning, which concealed some of the sins of overcooking. Now that I've considered the problem (and re-heated leftover pie a few times) I think I have the solution. Cook everything but the peas, allow the filling to cool, stir in frozen peas, mound into pastry shell and bake. As I was starting with a hot filling, and then baking it at 425 F for 45 minutes, of course the peas got overdone. But with a pre-cooked, cool or cold filling, and frozen peas, the outcome should be much better. I will be sure to report back when I try it again.

If you are not making pie, however, and just want a delicious, substantial dry curry, follow the directions for the peas below.

Aloo Matar

Serves 6—8

4 large yellow potatoes (about 2.75 lbs / 1300 g) peeled and diced medium
1/2 red onion, finely diced
1 cup frozen peas
2 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
1 tablespoon olive oil or mustard oil
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon masala of your choice (garam, tandoori, madras, etc.)
1 teaspoon yellow mustard seeds
2 teaspoons ground coriander seed
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon cayenne (or more)
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger (or equivalent fresh)
pinch of ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (less if your masala contains salt)
pinch of turmeric if you want a yellow-y colour boost (not pictured)

Set the peeled and diced potatoes to cook until tender - about 10 minutes for simmering. Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat the olive oil and saute the onion and garlic until translucent. If you want, you can add some finely diced hot chiles here, too. Add the cumin seeds and mustard seeds, and about half the rest of the seasonings (you can mix all of the ground seasonings together beforehand). Add the frozen peas, stir and saute until the peas are all nicely covered with the oily spices, and either turn off the burner or set on a very low flame until the potatoes are ready. When the potatoes are fork-tender, drain them in a colander and spoon them into the skillet. Sprinkle the rest of the spices evenly over the potatoes and, using a spatula, carefully fold the potatoes through the peas mixture until everything looks evenly distributed. Serve with mango or tamarind chutney.

As always, feel free to tinker with the spices to best suit your tastes.

For Samosa pie, make the filling as above, omitting the peas. Cool the potato filling, stir in the frozen peas, and mound into the pastry shell of your choice. Bake at 450 F for 40 - 45 minutes, checking periodically, or until the crust is a lovely golden brown. For gluten free and/or vegan, you will need to accommodate those factors in your choice of pie crust, naturally, but the filling meets both requirements on its own.

Miso Halibut Cheeks

I know this looks like yet another pasta recipe, but really it's about the lovely bit of fish perched on top of the gingered noodles. The noodles could easily have been a bowl of Japanese rice, and possibly will be, next time.

You may have noticed that I do not tend to post a lot of fish or seafood recipes, and when I do they are usually for prawns, which is hands-down the most common type of seafood cookery for me. There is a reason for this: When I was a child, I had an allergic/food sensitivity reaction to finned fish. Shellfish were fine, but rare in our household, so I learned to like them without any adverse effects intruding. For finned fish, however, I grew to hate even the smell in the air, raw or cooked, however fresh. I would try to hold my breath in disgust, as I angrily ate my fried egg while the rest of the family had fish. When I eventually grew out of the physiological reaction to fish, I had no idea how to cook it, and little desire to learn, because the smell was so off-putting.

Sushi was the thing that broke the barrier for me, in the late 1980s. I started with the predictable California rolls, and eventually worked up my courage to try the others. The Japanese preparations tended to control the objectionable fishiness quite excellently. From there, I found myself eating fish as part of elaborate tasting menus at places like (the now-defunct) Lumiere, where elegant little morsels of sablefish might be cooked with sake and maple foam, for example. Tiny portions just right for sampling and exploring, which opened the door to other cooked fish preparations. When I started ordering fish in fine dining restaurants during departmental lunches for work, it was a real eye-opener in terms of how skilled preparation and bright flavours can make all of the difference. I even learned to like fish and chips (although I am particular about what fish it is, preferring mild, creamy white fish).

So, finally, when I saw the Miso Cod recipe in Cook This Not That! Kitchen Survival Guide, I was intrigued. I prefer halibut to cod, so that's what I hand in mind when I went to my local fish monger, The Daily Catch. They had halibut fillet, no surprise, but they also had halibut cheeks, and I knew in a blazing flash that they would be perfect for this dish. Halibut cheeks are boneless, which is part of the appeal, but they also possess a sort of delicacy of texture that appeals to me.

