A Dressing Worthy of the Gods

If I’m planning on making salad a meal, I need a bold, exciting dressing that won't leave me bored and craving the unhealthy foods I was avoiding in the first place. So when my friend Lauren and I wanted to detox Monday night after a weekend of indulgence, we settled on having greens for dinner. We had been dying to make homemade green goddess dressing for a while, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so. And I knew just who to turn to for the recipe: Alice Waters.

I can identify most with Alice than any other chef becuase of her passion to source locally and seasonally. Her basic philosophy on food is focused on the source and quality of ingredients and using what is in season in your area. Not to mention, she does simple, uncomplicated food better than anyone. Because of Alice, I am able to enjoy a farmers market in my neighborhood every week with purveyors from every food group. To that I owe her many thanks!

I got this recipe from her new cookbook, In the Green Kitchen.  It focuses on basic techniques that are translatable for any cuisine. Her “green kitchen” is equipped with only sharp knives, a few pots and a hot plate—perfect for me, as my kitchen is very, very modest.  Another great cookbook from Alice that Elizabeth and I both adore is The Art of Simple Food. We highly recommend both.

As I’m not the biggest fan of tarragon, I was concerned that the amount would be overpowering, but I found it to be perfect: Alice got the ratio of herbs just right. However, cooks should always make recipes their own, and this time is no different. Feel free to play around with the herb combinations in this one. 

Green Goddess Dressing is wonderful with hearts of romaine. I love the crispness of this green. When I made it, I cut the hearts of romaine in half, carefully stacked two on each plate and poured over the dressing. It would be delicious with any type of lettuce.

*Plate in top photo by Lisa Neimeth. For more information on her pottery, visit http://www.lisaneimeth.com/

Happy eating,
Lindsay

Green Goddess Dressing

Adapted from In The Green Kitchen

1 shallot

1 garlic clove

3 tablespoons white wine vinegar

3 tablespoons lemon juice

2 salt-packed whole anchovies

½ ripe avocado

¾ cup olive oil

½ cup whipping cream

¼ cup chopped Italian parsley

3 tablespoons chopped tarragon

2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

1 tablespoon chopped basil

Fresh-ground black pepper

Salt

3 tablespoons chopped chives

Peel and finely dice the shallot and garlic, and in a medium bowl, grind in the white wine vinegar and lemon juice.* Rinse, bone and finely chop the anchovies and add to the bowl. Add avocado flesh and mash the mixture with a fork. Using a whisk, gradually incorporate the olive oil and cream. Pour each into the bowl in a small stream as you whisk so they will fully mix..

Stir in the parsley, tarragon, cilantro, and basil, and add a few grinds of pepper and a pinch of salt. Taste and add more salt or vinegar to your preference.

* I did this step using a mortar and pestle. I found that the flavors were better released. If you don’t have one, mixing them in a bowl is fine—just make sure that the garlic and shallot are very finely minced so that the eater does not bite into larger chunks of either.

Salmon en Papillote

What do you do when your Catholic boyfriend doesn’t eat meat on Fridays and you have a steak dinner planned? Do a quick switch up. I had seen a recipe similar to this in a Martha Stewart cookbook and wanted to test out my technical skills. When I first read the recipe, it instantly reminded me of a gussied up version of these chicken pockets I used to make around the campfire as a Girl Scout. We used foil, chicken and store-brand, generic Italian dressing. Then we wrapped them up, threw them in the fire, and fished them out with twigs when we deemed the little dumplings done. The result was usually dried out, poorly seasoned chicken. Sub-par meal for me--even as a ten-year-old.


So naturally stumbling upon this recipe tickled my fancy. With a bit of alteration, it became a hybrid recipe using skills acquired during my days as a Girl Scout and the finesse of the Stock Market Diva herself—an interesting juxtaposition.

The original calls for halibut, but I find more people like salmon. You, of course, can choose to use whatever fish (or chicken) you like best. When buying salmon, you always want to buy wild-caught fish, never farmed. Due to over-crowded hatcheries and unnatural fish feed (antibiotics and pesticides), farmed salmon are full of toxins by the time the fish reach your plate.


Anything en papillote is a fun way to present food--and can cook a variety of foods. This technique of cooking is basically steaming the food in the packages. I like doing veggies en papillote: asparagus topped with salt, pepper and lemon zest. Naturally, you can make this dish with any fish, but it is also good with chicken. However, chicken will take a few minutes more to cook in the oven. 

Our meal was rounded out by an impromptu plaid party, the perfect accompaniment to a Friday fish dinner. Good food and good friends... what more could you ask for?

