A granita may sound like a fancy word for something obscure, but it’s really the lazy cook’s sorbet. It’s crushed, slushed, slurried, partially frozen ice with flavorings often involving fruit. If you’re a fan of shaved ice or sno-cones, this is more or less the same stuff, only you can make your own version with much better syrup and fresh fruit. Skip the high fructose corn syrup and artificial flavor — besides, these are much harder to find ingredients than a couple of good pears.

ripe Bartlett pears

and overripe ones from the budget bin

There’s good pears, and there’s bruised, soft, overripe pears, and the latter is actually better for almost anything you want to do with them besides eating them as is. It’s these pears that were my target at the Greenmarket, a barrel of slightly blemished Bartletts next to the crisp green version. Don’t go overboard and buy ones with deep, squishy craters on their sides, but choose ones that are fragrant, and yellow instead of green. These will have the most flavor, and since we won’t be cooking the pears in this recipe, you’ll want as much sweetness from the get-go. Bonus: these pears are usually sold at discount.

peeling pears reveals a clear complexion

Call it what you will, granita, “Italian ice” or something simpler (my dad always threw overripe fruit with ice and sugar in the blender to make “slush”), but you won’t need any equipment other than a freezer to make it. It’ll take some patience and good timing, as you want to remove your mixture from the freezer every twenty minutes to stir. The resulting texture is grainy, with flaky bits of ice about. But you don’t need to worry about perfecting any texture — stir more frequently to make it smoother, less if you’re caught up doing something else.

vanilla bean

I don’t know why, but I added vanilla simple syrup to this batch. Making simple syrup, and having it on hand whenever you want to flavor your iced coffee or whathaveyou is an easy fifteen minute’s chore. Simple syrup is just equal parts water and sugar, heated and stirred in a saucepan until dissolved. I split a vanilla bean and threw it into the mixture to make it vanilla — simple as that.

food-processing the pears

To retain the flavor of fresh pears, I just pulverized the peeled and cored pieces in a food processor. Cooking the pears down for a bit in a saucepan will increase the intensity of their flavor, of course, but rather than jammy-tasting, this granita is decidedly crisp. Once baby food-friendly, the pears were mixed with the cooled simple syrup, a squeeze of lemon, and chilled together. After following the rest of the directions below (and clearing away some hefty real estate in the freezer to do so), the dessert was ready to serve. Here’s to summertime, and the cooking easy.

Vanilla Pear Granita
(makes about 1 quart, or 6-8 servings)

3 large, very ripe Bartlett pears, peeled and cored
2 cups water
2 cups sugar
1 vanilla bean
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Split the vanilla bean along its length. Heat the water, sugar and vanilla over medium-low in a saucepan, stirring occasionally, until dissolved. Let cool completely. Remove vanilla bean.

Pulse the pears in a food processor a few minutes, scraping down the sides with a spatula occasionally, until smooth. Combine with the cooled simple syrup and lemon juice in an airtight container and chill in a refrigerator about 30 minutes.

Pour mixture into a large casserole or baking dish (9 x 9 or larger) and cover with plastic wrap. Place in freezer. Stir every 20 minutes until mixture is uniformly crumbly (about 3-4 intervals, depending on how cold your freezer is). Serve in individual glasses.

Cost Calculator
3 large pears (at $3/bag of about 10 from the Greenmarket): $0.90
vanilla bean: $.70
juice of half a lemon: $0.17
sugar: $0.15

Total: $1.92

Health Factor

Three brownie points: Short of eating pears fresh, having them in frozen concoctions like this is a sweet alternative to heavier desserts, indeed. However, this has a lot of added sugar, which makes it decidedly decadent. You can eat just a scoopful and be sated, though, with its intense flavors.

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: When life gives you pears, make pear granita. This recipe is essentially local, seasonal fruit spruced up with a few foreign flavorings (vanilla, lemon). Surely, you could go without the latter and just have water and sugar suffice.

