My favorite salad ever: Austrian Lentil Salad

I first tasted a version of this salad in 1990, when my boss's wife, who is from Vienna, Austria, brought a large container of her version to my wedding reception, because she said it's a traditional salad to serve at weddings and promises fertility.

She was pouting when no one ate the salad. I thought "What did she expect, she brought Lentils to my wedding reception!"

Fast forward nearly 20 years, and I had a chance to eat her salad again, and my tastes have matured to the point where I thought it was incredibly tasty. I became an instant convert. I updated and significantly improved upon her recipe (she only used 4 ingredients -- lentils boiled with bay leaf, a simple herbal mustard vinaigrette, and minced onion), and now, I am never without a container of this salad in my fridge. I make it every Sunday, and it lasts all week, holds up extremely well in lunches, and fortunately, did not make me fertile, which is a very good thing, because her recipe lasted longer than the marriage.

I don't know what makes a lentil dish "Austrian" but she claims it was a childhood dish she had many times in Vienna. My version is not likely Austrian, but is certainly inspired by hers.  I use Trader Joe's ingredients primarily, which included steamed and cooked lentils, but you can easily cook your own lentils and proceed with those after you've done so.

AUSTRIAN LENTIL SALAD

Base Salad

1 package of Trader Joe's Steamed Lentils (from the refrigerated section)

1 package of Trader Joe's Beluga Lentils (from the pasta section)

1/2 very finely diced red or white onion -or- 1 shaved shallot (shown in this version)

1-2 very finely chopped carrots

Snipped Italian Parsley

The zest of one lemon (use all the juice, below)

Zest an entire lemon into a large bowl. Add both packages of lentils, the diced carrots and onions, and the parsley. Toss all ingredients thoroughly and set aside.

Dressing

The basic dressing is a lemon vinaigrette, but you should feel free to use your favorite oil & vinegar dressing, being certain to add the mucho lemon zest and lemon juice to it, to create the unique flavor. Here is my tried and true method:

1/2 cup of Trader Joe's Olive Oil

1/4 cup of Trader Joe's Seasoned Rice Vinegar (sometimes I use a bit of rice vinegar, and a bit of cider vinegar, when I want it tarter)

1 dollop of TJ's Dijon Mustard

The juice of 1 whole lemon

Salt and Pepper to taste

Combine all in a blender cup to emulsify, and pour over the lentil salad. Toss thoroughly, adjust seasonings to taste, and serve chilled. This salad requires no cooking (unless you've cooked your own lentils) keeps in the fridge all week, and makes a wonderful, healthy, high protein, high fiber very satisfying lunch.

In fact, I'd never once thought I'd say this about a salad, especially one with lentils, but I'll stand in front of my open fridge door at night and eat this salad right from the container, with a spoon. If I worked at a TJ's, I would make this easy dish and demonstrate it, to convert people to the wonder of lemony lentils as a salad.

Personal note to my sister, Weezie: Aren't you proud of me?! I finally figured out a use for my obsessive acquisition of vinegar and oil even though I've always hated oil & vinegar dressing!

Naan Pizza

In my continuing "clean out the freezer" mode I was able to whip together a tasty little morsel of pizza today for lunch, using a piece of frozen Trader Joe's Naan bread as the crust base.*

I'd also made a blender cup full of Pizza Sauce, another "use it up" task, over a month ago. I have too many cans of tomato paste. I'm not a big pasta fan and even when I make pasta, it's seldom a tomato based sauce. Still, when I see cans of paste on sale, I think I have to have it and I end up with too much of it in the pantry. I found a pizza sauce recipe that sounded tasty, adapted it for my taste, and my, it was EXCELLENT. Tomato pasta sauce, I don't like. Pizza sauce, I do. ::shrug::

Anyway, saw the sauce, saw the naan, saw the mushrooms -- pizza for lunch!

I coated the slice of defrosted naan with a thin schmear of butter, a thin schmear of pizza sauce, a few tablespoons of grated cheese, 4-5 shaved mushrooms, and baked. Voila, a mighty tasty pizza.

