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!

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.

Well, it is back to winter in Minneapolis. After a glorious week of temperatures in the fifties, of rivers of melting snow, of sneakers and runs outside, the ground is entirely covered in snow again, I’m wearing my boots again, I’m going to have to shovel my car out again.

Enter warm lentils with mustard vinaigrette. This is a dish that spans the seasons. I made this in that beautiful winter/spring period I mentioned before, but it would be just as good on a snowy winter day, a rainy spring day, a blazing summer day, or a blustery fall day. It’s quick and it’s all on the stovetop, and it can be served piping hot, warmish, or room temperature (or even eaten straight, cold, from the fridge, if we’re telling the truth here). And it’s totally, mind-bogglingly delicious.

This dish is really a cinch, and it’s also a match made in heaven. Give me some lentils and mustard, and I will just close my eyes and pretend that I’m at a picnic in the French countryside.

Oh, and I should mention: The recipe comes from Ina Garten’s How Easy Is That?, which I got as a review copy. It’s not the kind of book I would immediately think of to buy — I tend to stay away from Food Network personalities these days — but Ina is different. She’s the real deal, with an approachable Hamptons style and lots of elegant, easy dishes that are surprisingly affordable (or at least affordably adaptable). She calls for somewhat pricey Le Puy lentils for this dish, for example, but I found it totally excellent with the cheapo green lentils from the chain supermarket by my house. So while this might not be where I’d immediately gravitate in the bookstore, I was surprised by how many recipes in this book I really want to cook. And this recipe, at least, has definitely made it into my regular rotation, and that’s saying a lot.

So far, the only real bone I have to pick with Ina is the absolutely extreme amount of salt in every recipe; but maybe that’s more the bone I have to pick with the general American palate. All I can say is, if you check out the book, add salt with caution. (I’ve made it to taste here.)

Warm Lentil Salad with Mustard Vinaigrette

Serves 3

Adapted from Ina Garten’s How Easy is That?

Ingredients

For lentils:

-       2 Tbsp. olive oil

-       1 leek (the white and light green parts only, sliced)

-       2 carrots, scrubbed and sliced in half lengthwise and then sliced horizontally

-       1 tsp. (or more) minced garlic

-       1 cup green lentils (Ina says Le Puy, but you don’t have to get that fancy)

-       1 whole onion, peeled

-       6 whole cloves, stuck into the onion

-       1 turnip, cut in half

-       1 tsp. unsalted butter

For vinaigrette:

-       ¼ c. olive oil

-       4 tsp. Dijon mustard

-       2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

-       1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

-       kosher salt, to taste

1. Heat 2 Tbsp. of olive oil in a pan. Add the leek and carrots; cook for about 5 minutes, until leek is beginning to soften and become fragrant. Add garlic; cook for one more minute, just to soften garlic.
2. Meanwhile, put the lentils, 4 cups of water, the onion (stuck with cloves), and the turnip in a large pot. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat, add the leeks/carrots, and simmer uncovered until the lentils absorb all the water (about 15-20 minutes). The lentils should be tender at this point, but test them to make sure; if they’re not tender, add more water little by little and let it absorb until they do get tender.
3. Remove from heat; remove the onion and turnip. Add the butter and stir in.
4. While the lentils, etc. have been cooking, make the vinaigrette: whisk together all vinaigrette ingredients. Add to lentils when they’re off the heat and stir to combine. Let lentils cool for a few minutes (this will help the flavors meld). Adjust salt and pepper to taste.

When the snow is still knee-deep outside as we crawl towards spring break, it’s hard to remember that there ever was a thing such as summer. Ever was such a thing as heat on my skin, as sandals, as swimming. And then I take a whiff of these preserved lemons, and the aroma is so heady, so positively perfumey, that all seems right again with the world, if only for a second.

This right here is a jar of warmth, a jar of exotic otherworldliness, made only of lemons, lemon juice, and salt.

My lemons were Meyers, from my parents’ backyard tree in Berkeley. (Meyers are preferred in the traditional Moroccan version, but yours can definitely be the regular supermarket kind, Eureka.) I gathered them in the sunny warmth of August last year and brought them back to Minnesota. They’ve been ready for months now, but became a kind of sacred jar to me. I needed to think of a dish worthy of them before I was willing to take the first scoop.