Or maybe I just didn’t have a ham bone handy. In any case, I didn’t miss it with this version. It started with coming across a packet of daffodil-yellow split peas, from an Amish food market vendor on a quick trip to Philly. What are split peas, anyway? Simply, and whether yellow or green, they’re dried, round peas that have been shelled of its thin skin, so that they naturally split into half-orbs. They’re full of protein, like beans, as well as starches that help thicken liquid it’s simmered in, so it’s a natural choice for a hearty soup that nourishes without the help of meat.

blue popping corn and yellow split peas, colorful souvenirs from Philly

yellow split peas, pre-soaking

But we’ll miss that smoky aroma that simmering a pot of these with ham makes. So I added some smoked paprika to the otherwise simple spices. Using some vegetable stock that was homemade the same night the peas were let to soak (with parsnips, carrots, celery, onion and turnip), and a bunch of leeks just because they looked so fresh and springlike at the Greenmarket, this soup was done in a cinch. That is, if you count a couple hours of letting it simmer while you do other things.

smoked paprika

While talking to one contestant at the Souperama on Saturday, Patricia Clark, about her ribollita, she explained how the traditional Italian peasant soup was meant to be simmered over the course of many hours, a few days even, as the cook went about their business, maybe adding extra ingredients such as leafy greens or leftover rice as he or she wound up with them. It was passive soup-making, but it made for layers of depth in the end. This philosophy seems fitting for the busy urbanite, too, and as it turned out, I would leave my pot of split pea soup simmering intermittently throughout the weekend, as I went about my business entertaining houseguests from out of town. I hope that tonight, we’ll all get to enjoy the fruits of my non-labor together, before they take off.

I was also influenced by second-place Souperama winner (and three-way tie for first place winner in the audience vote) Karol Lu’s slightly smoky roasted sweet potato and parsnip soup that day. She had used pureed chipotles in adobo sauce as the secret ingredient to making her soup wildly delicious, while still playing a fully vegetarian card. I suppose we share some common ideals when it comes to cooking, because over chatting, Karol said it was her goal to win over possibly vegetarian and meat-eating voters in one pot, and making the best of local, seasonal produce. She had even made crispy, roasted parsnip chips for garnish that looked a lot like Bac-Os. (Since I still had leeks from making this soup, I roasted these for my crispy topping.)

fresh green leeks

slicing the leeks for a quick roast and crisp garnish

The whole results of the Souperama, and some great photos, can all be found here thanks to Metromix. Big applause to the first-place winner of the day — Sam Mason! Though not the famously inked chef you might think. This Sam hails from New Mexico and had used the last of his precious, frozen batch of the state’s famous green chiles from last summer in his creamy chicken corn chowder. Bravo. And for the record, we were all fooled at first by the name.

And on random note, for anyone who might have read The Art of Eating In already, Karol is the same one of many a mention in the book. And my out-of-town guests? Jordan and “Dan,” who are now married and live in Australia.

Yellow Split Pea Soup with Smoked Paprika and Crisped Leeks
(makes about 2 quarts, or 8-10 servings)

2 cups yellow split peas, soaked overnight and drained
6 cups vegetable stock (preferably homemade)
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
3 medium-sized leeks, white and light green parts only, 2 of them finely chopped and 1 sliced into roughly 1/8-inch thick rings
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
juice of 1 fresh lemon
1 bay leaf
small bouquet garni of fresh thyme, parsley and/or oregano, marjoram or tarragon
salt and pepper to taste

In a large, heavy-bottomed pot, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and add the finely chopped leeks. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, over medium-low heat until softened, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another minute. Add the smoked paprika and stir to combine evenly. Add the soaked and drained split peas, vegetable stock, bay leaf and bouquet garni. Bring to a boil, and reduce heat to a low simmer. Simmer, covered for at least 2 hours (this can be done over the course of however long it takes, starting and stopping, leaving and coming back), or until desired consistency and once peas are tender and have mostly broken down. Add the lemon juice and season with salt and pepper to taste. Remove the bay leaf and bouquet garni.

For the crisped leek topping: Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Coat the round slices of one leek with olive oil and place down evenly spaced on a roasting tray. Sprinkle with salt. Bake about 15 minutes, checking after 10 minutes. Once leeks are slightly browned all over, remove from oven and let cool. Garnish individual soup dishes with the crisped leeks.

