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When I’m hanging out with this little cutie…

and my favorite boy in the world…

I tend to forget about pressure cookers and white beans, so it took me a little longer than expected to get this posting out to you.

I spent a week on the east coast visiting with my brother and his kids. We bonded over lobster rolls, fried clams, ballpark hot dogs, and comfort food at my brother and sister-in-law’s favorite diner. We hardly cooked at all, but we certainly ate well, from the chewy-crusted French toast on Sunday morning, to a sip of my nephew’s Slush Puppie from the five-and-dime store. I started missing everybody the moment I took my seat on the plane, but it’s just something I have to endure, living thousands of miles away.

But now I’m home and back in the groove of cooking. I spent the afternoon brainstorming menus for upcoming dinner parties and magazine assignments. My latest magazine piece involves picnic foods, so it’s really got me in the spirit of spring. Just because the weather is getting warmer, however, I haven’t put my pressure cooker away; it comes in handy for all sorts of other cooking tasks, not just soups.

Let’s start with the basics. A pressure cooker is a pot that seals out air via a rubber gasket fitted into the lid.

This sealed environment allows water to boil at a higher temperature than usual: up to 250° instead of 212°. This increased temperature allows food to cook at a faster rate, generally about two-thirds faster. This efficient method of cooking gets dinner on the table more quickly, uses less energy and less water. I’m hoping pressure cookers will be the next trendy piece of cooking equipment, since we’re all trying to be more green.

Pressure cookers vary in design according to the manufacturer, but there are some basics that are standard to all models. First, there is the lock.

Generally, there is a guide that shows how the lid should be aligned. In this example, the guide is a notch engraved in the lid that needs to line up with the notch in the pot’s handle. Once the pot and lid are aligned properly, the lid must be locked in place. My model has a slide lever; other models lock automatically when pot and lid are aligned.

Next, the cooker must be in “cook” mode (as opposed to “release” mode, indicated here by the steam icon).

Once the lid is locked in place, put the pot over a high flame and wait for the pressure to build. Most models have a pop-up indicator on the lid (similar to a pop-up turkey thermometer) that lets you know when the correct pressure is reached. Some models offer high, medium and low pressure indicators, while others simply have a high pressure indicator, which is what I prefer to use. Once pressure is reached, reduce the heat enough to maintain pressure without having the pot sputter or steam violently. Begin timing your food once the desired pressure is reached, not before.

To open the lid, remove the pot from the heat source. You may then either release the pressure via the dial indicator on the lid, or by running cold water over the lid. I favored the running-water method with my old pressure cooker, because it was quicker, but my new pressure cooker doesn’t react well to this method; cooking liquid seeps out from the lid, so I use the dial indicator instead.

The new generation of pressure cookers are built to be fumble-proof. It’s nearly impossible to make one explode, unless you force the lid open while the contents are still under pressure (and this requires a good amount of strength and stamina, so it’s not likely you will succeed). If you wait until the pressure comes down before opening the lid, you won’t have to worry about your dinner ending up on the ceiling.

Each pressure cooker has its own personality, and it takes a few run-throughs to get to know its quirks. For example, with my model, the pressure button pops up prematurely. Instead of relying on the button, I wait until I hear steam escaping from the valve before I start timing my cooking.

Foods will cook at slightly different rates, depending on which brand and model of cooker you have. You’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly and will be able to gauge cooking times pretty accurately on the third or fourth go-around. Just remember: It’s always better to err on the side of undercooking. Release the pressure a few minutes early if you’re uncertain about the cooking time of your food.

These are the basics. If you’d like to read more about cooking times for certain foods and find some yummy, practical recipes, check out Lorna Sass’s collection of pressure cooker cookbooks. I haven’t read them all, but I can highly recommend: “Cooking Under Pressure” and “Great Vegetarian Cooking Under Pressure.”

Good luck!