Happy eating,

Lindsay

Salmon en Papillote

Adapted from Martha Stewart's Cooking School

4 5-oz. skinless salmon fillets

1 cup long grain white rice*
1 teaspoon olive oil
2 teaspoons minced garlic
4 tablespoons chopped shallot

1 16-oz. package frozen spinach 

Herb butter (recipe follows)

1 lemon, sliced into ½ inch rounds

Heat the over to 400 degrees. Measure two cups of water and 2 teaspoons of salt into a medium saucepan over high-heat. Bring water to a boil. Add the rice and stir one time. Cover and reduce heat to medium-low. Let sit for 20 minutes without lifting the lid. Turn off the heat and keep covered for another 5 minutes. Remove from stove and let sit until ready to use.

While rice is cooking, heat a medium sized pan over medium heat. Heat the olive oil and add the garlic and shallots. Cook 3 to 5 minutes, until softened. Add the spinach to the pan, and stir to combine. Slightly cook until spinach is just warmed through and flavors merry together. Remove from heat and set aside. Next, prepare your salmon. Check to see if there are any remaining bones in the fillet, and remove if need be. Lightly season fish on each side with salt and pepper. Set aside.


Cut four pieces of parchment paper (each measuring 12 by 17 inches) and lay them on a clean work surface. Fold each in half crosswise ("hamburger" style); then open and lay flat. When rice is finished, fluff with a fork and bring to your assembly area. Transfer spinach to a bowl, careful to leave behind any excess liquid in the pan. Place near the rice, salmon and parchment paper. Bring out lemon and compound butter. Set up all ingredients in an assembly line on work surface.

Begin by adding a fourth of the rice (a mounded 1/2 cup) on each of the pieces of parchment, mounding it in a rectangular shape along side the center crease (see photo). Press the rice into a semi-flat bed so that the other ingredients do not pile too high and slide off, making it difficult to close the package. Next, divide spinach evenly (about ½ cup on each) and place on top of the rice.

Divide the Herb Butter in half. Then, divide one of the halves among the four packets, spooning it on top of the spinach.  Lay a salmon fillet on top of the spinach and butter. Divide remaining half of Herb Butter evenly among the fish packets, placing it on top of the salmon. Top each with a lemon slice.

Cheat sheet: The order goes rice, spinach, butter, salmon, butter, lemon.

Fold over parchment, making a half square shaped packet. Begin at one of the corners and make small overlapping pleats all the way around to seal the edges completely. Complete all four packets. See photos for assembly.

Transfer packets to a rimmed baking sheet. Cook in the oven until the parchment puffs up, about 12-15 minutes.**  When cooked completely through, immediately serve on individual plates. Use kitchen shears to carefully open the packets.

* Any type of rice will do. For a variation of color and flavor, try a wild rice. For a healthier version, brown rice would be a good choice.

** Good rule of thumb: 8 minutes per inch of thickness for firm-fleshed fish.

Herb Butter

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter

1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh chives

2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh thyme

1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh basil, parsely or cilantro

1 teaspoon course salt

In a medium bowl, stir all ingredients until well incorporated with a flexible spatula. You can leave it in the bowl if using right away.

For easy storage, roll into a log. Place butter mixture on the center of a sheet of parchment paper. Loosely fold paper in half towards you and roll back and forth to form butter into a log. Wrap parchment completely around butter, twist the ends to seal.  Refrigerate until firm.

*You can add in other herbs such as thyme or oregano; however, they must be fresh not dried. A winning flavor profile for a compound butter, make extra to save for later. Excellent on toast in the morning. You can really use it on anything as a substitute for plain butter.

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies

I have a confession to make.  I don’t bake cookies to eat them; I bake cookies to eat the dough.  Sure, I might bring myself to eat one or two once they’re out of the oven, but truly, there’s nothing that leaves me in more joyous anticipation than the promise of a bowl of cookie dough, especially that of the oatmeal chocolate chip variety.

I attribute my love of baking to my grandma; Grammy, if you will. She baked for the hell of it.  For one month every summer my sister, mom and I would live with them at their home in the Napa Valley. During lazy afternoons, in between hours spent in the pool, running through the vineyards and sprawled on her bed watching “Saved by the Bell” re-reruns, she would announce, “Girls, I was thinking of baking something today.”  Normally, my sister chose spending time with Papa over cooking in the kitchen, but I never let an opportunity pass me by.  She would have me run out to the pantry in the garage, grab a bag of chocolate chips and any other necessary ingredients, and away we would go.  She trusted me with certain steps that many adults are weary of young children doing, like cracking eggs, or stirring the dry components into the wet.  When completed, we would place the freshly baked goods into a jar shaped like a bumpkin lamb’s head. That’s right; a bumpkin lamb’s head.

