Here, we’ll start with Manhattans, edamame hummus, chicken liver pate, butternut squash mini-arancini, along with a baguette and garlic and zatar pita chips. Then, on to the main course: tandoori turkey, with a vegetarian entree — miso curry squash with heirloom butternuts, tofu, kale, and potatoes. And a raw chard salad, to balance everything out, and some giant tandoori bread instead of biscuits. And lots of other goodies, courtesy of all the guests.

I hope I can get a walk in before the feasting begins. It’s in the fifties today in Minneapolis and yesterday there was a golden pink sunset at the lake and ducks and weeping willows, and it felt magical to be here.

Wishing you all the happiest and most delicious of Thanksgivings.

I’ve made a fair number of turkeys in my day. I was a pretty precocious child when it came to the kitchen, and I think that I was a freshman in high school the first time that I declared that I was going to make Thanksgiving. And this was no joking around Thanksgiving. This was a Thanksgiving with lists, with weeks of prep, with freezing, with soup and salad and biscuits, and two pies, and stuffing, and two sides, and a turkey with gravy.

I’ve since simplified.

Now, running Thanksgiving on my own for the second year, I’m sticking to the vague potluck method. Vague as in, I will make the turkey and a vegetarian entree, and probably also a salad (likely a version of this raw kale salad, but with slightly more delicate chard) and some munchies (likely a mini version of these arancini, with butternut squash risotto) for beforehand, to be popped along with a bottle of Prosecco.

But I won’t be making any pies or any other sides, and I definitely won’t be making gravy. Every year, I think I’m going to make gravy, and every year, by the time gravy-making time comes around, I just want to be done, and I look at the shimmering pan juices, and I think, well, those look plenty delicious. And I think they are. Any other day, maybe I would make gravy, but paradoxically, on Thanksgiving, I think pan juices are just fine.

At any rate — let’s talk turkey. After maybe eight or nine turkeys, I can say with some great confidence that this is the best turkey I’ve ever made. It was so easy, and the salt brine makes it so juicy and so flavorful — and forgiving. Not a part of this bird was dried out, which is near impossible, given the different cooking rates of breast and thigh/leg on these enormous birds.

There was no question in my mind that I was going to make this turkey again…until I spied this tandoori turkey, and I couldn’t resist. I will report back. It’s hard, I’m finding, to be faithful to just one turkey recipe, even when it’s such a winner. What do they say about love and turkeys?

But this, my friends, this one is a winner. I’ve never met a turkey recipe before that was so good that I was conflicted about leaving it. I will come back to you, Salt-Roasted Turkey. Someday, I will come back.

Salt-Roasted Turkey with Lemon and Oregano

Serves 8-10 (says Bon Appétit), for us 11 people only ate half of it, along with the sides

Adapted from Bon Appétit

NB: If you, unlike me, have the stamina to make gravy, then check out this recipe for Greek-inspired fresh oregano and giblet pan gravy

Ingredients

Rub

- 1/3 cup coarse kosher salt (preferably Diamond Crystal brand)

- 2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano or 1 tablespoon dried oregano

- 2 tablespoons finely grated lemon peel

- 2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic

- 1 tablespoon ground black pepper

Turkey

- 1 14- to 16-pound turkey (clean out the neck, heart, and gizzard and reserve for stock)

- 3 lemons, coarsely chopped

- 2 celery stalks, chopped

- 1 onion, chopped

- 2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano

- 2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme

- 2 teaspoons ground black pepper

- 1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt

- 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided

- 6 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, divided

- 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 cups low-salt chicken broth, divided

