Sweet Pepper

Ode to a winter staple: Kale and Cannellini Ragout

 

I adore comfort food. Though I have certainly enjoyed the occasional splurge on beautiful, exquisitely detailed, precisely executed and adventurous restaurant experiences (quick note: the omakase menu at Kai, in NYC, was mind-blowing! A gift from a former boss of mine, and it has remained in my thoughts now for YEARS), the truth is that the food memories closest to my heart are neither fancy nor flashy. My mom, a brilliant cook and the initial source of my love for the kitchen, never touched a recipe while I was growing up but provided our family with wondrously delicious meals for as long as I can remember. It was from her that I learned to make a huge pot of slow-simmered tomato sauce from scratch for pasta, stashing the leftovers in the freezer for future meals. She made a version of soy sauce chicken (with potatoes, carrots, and onions) that we used to eat with rice once a week – simple but profoundly satisfying. Despite years of begging for a recipe or a description of her method, I’ve never been able to replicate it! When my dad used to travel for work, she would make sujebi (a traditional Korean soup made with thick, hand-torn noodles) for my brother and me, and without fail, we eagerly gorged on the thick, chewy noodles and lapped up the umami-rich, slow-simmered broth. My mom’s gift of fantastic food (homecooked family dinners were the norm for us) instilled in me the notion that the most memorable food need not be the most complex, expensive, or elaborate, and that there is no substitute for a soul-satisfying meal with the people you love.

I first had this cannellini and kale ragout with a dear friend while I was living in New York City. She invited me over to her place (we were both living the freelancing artist lifestyle at the time, hemorrhaging most of our incomes on rent). Feeling strapped for cash, she offered to make dinner instead of going out, and I brought over a bottle of wine. She had found this particular recipe on Epicurious, and we thoroughly enjoyed the ragout and the wine, chatting incessantly until the wee hours, as was (and still is!) our tendency.

Over the past few years, variations on this dish have made regular appearances in my kitchen (particularly during the winter, when the fresh vegetable selection is rather limited – kale is consistently available during the coldest, darkest months!) This particular version of comfort food is ideal, in mind: healthy and hearty, extremely flavorful, and full of textural contrast. I'm a huge kale fan; it doesn't get mushy or slimy when cooked (unlike some other varieties of greens), lasts FOREVER in the fridge, and makes the best snack (baked kale chips!) The oversized croutons and a generous topping of freshly-grated Parmesan are musts, in my opinion.

 

Kale and Cannellini Ragout, loosely adapted from a Bon Appétit recipe (via Epicurious)

3 garlic cloves, chopped

1/2 - 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes 

1 large bunch kale, thick/tough ends removed, leaves thinly sliced

4 cups chicken or vegetable stock (homemade, preferably)

1 28-oz can diced or crushed tomatoes

1 15-oz can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

1 tbsp fresh thyme

Several (4-6?) thick slices of high-quality bread (semolina loaves are my favorite here)

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 375. Cut the bread into large cubes, lightly toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Bake until the croutons are crisp and lightly browned (usually 20-25 min).

Heat 2-3 tbsp olive oil into a large saucepan/soup pot/Dutch oven (it needs to be big enough to accomodate all the kale, though it eventually wilts down!) Add garlic and red pepper flakes and saute until fragrant, being careful not to burn the garlic (this only takes around 30 sec, if that!) Add kale, broth, and a pinch of salt, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover the pot, and simmer until the kale wilts (5-10 min). Add the entire can of tomatoes, the thyme, and the cannellini beans, increase the heat slightly, and allow the mixture to bubble for 5-10 min. Add salt and pepper to taste. 

To serve, place a small handful of croutons in the bottom of each bowl. Ladle ragout over the croutons, and top with freshly grated Parmesan cheese. 

OK, let's try this again... Meyer Lemon Marmalade

I’m back! Yes, I took an inexcusably long hiatus from this blog, I agree (and so soon after starting it!) What can I say? Life got very, very busy (there will be some major life changes headed my way later this year). This isn’t to say that I stopped making and photographing food over the last few months – if anything, I’ve been partaking in more kitchen adventures than ever before! With the easy accessibility of Twitter, I’ve also been writing about what I’ve been eating, as well as sharing countless thoughts and ideas with an inspiring community of like-minded food lovers.  But! I’m ready to get back into blogging, and have many ideas up my sleeve for Sweet Pepper, so stay tuned!

I’m not a big fan of cold, gray New England winters, but the silver lining to these chilly, dark months, in my opinion, is the availability of interesting and lovely varieties of citrus (calamansi, kumquats, Buddha’s hand, and Seville oranges have been some recent favorites).  And every winter, I very predictably fall in love with Cara Cara oranges and Meyer lemons all over again. Last weekend, I made Cara Cara orange curd, which I hope to write about soon. I’ve used Meyer lemons in curd, cakes, tarts, and numerous savory dishes. But today, I want to talk about Meyer lemon marmalade. A dear friend recently presented me with a small armload of Meyer lemons, and after tasting that same friend’s luscious version of Seville orange marmalade, I felt inspired to make my own, but with the fragrant little lemons, instead.

Meyer Lemon Marmalade, loosely adapted from Simply Recipes

2 cups of scrubbed, thinly-sliced Meyer lemons (I used 6 smallish ones), seeds and ends removed and set aside (note: I cut mine in half lengthwise first, then sliced the lemons into thin half-moons)

2 cups sugar

2 cups water

(note: any amount of Meyer lemons can be used here - just keep in mind that the lemons, sugar, and water should be in a 1:1:1 ratio) 

Place the lemon slices and water into a large, non-reactive pot and boil on medium heat for 20-30 minutes. Lemon rinds should be soft, and no longer chewy (you can test one, just to make sure!)

Remove from heat. Place reserved seeds+ends into a small pot and cover with liquid from the lemon mixture. Bring to a boil and allow too cook for 20 minutes. Strain seeds and ends out of the liquid and add the liquid to the original pot of lemons (the lemon seeds contain pectin, which helps the marmalade thicken and set, eventually).

 

Add sugar to the mixture and simmer over medium-high heat, at a fairly rapid boil, until the mixture reaches 220 degrees, which can take anywhere from 25-30 minutes. You can test the temperature with a candy thermometer, or by the "plate" test (stick a plate in the freezer, drop a small dollop of the marmalade onto the cold plate to see if it "wrinkles" under your finger - if it does, the marmalade is done!) The marmalade should start to take on a slightly deeper color by the end of the cooking period.

  

During the second phase of cooking, you can sterilize some glass jars and lids. Heat jars in a 200 degree oven for at least 10 minutes. Cover lids with boiling water. When the marmalade is ready, ladle it into the jars and and quickly cover with lids. Listen for the "pop" of a vacuum seal (if this doesn't happen, you'll need to keep the marmalade refrigerated). Enjoy!!