The recipe also included the marinated cucumbers shown to the side of the fish, which were a simple preparation of salt, sugar, rice vinegar and chile flakes that I enjoyed, but found overly salty. The spinach and sesame salad (goma ae) was thrown together to use up some spinach.

Miso Halibut Cheeks
Adapted from Cook This Not That! Kitchen Survival Guide
Serves 4

4 medium halibut cheeks (about 4 oz. each)
1/2 cup white miso (shiro miso)
2 tablespoons mirin
2 tablespoons sake
1 tablespoon brown sugar

Combine the miso, mirin, sake, and sugar in a non-reactive bowl that is large enough to also hold the fish. Rinse and pat dry the halibut cheeks, and add them to the miso mixture, turning gently to ensure that each piece is well coated. Cover well, and refrigerate for up to 12 hours.

Preheat your broiler with a rack set at 15 cm (6 inches) below the flame, and prepare an edged baking sheet by lining it with foil and misting with cooking oil. Remove the halibut cheeks from the miso, and place, evenly spaced, on the prepared sheet. Brush a little extra miso mixture over the top of each cheek, to ensure it is evenly coated. Broil, watching carefully, for about 8 - 12 minutes, depending on your broiler, removing when the miso glaze begins to caramelize, and the fish begins to flake under gentle pressure. Garnish with a sprinkle of black sesame seeds.

Halibut cheeks may be a little pricy, depending on where you live, but fillet, such as in the original recipe, or any other mild, creamy white fish should work nicely - check out Ocean Wise for any other fishies you might want to use. My fish monger is an Ocean Wise partner, and only uses sustainable seafood, which is reassuring because I don't need to do in-shop analysis before I pick my fish.

Meatball Macaroni with Chipotle

This dish brings together two things I adore: meatballs, and pasta. I did not grow up with spaghetti and meatballs, although I was aware of the dish as a matter of cultural immersion. Our spaghetti was always a baked affair, made in a deep pot (using soy noodles, although I didn't learn that was abnormal until I was older), and slabbed with cheese for the last few minutes in the oven. That dish is one of the first things that I learned how to cook, in fact, and I still have the laboriously written out recipe card from noting down each step as I watched my mother in the kitchen. There was plenty of beef in the recipe, but no meatballs.

Most of the pasta dishes I make these days are not baked (although there are certainly some exceptions). My macaroni and cheese is strictly stovetop, and I'm a big fan of vegetable-strewn fresh pasta using raw (or barely cooked) ingredients as an ad hoc sauce. Meatballs, on the other hand, are almost always baked. It frees you up to do other things (make a salad, drink some wine, whatever you want to do) and it guarantees beautifully round shape to the finished meatballs. So, if I am going to have meatballs with my pasta, I suppose it was a no-brainer to combine cooking methods, eventually.

Essentially, it's a two stage process. Mix up the meatballs of your choice, such as the always-popular-at-our-house Pork & Turkey Meatballs (also used to make meatloaf) and space them out in a larger-than necessary casserole dish to bake. While the meatballs are baking, mix up the pasta. In this case, I went with a Chipotle Macaroni Casserole dish that I hadn't made in a while, although I've tinkered with the settings thusly:

Chipotle Macaroni

Serves 4-6 (with meatballs)
Total Prep & Cooking time: 60 minutes

1 onion, finely minced
2 roasted red peppers
1 teaspoon chipotle powder
1-2 tablespoons unbleached flour
2 cloves of garlic, minced or crushed
2 chipotle chiles in adobo sauce
1-2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon oregano leaves
398 mL canned diced tomatoes
1 cup milk (1% is fine)
1 cup ricotta cheese
1 egg
3 cups grated tasty cheese
2 cups uncooked macaroni, small shells, ditali, or similarly sized pasta

Sautee an onion with a couple of roasted red peppers (rinsed, seeded, and diced), until the onion is softened slightly. Sprinkle with chipotle powder and a little flour (about a tablespoon or two) and stir in some minced garlic, and minced or pureed chipotle in adobo sauce, along with some cumin and oregano.