Kate's Pizza Sauce

1 (6 ounce) can tomato paste
6 ounces hot water

3 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon minced garlic
2 tablespoons honey
1-2 teaspoons anchovy paste
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano or one handful of fresh oregano
1/4 teaspoon dried basil or 2 teaspoons of pesto or one handful of fresh basil
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
sea salt to taste

In a small bowl, combine tomato paste, water, Parmesan cheese, garlic, honey and mix thoroughly. Begin to add anchovy paste and all spices, and mix, tasting as you go. Allow to sit for at least 30 minutes to blend and adjust seasonings a second time. I added more anchovy paste and honey, for instance. This is a flavor that adds a complexity and saltiness I love. I think many people only think they don't like anchovies -- it's a salty briny flavor that is wonderful and complex, and not fishy when used in this manner.

My jar of pizza sauce has kept very well, for weeks at a time. Easy to spread on toast for a quick Po' Folks Pizza for kids (which is a slice of toast, sauce, and a slice of cheese melted in a toaster oven).

*Do not even consider buying the bakery aisle packages of Naan from Trader Joe's. They are an abomination. Thick, tough, stale, flavorless --- blech. The frozen variety, however (which still pales in comparison to fresh Naan from a restaurant) is a passable pre-made Naan.

Used up: Pizza Sauce (tomato paste), Mushrooms, Frozen Naan

Rotisserie Chicken Stock

I am mighty pleased with myself, with just a very basic chicken stock! I was reading a cookbook this week which pointed out something so obvious, it really never occurred to me:

"Every time you buy a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, eat the chicken and throw away the carcass, you've just thrown away a pot of chicken stock."

I've never made my own stock even though I know it isn't terribly complicated just because I didn't feel like playing with an entire chicken. But I've thrown away plenty of rotisserie chicken carcasses before, and the recipe was dead bang simple. It never occurred to me to use one, other than a turkey carcass every November.

So, with a Safeway grocery store rotisserie chicken sacrificed for the cause, here is my pot of stock waiting to cool, and be divided into one quart freezer bags.

ROTISSERIE CHICKEN STOCK

1 rotisserie chicken
1 onion
1 handful of carrots
1 handful of celery
1 garlic glove
Handful of herbs as you like
Whole Peppercorns

Strip the chicken of all the meat you wish to eat, leaving the skin, bones, and meat you don't want (I don't like dark meat, for instance), intact.

Put the entire carcass into a large stock pot and fill up with as much water as the pot will hold, and covering the carcass.

Throw in a handful of celery stalks with leaves intact, a handful of carrots (I only had shredded, so I added a cup of shredded), a whole onion cut in half, several tablespoons of various herbs, whatever is complimentary or you have on hand, 1 large elephant garlic clove, and about 10 peppercorns.

Bring to a rapid boil, then reduce heat, keep the pot covered, and simmer for 2 hours. As the liquid reduces during that 2 hours, replace with more water to keep the level up. For the second two hours, remove the lid, and let the stock reduce by half or until it reached a rich, dark golden color. Remove any fat or scum which floats to the surface (I had none, really).

Strain the whole pot into a large pan to remove bones, skin, veggies, meat. Then strain again through a smaller mesh strainer, as many times as you like, to get the broth clear.

I picked out a lot of meat from that pile you see and just nibbled on it, but most of the meat had been removed prior to the stock making.

It was really easy, really rich, really delicious, and so much better than ANY canned stock I've ever purchased.

Now I just need to make room for a bunch of bags of stock in my freezer. I think I'll be eating sugar free popsicles all night.

Lame Series: Tartar Sauce

This may be the lamest post ever, but, I can't help it. I'm happy with myself.

I confess. I confess without reservation, that I actually like tartar sauce on fish, and, I like certain kinds of "fish sticks." Not pre-formed frozen sticks of unusual origin and uniformity, but, nice pieces of breaded fish in slender portions, and, I like them with tartar sauce.