1. For salt rub: Mix all rub ingredients in a bowl.
2. For turkey: Rinse turkey and pat dry with paper towels. Empty out anything else in the turkey (metal inserts, fat pads, etc.), so that you just have turkey. Place the turkey on the roasting pan you’ll use and sprinkle 4 Tbsp. salt rub inside cavities. Sprinkle remaining salt rub over the turkey and cover loosely with plastic wrap. Refrigerate turkey 18 to 24 hours.
3. To roast turkey: Preheat oven to 350ºF with rack set at the lowest spot in the oven. Rinse turkey of the salt and pat dry (rinse the roasting pan too, if there’s a lot of salt in there). Place the turkey back in the roasting pan.
4. Combine lemons, celery stalks, onion, oregano, thyme, black pepper, salt, ¼ c. olive oil and 3 Tbsp. lemon juice in a large bowl. Spoon everything into the main cavity of the bird.
5. Whisk remaining ¼ c. oil and remaining 3 Tbsp. lemon juice. Tuck wing tips under. Brush with lemon oil (or spoon over and rub in with your hands if you don’t have a brush).
6. Place roasting pan with turkey on the bottom rack of the oven. Pour 2 c. stock into the roasting pan. Roast turkey for one hour. After an hour, brush all over with remaining lemon oil.
7. Roast turkey for 45 minutes; after 45 minutes, pour 1 cup stock into pan.
8. Roast turkey for another 45 minutes; after 45 minutes, pour ½ – 1 ½ c. stock into pan (to maintain the level of the liquid). Turn pan around to distribute the heat evenly.
9. Continue to roast turkey until a thermometer stuck in the thickest part of the thigh registers 165ºF. (It should be about 45 minutes more, but if it looks done to you – golden, crisped skin, etc. — check it out earlier.)
10. Take turkey out and transfer it to the serving platter (reserve the roasting pan with juices). Tent with foil and let rest 30-45 minutes (temp will rise 5 to 10 degrees while it rests).
11. Carve and serve with pan juices or Greek-inspired fresh oregano and giblet pan gravy.

What do you eat when you’re feeling too busy to cook? If you’re like me, you’ll fall into one of these camps: Take-out (pizza, burritos); “Cooking” (quesadilla, grilled cheese, pasta). Not a lot of vegetable matter. A lot of food that is not really that satisfying but feels fine for one meal. But not, I repeat not, fine for more than one meal. Because — and this is the true sign that I am turning into an adult — I like eating vegetables. And I do not want or like to eat several meals lacking vegetables in a row.

But sometimes, cooking is hard. The pasta is staring at you saying, boil me. Just boil me, and add some olive oil and salt and a little bit of whatever you have in the fridge, and I will be delicious. Or, if you are me, and live where I live, then Chipotle is literally across the street, and I swear that they are pumping the scent of carnitas out their exhaust fumes.

This, then, is when I turn to kale salad. As evidenced by my recent lack of posts (and my apologies about that!), I am having a very busy day/week/month. Full discretion: I am actually eating a quesadilla right now, as I type. One made with corn tortillas (good local ones) and grated cheese, and that’s it. Not even any hot sauce. It’s a busy time.

Too often, I forget about kale salad. It’s a little counterintuitive, eating such a hearty green that I am so used to cooking absolutely raw. But it’s become my favorite way to eat kale, and one of — if not my absolute — favorite ways to eat salad. It’s so filling and so satisfying — the snap and crunch of the kale between your teeth actually make you feel like you are growing stronger as you eat it, not unlike Popeye and his spinach. And the zing and the cheesiness of the dressing makes the whole thing feel utterly decadent, even though it’s one billion times healthier than a slice of pizza.

All you have to do is buy a head of kale (which should run you about $3) and a few ingredients for dressing, ones that you might well already be stocking. You want Tuscan kale (some types: black, lacinto) — the good, thick, pebbled stuff that is closed in relatively tightly on itself. It’s the most common kind, I think, but I’ve seen other, frillier ones that won’t work.

Then all you do is chop of the stems (you don’t even have to de-rib), slice into ribbons, and toss with a couple magical ingredients (garlic, lemon, cheese, oil, salt), and voila, served with toast, you have a light supper. If you’re feeling up to a modicum more work, hard-boil an egg and slice it into quarters, add half an avocado, a tomato, some red onion.

If you’re feeling even lazier/more stressed, simply toss the cleaned, sliced kale with some store-bought Caesar dressing (I like Brianna’s), and you’ll be ready to eat even faster.

The original recipe calls for bread crumbs (preferably freshly made), but if I had to make bread crumbs, or even bother toasting bread crumbs, I would probably never manage to make this salad. The whole beauty here, for me at least, is how delicious such an extremely simple recipe can be. And so, I’ve made the recipe even simpler, the way I make this salad when I make it at home, on a tired night. (For the original, bread crumb including recipe, try one of the links below.)

Going on a little mini-roadtrip/vacay this afternoon to the Pizza Farm in Stockholm, WI. Photos and more later this week!