When the mixture starts to stick, add a 398 ml / 14 oz. can of diced tomatoes with their juice, and stir well until thick and bubbly. Add a little water if it's sticking, to loosen it up. Next, combine a cup of milk with a cup of ricotta mixed well with a beaten egg, and beat until smooth. Add to the tomato mixture and stir well. Add the tomato paste and stir again. Reduce heat to low and continue to stir until everything is well integrated. Mix in a couple of handfuls of cheese - Pepper Jack and edam went in here - and turn off heat. Taste the sauce and adjust for salt and pepper, and hot sauce (chipotle or ancho are best here).

Stir in hot, cooked pasta - approximately 4 cups of cooked macaroni or its equivalent, such as the ditali shown here. Spoon the pasta over the cooked meatballs in the casserole dish. Top with a little more cheese and bake at 350 F for about 20 minutes to half an hour, or until bubbling and browned.

Horiataki, Horiatiki, or Greek Salad

If you've ever had one, you don't need me to provide a recipe for a Greek salad (unless you're from Toronto, where I understand they add lettuce, of all things!).

It's a pretty simply process, essentially being a large-particle chopped salad, generally constructed from cucumber, bell pepper, red onion (or white), tomato, kalamata olives, and feta. The quantities of the foregoing are up to you, but I like a nice balance of the vegetables, perhaps leaning slightly light on the onions if they are particularly fierce.

A sprinkle of oregano is lovely, and if you need a salad dressing, I recommend either a lemony or a red wine vinaigrette. Even just a squeeze of fresh lemon juice and a glug of good olive oil will do it, and in some places in Greece, this salad is not dressed at all. If you are cheese-free, a pinch of coarse salt to finish the dish will tie everything together nicely. On the other hand, if you are seriously pro-cheese, you might consider serving the feta in a magnificent slab across the top of the vegetables, and drizzling the olive oil over that. I had it served that way in a taverna in Greece, and was suitably impressed.

So, consider this not so much a recipe, as reminder of an excellent way to get your vegetables, round out a meal, and have a really fantastic salad.

Cincinnati Chili

I've never been to Cincinnati. My only points of reference for the city, I confess, are watching WKRP on tv and Cincinnati Chili (only the former of which I've experienced first hand). So, as you can see, this will be a bold adventure down chili avenue, and at the end I won't really know whether I've succeeded or not in creating an at-home version of "Cincy/Cinci Chili"; all I'll know is if I've made a tasty dinner. To be fair, that's usually my primary goal, so I'm not too worried about it.

My interest in Cincinnati Chili is based on two things: a deep appreciation of American regional cuisine, which I explore whenever possible, and a recollection of a pastitsio I once ate in Mykonos, which contains a similar combination of pasta, meat and spices, albeit without the cheddar cheese, kidney beans, or oyster crackers. I loved that dish so much, that I've tried to make a version of it before.

Ah, oyster crackers. You can't really get them here, I've discovered (unless you have an account with Sysco Restaurant suppliers, I suppose), so unless I want to visit one of the local oyster bars and clandestinely make off with a packet (or, you know, ask them nicely for an extra packet) I'm forced to either a) make my own from the dubious recipes floating around the internet (not happening today!), b) substitute soda crackers/saltines, despite numerous websites cautioning me against doing so, or c) use the also-dubious looking oyster crackers available from Carr's in the entertainment 9-variety pack.

I've opted for c) and the scant offering of suspiciously flat oyster crackers it is. For the purists, I apologize that I'm not easily able to meet the simple standard, but perhaps I can gain a little credit for not just using goldfish crackers?

My starting point was this recipe from Allrecipes, which is claimed (by a commenter, not the original poster) to be the very recipe for Skyline Chili as was posted in the newspaper in the 1970s. It seemed like a pretty good place to start. Yes, I did my reading, and understand that Empress is widely recognized as the first cincinnati chili, but at the end of the day, after all the reading, I couldn't find a version of that one available. Skyline seemed just the thing. When I eventually make it to Cincinnati, I will have to taste test Skyline, Empress, and Gold Star, just to truly understand the differences. I read a lot of recipes, and a lot of comments, and am impressed by how passionately Cincinnati folks love their chili. Food that is subject to hotly debated opinion, contested between strangers and friends alike in the quest for the perfect representative version, is always worth investigating.