What I hate, though, is commercial tartar sauce. It's so gloopy and weird tasting, isn't it? And yet, I keep buying it, trying one after another to find a good one. I recently bought the version at Trader Joe's -- I like most everything they have -- but it was vile. I then settled on whatever brand is most often found at the seafood counter at the grocery store -- Captain's something or other. Equally vile. What is so damn difficult about making a decent jarred tartar sauce?

Frustrated, I decided to make my own, which I really didn't want to do because I didn't need THAT much, but then decided, what the heck, just make a little bit following the standard principles in whatever recipe you find.

Boy, am I an idiot or what? It sounded easy, TOO easy, and I said "That's it? That's all that is in tartar sauce? Seroiusly?" And then I made a small bit of it and just grinned. Finally. A good tartar sauce! I never have to buy that crap again. Am I totally lame because I keep dipping my finger in it and licking my finger? Does this mean I have trailer tastes? So be it.

I adapted a basic recipe I found on AllRecipes and made it "my way" -- which means thin and soupy.

5 spicy bread and butter pickle slices from a jar of pickles
1 large green onion or scallion, including white portion
1/2 lemon, juiced
Best Foods Mayo
Salt and Pepper

Puree pickles, onion, and lemon juice in a little blender cup or mini food processor until very wet and smooth. Stir in a few tablespoons of Best Foods Mayo until it's fully blended and a thin, soupy consistency (or add more mayo if you like it thick but why not then just say it's green flecked mayo?). Add salt and pepper to taste. Let it sit in the fridge as long as possible, preferably all day to blend flavors (or so they recipe advised).

Add to fish. Lick plate, spoon, lid of the jar, and dip finger repeatedly after fish is gone. Wonder if it would be good with dill? Know that it would be good with horseradish. A great base for all things creamy on a sandwich. Marvel that sometimes simple stuff is best kept simple.

Update May 5, 2008: It occurred to me this morning, that tartar sauce, being simply mayo, onion, pickles, and spices ... is the perfect base for making any spreadable salad, especially if I chunk up some celery or capers in it next time (who am I kidding, I seldom use capers). This morning I quickled drained a can of albacore tuna, threw in a few teaspoons of my home made tartar sauce, added a handful of sliced almonds, and I was good to GO! Almost zero prep. If I make a full bullet blender cup of tartar sauce, I can make tuna, salmon, shrimp, egg, crab salad ... anytime, very quickly. Hooray.

Make this because it's good for you: Homemade Blueberry Orange Butter

Blueberries and Oranges are two of the world's recognized SuperFoods. I try to eat a lot of SuperFoods, at least several each day (see to the right? I even have a category for it). My sister and I just found a cookbook specifically for SuperFoods and I spotted inside a recipe for making Blueberry Butter (not dairy -- think Apple Butter). I recognized it as a good start -- a culinary canvas waiting my improvements.

First I have to give you some important warnings, before you get started. These are very important, so write these down.

~Use a pan twice as deep as you think you need. This stuff spatters up something terrible.

~If you use a wooden spoon, it will forever be purple. Use a silicone spoon if this bugs you.

~A hand blender will not work to puree the butter.

~Wear an apron. I mean it.

~Have a wet sponge and towel near by.

~Have a container washed and ready to fill when the butter is done. Unlike me.

I'm not even going to reference the cookbook or the author because I adapted it so thoroughly (the oranges and seasonings are mine for instance), they are really different animals. So, this is how we rolled in my kitchen:

Step 1: In a deeper pot than the one you see below, add one 10 oz bag of frozen blueberries (don't use wild, they actually are kinda gritty for this purpose, according to the author); one whole orange which has been peeled and de-seeded (save the peels for zest); 1 cup of unsweetened applesauce; 1 cinnamon stick; 2 shakes of ground clove; 2 big splashes of vanilla extract, and 1/3 cup of brown sugar (I used Splenda brown sugar with perfect results).




Step 2: Stir this mixture thoroughly, constantly, while the fruit boils and combines, as shown below. Cook until the fruit is combined and very soft, approximately 20 minutes.