Of course, all kinds of things are good for them, and now that I’ve started cooking with them, I can’t wait to do more. They’re perfect (and often called for) in all sorts of Moroccan and Middle Eastern dishes, particularly tagines. I have it in my head to make a pasta with them, green olives, feta, and almonds; and also a pizza with similar toppings (sans almonds). I think they’d be great added to just about any sauteed vegetable or tossed at the last minute with some roasted ones. And, I read a recipe lately for preserved lemon budino, which you can bet is coming up here.

What do preserved lemons taste like? Well, the taste is almost beside the point. They are salty (you can either rinse them off before using or wait to salt your dish until you’ve added them). They have some citrus zing. But really, with preserved lemons, it’s all about their incredible perfume. The flavor of any dish will get brighter, and the aroma will get unbelievable. For stews, especially, I recommend trying to make your dish at least a day before serving; the smell will just intensify as it sits, and when you open the lid of your pot, it will whoosh out at you in the most electrifying way.

Preserved lemons are about as simple as it gets. No water baths, no pectin, no nothing else. And best of all, a preserving project you can do in the winter, when the blues is starting to overtake your kitchen.

Preserved Lemons

Makes 1 quart (note, you can easily adjust this recipe to howver many lemons you have, you’ll just need a different size jar – or additional jars)

Adapted from Simply Recipes

Ingredients

-       8-10 lemons, preferably Meyer lemons, but Eureka (the supermarket lemon) is fine – you do want them to be organic or non-sprayed, though, as you’ll be eating the peel

-       ½ c. kosher salt, possibly more (it’s important this be coarse salt, not table salt)

-       extra fresh squeezed juice (this can be from regular lemons)

-       1 sterilized quart jar

1. Prepare the lemons: Give them a good wash, scrubbing the peel with a vegetable scrubber. Let dry. Cut off any protruding stems. Cut ¼ inch off the tip of each lemon. Now, cut the lemon in an X shape vertically, so that it is still attached at the base. Pull the lemons open and generously sprinkle salt all over the inside and outside of the lemons.

2. Pour 2 Tbsp. of salt at the bottom of the jar.

3. Now, pack the lemons into the jar, squeezing as you go to push out all their juice (a wooden spoon works well for this). You want the jar to be filled with lemons, with lemon juice covering the top of the lemons. You may need to add additional lemon juice to make sure that the lemons are covered; I used regular lemon juice even with my Meyer lemons. Top with a few Tbsp. of salt.

4. Seal the jar (no need to process) and let sit at room temperature for about a week. Every day or so, turn the jar over (from right-side up to upside-down and back again).

5. After about a week, the lemons should be softening up. Put the jar in the refrigerator and continue to let sit for about three weeks, turning occasionally. The lemon rinds should be soft at the end of three weeks, ready to use.

6. To use: either remove a lemon from the jar and rinse off the excess salt, or go easy on the salt in the dish until you’ve added a lemon straight from the jar (which will add a lot of salt); then you can adjust.

Preserved lemons will keep, refrigerated, for at least six months.

I don’t watch a lot of football. I still don’t know what’s going on half the time, and I would be hardpressed to name more football players than I can count on one hand. Make that three fingers. I am not a football fan.

What I am a fan of, however, is the food that goes along with football. When I was growing up in Berkeley, and the 49ers were still a good team, my non-football watching parents would have a Superbowl party whenever the 49ers made it to the Game. I don’t remember anything of the football, but I do remember my mom’s cassoulet, which she only made for 49ers Superbowl parties. (And which we’ve been sadly bereft of for many, many years now.)

Much like my memory of those games growing up, I know that I watched the Superbowl last year, but I have no idea who played, and, therefore, certainly no idea who won. I do remember the incredible number of ads about men feeling emasculated by their wives and regaining their manhood through either cars or beer. And also, I remember these wings.