I halved it, because I wasn't feeding 10 people, and I have finite freezer space, so I hope that doesn't compromise the flavours and/or textures. I also found it necessary to substitute dark cocoa powder for the chocolate (not going to the store again today), and upped the cinnamon. I use an unsalted tomato sauce, so this will likely be a bit less salty than other, more accurate versions.

So, the only remaining question was...one-way, two-way, three-way, four-way, or five-way? Which, of course, isn't a question at all; five-way, hands down. For those completely unfamiliar with this dish, it breaks down like this: one-way is just chili in a bowl. Two-way is served on spaghetti. Three-way is served on spaghetti with cheddar cheese. Four-way is three-way plus chopped onions (raw). Five-way, the ultimate version as far as I can tell, is all of the forgoing plus beans, either in the form of chili beans or kidney beans, warmed separately and added either on top of the spaghetti, or on the bare plate before the spaghetti. Well, how could I opt for anything less than the full experience? Five-way it is.

Cincinnati Chili
Adapted from Allrecipes
Serves 5

454 grams lean ground beef
4 cups filtered water
*****
200 mL unsalted tomato sauce
1 medium yellow onion, finely grated
1 tablespoon vinegar
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped or crushed
1/2 tablespoon dark cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cumin (ground)
3 whole cloves
3 whole allspice berries
1 bay leaf

The night before, break up the meat into a medium-sized pot and cover with water. Bring the mixture to a low boil, and cook for about a half-hour, or until the meat is finely broken down and cooked through. Top up with more water as needed - it should be a bit watery. In fact, it looks kind of awful. That's okay, it gets better tomorrow. Cool it down, and then refrigerate overnight, in the same pot.

The day of, skim the solidified fat from the top and discard. Or make candles, or bird feeders, or whatever it is you do with tallow. Re-heat the meat and water mixture, and add everything else. About half-way through grating the onion, I couldn't hold it without risking grating my fingers, too, it was all so slippery with tear-inducing onion juice, so I wimped out and tossed the rest into the min-prep and let the sharp blades finish mincing it for me.

Simmer over a low heat for three hours, to allow time for all of the flavours to develop, adding water as necessary to keep it from drying out. The texture should be more along the lines of a pasta sauce, so it needs to stay "loose".

For five way, drain and rinse your beans, and reheat them separately in a little water. Cook up however much spaghetti you want to use - we go for smaller portions here, so a half-pound (225 ml) spaghetti gives me 4 servings, leaving one "serving" of chili leftover to make a "cheese coney" in the middle of the night. Ahem. So, beans, spaghetti (in which ever order you want to put them), topped with a full portion of the chili (1/5 of the pot), topped with finely chopped onion, and finished with a whole lot of cheddar cheese (I used sharp cheddar, because that's how I roll). Oyster crackers on the side, to be added by the various diners.

I didn't have a grater that would give me the kind of long, fine strands of cheese that I wanted, so I simply went with a fine shred. The overall effect is not the same, but it seemed a better option than using a coarser shred.

So, the verdict: The two-stage meat cooking yielded a texture that was very silky, almost fluffy, and I cannot imagine a way to get that without the lengthy cook time. The combined seasonings were incredibly tasty, although for my tastes I could have upped the allspice and clove (perhaps with a little pinch of ground spices, instead of whole), and I could have easily upped the cocoa to a full tablespoon, too. However, even exactly as written above, it was fragrant, rich, and satisfying, and a dish I'd be happy to have again. A tasty dinner, indeed.

Now I just need to get myself to Cincinnati, and check out the real deal.

Pork & Turkey Meatloaf

If you're thinking that you've seen this combination of meats from me before, you're right: Pork & Turkey Meatballs is the exact same recipe, so check it out if you would like to make this. The only change is that you're making one big meatball, so to speak, and it takes longer to cook.