Cost Calculator
(for 8-10 servings)

2 cups yellow split peas (at $1.99/lb): $1.75
6 cups homemade vegetable stock: $2.00
3 leeks (from a bunch of 4 at $3.50 at the Greenmarket): $2.63
1 tablespoon smoked paprika: $0.40
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil: $0.25
small bouquet garni of fresh herbs: $1.00
1 lemon: $0.33
2 cloves garlic, salt, pepper: $0.15

Total: $8.51

Health Factor

Two brownie points: Quite an accomplishment for such a savory dish, this one has almost no fat. Sure, you can add butter for a little richness at the end if you wish, or drizzle your bowl with extra olive oil. But the crispy leek topping seems satisfying enough alone. Not only protein, but split peas are really big on fiber, in a really big way, and that’s not common in too many foods. It’s also a great source of folate, B-vitamins and potassium, and have, like this soup, hardly any fat.

Green Factor

Seven brownie points: While it isn’t labeled “organic” or pesticide-free, the Amish farmers whom I bought these peas from took obvious pride in their crops, from the way they talked up these split peas they were selling. I can be sure they didn’t travel too far, from Lancaster County to Philly’s Reading Terminal Market, and furthermore, I understand that these folks really carpool to get there, but that’s another thing altogether. The other ingredients beside dried spices were mostly organic Greenmarket finds: the leeks, garlic, and vegetables that were in the stock. Only the lemon stands alone as non-local produce.

fennel bulb (left) and its stalks and fronds

I had just the dish in mind for it. This creamy slaw-like salad is simple to whip up, but it has just enough nuance to make it really stand out. It’s tart, sweet and licorice-hinted, thanks to the natural flavor of the fennel bulb. A drop of honey gives it a little more roundness while sweetening the deal for me. It’s totally delish, and it’s what I packed in my lunch tote my first day of eating in for a week. But I didn’t invent this dish, at least not in its entirety. I’m not sure if any one person did, and this is just how some of the best foods come about, it seems: by a collaborative effort, between two or more minds, and nature’s offerings.

A few weeks back, I held an “Aphrodisiac” singles-friendly dinner at Jimmy’s No. 43, and collaborated with the head chef there, Aaron, on the menu. It would be filled with mood-enducing, heartbeat-enhancing, stimulating foods that are thought to be aphrodisiac. And fennel is one. The menu was also inspired by an epic dinner party that I hosted for a number of single friends in my home, which is recalled in The Art of Eating In. Working with Aaron, we agreed on adding crushed cumin and coriander seeds to this salad, and giving it some creaminess with creme fraiche, or yogurt. I’d originally thought to add lemon juice and grated zest, from normal lemons, but he suggested Meyer lemon, and adding its sectioned wedges right in.

I’d never imagined this salad would be a serious contender for the best course of the night. But most of us agreed it was well up there. It may not have gotten anyone lucky with its aphrodisiac charms (at least, as far as I know) — and perhaps the curse of the all-too-elaborate feast had struck us again, because at the first aphrodisiac dinner at my home, there was no romance to speak of then, either. The best laid plans…

the fennel bulb is sliced, and spiced with cumin and lemon zest

So I wouldn’t chalk it up to chemical influence, but this crisp fennel salad is good to eat, and good to keep, a night before in the fridge, too. It was also the simplest course of the meal to prepare (although I bloodied my fingers and knuckles pretty well from slicing the fennel on a damned mandoline). But forget that death trap of a device — when you’re not cooking for twenty or more, using a plain old, good knife always works. The control is superior, and your finesse at slicing finely is something you can actually practice, when you do it this way.

if you don’t have a spice grinder, you can always crush coriander with a Chinese soup spoon

Recreating this salad at home a couple times, I’ve tried it once with yogurt instead of creme fraiche, and it was an okay, not-great substitute for the more luxurious ingredient. I also tried it with and without Meyer lemon, though in each case, I didn’t have the time to diligently cut away sections of the citrus, so just squeezed some juice and called it a day. If you can’t find Meyer lemons (it’s the right season to find them in specialty food stores), understandable. Just add some lemon juice and zest. But I wouldn’t try to throw in the sections of a regular lemon. Meyer lemons have an almost tangerine-like sweetness to them; they’re much less sour and won’t cause your cheeks to suck in. Since fresh fennel fronds are within easy reach when working with the ingredient, a handful chopped up add a nice, feathery garnish to sprinkle on at the end.