Raw Kale Salad

Adapted from Melissa Clark, via 101 Cookbooks

Serves 2 as a side

Ingredients

-       ½ bunch Tuscan kale (black, lacinto, etc.), rinsed and dried

-       1 garlic clove, minced

-       ¼ tsp. kosher salt

-       ¼ cup finely grated pecorino cheese (or Parmesan)

-       3 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

-       juice of one lemon

-       1/8 tsp. red pepper flakes

-       fresh ground black pepper, to taste

1. Cut bottom stems off of kale. Cut kale leaves into horizontal ribbons, about ½ inch wide. Place in a large salad bowl.
2. Combine garlic, salt, cheese, oil, lemon juice, and red pepper flakes in a small bowl. Whisk to combine. Pour dressing over salad and toss to combine.
3. Let salad sit for about five minutes (this is to let the flavors meld slightly, but it can also survive for longer – the kale is pretty hearty). Serve, grinding black pepper over if desired.

I think the pictures say it all today. The garden was full of green tomatoes that ran out of time to ripen. 20+ lb. of tomatoes. Which meant only one thing: time for a fried green tomato party. What you need: fried green tomatoes, a big pot of red beans, a pan of cornbread, a big ol’ tub of sour cream, 2 kinds of hot sauce (Tapatío and Louisiana), and, optionally, some preserves. Plus, booze and friends willing to bring more food and more booze. And some good tunes, of course.

Still so many green tomatoes — for salsa, for jam, for green tomato tart. Any other green tomato ideas?

Recipe for fried green tomatoes after the jump!

Fried Green Tomatoes

For 6 people as a side dish or brunch; more people if it’s a party and everyone’s having just a couple (though you may still want to increase the recipe)

Adapted from the Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook, by Matt and Ted Lee

Ingredients

-       3 lb. green tomatoes (about 6-8 medium tomatoes), washed and sliced into 1/4 – inch slices (Lee bros. say to core them, but I just sliced them vertically through the core, and didn’t notice a thing once they were fried)

-       3 large eggs, beaten

-       ¾ cup whole milk (I used low-fat because it was what I had, and it was fine)

-       1 ½ c. all-purpose flour

-       ½ c. plus 1 Tbsp. stone-ground cornmeal (polenta works well here – you want the coarser grain for crunch)

-       2 Tbsp. salt

-       4 ½ tsp. finely ground black pepper

-       oil for frying (the Lee bros. recommend peanut oil, but I had vegetable oil on hand, and it worked well, plus it’s cheaper)

-       Optional, to sprinkle over: Salt, torn basil leaves, hot sauce (Tapatío or Louisiana style)

1. Whisk egg and milk together in a shallow bowl.
2. Mix flour, cornmeal, salt, and black pepper together in another shallow bowl to make the dredge.
3. Pour about a ½ inch of oil in a skillet (I used a cast-iron pan). Heat over medium-high heat.
4. To fry tomatoes: Dip one slice of tomato in dredge, make sure both sides are covered. Then, dip in egg/milk mixture, so both sides are covered. Then, dip back in dredge, again making sure both sides are covered. Place in oil.
5. You can test the heat of the oil by putting a slice of the dredged tomato on. The oil should sizzle around it. If it doesn’t, just leave that one tomato on until the oil starts going. If the oil does sizzle, then get dredging, until you’ve filled (but not crowded) the pan.
6. Flip the tomatoes once they’re golden brown on one side, about 2 minutes. Cook the other side until golden brown (about 2 minutes more), adding more oil as needed. Remove the fried tomatoes with a spatula to a platter lined with paper towel. Sprinkle with salt or basil, if desired.
7. Serve immediately, and repeat!

The best challah I’ve ever had

Simplest Noodle Kugel

False Mahshi, a traditional Rosh Hashanah dish from Iraq

A plethora of roast chickens, paprika-cayenne here and orange-coriander here

Lots of other harvest-appropriate dishes in the archives! What will you be cooking on Wednesday night at sunset?

My apartment building turned the heat on for the first time yesterday. The radiators were hissing and spitting, and I went around closing up the storm windows for maximum heat efficiency. (I’ve never seen storm windows before moving to Minnesota, not even on the East Coast.) And the heat was only on for a brief few minutes, but it was enough to warm the place up, and I slept better than I have for several nights.

This caponata contributed to the heat of the apartment in a big way, as well. Making this stew was actually a pretty big occasion for me — it Christened my brand new Le Creuset. I’ve been wanting a Le Creuset for a long time now, but it’s such an investment, not just in price, but also since it will last for my entire life and probably beyond, I really wanted to absolutely love the color I ended up with. And, I was continually reluctant to spend that much money on a pan. I knew it was worth it, but still…it was a lot of money. But then, I discovered that there’s a Le Creuset outlet right outside of Minneapolis! A Le Creuset outlet, people! (And there could well be one near you — there are a lot.) And they were having a sale on the Valencia color. And then I was sold, and a beautiful 7.25 quart round dutch oven was mine.