When I reached high school, I went through a three month period of craving cookie dough all the time.  I started baking two to three times a week, and would bring the rewards of my effort to school to give to my classmates.  There are very few reliable truths in this world, but one cannot deny the magnetic allure of sugary treats to perpetually starving teenagers.  

It was at this time my devotion to oatmeal chocolate chip cookie dough was born.  I am a texture person, and the feel of oatmeal, chocolate and pecans swirled through soft chunks of dough is, well, making my mouth water just thinking about it.

I came up with this recipe a couple years ago.  At the time, I was surfing the Internet looking for a new cookie recipe to try, and found three that simultaneously intrigued me. I didn’t have time to make three separate cookies, and thus, combined all to make one killer treat. Granted, I no longer have voracious youngsters to wolf down my goods, but my husband does a pretty good job of polishing them off. The dough* is divine and so is the cookie.  I encourage you to eat equal amounts of both.  

Happy Eating,
Elizabeth

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 cup butter, room temperature
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons white sugar
2 large eggs (preferably free range organic!)
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups plus 2 tablespoons flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 ½ cups rolled oats
2 cups chocolate chips
1 cup chopped pecans or walnuts (optional, obviously, but so good!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease two baking sheets.  In a large bowl, beat butter and both sugars until light, fluffy and well blended. Beat in each egg, one at a time, then add vanilla.  Set aside.

In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.  Sift over butter mixture (if you don’t have an instrument to do this with, just add it slowly to the butter mixture, in small batches); stir to blend.  

One at a time, mix in oats, chocolate chips and pecans.  Drop dough onto sheet by rounded tablespoons onto prepared baking sheets.  Bake 14 minutes (cookies should be lightly golden around bottom edges).  Transfer to baking rack to cool.

*  Yes, I get it; some of you are worried about eating raw cookie dough because of the chance of contracting salmonella.  My mom is a nurse and is constantly nagging me of this possibility, so I thought I should at least acknowledge it: You can get salmonella from eating food with raw egg in it.  However, I have been eating raw cookie dough for the last 25 years and have yet to get sick.  I will continue to eat it until or unless it happens.  The ball’s in your court; decide for yourself!

Potstickers

My heritage is pretty much as Western European as it gets.  If my blonde hair and blue eyes don’t give away my Scandinavian and Hessian roots, my translucent white skin is sure to do the trick.  On numerous occasions, I’ve been stopped by European immigrants, who are all convinced they’ve picked out one of the citizens of their homeland.  In high school, I reduced a lonely Swedish woman to tears when she realized I was, in fact, very American and would not be able to converse with her in her native tongue.  Last week in Trader Joe’s, a man said to me, with a twinkle in his eye, “You… speak a language different from English, yes? You’re from Europe?”  No, aside from the rudimentary French I picked up in high school, I don’t speak a language other than English. I am a California girl through and through.

Thus, it comes as a shock to most to discover the food often cooked in my home growing up was inspired by the cuisine of Asia.  I like to think that my mother’s interest and mastery of many dishes takes root in my parents’ love story, which I am prepared to share with you…right now.

My parents met in San Francisco in the fall of 1979.  My father was working as an executive director at Rescue Now, an organization that was sending doctors and nurses to refugee camps on the border of Thailand and Cambodia after Pol Pot’s regime had begun to eviscerate the Cambodian population in the late seventies.  He was in charge of selecting the staff that would be sent over, and my mom was one of the nurses attempting to volunteer.  Two weeks before they were set to leave, the organization changed the rules, and my parents could no longer go.  As fate would have it, however, they both traveled to the airport to bid adieu to those that were taking off for the East.  My dad will never forget that my mom looked like Annie Hall, waving to fellow nurses and doctors in a pork-pie hat, rolled up jeans and long socks. While this outfit seems questionable to me at best, apparently it made my dad swoon.  When my mother offered him a ride back into San Francisco, he jumped at the chance.  A whirlwind romance ensued, and a month into their relationship, my father decided he was going to fly over to Thailand on his own dime and look for work; my mother said she would follow.  Upon arrival, my father claims he stowed himself in a Red Cross bus by donning a pair of my mother’s scrubs in order to sneak into one of the camps.  He swears by this detail; she is rather dubious of it.  Either way, a job was secured, a phone call was made, and a marital proposal was put on the table (one which was quickly accepted).  My mom arrived a few weeks later, and three months after offering a ride to a mustached man at the airport, she found herself married and living in a refugee camp.