These wings, my dears, are unforgettable. I happen to love wings of all flavors, but even if you don’t, these might convert you. Because these are sriracha wings — not the pungent Buffalo, but a sophisticated burn of sweet and spicy, all cooled down by a deceptively easy dip.

How unforgettable are they? The recipe comes from the Good Fork, a restaurant I adore in Red Hook. You will not, however, find these beauties on the menu there. Why? Because when they were on the menu, they were so popular that the chef, Souhi Kim, feared that her restaurant was in danger of becoming known as “that wing place” and took them off. A paradoxical decision, but when wings are as good as these, they can be a danger indeed.

Thankfully, she was willing to release the recipe, or at least a close version of it for us wing-aspirants to make at home. Wings themselves are deceptively easy to make, and a considerably different gastronomic experience when homemade. There’s a little less satisfying crunch (or maybe my deep frying just isn’t quite up to par), but, on the serious upside, they taste a lot fresher and a lot more, well, real.

The one labor intensive bit is cutting the wings in half, and then cutting off the tips. This is tedious and somewhat distasteful work, for which you’ll need a sharp knife, but not your best knife (since you don’t want to be cutting bone with that). Perhaps there’s some magic grocery store where you can buy wings pre-trimmed? I’m sure they’re out there; if you can find them, get them. No matter how much you fancy yourself a butcher, trust me, you don’t want to be doing this.

Sriracha Wings with Cucumber and Scallion Sour Cream Dip

Adapted from Sohui Kim of the Good Fork, via Bon Appetit

Makes about 24 pieces

Ingredients
For Wings:
- 3/4 cup sriracha
- 1 tablespoon sambal oelek or other Asian chili sauce
- 1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
- 1 stick cold butter cut into pieces
- Vegetable oil for frying
- 1 1/2 pounds of chicken wings (about 12 pieces), cut in half with wing tips cut off

For dipping sauce:
- 1 cup sour cream
- 2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
- 3 scallions cut into thin slices
- 1/2 cup diced cucumber

- salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Pour vegetable oil into large pan (12-inch or so) so that it’s 1-inch deep. Heat over medium high heat to 350º F, or so that when you add a nib of something to the oil, it starts to fry.

2. Meanwhile, salt and pepper wings.

3. When oil is hot enough, add wings to skillet. Cook for 5-7 minutes, turning when needed. Remove and transfer to a platter or plate lined with paper towels.

4. While frying in batches, make sauce: In a medium saucepan, bring sriracha and vinegar to a boil. Gradually whisk in the cold butter.

5. Once all the wings are done frying, add the cooked wings to the saucepan and toss to coat. Serve immediately, with dip.

6. For dip: Mix all ingredients in a bowl. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Mashed potatoes may be the stand-by: buttery, garlicy, soft, comforting. And they used to be the stand-by on my Thanksgiving table. But at some point in my life, I’m not sure when, I made the switch. To roasted potatoes.

Crispy, crunchy, still with a little bit of that creamy softness buried within, roasted potatoes are my preferred holiday potato (although latkes trump all, because frying trumps all). Mashed potatoes still have their place, of course, but for me it’s roasted potatoes, all the way. And particularly since I finally solved the mystery of how to make the perfect, crispy, crunchy, delectable roasted potatoes that I knew existed, somewhere out there.

Whenever I roasted potatoes at home, I just cut them up, tossed them with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and stuck them in the oven for about 45 minutes. This produced a perfectly delicious roasted potato, but I knew there could be more. And so, when Clotilde posted about her perfect roasted potatoes, my ears perked up. And then, coincidentally, I checked Nigella Lawson’s gorgeous book Feast out from the library, which had her take on perfect roasted potatoes (which is mentioned numerous times in the comments on Clotilde’s post).

In the end, Nigella won out over Clotilde in my kitchen, because the idea of adding semolina was just so intriguing. These potatoes were, in fact, so popular in Britain (thanks to “the Nigella effect”) that supermarkets were actually running out of semolina in the days leading up to Christmas.

