Broccoli Rabe with Sausage and Orrechiette

These "little ears" don't do any listening at all . . . they just sit quietly and lap up all the spice of the sausage and the gentle bite of the broccoli rabe in this dish.  The way that Italians named pasta is so intriguing, isn't it?  Orecchiettte is such a pretty sounding word.  (One of these days, I'm going to buy Rosetta Stone and learn Italian; I'll have to if I'm ever going to get there.)

Even though the word means "little ears," to me they kind of look like the helmets American  soldiers wore in World War I.  (I have World War I on the brain, because I'm getting ready to teach "All Quiet on the Western Front" to high school sophomores.  Did I hear you say, "Good luck with that."?)

Whatever they're called, or whatever they look like, they are the perfect vehicle for this cargo of sausage and greens.  A shake of crushed red pepper, a bit of Parmesan cheese and dinner's ready.   Whenever I find this pasta, I sock it away in the pantry.  And whenever I find broccoli rabe (sometimes called rapini) at the market, I buy it -- and I make this.  Fresh and fast for a weeknight meal.

There are a lot of ways to prepare this dish, which is pretty traditional.  I prefer to dunk the rabe in a pot of boiling salted water and then shocking it in ice water.  A bit of hassle that's worth it.  (Thanks for teaching me that, Lynn.)

Make this orecchiette and listen for the kudos

Orecchiette with Broccoli Rabe and Sausage
Serves 4 to 6

2 tablespoons salt
2 bunches broccoli rabe (about 1 pound)
8 ounces orrecchiette
1 pound sweet or hot Italian sausage
2 ounces shredded Parmesan cheese
crushed red pepper

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add the broccoli rabe.  Cook the greens briefly, just a minute or two.  Remove with tongs to a large container filled with ice water. Swish around for a minute or two and remove to a colander.  Chop into about two inch pieces.

Bring the same water to a oil and add the pasta.  Cook for about 8 minutes and drain, but reserve some of the pasta water.

Brown the sausage in a large skillet over medium high heat, breaking it up as you go.  Reduce the heat and add the broccoli rabe and saute together for a minute.  Add the pasta and combine.  Add pasta water, if needed.  Stir in the cheese, sprinkle with the pepper and serve.

Maple Bacon Marshmallows from "Marshmallow Madness"

Photo by Leigh Beisch

I fell in love today, of all days, with marshmallows, of all things. To be quite honest, I was never a fan of marshmallows. No s'more fan here.  But then I got this book -- Marshmallow Madness, by Shauna Sever, from Quirk Books and I'm a believer.

Even though my fear of confection-making ranks right up there with all things yeast, the book quickly reeled me in, with everything from the feel of the book cover (It's puffy!) to the lip-smacking pictures, especially of the one I chose to make -- Maple Bacon Marshmallows -- to the very thorough step-by-step directions.  

After I got over the initial  "What?!?!?  You can make marshmallows -- at home?"  I evolved into "Well, I do have everything I need" and capped it with "Let's go!"

I read the recipe several times.  I read and reread the basics of marshmallow making. I declared myself on a mission to conquer confection.  I gathered my equipment.  Tested my candy thermometer (and blessed my hoarding self for keeping it all these years.)  I candied the bacon.  (Delicious on its own, of course.)  I mixed the coating.  I got out the ingredients  and  -- poof! -- in under an hour, I had indeed made marshmallows!  Me!  Whodathunkit?

It was a bit of a sticky mess and it took paying attention to detail but it was fun to do and the results were worth it.  These marshmallows aren't like the commercial kind at all -- all that my limited exposure knows.  They're light and airy but they have a bit of texture that really makes them seem like fairy food, not fairy fluff. 

And the flavor of maple  and bacon and cinnamon together? Heaven.  Just like your favorite breakfast in a mouth sized portion.  I've always loved the mix of sweet and savory and although this leans more toward sweet, the bacon saves it (for me) from a sugar overdose.

Now that I have this success under my belt, I just may have to branch out and explore more of the book:  Sea Salt Caramel Swirls would be pretty close to these and so would Salted Peanut ones.  Pineapple Rosemary?  Maybe.  Margarita Marshmallows.  Very intriguing.  Chocolate Malt.  Mango-Chile-Lime.   A lot of choices.  Of course, there's also Strawberry and Vanilla.  And great ideas for decorating and making desserts with your marshmallows. There's a lot of inspiration in this book.  