As easy as it was, after two nights of roasting tomatoes, I was getting a little tired of it, and I used the rest in an easy tomato sauce. That plus a small ton of mini eggplant from the farmers’ market was the inspiration for this dish, a nice bridge between summer and fall, and a perfect first use for the LC.

I get such a kick out of these eggplants — they’re adorable. They’re a little bit more work, but not much, and I think they’re a little more flavorful (the usual benefit of a mini version of a vegetable) and also they have a higher skin to flesh ratio (perfect for the caponata, not so perfect for, say, baba ghanoush, where you’re supposed to only use the flesh).

Caponata is a Sicilian sweet-sour eggplant stew — sweet from a touch of sugar, sour from a glug of red wine vinegar. Along with the incredible influx of salty-savory flavor from anchovies, capers, and olives, it makes for a dish full of wonderfully complex flavor, that still tastes very fresh.

Caponata is traditionally served cold, as part of an antipasto platter, or as a side dish. But, actually, I think it makes a lovely vegetarian entree, served over quinoa or pasta or any number of other grains. And it would make a lovely vegetarian centerpiece for a Rosh Hashanah dinner, I think. It calls to fall and the harvest, and it feels a little special and festive and fertile.

I’ll be posting some other Rosh Hashanah ideas later today.

Caponata

Makes about 4 cups (to serve 2-4 as an entrée, more as part of an antipasto; can be increased extremely easily)

Adapted from The Art of Simple Food, by Alice Waters

Ingredients

-       2 medium eggplants, trimmed and cut into 1-inch cubes

-       2/3 cup thinly sliced celery

-       1 small onion, diced

-       1 ½ cups simple tomato sauce (recipe below) or any tomato sauce you like

-       ½ cup green olives pitted, chopped

-       2-3 Tbsp. capers (rinsed if packed in salt)

-       2 anchovies, chopped (rinsed if packed in salt)

-       ¼ cup red wine vinegar

-       1 ½ tsp. sugar (Waters uses white, but I was out and used brown with no problem)

-       olive oil

-       salt and freshly ground black pepper

-       Optional: basil, parsley, chopped up hard-boiled egg

1. Season the eggplant with salt and place in a large colander in the sink or over a bowl to drain for about 15 minutes. (Getting the water out of the eggplant helps it to soak up less oil when it fries.)

2. After eggplant has drained, warm up 1 Tbsp. or so olive oil in a heavy pot over medium heat (enough to coat the bottom). Add eggplant cubes to cover the bottom of the pan (I added a little bit more, not wanting to wait through so many batches). Sauté until golden. Remove to another bowl, and add another batch of eggplant, replacing the oil as necessary

3. After all eggplant is done, add a bit more oil and then the celery. Sauté until golden. Remove to the bowl with the eggplant.

4. Add a bit more oil, and then the onion. Sauté until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the tomato sauce. Cook for about 7 minutes.

5. Then add olives, capers, anchovies, vinegar, sugar, eggplant, and celery. Cook for a final 10 minutes or so. Taste and adjust seasoning (vinegar, sugar, salt, and pepper) as needed.

6. You can garnish this with chopped herbs and/or chopped up hard-boiled egg.

Note: Caponata, like many stews, tastes even better the day after, when the flavors have had a chance to meld.

Note: You can make this recipe healthier by baking the eggplant. Toss the salted and drained eggplant with a couple tablespoons of oil and spread on a baking sheet; bake at 375ºF until golden brown, about 30 minutes.

Simple Tomato Sauce

Makes about 2 cups

Adapted from The Art of Simple Food, by Alice Waters

Ingredients

-       2 lb. ripe tomatoes, diced

-       5 large garlic cloves, peeled and chopped

-       ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

-       salt (preferably kosher salt)

1. Heat a heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. When hot, add oil. When the oil has heated, add the garlic. When the garlic starts to sizzle, immediately add the tomatoes with all their juices and a large pinch of salt.

2. Simmer until the tomatoes break down, 15-30 minutes.

Note: I don’t mind skins in my tomato sauce (I like them, in fact), and I can’t stand the work of peeling tomatoes. If you want a perfectly smooth sauce, however, you have to blanch the tomatoes in boiling water until their skins are loose; then you can peel them. Alternatively, you can also run this sauce through a food mill after you’re done simmering it.

Well, I’ve finally made the leap into the 21st century — Food Junta is on Twitter! In addition to blogging here, I’ll be tweeting about food and more @FoodJunta. Hope to see you there.

ps. Any twitterers that you’re particularly keen on? Let me know in the comments, I’d love to check ‘em out!