I use lean ground turkey thigh and lean ground pork, and cut the meatloaf into 12 slices, effectively making each slice the same food value as one of the meatballs (approximately 133 calories* per slice, if you're counting). It makes a great dinner centrepiece, and the leftovers make predictably delicious sandwiches. In fact, I urge you to make a grilled cheese sandwich in which a very thin slice of this meatloaf is placed between layers of cheese; you will doubtless eat it dangerously fast, if my experience is anything to go by.

For cooking the meatloaf, preheat your oven to 350 F, and shape the meat mixture into a loaf with your hands before placing it gently into a loaf-pan. Bake the meatloaf, uncovered, for 45 minutes. Paint with a little soy sauce or worcestershire sauce, bump up the temperature to 400 F, and bake for another 15 minutes. Carefully remove the meatloaf from the pan (I use two flipper-type spatulas, one on each end) to a warmed plate or a cutting board.

I recommend letting the meatloaf stand for ten minutes when it comes out of the oven before slicing, for optimum slice cohesion. You can tent it with foil if you're worried that it will cool down too much. Slice only what you need right away, and let the rest continue to cool until dinner's over. Then slice the rest, and store how you wish. You'll find the completely cooled meatloaf slices much more neatly and tidily than the first ones.

One of the great things I discovered about this recipe is that it freezes incredibly well. We had a few slices left over after the dinner that you see above, and the aforementioned sandwiches, and I wrapped the slices all together in plastic wrap, which I then bagged up in a freezer bag with the air squeezed out. Two weeks later, we hauled out the bag, defrosted it, reheated the slices on medium power in the microwave, and had a yummy dinner that took very little effort. Somehow, that sort of thing always makes me feel like I'm getting away with something.

What kind of sides you serve with meatloaf is entirely up to your preference. I don't usually go for mashed potatoes, because I don't put a sauce or gravy on the meatloaf. In the picture above, the potato-half you see is a very simple twice-baked potato, wherein the insides of a baked potato were scraped out and mixed with a little monterey jack or edam cheese, some smoked paprika, and a dollop of sour cream. The filling was smoothed back into the baked potato shell, and briefly broiled, topped with a tiny bit more sour cream, and some green onion. You could also go with a nice rice pilaf, or even macaroni and cheese, a creamy orzo side dish, or even french fries. The other side, broccoli, is a no-brainer in our household. Need a veggie? How about broccoli?! We eat a lot of it, either plain steamed with a pinch of kosher salt, or drizzled with a little toasted sesame oil (especially for an Asian-flavoured dinner). In asparagus season, that makes a great choice too, but any veggie side will do: crisp green salad, corn on-or-off the cob, green beans, spicy carrot coins...even green peas, if that's your thing (but I'll pass, frankly). And the end of the day, you know what you like; serve it with this meatloaf.

*calorie information from an online calculator, the accuracy of which I cannot vouch for.

Pasta Alla Mizithra

This pasta dish is almost blindingly simple, to the point of being a little...incomplete, shall we say, on its own. But oh, how tasty! I recommend pairing it with a big, colourful Greek salad, and a nice glass of wine. The salad will take longer to make than this dish.

For those of you whose only experience with mizithra is the Spaghetti with browned butter and mizithra at The Spaghetti Factory (where it is one of the tastier items on offer, as I recall), you can make this dish so easily and quickly at home that there's no need to order it out; you just need to get your hands on the cheese itself. Mizithra can be had by the chunk, or pre-grated. The pre-grated stuff is usually so fluffy and finely textured that it disappears entirely into the pasta, instead of giving you the delightful little flecks that you get when you grate it yourself. I recommend buying a small chunk, and grating it yourself, so you can get the size of shavings you prefer.

Pasta Alla Mizithra
Serves 4

250 grams long pasta of your choice (such as the linguine shown here)
1/4 cup butter
60 grams grated mizithra cheese

Melt the butter slowly (ie, over a low temperature) in a skillet or saucepan. Once the foaming stops, and the butter has melted, allow the colour to darken to a dark gold. Do not stir or disturb the sediment in the pan. Once the colour is dark gold/light brown, remove the pan from the heat. If you like a very clear browned butter, carefully pour the liquid off of the solids (and discard the solids), but I confess I like the toastiness of leaving the solids in. You can do all this while the water boils for the pasta.