But besides the semolina, they’re basically the same recipe, so if you have trouble finding semolina (I got mine from the bulk foods aisle of the local co-op), then you’re probably still doing fine. The semolina probably gives an added edge of crispness, but the really important thing, I gather, is very, very hot oil, and some properly bashed potatoes — you’re going to want to beat those taters up between par-boiling and roasting, to get them all fuzzy and full of nooks and crannies that will get beautifully crisp.

The only thing I really changed from Nigella’s version (Nigella, whom I adore) was that I didn’t peel my potatoes. Who has time? Who cares? And, for that matter, I think mine may have even turned out better, if I do say so myself. Because the potato skins peeled back a bit in the bashing, and then they got separately crisp themselves, and then the whole thing became a delightful marvel, with shockingly little time spent on my end.

If you are making this for the holidays, the one thing you will want to watch out for is timing, as these should really be served hot (or at least warm) from the oven. The holidays are not a time for stress, though! So if they do get cold, just have another glass of wine, stick ‘em back in, and a few minutes later, you’ll be all set.

Perfect Roasted Potatoes

Adapted from Nigella Lawson

Serves 8-10

Ingredients

-       3 1/2 lb. small, yellow, waxy potatoes, rinsed (and optionally peeled)

-       1- 2 Tbsp. semolina flour

-       oil (vegetable oil or olive oil, or duck or goose fat)

-       salt, to taste

1. Heat the oil: Preheat the oven to 475ºF. Pour fat/oil of your choice into the bottom of a large roasting pan. Heat the pan (and fat) up in the oven while you’re prepping the potatoes, about 20-30 minutes.
2. Prep potatoes: Cut each potato into three parts on a slant, so you get a triangle in the middle. (If you’re working with bigger potatoes, just cut them up into good-sized chunks.)
3. Parboil potatoes: Place cut potatoes into salted, cold water in a big pot. Bring to a boil. Let boil for 4 minutes. Drain potatoes in colander, then return them to the pot.
4. Sprinkle a tablespoon or so of semolina flour over the whole business.
5. Now, this is the best part: give them a good bashing. Holding the lid on tight, shake that pot like a Polaroid picture. Shake it, shake it, shake it suga’! Really, shake until things are looking good and fuzzy in there.
6. At this point, you may need to take a break to wait for the oil to heat up all the way…maybe a good time to listen to some more Outkast.
7. After the oil has been heating for 20-30 minutes, carefully add the potatoes to the hot pan. The oil may spatter! Careful!
8. Roast for about an hour, turning occasionally (and checking on them to make sure they’re not burning), until they’re golden-brown. If they don’t absorb all the fat by the end, you can always discard it.
9. Perfection!

I have not bought lunch a single day this semester. I am on campus for lunch four, or sometimes five, days a week. This is a difficult proposition, but I have been adamant. For one, I don’t really have time. But, more importantly, for two: I don’t really have the inclination. I think the situation may be worse in a location that is crawling with thousands of undergrads (pizza, anyone? and…more pizza? and subs), but maybe you experience this problem, too. Lunch is often time-consuming (lines); not really what you want anyway (pizza); not that healthy (most anything take-out); and very often quite expensive, at least for what you’re getting.

Hence, my fervency about bringing my own lunch. This isn’t always a perfect system; sometimes it ends with me bringing a sad little jar of soup and coming home ravenous at the end of the day. Those aren’t the good brown-bagging days.

This chickpea salad, though. This made for some good brown-bagging days.

I got the idea for this after eating at a new Indian/Nepalase restaurant, where they served us a warm chickpea salad as a free starter. All of the food was delicious, but as my dining companion noted, there are only so many ways to improve on palak paneer. This chickpea dish, on the other hand, was something entirely new, and was one of the best — or at least most memorable — things we ate.

It wasn’t chana masala, but what was it? I may never know, or at least not until I return and inquire. (Any ideas would be appreciated!) Instead, I thought I’d make my own version. For some reason, I thought I’d be able to replicate the dish. This chickpea salad, in fact, comes nowhere close, but is super delicious in its own right — where the restaurant version was complex and thickly spiced, this version has a freshness and a purity to its flavors that is equally enticing, and maybe actually better for a workaday lunch, when it’s not in your best interest to be lulled into a food/spice coma.