Well, friends, here we are, in mid-September, and it is time to start preserving tomatoes. This is the perfect moment — the moment when tomatoes are rolling, abundantly, into farmers’ markets for the cheapest prices of the season (at least here in Minnesota), the moment when other produce is not rolling quite so abundantly into the markets anymore, the moment when it is cold enough at night to blast the oven, and the moment when it’s about to get a lot colder.

I was never really one for preserving tomatoes. People would talk about blanching them, peeling them, canning them whole, or else making them into a sauce and canning that. It all seemed too fussy for me; so much work for something that is so simple. And, truth be told, I think you can buy pretty good canned tomatoes for pretty cheap. (Muir Glen was actually just doing a giveaway near my house of its reserve tomatoes, which are being sold on its web site in a Reserve Kit for members of the Tomato Connoisseurs’ Club. Wild!)



But everything changed when I found out about slow-roasted (or, when cooked a little longer, oven-dried) tomatoes. This is the simplest way I can think of to preserve tomatoes, requiring extremely little active time on your part, meaning…no canning! Liberation from the water bath! It doesn’t get easier than that. (You just need some space in your fridge or freezer.)



Slow-Roasted/Oven-Dried Tomatoes

Inspiration and Information from Kinfolk, Pinch My Salt, Martha Stewart

Ingredients

- tomatoes (preferably Roma)

- a little extra-virgin olive oil (plus lots more if you plan to preserve them)

- kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

- herbs of your choice (I like dried thyme; coriander is also good)

There are two ways to slow-roast tomatoes. Your choice all comes down to the question…Are you feeling lucky?

To start: Get a bunch of tomatoes (I think Romas are best for purposes of preservation; you can also use cherry or grape tomatoes, especially if eating immediately — they will need much less time in the oven). Rinse them well. Line several baking sheets with parchment paper. Slice tomatoes in half, length-wise, placing them cut-side up on the baking sheet. Drizzle olive oil on top of tomatoes, and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and herbs.

Then…

Method One: Roast tomatoes at the lowest heat in your oven (about 200º F) for 6-8 hours. The only time to do this, probably, is while you sleep. When I followed this method last summer, I spent a relatively restless night worrying that I was going to burn down my apartment building, and I set my alarm for 4 am to check the tomats mid-way through. Not the best. The tomatoes, for the most part, came out very well, though more of them were burned than I would have liked.

Method Two: Blast the tomatoes at high heat (450º F or so) for about 20 minutes (depending on what kind of tomato you’re roasting). Turn heat off; do not open oven. Let tomatoes sit in the cooling oven overnight (or for 6-8 hours, or until the oven is cool). I found that this method did not quite get the Romas roasted in one go, but, overall, it was much less stressful and also much easier to control how roasty toasty they got. When they weren’t as roasted as I wanted, I just blasted them a second time for about 20 minutes, and let them sit for 4 hours or so.

I really prefer Method Two, but maybe you like to live on the edge.

To end: You know you’re done when the edges are shriveled and the tomatoes have shrunken considerably. I like mine still a little plump, but to be on the safest side (see below), you’ll want them to be completely dry (no juices running). Then…

1. Put in a Ziploc freezer bag and freeze them — no extra oil needed. Tomatoes should keep in the freezer for up to a year.

OR

2. Pack them into jars and cover them with olive oil (preferably extra-virgin); make sure they are fully submerged in the oil (by at least one inch). Seal tight and keep in the refrigerator. The oil will condense in the cold, so make sure to check the jars after a day or two to see if you should top them off. Tomatoes should keep in the fridge for at least a month (some sources say up to six).

*Note: The National Center for Home Food Preservation no longer recommends preserving tomatoes in oil, for fear of botulism (which is extremely rare, but fatal or paralyzing). This mostly, I think, refers to preserving at room temperature, as Martha and others say it’s okay to refrigerate the tomats in oil. But you may want to look into it yourself.

I am thrilled to be part of Food Studies, a new series at Grist that covers all the different ways there are to study food in the world of academia. I’ll be writing about combining my primary program — the MFA in Creative Writing — with my graduate minor in Sustainable Agricultural Systems. I’ll be focusing primarily on my experience this past summer working at a school garden in St. Paul, exploring ideas about school gardens, creative writing, and food justice.

I’ve been reading Grist for a long time, so it’s very exciting to now be part of such a great site. You can check out my first post here, and I encourage you to check out the other columnists, as well!