Cook the pasta and drain. Toss the pasta thoroughly with the browned butter, making sure every strand is coated.

In a large serving bowl, spritz a little olive oil, then sprinkle 1/4 of the grated cheese. Layer three more times with buttered pasta and grated cheese, ending with cheese. Present at table, and toss gently while serving up portions. Finish with parsley, if you like a bit of green, and lots of black pepper.

You can see how a nice, bright vegetable salad will perk this right up. If you want to go into butter overload territory, add garlic bread on the side, too. A glass of wine will cut the richness of butter and cheese nicely. I recommend a crisp white, or a lighter bodied red - such as sangiovese, gamay noir, or cabernet franc, for example.

The portions indicated here are smaller than you'd get at a restaurant, but that's because I usually serve modest portions of pasta, in the Italian model (although I don't usually serve it as a first course for a larger meal). It's an approach that particularly makes sense for a rich dish, such as this one. If you want the "big pasta experience", I guess this would serve two people, by North American standard serving sizes.

Enjoy!

Artichoke & Feta Quiche

Perhaps you recall back in December 2010, when I reviewed a cookbook called Cook This, Not That! (subtitled "Easy & Awesome 350 Calorie Meals") by David Zinczenko and Matt Goulding on my (sadly neglected) other blog "Much Ado About Diet" or the other recipes that I have made since then, either straight from the book, or somewhat adapted therefrom. In fact, it should be noted that many of the recipes that I've made from the book (each one a success) which haven't made it onto the blog are simply because either a) the photos were crummy, and I need to take better ones next time, or b) I am a lazy blogger who sometimes forgets that I haven't already written them up.

This recipe is not from that book. This recipe is from the other Cook This, Not That! cookbook by the same duo, subtitled "Kitchen Survival Guide." As a test recipe, it was a big hit, and I'll definitely be making it again (or other versions inspired by this one). In the spirit of "use what you have", I substituted thick-cut dry cured bacon for the recipe's turkey or chicken sausage, and, not having any frozen pie crust hanging about, I used my mother's basic recipe for a simple pastry shell. Since I knew I would be making this on Sunday, on Saturday I mixed up the crust, rolled it out, and stuck it (in the pie pan) in the fridge overnight.

Artichoke, Feta & Bacon Quiche
(Adapted from Cook This! Not That! Kitchen Survival Guide)

Serves 6

3 large eggs
1 cup 1% milk
3 canned artichoke hearts, drained, chopped, and squeezed dry
60 grams feta (I use sheep feta)
2 tablespoons sundried tomatoes, chopped
4 slices of thick bacon, fried until crisp and well drained

While the oven is preheating to 350℉, chop and cook the bacon, and set aside. Mix the eggs and milk together until smooth. In an unbaked pie crust, arrange the chopped artichoke hearts, sundried tomatoes, bacon, and crumbled feta for even distribution. Pour the egg and milk mixture over the filling, and bake for 45 to 50 minutes, or until the crust is golden and the filling is slightly puffed and firmly set. Allow to stand for 5 minutes before cutting, for easy removal.

Next time I do this, I will at the very least add some snipped chives or fresh parsley or basil (or chile flakes!) to the the mixture, I think, but it was very good on its own, too. We finished the individual slices with black pepper and a tiny drizzle of truffle oil.

I was using paler-yolked eggs than I usually do, so the quiche was rather lighter-coloured than my quiches ordinarily are. I imagine that if you use orange-yolked eggs you will have a more golden quiche.

For those of you who don't have a frozen pie crust lurking about, and would like an easy one to make yourself, here's mine:

Single Pastry Crust
for a 8 or 9" pan

3/4 cup all purpose (unbleached) flour
1/4 cup butter
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon vodka
1 1/2 tablespoons cold water

Place the flour in the bowl of a small food processor fitted with a metal cutting blade. Add the pinch of salt and the butter (cold is best) in chunks, and pulse until well mixed, and the butter is in pieces no larger than a piece of confetti. Add the vodka and the water, all at once, and pulse again, continuing to pulse until the dough comes together and pulls away from the edge of the bowl. Dump it out and massage the dough, as minimally as possible into shape. Chill the dough for 10 minutes, then roll out as needed. This recipe can be doubled to make a double crust pie.