My parents lived in Thailand for a year before moving back to California, and it’s during this time I like to envision my mother picking up all sorts of wonderful cooking techniques from the women in the village where they were living.  Granted, much of the food I ate growing up was Chinese, but utensils and methods can translate to a variety of cuisines. Her wonton soup, shrimp spring rolls, and rice noodle stir fry recipes are all worth mentioning, but none of these is as satisfying as her potstickers.           

When I set out to write about potstickers, I assumed my mother would share a rich story of not only how she acquired the recipe, but learned the techniques (from a small villager with a cute, little face and a huge heart, no doubt).  I could not have been further from the truth.  “Heck no,” exclaimed my mom, “I got the original recipe from a book I picked up at the Macy’s in Union Square called  ‘Madame Wu’s Art of Chinese Cooking.’ It’s fabulous and manages to teach Americans about Chinese cooking without dumbing down the lessons or flavor.”  My imagination is always getting the better of me.

Over the years, my mom tweaked the recipe to her liking, which is what I’m sharing with you today.  Crisp around the edges, soft on the outside, tender on the inside, these potstickers are delectable, but are only made better by the dipping sauce that goes with them.  The ground pork filling and sauce are both seasoned with hits of garlic, ginger and soy sauce, but the combination truly makes for a simple and satisfying dish. 

Not quite as satisfying as unnecessarily having to read my parents’ love story, though, right?  

Happy Eating,  
Elizabeth

Potstickers

1 pound ground pork (ground turkey makes a great substitute)
2 squeezed cloves of garlic (use a garlic press)
1 square inch of fresh pressed ginger (use a garlic press)
1 teaspoon soy sauce
Vegetable oil
Water 
Gyoza/Potsticker wrappers*

Potsticker Sauce (recipe follows)

Mix first four ingredients together until combined.  Take one gyoza wrapper from package, setting on a dry, flat surface.  Place teaspoon of meat filling in center of wrapper. Dip two fingers into a bowl of water and lightly wet the edge of half the gyoza wrapper.  Fold dry edge of gyoza wrapper to wet and pinch edges together.  Lightly press the bottom of the dumpling into flat surface so potsticker can stand up on its own accord. Continue with remaining gyoza, until potstickers are set aside and made.

In a large, nonstick pan**, heat 2 TBSP vegetable oil on medium-high heat.  Place enough potstickers in pan to cover the majority of the bottom, but leave room to flip dumplings. Fry until crispy, flipping to crisp other side halfway through (they should be a dark brown color).  Add a cup of water and quickly cover pan with lid or foil.  Allow to steam for 10 minutes. Remove lid and allow excess water to evaporate before placing on plate.

If you're looking for a crispier outside on the potsticker, boil them first, for about 5 minutes, then fry them in oil to get a crispy, brown outside.

 

Potstickers taste best if eaten immediately, but can be kept warm in the oven. Dip them in potsticker sauce and enjoy!

Potsticker Sauce

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
6 tablespoons soy sauce
2 teaspoons sugar
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced

Combine ingredients. Taste ahead of time and doctor to your liking. Serve with potstickers. Devour.

* Gyoza/potsticker wrappers can be found in most grocery stores, in the refrigerated, ethnic foods section. Please note that gyoza/potsticker and wonton wrappers are not the same thing (even though they look very similar), and this recipe does work best with gyoza wrappers. I tried to prove my mom wrong by using wonton wrappers one time; I was not successful.

** I know.  I hate nonstick, too. However, it makes a huge difference in keeping the potstickers from sticking to the pan and tearing the wrapper.  Another Mama Sue tip I've tried to dispel and failed miserably in the process.

*** Fast variations:  You may have seen bags of frozen prepared potstickers at your local store (my favorites are Trader Joe’s version, but theirs don’t even come close in tastiness).  If you want an easy go-to potsticker, simply make them, place them on a baking sheet in rows (make sure they are not touching; see above image), and freeze!   Once frozen, put them in a gallon size freezer bag and they’re there to fry at your leisure.  Also, these dumplings make a great wonton soup.  Make a simple broth of chicken stock, a little sesame oil and scallions, toss in the potstickers, allow them to cook for about 10-15 minutes, and voila! A hearty and satisfying soup in minutes.