Pristine sky. Calm breeze. Tank tops. Bikinis. Floppy hats and sunblock.

It was a rare and spectacular Sunday in San Francisco.


These beans are my latest obsession.

I started buying them a few months ago at Tuesday’s farmers’ market at the Ferry Plaza, and I’ve been cooking them practically every week since then. If I’m not personally eating them, my clients are.

Sometimes beans can be a risky item to serve at dinner parties (not everybody’s digestive system reacts kindly to them), but last week when I served Cabernet-braised lamb shanks with white beans (cooked with mirepoix, chicken stock and parsley), the only scraps left on the plates were cleaned bones.

You may think, “Heh. Beans are beans. What’s the big deal?” Well, I’ll tell you, no bean I’ve ever eaten has tasted more sweet or had as creamy a texture as these butter beans. Period. In fact, I’m so hung up on these gems that I nearly spat out a batch of white beans I bought from a health-food store bulk bin the other week. They were mealy, had no consistency in texture (some were mushy, some were chewy) and tasted flat and musty. As humble a foodstuff as they are, there are beans that pass and beans that fail.

If you’re concerned about the time it takes to cook dried beans, I urge you to find yourself a pressure cooker. Iacopi’s beans were ready in one hour. Read that: ONE hour. That means less time, less energy and less water. Plus, I didn’t even need to soak them beforehand.

Had I used the standard stovetop cooking method using a regular stock pot, the beans would have simmered for 2 to 3 hours and have consumed several extra cups of water in the process.

Curious about pressure cookers? Scared to use one? Look for a pressure cooker tutorial in the coming week.

 

 

I’ve received rave reviews about this deliciously simple fig appetizer that has been so popular with my clients recently. These are perfect morsels for this interim season, when winter fruits are past their prime and summer sweetness is still a few good weeks away (except for those amazing strawberries, of course). Now is when the magic of dried fruit comes in handy.

This recipe will also take you into the warmer months, as it works just as well with fresh figs. Simply omit the poaching step; just slice the figs and assemble.

I first made this appetizer using only goat cheese (no cream cheese). I wasn’t satisfied with the results, so I tweaked the recipe for a couple of reasons:

1. Sliced goat cheese looked ragged on the crostini; I wanted something with more eye appeal.

2. The plain goat cheese was a bit chalky on the palate; I wanted the same flavor, but with more creaminess.

3. Slicing goat cheese is time consuming. Piping a goat cheese “mousse” is much faster, and looks much more stylized.

Here is the latest version I’ve been working with:

FIG AND GOAT CHEESE CROSTINI WITH MINT
1 baguette
olive oil
1 cup wine (red or white) or port
¼ cup sugar
2 star anise
2 cardamom pods
3 cloves
15 small dried figs
4 ounces chevre, room temperature
4 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
2 teaspoons or more of milk
30 medium-size mint leaves

Preheat oven to 350°.

Cut thirty ¼-inch slices from the baguette. Save the rest of the baguette for another use. Brush both sides of the bread slices with olive oil, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Arrange slices in a single layer on a baking sheet. Bake 10-15 minutes, until lightly golden and crisp all the way through. Cool completely.

Meanwhile, combine wine, sugar, star anise, cardamom pods and cloves in a small saucepan. Heat until sugar dissolves. Add figs to the saucepan. Cover and poach for 15 or 20 minutes, until plump and tender. Drain figs, discarding poaching liquid and spices. Remove stems, then cut each fig in half. Set aside.

Beat chevre and cream cheese together with a few shakes of salt and pepper. Dribble in enough milk to form a frosting consistency. Transfer chevre mousse to a pastry bag fitted with a start tip.

To assemble: Pipe an “S” shape onto each crostini. Top with one mint leaf, then one fig half.

Makes 30 appetizers (roughly 10 portions)


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Late winter/early spring is the season for maple syrup production. Every year I find this perplexing, as fall is the season when my craving for maple kicks in. There is something about maple’s amber color, like turning leaves and the edges of roasted butternut squash, that hearkens fall. Its caramelized, earthy flavor brings to mind warm spices and sips of apple cider.