The recipe was published as containing 250 calories per slice. My bacon-y adaptation with a freshly made crust (and using 1% milk instead of 2%) clocked in at 237 calories (based on an online recipe calculator), so at least I didn't damage the healthiness of the recipe with the few adjustments that I made.

Ají De Gallina: Peruvian Chicken with Chile & Cheese

If you have been following this blog for a while, you will know that I have made this dish before, using Cesar's recipe (or a modestly adapted version thereof).

This time, I was moved to streamline the recipe a little more, at least partly due to the fact that I had two whole chicken legs' worth of meat (leftover from a roasted chicken) waiting in the fridge to be turned into something tasty, and had actually made a nice stock out of the bones. I also had a jar of ají amarillo sauce lurking in the fridge, and some ground almonds in the freezer. When I realized that I had pretty much everything that I needed for the dish on hand, I sprang into action. I note that I used Portuguese buns because they were the only plain white bread we had in the house, but they worked beautifully.

Ají De Gallina

Serves: 4
Total Prep & Cooking time: 45 minutes

2-3 cups shredded cooked chicken
1/2 medium yellow onion, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3/4 cup 1% milk (or skim)
1 1/2 Portuguese buns (or three slices of bread)
3 tablespoons aji amarillo sauce
1/4 cup ground almonds
1 tablespoon chicken fat
1 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
1/4 tsp Kosher salt
Ground black pepper to taste

Tear the buns or bread into pieces, soak in the milk for about half hour, then puree. I soaked the bread right in the mini-prep bowl, fitted with the metal blade, to minimize mess. If you are serving this traditionally, with plain rice and/or potatoes, you probably want to get them started now, along with the hard boiled eggs for garnish.

While the bread soaks, prepare the rest: shred the chicken into long threads, and set aside, and chop the onions and garlic.

Heat the chicken fat (or olive oil) in a skillet and add the minced garlic and onion. After 2-3 minutes add the ají sauce, and cook for 2 more minutes, stirring. Add the blended bread, stirring constantly. Add salt and pepper.

Little by little, pour in one cup of broth, still stirring. If the mix is too thick, add more broth (or hot water). Cook for a few more minutes, always stirring.

Add the chicken threads, parmesan and ground almonds, and stir well. Remove the skillet from the heat for a few minutes before serving, so the flavours integrate.

Serve with white rice and potato slices. Decorate with hard-boiled egg wedges and olives.

I should note that the kind of olives that should be served here would be closer to California Mission olives, or Mexican black olives, than the kalamatas shown here. *shrug* I like kalamatas better, and I had them on hand. Radishes also make a lovely garnish. We also had some red bell pepper strips, just to give us a little more vegetable in our dinner. Leftovers re-heated well for lunch, which was also a bonus.

This version is fairly potent - if you want a milder hit of the chile flavour, use 1-2 tablespoons of the sauce, instead of 3.

Vegetarian Lasagna

For a while, it seemed like the default vegetarian option at any pre-set or group menu at restaurants in this town was vegetarian lasagna. Not being vegetarian myself, I had more options to choose from, but I recall sitting next to any number of folks who would fork disdainfully through their entrees muttering about the general lack of anything resembling a vegetable other than tomato (in sauce form) and perhaps a sliced mushroom (if they were lucky), or mushy cube of something indeterminate, and which might have once been zucchini, or possibly bell pepper. Mostly, they were bland and unimaginative, as far as I could determine from the reactions. I avoided the dish at all costs, personally, because I never, not even once, heard anyone say that it was delicious.

But really, there are so many reasons that vegetarian lasagna could be fantastic, that I became determined to work one out. This is the vegetarian recipe that has been my staple for the past 15 years.

Notes: The idea of grated zucchini and chopped mushrooms standing in for ground meat comes from from Anne Lindsay's Lighthearted Everyday Cooking. The idea of roasted fennel comes from the now-defunct Cafe S'il Vous Plait on Robson Street (although, I'm not sure they roasted it). Mixing the cheese and egg with the spinach is a tip I stole from my sister. The rest is pretty much classic!