Step 3: The recipe calls for pouring the entire thing into a blender, and then after thoroughly blended, pouring it back into the WASHED pot (why on earth would you rinse and wash away all the remnants of the fruit in the pot only to add the now blended fruit back into the pan? Lunacy). So, I took a stick blender to it. After a good 10 minutes, I realized this wasn't happening, because either my stick was underpowered for the fruit, or more likely, the pan was too shallow and I couldn't get the thing tilted enough to really mix it under the blades, without spattering everything purple all around me (See Notes: Get a deep pot, wear an apron, and have a wet sponge or towel near by). So, after 10 minutes of what you see below, I actually hauled out the full sized blender and did what I was told and it was much better. But I didn't wash the pot. I poured the fruit back into the unwashed blueberry pot.

Step 4: Continue to cook the now pureed fruit in the pot, on a heat enough high enough to pop and bubble, but not so high it boils up, or spatters too much. I had it on medium low and it simmered away, with me stirring frequently, for about 30-40 minutes. You want to be able to drag a wooden spoon (see warning note about the spoon and notice how my wooden spoon, below, is permanently a bright purple now) across the bottom of the pan and have the fruit not seep back too quickly, as shown below.


Step 5: After the fruit butter is thick and hearty, pour into a container which you have ready (See Warning Note: I didn't have one ready because I'm lame that way). I am glad I actually grew impatient and took the butter off the stove before it was as thick as I wanted -- it thickened considerably when it cooled and I could put a finger or spoon in, and it did not run off the spoon at all. This was what I wanted. Also, once it was cool, I could really taste the subtlety of the cinnamon, the clove, and the orange. Avoid overseasoning while it's cooking -- because I didn't think I'd added enough while I was tasting it during the cooking process.


Verdict: This is not like any blueberry flavored product I've had before. I'm not a huge fan of blueberries because blueberry muffins are kinda boring and I'd never eat a slice of blueberry pie. Too fake tasting. I want to get blueberries into my daily menu however, and I eat a lot of Fat Free Greek Yogurt, so I thought this was a good way to get blueberries in without too much straight blueberry flavor -- and this fit the bill. It tasted of deep rich purple - more berry than blueberry, sweet orange, clove and cinnamon and vanilla. It was not overly sweet (I didn't add nearly as much sugar as called for) and was fabulous with a big spoon of yogurt to test it out. I'm very happy with it.



If you're on a diet, dollop this Blueberry Orange Butter on:


Greek Yogurt; Oatmeal; Cereal; Toast; Granola; Cottage Cheese


If you're not on a diet, dollop this on:


Pound cake; ice cream; rice pudding; tapioca pudding; any pudding; under desserts; over desserts; or with a spoon and a can of aerosol whipped cream.

Also, because of my crappy camera skills, that photo looks like brownie batter. It's actually VERY purple, as shown on my cottage cheese bento lunch, here:

Losing My Nutella Virginity

Photo courtesy of Siladeth @ Flickr

Nutella: Fancy chocolate condiment, or just a big batch of frosting in a jar?

Discuss.

I've finally tried Nutella. I'm 48, by the way, so I'm very late to the Nutella game. I never much craved it, because, I've never much craved anything chocolate. Oh, I like chocolate well enough, but ::gasp:: chocolate bores me. Always has. I'm the gal who will order the creme brulee EVERY time, or the bananas foster, or the caramel cake. I never, EVER order the Molten Lava Chocolate Cake or Death by Chocolate dessert. :::Yawwwwnn:::

There are both psychological reasons and culinary reasons, but mostly, it's just because chocolate always tastes like ... chocolate. Vanilla, on the other hand, can take on a whole HOST of flavors, and act as both the star (beautiful vanilla beans scraped into heavy cream and eggs, oh my) or just the back up (any dessert is improved by a dash of vanilla extract -- and lately I've added a splash of vanilla extract to my steel cut oats -- excellent).