I had all these ingredients in my fridge/pantry; that’s why this came together exactly as it did. You could substitute lemon (or maybe even vinegar) for lime; other chilies for the jalapeños; cilantro for parsley; other onion-family members for red onion; other vegetables (red bell pepper?) for tomatoes. Really, this should require minimal thought and minimal effort, for maximum satisfaction.

The result is kind of like a chickpea tabbouleh, but with the flavors pumped up a bit. I had to restrain myself from eating the whole thing immediately, in order to have any for my week’s lunch.

This would go well with any number of grains, but particularly well with quinoa. I threw some salad greens in my tupperware for good measure. And, in no time, lunch becomes something to look forward to again.

Chickpea Salad with Lime and Jalapeño

Makes 2 lunch-sized servings, with grains and lettuce

Ingredients

- 1 15-oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

- juice of 1 lime

- 1/2 red onion, chopped fine

- 1-2 jalapeños, seeded (carefully!) and minced

- 1 good handful parsley, chopped

- 1-2 tomatoes, chopped

- extra-virgin olive oil

- salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Combine all ingredients in medium-sized bowl. (Combine everything except olive oil first, then glug in as much olive oil as you want.) Add salt and pepper to taste. Will keep, in a tupperware, in the fridge, for at least a few days.

It’s been a long week, folks, both in terms of work and life, not to mention weather — it’s winter now, in Minnesota, which just makes everything that much more difficult. Into a long, difficult week, enter broccoli! Broccoli is not one of my faves (in fact, I’d call it a least-faves), but roasting it really transforms it from the bland, waterlogged beast it can be. Add chilies, lemon, anchovies, as well as red onion and garlic, and you’ve got yourself a vision in green.

I made this for the first time, and then the second time, this past week, and it has quickly become one of my most favorite dishes, both to cook and eat. It takes maybe five minutes to put together and 15-20 to roast. The results, basically, are insane. Insanely savory, both from the caramelization of the broccoli and the melting umami flavor of the anchovies; insanely flavored, still further, by the lemon and the chili. The only danger here is that you will eat an entire head of broccoli, if left to your own devices (just one more piece…). I would have never thought I’d be saying that about broccoli. But I am. And I wish I had some right now.

This recipe is inspired by a recent New York Magazine, but their original version of this recipe, courtesy of Franny’s, was a bit too futzy for my taste. Now, I do love Franny’s, and I’m sure their version tastes amazing, but there was a lot of tossing and removing and separating involved, not to mention the colatura on the ingredients list. Colatura, it turns out, are “essentially, cured Italian anchovy drippings.” As much as I would like to know what that could even mean, I don’t live anywhere near Brooklyn Larder, Franny’s shop, so I will have to wait to find out. Or one of you can investigate for me!

So, I did what any self-respecting, exhausted grad student would do: I threw everything in a pan and roasted it. I didn’t do a thing to the broccoli other than rinse them; otherwise, all of it went in, stalk, leaves, and all. I kept my garlic cloves whole. I used canned anchovies (a kitchen staple) instead of colatura. I’d like to say that someday I’ll try the official version of this dish, but mine came out so well…

Note: I’ve tagged this as vegetarian and vegan, because some vegetarians I know would still eat the anchovies. For vegans, this will be a different dish, but I imagine still quite delicious without the anchovies entirely.

Roasted Broccoli with Chilies, Anchovy, and Lemon

Loosely adapted from New York Magazine

Serves 2

Ingredients

-       1 head of broccoli (I bought mine at the famers’ market, where it came as a quart), cut up (you can use florets, stalk, and leaves here)

-       juice of ½ lemon

-       a few cloves of garlic, peeled

-       ½ tin of anchovies, roughly chopped

-       2 red chili peppers – I used Thai chiles, finely chopped

-       ½ red onion, roughly chopped

-       olive oil

-       salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat oven to 350º F.
2. Combine all ingredients in a baking dish. Douse with olive oil. Sprinkle a generous amount of salt and freshly ground pepper over. Mix.
3. Roast for 15-20 minutes, checking and stirring occasionally, until broccoli and onions are at desired level of roastedness.