Spiced Fennel Salad with Creme Fraiche and Meyer Lemon
(makes about 2-3 servings)

1 large bulb fennel, cored and finely sliced (reserve stalks for making soup stocks)
2-3 tablespoons fennel fronds, chopped
1/2 teaspoon each whole cumin seeds and coriander seeds, coarsely crushed (with a mortar and pestle, or random kitchen-tool improvisation of which)
1 Meyer lemon, zest grated and cut into individual sections, without any peel or pith (skip this second part if substituting with regular lemons, and just add its juice to taste)
about 1/2 cup creme fraiche
2 teaspoons honey
pinch of salt

Combine the creme fraiche, honey, salt, lemon zest, cumin and coriander in a large bowl. Fold in the fennel and Meyer lemon slices until evenly coated. Add the fennel fronds and toss once more. Serve immediately or chill up to 1 night, covered.

Cost Calculator
(for 2-3 servings)

1 bulb fennel: $2.00
1/2 cup creme fraiche: $3.00
1 Meyer lemon: $1.00
2 teaspoons honey: $0.25
cumin, coriander, salt: $0.05

Total: $6.30

Health Factor

Four brownie points: Fennel is a fibrous plant, its stalks and bulb, and by that, I mean it has fiber, too — and folate, potassium and Vitamin C. It’s pretty low in sugars and calories, and not as high in natural sodium as celery, a similar-looking plant. Add to it a dollop of creme fraiche, and you’ve just got your cholesterol, but a bit of calcium, too. All told, this is an oddly rich yet refreshing salad, but one that should satisfy in a few dainty mouthfuls.

Green Factor

Four maple leaves: Not looking so good. While you can pat yourself on the back for using up all parts of a plant like the fennel (in this one dish both fronds and bulb), it’s not in season, locally. But so few things are right now. The creme fraiche and yogurt I used for this dish were both organic and hormone-free kinds, though neither were terribly local, artisanal nor amazing; something to seek out for next time, perhaps.

Join us at Jimmy’s No. 43 for a really warm charity event. The 1st annual NYC Souperama, to benefit Harbor Hope and the Fresh Air Fund, is going to be hot. What better way to escape the wintery mix of slush and snow than slurping up ladles of homemade soup, and craft beer? And, chefs are still welcome to sign up so get your stockpots out and throw in whatever’s leftover (my favorite thing to do on a winter weekend).

With soup, anything goes, and this cook-off has few rules: chowder, bisque, chicken noodle, minestrone, cream of seasonal vegetable X — as long as it’s soupy it’s good to bring. If it’s deemed one of the best, by a panel of judges that I’m souper excited to be on, then you’ll win gastronomical goodness like cookware, cookbooks and gift certificates, and of course there will also be a People’s Choice vote. Bring your friends, and let’s raise some funds.

First Annual NYC Souperama at Jimmy’s No. 43
Date:  Saturday, March 6
Time:  1:00pm – 5:00pm
Location: Jimmy’s No. 43 – 43 East 7th Street, New York, NY

$20 donation at the door will benefit Harbor Hope, a non-profit organization developing educational cooking programs for those with special needs, and The Fresh Air Fund, a not-for-profit agency, providing free summer experiences to New York City children from disadvantaged communities.

Judges:

Gabrielle Langholtz, Editor-In-Chief of Edible Manhattan and Edible Brooklyn
Sherri Brooks Vinton, food writer, The Real Food Revival
Jake Schiffman, food buyer and general gastronomic expert from Food Network
Cathy Erway, yours truly (The Art of Eating In)

To compete, email foodkarma@gmail.com and feel free to ask any questions; you’ll receive a confirmation response soon.