Luckily, maple syrup is not a food that appears on farmers’ market booths for a select period of time, like asparagus or fiddlehead ferns, so I can get as much flavor from maple during fall as I do in spring. Because maple sap requires significant boiling in order to transform into syrup (40 gallons of sap yields but one gallon of syrup), it is, in essence, a processed food, with an indefinite shelf life.

I picked up a jar of maple butter a few weeks ago during a trip to Rainbow Grocery. I had in mind to replenish my supply of maple syrup, but when the name “maple butter” caught my eye, I had to buy a jar.

I’m embarrassed to admit that, having lived in New England for 27 years, I had never heard of maple butter. I’d always eaten maple in syrup or leaf-shaped candies that make my teeth shake from their intense sweetness.

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Maple butter is a thick, creamy spread made from boiled-down maple syrup. It melts luxuriously over toast, in vanilla tea, or when stirred into a pot of oatmeal. It’s spreadable, meltable and rich – much like butter in many ways.

Here’s my impromptu recipe for a decadent springtime bowl of oatmeal:
½ cup rolled oats
¾ - 1 cup water (depending how wet or dry you like your oatmeal)
pinch of salt
1 pat of butter
1 spoonful (more or less) maple butter
4 or 5 strawberries, diced
a few spoonfuls half-and-half

Cook the oatmeal, water and salt over medium heat for 3 or 4 minutes, until creamy. Remove from heat and stir in butter and maple butter. Once butters have melted, gently stir in the diced strawberries. Pour into a serving bowl, then pour half-and-half around the edges.

Serves 1

Vegetable Love

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I know it’s love when I eat at the same restaurant twice in two days.

My friend from Philadelphia came to visit last week, and we had ourselves a mini vacation in Napa Valley. As if sipping wine, soaking in herbal-infused waters and sleeping under feather duvets to the sounds of croaking frogs weren’t enough to get these two city-living gals into their zen, we made sure to eat our vegetables in style.

Perhaps you’ve read about Ubuntu, the new vegetarian restaurant in Napa that’s received cudos from the San Francisco Chronicle and the New York Times. I booked my reservation as soon as the Times article came out, sensing that a table would be difficult to come by in the near future.

Talk about eye candy. The radish salad (pictured above) was a gorgeous tumble of white ribbons with pink and black trim, combined with whole baby radishes and drops of mustard vinaigrette. Hiding beneath the vegetables was a quenelle of nori-studded goat cheese.

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There were no meat impostors on the menu, which was (to me) a sign of true innovation. The protein issue was addressed in substantial dishes like chickpeas with olives, burrata and red pepper quenelles.

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Pearl pasta with broccoli stem pistou and black trumpet mushrooms was juicy, brothy and sensuously silky. The base reminded me of my green soup - full of bright vegetal flavor.

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The dessert that won me over was the Winter Citrus Float, with Meyer lemon ice cream and late winter fruit (candied kumquats and rhubarb, mandarin oranges) bobbing in a rhubarb-rosewater soda. (As you recall, I also love cooking rhubarb with rosewater.) I expected to only be able to eat a spoonful or two, anticipating a very sugary concoction, but I found the flavors to be tart and refreshing. I needed no assistance to finish it myself.

Our dinner was divine. The next day we took a session of yoga in the studio above Ubuntu’s kitchen, then rewarded ourselves with lunch in the dining room. Book your table now - Ubuntu will soon become the hottest reservation in Napa.

UBUNTU NAPA

1140 Main Street

Napa, CA 94558

707-251-5656

Spring Cleaning

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It’s that time of year again, when life is in limbo in anticipation of the sunnier months ahead—when hikes and swims will override cozying up on the couch with cocoa and a novel, when toes will stretch and sport new pinks and corals against strappy sandals.