And although I don't think these will quite cut it this summer when the grandsons want to roast marshmallows by the fire, I'm still pretty tickled.  

Props to Shauna Sever, who blogs at Piece of Cake, for creating such delectable concoctions and for providing such clear step-by-steps.  And the photography from Leigh Beisch is simply outstanding.  And thanks to Quirk Books for the review copy.  The enthusiasm for the book is  my own, and genuine.

Maple Bacon Marshmallows

from Marshmallow Madness

makes about 2 dozen 1 1/2 inch marshmallows

4 1/2 teaspoons unflavored powdered gelatin

1/4 cup cold water

2/3 cup sugar

1/2 cup Grade A dark or Grade B maple syrup

1/4 cup light corn syrup

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 cup chopped candied bacon*

1/2 cup Classic Coating**

(Before anything, check all your equipment, especially your candy thermometer, and make the Candied Bacon and the Classic Coating.  Then you can get started.)

Lightly coat an 8 x 8 inch baking pan with cooking spray.

Whisk together the gelatin and cold water in a bowl and let soften.

Stir together the sugar, ample syrup, corn syrup, water and salt in a medium saucepan. Bring it to a boil over high heat, stirring occasionally, until it hits 240 degrees F.  (Be prepared to lower the heat as need -- this syrup has a tendency to bubble up.) Microwave the gelatin on high until completely melted, about 30 seconds.  Pour it into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment.  Set the mixer to low and keep it running till you're ready to add the syrup.

When the syrup has reached 240 degrees F., slowly pour it into the mixer owl.  Increase the speed to medium and beat for 5 minutes.  Increase to medium high and beat for 3 more minutes.  Add the cinnamon, increase to the highest speed. and beat for 1 minute more.  Quickly fold in the bacon bits.  Pour into the prepared pan.  Sift coating over top.  Let it set in a cool dry place for 6 hours.  

Use a knife to loosed the marshmallow from the edges of the pan.  Invert the slab onto a work surface. Cut into piece and dust again with more coating. Eat 'em up!

*To make candied bacon, lay 6 or 7 slices on a wire rack set over a sheet pan lined with foil.  Combine 1/4 cup brown sugar and 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon.  Rub over both sides of bacon.  Bake at 350 degrees F until deeply caramelized, 30 to 35 minutes.  Let cool before chopping into bits.

**Classic Coating: Sift 1 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar with 1 cup corn or potato starch.  (Store extra tightly covered.)

Just Crazy Good Brussels Sprouts

I'm really impressed with the PR firm Brussels sprouts hired.   Once upon a time, Brussels sprouts were on the very lowest rung of veggies to celebrate   From little kids to wizened curmudgeons, all noses were turned up against them.   

Now they've earned their rightful place as a star ingredient in the cook's repertoire.  Look at all the places they're sprouting up  - - here and here and here.

I haven't always loved sprouts.  Growing up, all I recall were mushy balls of green stuff that didn't smell too appetizing.  It wasn't until I cooked them fresh did I fall in love with them.  These days (and I'm lucky Mr. Rosemary agrees with me) they show up on our plates at least every other week.  

  

And I often choose to bring them to family gatherings.  I was a little nervous the first time I did, because (of course) I ever heard anyone crave them the way they do Liz's sweet potatoes.   One Easter, I brought a creamy gratin of sprouts and -- much to my surprise -- learned that there were lots of sprouts lovers.  Then again, what's not to love about cheese and cream?

Then last Christmas time, I volunteered to take this sprouts dish to my sister's house.  Once again, rave reviews!  Who's going to argue with that!

I found this recipe from blogger Emily at Five and Spice, whose over-the-top description made me want to run to the store, then the kitchen and whip these babies up.  They are very, very easy and very, very tasty.  Just a little caramelizing from the molasses makes them look like little pieces of mahogany and taste like nutty candy.

I often roast the sprouts, but I think I've been convinced that this is my new preferred way to cook them. Crazy.

Aren't you glad Brussels sprouts have come out of the closet?