I learned this young. My father used to take the entire family on long road trips every summer as part of his job, so we were forever having a picnic lunch in the park, snacks in the car, and fruit stand pit stops. Mostly out of a love of snacks and picnics -- my Dad was always game for either -- but we were a big family in a car traveling over the nation's highways for hours at a time. Sometimes you need to throw cookies at the barbarians in the back (that would be me and my siblings) to shut them the hell up.

On one particular trip, my Mom took over the wheel for awhile, and my Dad sat in the front seat with a bag of gas station candy: Coconut Haystacks, to be exact. A combo of chocolate and vanilla in a big cellophane bag. He reached in and held out a haystack over the seat to four kids in the back seat.

"Who wants chocolate?" He said.

"Me! Me! Me!" yelled everyone in the car, in unison. Now, with four kids, his wife, and himself, a handful of chocolate haystacks was not going to divide evenly, or go very far, and he liked chocolate for himself.

My Dad was a smart guy, and crafty. Witness this Mark Twain-esqe / Tom Sawyer like moment:

"Okay, but, I'm saving the vanilla for Kate...she likes those best and those are for her. The rest of you can share the chocolate."

That was me. Ohhhhh, I DO like vanilla best. Don't I? Yes, I must, because he just said I did.

Wait. Do I? When did this happen?

Then I realized this was a ploy -- to keep the peace. My Dad was sending me a message, that he needed me to be less selfish, ungrateful, than the other children. Less bad. I was selected to be the good child. The most loved child. The child who took the minority selection, thus helping my Dad keep peace in the car, and have his own favorite. I was the good girl if I was The Vanilla Girl. I remember giving my Dad a VERY meaningful look (as meaningful as someone perhaps 7 or 8 can give anyone else who probably doesn't have a clue he's receiving said meaningful look):

Yes. I accept this role. I will help you with this. I will be the good girl, the best child, the most loving child, because I will help you keep the peace with coconut haystacks.

"Yes Daddy! I want the Vanilla."

"Good girl."

See? There it was. Proof. I WAS THE GOOD GIRL IF I LIKED VANILLA BETTER. "So that's how this game is played" I thought to myself. "You other losers in the back seat don't have a clue I'm the favorite, now. Hmph." I quietly and smugly chewed vanilla coconut candy mountains. I would keep this information to myself as not to hurt them unnecessarily.

Thus began my life long preference for Vanilla-Anything, which pretty much has stuck with me all these years, and prevented me from having little, if any, desire for Nutella. Shrug. Meh. A big jar of chocolate goo. And it tastes like hazelnuts? Pass. The only experiences I've had with hazelnut flavor, which were both very unpleasant, was a) a big bowl of hazelnuts at my grandmother's house which had gone rancid and had worms, and b) hazelnut flavored syrups and non-dairy creamers. That stuff is noxious (as are most non-dairy flavored creamers), so I consequently associated anything both chocolate AND hazelnut as being doubly noxious.

Today, I made a piece of toast and reached into a jar of tiny restaurant paks of jams to search for a peach jam. Drat. Gone. But here was a tiny picnic sized single-serving of Nutella. It was probably 2 years old, but who knows, I thought it might still be good, and didn't someone once tell me to use it on toast, first? Yes, they did. May as well try it and get it over with. And tried it I did.

You know what? It's pretty good. First, I tasted no fake nut flavor, so we're okay on that score. Second, it isn't greasy or heavy, it's thick and creamy, which is good. It didn't separate, it was fully incorporated. Which is also good. It doesn't take like pale flavorless milk chocolate, OR, dark dark chocolate (I admit I'm not a dark chocolate fan). For being two years old (which is kinda scary that it was still perfect), this Nutella stuff is, all and all ... NOT bad at all. I think it would be good swirled in muffins, as I've seen on so many pretty blogs, or inside a croissant if that's your thing.

But, let's be clear: This is NOT a condiment.

I admit it's pretty tasty, but, you chocolate fiends are kidding yourselves, because you know damn well Nutella is just a big jar of frosting; a big jar of soft spreadable candy bar, and you are BAD, BAD, BAD children for pretending otherwise.