Vegetarian Lasagna

Serves: 8
Total prep & cooking time: 2 to 2 1/2 hours, depending on your level of organization

1 tablespoon olive oil, divided
1 foot-long zucchini, grated
500 grams mushrooms, button or cremini
1 large onion, finely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
796 mL canned diced tomatoes (no sodium added)
2 cups tomato sauce (no or low sodium)
1 fennel bulb, thinly sliced
200 grams mixed wild mushrooms
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 cups part-skim ricotta or 1% cottage cheese
300 grams chopped frozen spinach, thawed
1 egg
pinch grated nutmeg
9 lasagna noodles (or equivalent fresh noodles)
200 grams mozzarella, grated
1/2 cup parmesan, freshly grated
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
pinch of chile flakes
1 teaspoon fennel seed
1/2 teaspoon oregano leaves (less, if using powdered)
1 teaspoon dried basil leaves (or 1/4 cup fresh)

Pre-heat the oven to 400℉. Spritz a 9x13" glass baking dish lightly with cooking spray, or rub lightly with canola oil. Toss the sliced fennel bulb with 1/2 tablespoon of olive oil and a tablespoon of water, and add a pinch of salt. Roast uncovered in the oven for about 30 minutes, until the fennel is completely tender. Remove from oven, scoop the fennel onto a plate or bowl, and set the oily pan aside to build the lasagna in, later. Start heating your water to boil the noodles.

In the meantime In a medium bowl, combine the ricotta, the spinach (squeeze out excess water first), the egg, and the nutmeg, and mix thoroughly with a fork.

Prepare the wild mushrooms by cleaning, removing any woody stems, and slicing into large, recognizable pieces.

Use a food processor or mini-prep to finely chop (pulse) the button mushrooms until the pieces are mostly roughly the size of green lentils. In a large skillet, heat the remaining olive oil, and begin to saute the onions and garlic. Feel free to deglaze with a little splash of water or wine as you go, to keep them from sticking. Once the onions are starting to turn translucent, add the grated zucchini, and the chopped mushrooms. Stir and saute until the vegetables are tender, and any excess liquid has evaporated. Add the wild mushrooms, and stir them through. Add the salt, white pepper, chile flakes, fennel seed, and oregano, and continue to stir and saute. When the herbs are all nicely integrated in, add the diced tomatoes with their juices, the tomato paste, the tomato sauce (except for about a half-cup), and, if the mixture instantly looks too thick, a half-cup to a cup of water. Add the basil, and let the sauce cook gently, covered, over low heat, while you boil up the noodles.

Get the noodles going, and drain in a colander once just barely tender. Lay the noodles out on a cutting board or sheet, if you want to keep them from sticking to each other.

Layering time!

In your oily 9x13" baking dish, put down the reserved bit of tomato sauce, and spread it out to cover the bottom of the dish. Add three noodles to cover the sauce, and then add 1/3 of the simmered vegetable sauce, spreading it out evenly. Next, add all of the roasted fennel bulb, spreading it out into a nice even layer. Add half of the mozzarella cheese, sprinkling it over the fennel. Lay down the next three noodles. Lay down half of the remaining vegetable sauce, spreading it nice and evenly. Add the ricotta cheese and spinach mixture, carefully spooning it around the dish, and then using the back of the spoon to smooth it all into a layer. Top with the last three noodles, and the last of the sauce. Cover the top of the dish with the remaining mozzarella and the parmesan. If you like a little green, you can throw some chopped parsley in there, too.

Cover the dish with foil (spray the underside lightly with canola oil or rub it with olive oil first) and bake for 40 minutes, or until bubbling and hot. Remove from the oven and let it stand, uncovered, for about 10 minutes before you cut it, to make sure that it serves up nicely, and doesn't just slide apart. You can use that time to knock together a salad, or some garlic bread or something.

Enjoy with a nice glass of wine, and the comfort of knowing that you will eat well for days to come.

Does it take a while? Yeah. But, you can make it in advance for a dinner party, and it freezes well, too.

I'm currently contemplating a version that includes some coarsely/medium-ly chopped chickpeas somewhere in the mix, but I'm undecided if I should add them to the vegetable sauce or the cheese-and-spinach layer. I'll report back, once I've taken a crack at it.