Crazy Good Brussels Sprouts

From Five and Spice

1 ½ pounds Brussels sprouts, cleaned and halved

2 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

Salt

1 ½ tablespoons molasses

In a very large skillet, heat butter and oil over medium high heat until butter is bubbling.  Add sprouts, cut side down.  Leave alone to cook – without any stirring – for several minutes until the cut undersides get a brown crust.  Then, quickly flip them all over.  Sprinkle with salt, add garlic and continue to cook for another couple of minutes. Add the molasses and two tablespoons of water.  Turn heat down to medium and cook stirring frequently to coat all sides.  Cook for a few more minutes or until tender to your taste.

Sprigs of Rosemary: Food Blogger Unplugged

Several weeks ago, Susan @ The Spice Garden, invited me to participate in "Food Bloggers Unplugged," where bloggers share a bit about themselves and their food (and blogging) inspiration.  I've been delighted to get to know Susan and her blog.  I imagine Susan's life is much like mine -- living in a rural part of the country and, after working a lifetime, having the time and freedom to do much of what you want, one of which  for me is spending time exploring food and writing about it.

So, here I go . . .  unplugged:

1. Who or what inspired you to start a blog?
Not a very original or epiphany-like start, I'm afraid.  I read Orangette and merely said to myself:  "I'd like to do something like that."  And after reading a few other blogs and letting a few months lapse, Sprigs of Rosemary was born.

2. Who is your foodie inspiration?
Probably my Aunt Mary, although my sister Lynn has a lot to do with it, too.  They both were very adventurous in the kitchen, not satisfied with the ordinary and always inspired to try something new.  And they always seemed to do it well.  I've certainly also been inspired by many a food blogger and a handful of TV cooks.  I was watching Rachael Ray when she had just one show and before she became an enterprise.  Back then she seemed so fresh and had a free-spirited way of cooking I admired.


3. Your greasiest, batter-splattered cook/drink book?
The first cookbook I ever bought for myself is one I still turn to often.  It's Gourmet on the Run, published by Glamour magazine, edited by Jane Kirby.  The spine is cracked and it has many smeared and dog-eared pages.  I loved the book because more than giving you recipes, it taught a way to cook with charts that showed this could combine with that or that with this.  I am a cookbook addict, though, and I'm always adding to my big, fat and still growing collection.  (And to think if I didn't weed it out once in a while!)

4.  Tell us about the best thing you've ever eaten in another country.  Where was it and what was it?
I was lucky enough to go to London once, the only time I've been outside the country, except for Canada (which doesn't really count -- same continent and all!) and we catch our own walleye there!

The London trip was for business.  (Lucky me!)    We flew over on the company's private jet (one formerly owned by Arnold Schwarzenegger -- it still had a stenciled "I'll be back!" on the door!)  My boss took me to a Russian restaurant where we ate really good caviar, but my most vivid memory is her taking me to Harrod's Where I gazed open-mouthed at the Food Halls. Then she took me to a sushi restaurant there and  taught me  to use chopsticks, although I could still use some practice.  I felt so very cosmopolitan that day!

 

5.  Another food blogger whose table you'd love to sit at is . . .
Very tough question.  There really are so many!  But if I really, really could only pick one, I'd pick Marie@ Proud Italian Cook because she seems to be equally creative as traditional, making a roasted vegetable tart one day, then hand-made pasta the next.  She also balances rich dishes with light ones. Maybe she's a Libra, too!


6.  What's one food gadget on your wish list (price is no object)?
I'm really not much of a gadget person.  (When you have a small kitchen, you can't afford it!) I have my Kitchen Aid mixer (and a few attachments), got a pasta machine, a new salad spinner I love.  I need a new food processor, but I think if I could splurge, I'd get a good mandoline and hope I don't cut myself. Or maybe Wusthoff knives.

7.  Who taught you to cook?
My mother taught me all the basics even though she spared me the correct terminology.  I learned how to braise, cream, chop, brown, make gravy, test a cake, how to season, plan a meal, etc.    I still can't get her pie crust down, though.  (She was one of those who didn't need a recipe for pastry!)  But the rest of it is self-taught, just from reading magazines and cookbooks and experimenting.


8.  I'm coming to dinner.  What's your signature dish?
I love to make cannelloni! Making the crepes is a pain, but I love it.  The filling I like best is a mixture of spinach, ground beef and chicken livers bound with cream (and a little nutmeg!)  Then there's two sauces, a simple marinara and a bechamel, and lots of cheese  Delicious, rich, a definite treat.