Finally, a recipe for my latest pot of soup, which I polished off throughout the first half of The Week of Eating In last week (before taking off to Wisconsin). Now that I’m back home, the fridge is looking quite empty and sad. Soo looking forward to Saturday!

Everything But the Noodle Chicken Soup
(makes about 3-4 quarts)

1 small (about 2 lb) chicken
1 large onion, chopped
2 carrots, chopped
1 rib celery with any leaves attached, chopped
2 stalks fennel, chopped (or substitute with another rib of celery)
about 2 cups chopped root vegetables such as turnips, parsnips, celery root, rutabaga
2-3 cups dried cannelini (or substitute any dried beans), soaked overnight and cooked until almost tender, about 30-40 minutes, depending on the size of the bean
rind of Parmesan cheese
about 1 1/2 cups homemade tomato sauce (or substitute 1 small can stewed tomatoes)
about 1 1/2 cup leftover butternut squash soup (or substitute 1 small can pumpkin, or disregard)
about 2 cups chopped beet greens (or kale, collards, Swiss chard, spinach)
1 head garlic
1 bunch parsley
1 bunch thyme
any remaining fennel fronds (optional)
2-3 bay leaves
extra-virgin olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Submerge chicken in about 1 gallon cold water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 1 hour, occasionally skimming impurities that rise to the surface with a slotted spoon. Remove chicken and once cool enough to handle, pick and shred the meat. Discard the carcass.

Meanwhile, coat the chopped root vegetables in a thin coat of oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast in a preheated 400 degree oven until just crisped at the edges, about 5 minutes. Cut off the bottom of the head of garlic just to expose each of the cloves (but don’t cut off too much of them). Drizzle with a teaspoon or so of olive oil and wrap the head of garlic with foil. Roast at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes. Once cool enough to handle, squeeze the roasted garlic cloves out of their skins. Mash lightly in a bowl.

Cover the bottom of a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven with a thin layer of olive oil, and cook the onions, carrots, celery and fennel over medium-low, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 8 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Add the tomato sauce (or stewed tomatoes). Tie the thyme and half the bunch of parsley in kitchen twine to make a bouquet garni and add to the pot. Add the chicken, roasted vegetables, roasted garlic, bay leaves, Parmesan rind, almost-cooked beans and optional squash soup along with all the chicken stock. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer. Cover, and cook for about 30 minutes. Add the chopped greens, and cook another 10-15 minutes.

Remove bouquet garni, bay leaves and Parmesan rind and taste for seasoning, adding salt, pepper, and any additional spices as desired. Add the remaining half-bunch of parsley, chopped, and optional fennel fronds as garnish.

All too often, I hear the same question from home cooks: what do I do with fish? Not terribly much, is usually my answer. And as soon as you bring your catch home. But while most of us know that fresh fish is best at its freshest, the simple feat of cooking it deliciously has evaded some. So I’m going to share my latest favorite preparation, an unlikely hybrid of hearty winter vegetables and summery lightness.

The way the fish is prepared here is something in between steaming and braising, only it doesn’t sit in liquid like most braises, but rather bleeds its juices onto the vegetables, which in turn lend their flavors to the fish. Steaming is probably the most common way to cook fish in Chinese home cooking, because it keeps it so moist, and it’s often done with whole fish, to retain even more flavor. Steaming fillets works great, too, and because it’s been boned, takes less time. However, many prefer to find a little crust on the surface of their fish, and herein leads to home-cooked fish problems. With the really tender, flaky texture of many types of fish, it’s tricky to pull off a clean sear without getting pieces of fish stuck to your pan, or overcooking and spoiling its delicate flavor. I don’t terribly enjoy the caramelization, or crust, on these really light-tasting fresh fish either — it ends up tasting too “fishy” instead of fresh, with just a hint of the sea. When pan-frying, too, you can run the risk of making your fillet dried out instead of juicy and if it’s really flaky, fall apart when you attempt to flip.