I filed my taxes this week which, for me, truly marks the dawning of spring. While we still have a few days to go until the official kick-off to six months of kinder weather, I’ve decided to do some indoor weeding. There’s nothing that clears my head like organizing drawers and cabinets, finding treasures and releasing burdens.

Aaahhh.

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Today I’m tackling my stationery drawer. When comes the kitchen, you ask? Well, since I spend so much time in there, it tends to get weeded out and scrubbed pretty regularly, although a clean sweep through my cabinets could come in handy right about now.

It’s been a while since I’ve written, and I attribute that to many things going on in my life, as well as this purgatorial time of year. I’m still sifting through my winter life, getting it ready for spring. But, until the local strawberries arrive in the market and I can smell their perfume from across the room, I can’t quite acknowledge the change of season.

My menus of late have included transitional produce—fruits and vegetables that carry us through until spring ripeness arrives. My refrigerator’s crisper drawer is packed with herbs, which I use to add vitality to winter menus. It’s my way of bringing some spring/summer sunshine to cold-weather produce.

Here are some combinations I’ve worked with over the past few weeks:

Poached (dried) Figs with Goat Cheese and Mint
Watercress, Meyer Lemon and Dill
Local Pink Lady Apples with Tarragon and Endive

Perhaps I will grow my own herb garden in a window box. This may be a challenge, however, given that my apartment receives indirect light. Do any of you keep herb gardens? What are your favorite varieties to grow?

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Photo credit: Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times

Who says winter has to be dreary? It’s just not possible when Meyer lemons are in season.

We Californians are truly blessed with this citrus hybrid of a lemon and Mandarin orange. Its warm color reminds me of mango flesh; its flavor tastes of lemongrass, orange blossom and yellow lemon.

To me, Meyer lemons are extra special because they are rare. Unlike most produce, which can be shipped from anywhere in the world (blueberries in January from New Zealand, anyone?), Meyers don’t travel far from their branches. Their delicate skin makes them highly perishable, making shipping improbable.

These lemons are so rare, in fact, that I give them as gifts to my East Coast friends and family when I visit each December. It hearkens back to the days when stockings were filled with oranges instead of Hershey bars.

Meyers are a delight to cook with because of their floral and delicately spicy flavor. However, if you’re looking for the same acidic “zing” of a standard yellow lemon, you will need to do a little adjusting. Here are a few tips:

Eat the whole fruit.
Since Meyer lemon skins are tender and much less bitter than standard yellow lemons, they are delicious eaten in their entirety, especially roasted. I like to roast chicken along with garlic, ¼-inch-thick Meyer lemon slices, olive oil and green olives. The colors are lovely and the flavors intense.

Supplement with juice from yellow lemons.
I often find that lemon curds made entirely from Meyer lemon juice are a bit too mild for my taste, so I substitute half the Meyer lemon juice with juice from yellow lemons, then bring out the Meyer lemon flavor with lots of zest.

For example, if a recipe calls for 1 cup lemon juice and 1 tablespoon zest, I would use ½ cup Meyer lemon juice, ½ cup yellow lemon juice and 1 ½ tablespoons Meyer lemon zest.

Boost acidity with white wine vinegar.
When making a Meyer lemon vinaigrette, add a tablespoon or more white wine vinegar to boost the acidity. The Meyer lemons alone won’t be enough to hold their flavor with olive oil. And, as always, don’t forget the zest!

Green Soup

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I’m back! My long haul of work is over for the moment, and I’m now enjoying some breathing space before the next truckload of assignments gets dropped at my kitchen threshold.

Pictured above is a chard-based soup that I cooked today for a friend who is recovering from cancer surgery. Food is an essential part of my friend’s healing, and I’m doing what I can to help out.

As you may have read in one of my posts a few weeks ago, I was researching cancer-fighting foods for a magazine article. When deciding what to cook for my friend, I took my knowledge of anti-cancer “super foods” and fused it with my friend’s macrobiotic vegan diet and came up with this soup.