9. What's your guilty food pleasure?
Chocolate chip cookie dough.  Nuff said.  I feel guilty just thinking about it.

10.  Reveal something about yourself others would be surprised to know.
I wish I could say something like I worked my way through college as a pole dancer, but I don't have very many surprises or secrets.  I wish I would have been a librarian.  That's it.

In addition to sharing some of your self, part of Food Bloggers Unplugged  game means inviting other food bloggers who intrigue you to do the same.  That's probably harder than baring your foodie soul, because there's so much inspiration out there, so many new blogs I pop in to see.  I have my favorites, of course, and some just seem like old friends (who happen to be good cooks.)  And I visit some of the food blogger luminati occasionally, too.  But here are a handful of  "new to me" bloggers I've been reading routinely lately.   Please visit . . .

      Melissa @ I Was Born to Cook

Emily @ Life on Food

Heather @ girlichef

Mary @ Inside a British Mum's Kitchen

Alida @ Alida's Kitchen

Thanks for reading and letting me indulge in a little storytelling!  And thanks for the invitation, Susan!

Better Beer Batter Bread

Although I haven't given up on making good bread -- that is, real bread, not quick bread, not bread machine bread, not no-knead bread -- I  needed to shore up my confidence a bit with a couple little successes before I tackle it the real deal again.  And that's where this beer bread comes in.

My stepdaughter introduced me to beer bread and, I have to admit, that although it's not traditional bread, it's very good.  It's denser, heartier and heavier but it's not the brick I've manufactured in the past.

And I've successfully made it a few times.  The last time our granddaughter came to stay for an overnight, she had a hankering for the beer bread and was hoping we'd have it toasted for breakfast.  (We didn't. I'm sure I had  something infinitely fancier planned.  Had I known she would have been tickled with beer bread!)

Not too long ago, I shared this recipe with an acquaintance.  Alas!  It didn't turn out too swell for her!  She wasn't blaming me but she did quiz me a lot about all the steps.  And after I'd told her how easy it was!

So I promptly went home and made a loaf.  I was afraid I'd done the unthinkable -- had the measurements written down wrong or the temperature, or even forgotten a step.  I'd revisited what I'd given her, and it was all correct.  So I had to prove to myself that it was all right and make it again.  And it was great.

I have to emphasize  -- just as the original source of this recipe did --  that sifting is very, very important, particularly in this recipe.  (But my friend told me she did sift, so I'm still puzzled.)

Without further ado, here's the recipe, and baker beware!

Beer Batter Bread

Makes one loaf, six to eight slices

from Gerald Norman, food.com, October 2003

3 cups flour, sifted

3 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

¼ cup sugar

1 (12 ounce) can beer

½ cup melted butter (1/4 cup is enough)

Preheat oven to 375 and grease a loaf pan.  Mix the dry ingredients.  Be sure to sift well.  Even though this is an easy recipe, you cannot skip the sifting.)  Blend the beer into the dry ingredients.  Spread into the prepared pan.  Pour melted butter over the top. 

Bake 1 hour or until toothpick inserted in the center of the loaf comes out clean.  Let cool in pan 10 minutes, then remove from pan and cool another 10 minutes before slicing.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

This produces a thick and hearty bread; it’s not a biscuit and it’s not traditional bread.  But bread it is and I’ll take it!  Shredded cheese and herbs are great additions.  This is a perfect companion to chili or any kind of soup.

Instant Karma Broccoli Chowder

"Instant Karma" was playing on the car radio and I asked Mr. Rosemary what he thought "instant karma" meant.  His first response:  "Love at first sight."

Now that's not the real definition of instant karma, John Lennon's version or not, but that's what I thought of today as I made this chowder:  It was meant to be, especially on a frigid day like today.

As we were headed out the door this brisk morning, layering ourselves in our barn clothes to much the horse stalls, Mr. Rosemary told me the thermometer read 10 degrees.

Pretty dang cold.

After we finished our chores (and it was indeed dang cold!), he told me that he'd misread the thermometer without his glasses on:  It really had said minus 1.0.  Now that's real dang cold.  (Sometimes it's better not knowing actually how cold it is.)

Soup is the only cure for that many degrees of frigidity!

I'm still in the post-holiday mode of lightening up, though, and where I would ordinarily make broccoli soup with cream, or at least half-and-half, I adapted a recipe I had plastered to the fridge earlier in the week for a less rich soup from Eating Well.