a fillet marinates in parsley, lemon juice and olive oil

So most any type of fish would work well with this recipe, I believe, but perhaps the most delicate, tender white-fleshed fish are best suited for it. My first test-run of this recipe was with hake (and it was for a four-course meal for a Time Out New York guest blogging stint). Hake is a flaky fish similar to cod, only a little less sweet-tasting, according to the fishers at Pura Vida Fisheries’ Greenmarket stand. Then, when I planned to redo it the next week to take more photos, there was a blizzard in the tri-state area. Only five of the twenty-some farms usually camped out at the Union Square Greenmarket heroically made it into the city that Wednesday. Pura Vida was not one of them, to my misfortune. So I took cover inside Whole Foods and purchased this turbot, which was on sale.

baby turnips lose their tops

and purple potatoes their dull skins

Luckily, I still had some root vegetables from the market in stock: baby golden turnips and purple potatoes. As well as onions, crisp red ones, and a half-carton of grape tomatoes (not in season locally at all, but leftover from a previous recipe-making mission).

The onion was sliced and softened over low heat in a heavy-bottomed pan for several minutes first; then the potatoes and turnips, chopped to meaty chunks, were given a crisp on their sides with some more olive oil on the pan. The tomatoes were halved and tossed in, to lend some liquid to the dish, then the chunks of fish (which had been sitting in a lemon juice-parsley marinade with salt and pepper beforehand) placed on top of all the vegetables so that they weren’t touching the pan. It was showered with a generous spritz of fresh lemon, then the lid went down, the heat was lowered, and ten minutes or so later, the fish was just cooked. There’s something really neat that happens in the few minutes or so after lifting the cover on the entire dish, too — the juices running all around the bottom of the pan begin to thicken, from the starches in the potatoes and the proteins in the fish’s juices. It creates a delicious sauce.

fish is arranged on top of the vegetables, before covering to steam

You can create similar lightly-cooked applications of fresh fish by gently roasting or broiling, or using parchment paper to seal your fish and vegetables into neat bundles that go into the oven. But it’s for the hands-on control of what’s going on in the pan, and that amazing sauce of everything in it that I prefer this method the most lately. Plus, it’s really easy, quick and there’s only one pan to clean up.

Steamed Turbot Fillets with Potatoes and Turnips
(makes 2-3 servings)

1 large fillet of white-fleshed fish such as cod, hake or flounder
1 lb potatoes (any kind) chopped in 1–2 inch chunks
1/4 lb baby or golden turnips (about 2-3), halved or quartered
1 small-medium red onion, sliced
small handful (5-6) grape tomatoes, halved
2 cloves garlic, smashed
Juice of 1 lemon
1 bunch parsley, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil

Cut the fish into roughly 2-3 inch pieces of equal volume. Season with salt, pepper, a tablespoon or two of olive oil, about half the lemon juice and half the chopped parsley. Cover and chill while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

Heat a heavy-bottomed covered pan with about a tablespoon of oil and cook the onions over medium-low or low heat until translucent and lightly caramlized, about 6-8 minutes. Clear aside the onions from the center of the pan and add the potatoes and turnips, along with another splash of oil if necessary. When vegetables begin to crisp up, add the tomatoes and smashed garlic to the pan. Cook, stirring frequently, for another 2-3 minutes and season with salt and pepper. Once the potatoes are about halfway to becoming fully cooked, place the pieces of fish on top of everything in an even layer, making sure that none touch the bottom of the pan. Squirt with lemon, reduce heat to medium-low, and cover. Let cook for about 10 minutes without opening. Once opened, inspect fish to see if each piece is completely opaque (cooked) rather than translucent (not cooked). Top with remaining lemon juice, parsley and transfer to plates to serve.