“Green Soup” is what I’ll call this purée. It started out being a chard soup, but quickly progressed to being a soup with just as many herbs as chard. I love its “green” flavor, enhanced by fresh basil, parsley and dill.

Leafy greens are incredibly good for you, and they contain folate, carotenoids and potent antioxidants that help stave off cancer. Plus, chard and other greens are in season right now, so I thought this would be the perfect soup to make for my friend. Here’s roughly how the “recipe” goes:

Ingredients:
Swiss chard
Onion
Garlic
Vegetable Stock
Jerusalem artichokes
Dill
Basil
Parsley
Lemon Zest
Bread

• Sauté onion and garlic until beginning to soften, then add several handfuls of chard leaves and enough vegetable stock to create some nice steam. Cover and cook until the chard is tender.

• Meanwhile, scrub a few Jerusalem artichokes, then boil them in salted water until very tender. These will help thicken the soup and bring out its “green” flavor.

• Put the cooked chard and Jerusalem artichokes into a blender. Remove stems from a few handfuls of parsley, dill and basil (cilantro would also work nicely), then add them to the blender. Toss in some frehsly-grated lemon zest. Puree, adding enough stock to let the soup process easily.

• I happened to have some leftover crostini in my kitchen, so I covered them with water to let them soften, then added them to the blender. This is a nice way to thicken a soup without using cream. Of course, not everyone has extra crostini hanging around their kitchen; soaked fresh bread will also do the trick.

• Stir in extra salt and stock if needed to get the right flavor and texture. Finally, strain the soup to remove any fibers or stray chunks. The soup is delicious eaten hot or cold.

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If you’re looking for an intelligent read about the failures of the Western diet, pick up a copy of Michael Pollan’s “In Defense of Food.”

I’ve read half the book (it’s a quick, yet informative read) and have underlined some theories that I always believed to be true but didn’t have scientific data to back up. Here is one such theory:

Biochemist Bruce Ames believes that a person will continually feel hungry if his nutritional needs are not met. Thus, nutrient deficiencies may contribute to obesity. (p.123)

Although Ames is referring to hunger in people who eat too many processed (empty calorie) foods, I tend to believe that this theory can also be applied to eating too much of any one food, nutritious or not. I find that, when I eat a well-balanced meal with a variety of nutritious foods, I can eat less and feel full. Conversely, if I eat one kind of food too often (even if it’s something healthy, like lentils), I find that I constantly feel hungry.

Half of me thought this was my imagination, while the other half thought this was very real. For example, my ultimate energy-boosting breakfast is a bowl of oatmeal. It’s got lots of fiber, iron and protein. Oatmeal gives me pep and keeps me full for several hours. Since this grain makes me feel so good, I sometimes eat it for days on end. However, after a few days of eating oatmeal, I no longer get as much energy as I did on day one, and I feel hungry again after a shorter period of time. Why? Probably because I’m missing out on other nutrients provided by different foods.

Here’s another example: Back when I was creating recipes for a Thanksgiving feature, I made a vegetable-based soup that was loaded with beta-carotene, vitamin C and other good stuff. I had so much of the soup (I was testing a recipe that served 8), that I ate it for four days straight. The first day I ate the soup, I only needed a small bowl of rice and a salad to make it a satisfying meal. By day four, I was hungry one hour after eating the soup. I used this soup as my only source of vegetables when, in fact, I should have eaten a wider variety of vegetables.

Although Ames’s theory hasn’t been scientifically proven, I really feel that he’s on to something. No single food will give a person all the nutrients she needs; eating a varied diet is absolutely necessary for good health. And your body will tell you what it needs by feeling hungry when it’s nutritional needs are not met.

What about you? Do you also find that your favorite healthy foods don’t have as much “oomph” if you eat them too frequently?

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