This soup gets its thickening from a little flour and potatoes and the creaminess from  non-fat yogurt. (The original recipe uses reduced fat sour cream.  I also subbed chicken broth for  vegetable. I also used whole fat cheese; just less of it.)   Of course all the good effort was probably negated when I had a piece of buttered beer bread on the side  -- the beer bread's for another post -- but, after all, it is my karma.

Broccoli Chowder
adapted from Eating Well
makes 6 (1 cup) servings
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large carrot, finely diced
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, peeled and diced
1 large potato, peeled and diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon AP flour
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
28 ounces chicken broth
1 bunch broccoli, cut into small pieces
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 cup non-fat plain yogurt
1/4 teaspoon salt

Heat oil in a Dutch oven or large saucepan over medium high heat.  Add onion, celery and carrot and cook, stirring often until the onion and celery soften, about 5 minutes.  Add the potato and garlic; cook, stirring, for about 2 minutes.  Stir in flour, dry mustard and cayenne; cook, stirring often again, for another 2 minutes.

Add broth and cut up broccoli; bring to a boil.  Cover and reduce heat to medium.  Simmer, stirring occasionally for about 15 minutes.  Transfer 2 cups of the chowder to a bowl and mash and then return to pan.

Stir in cheese and yogurt and cook stirring until the cheese is melted and the chowder is heated through.

Popeye Powered Green Rice

I'm sure it was just subliminal brainwashing that I love spinach because of watching Popeye cartoons as a kid because it certainly wasn't because of the first way I learned to eat it.  My mother used to serve very well cooked leaf spinach from a frozen block.  It was sprinkled with vinegar and garnished with hard-cooked eggs.  I liked it okay, but that was the only way I knew it.

"It's full of iron," she'd say.  It's good for you."  My first super-food, because Mom said so and because it performed miracles for Popeye. (My mom even managed to find Popeye shaped spinach noodles at the store!)

                                                           
If you think Popeye is just the name for a restaurant chain, let me give you the real lowdown:

Popeye was a skinny, seemingly hapless sailor with a corn cob pipe who was in love with an also skinny girl named Olive Oyl.  The object of his affection was relentlessly pursued by Bluto, a burly bully of a villain.  When put into all kinds of fanciful situations, our hopeless hero becomes magnificent  -- smart, strong and fast -- after downing a can of spinach!  His biceps tripled in size, his chest puffed out and he sped away like a locomotive to save Olive Oyl from some traumatic fate, usually involving the conniving Bluto. Popeye could do anything, overcome any obstacle, all because he was empowered by that spinach.

Since my Popeye days, I've had spinach a hundred or more different ways.  My first spinach salad, a wilted salad with bacon dressing, was a real eye opener. Then there were quiches, and lasagne filling and souffles, frittata, omelets, pizzas.  That's one versatile green!

I wish I could say I had the same love for rice.  Rice has to pretty well dressed up for me.  Naked won't do.  Rice is just a bed for something else.

But when I marry rice and spinach?  Now that's something.  And when you add coconut milk, well that's almost risotto!  Creamy and nutty and speckled with green punches of power!

Spinach and rice sounds prettier in Spanish -- Arroz Verde -- and usually is jazzed up with cilantro and onion, among a few other additions. But I liked my coconut milk addition; I used a light version so still got the richness without too many extra calories.

I thought I was clever by not adding too much moisture to the pan as the rice cooked, thinking that the frozen spinach would add what was needed besides the milk, but it needed a little more moisture and I wrote up the recipe to reflect that.

And if you do decide to make some kind of green rice you just might join me in singing the Popeye refrain:

I'm strong to the finich,

cuz I eats me spinach,

I'm Popeye the Sailor Man!

Green Rice

makes 6 to 8 servings

1 cup basmati rice

1 (14 ounce) can light coconut milk

1/4 cup water

1 10 ounce package frozen chopped spinach

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg, or 4-5 scrapes of a nutmeg with a grater

Place rice, coconut milk, water and salt in a pan with the frozen block of spinach.  Bring to a boil.  Break up the spinach with a wooden spoon.  Reduce heat to a simmer and cover until liquid is absorbed and rice is tender, about 25 minutes.  Add the nutmeg, stir again, and serve.