Cost Calculator

1 large turbot fillet (at $7.99 on sale at Whole Foods): $5.00
1 lb purple potatoes (from Windfall Farms): $1.50
1/4 lb golden baby turnips (from Windfall Farms): $0.38
small handful (5-6) grape tomatoes (at $4/carton): $1.00
1 red onion: $0.30
1 bunch parsley: $2.00
1 lemon: $0.33
olive oil, 2 cloves garlic, salt, pepper: $0.30

Total: $10.81

Health Factor

Three brownie points: A solid score, thanks to well-rounded nutrition and minimal yet healthy fats. Like omega-3, found in all seafood, and heart-happy olive oils instead of butter (an all too common accompaniment for all seafood). If you see wildly colored potatoes instead of just white or yellow-fleshed — and especially if they’re the same price as the aforementioned, as at so many Greenmarket farms — then by all means, stock up, they’re slightly higher in antioxidants. Turnips too are no slackers when it comes to vitamins, providing fiber, potassium, and lots of Vitamin A.

Green Factor

Seven maple leaves: The intent was to keep this meal as close to the season and local specialties as possible, but alas, some things just get tossed in sometimes. Like the grape tomatoes, a total last-minute add, but one that really gave the dish the sweetness and acidity that it needed. That, and the lemon, which is far from local or seasonal around here as well. The first run of this recipe with hake kept the main protein within state distance, caught in Long Island by Pura Vida Fisheries; though the turbot was US Pacific wild-caught, according to Whole Foods. But the most important thing to consider with fish is perhaps not locality, but its state of endangerment due to overfishing. And it is only from checking in the aftermath on Seafood Watch that I find that Atlantic hake is indeed overfished. Good to know.

All too needlessly, it seems that Cream of X Vegetable soup is a way of coddling the eater towards an otherwise unappealing portion of X Vegetable, by smothering it in a comforting layer of fat. But if you’re like me, and have grown to appreciate this vegetable for what it is, then why not let it shine its brightest and fullest, without weakening its color with milk? Yes, we’ve reached this threshold, and let’s be proud of it and rejoice.

butternut squash

So we concentrate the butternut squash, first by roasting it for quite long, until sticky and caramelized at the surface. Then, to smooth out its consistency so that it’s not plain butternut mash but a lappable soup, let’s add the concentrated juices of other vegetables we love, too, in liquid form (aka vegetable stock), and to heighten its natural sweetness, just a touch of local bees’ honey. And that’s all this soup really is. A concentrated blend of your favorite juices (not unlike the stuff in a can you helped your mom to “make” orange juice out of as a kid — that might be a fun project, though, making condensed cans of frozen squash soup), and honey. And, some crisped seeds from the squash itself — it’s amazing how one squash produces just about as many seeds to flesh as you’ll need to garnish a soupful of it (and now, if only there were some good uses for its rather unpalatable, leathery skin).

Most soups involve a vast assortment of ingredients, procedures and long simmers. This one just depends on the flavor of some really good roasted butternut. Thankfully, we aren’t far away from them, even in the unlikeliest time of year and region for fresh produce. New York State’s Red Jacket Orchards has been selling butternut squash all winter for 75 cents a pound, and last time I checked the nearest grocery store, it was twice that much for its bulk. Then, making this soup as opposed to more laborious ones is so much faster, and about a cupful will give you all the Vitamin A you’ll need for a day. And none of your fats in its stead. So keep on squashing them.

roasted seeds (left), and the soon-to-be squash soup

Finally, this recipe is part of a four-course meal I’d devised for Valentine’s Day, for Time Out New York’s The Feed blog. Though Valentine’s Day may be totally yesterday’s food news (and I hope most of you spent it over good food and not cookie dough and Ben & Jerry’s, all my single ladies out there), as long as squashes still reign for seasonal eats, I hope you can enjoy its nutritional as well as aphrodisiac powers this winter through. Yes, butternut squash and honey are both identified as some of those mood-enhancing foods. Eat at your own risk, or benefit.

Honey Butternut Squash Soup
(makes about 4 servings)

2 lbs butternut squash (1 medium squash)
3 cups vegetable stock (preferably homemade)
4 tbsps honey
2 tbsps olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Halve squash lengthwise and scoop out seeds and pulp. Rinse seeds and pat dry completely. Coat in one tablespoon of olive oil and a pinch of salt and spread evenly on a baking sheet. Toast until seeds are just darkened.

Place squash cut side down in a separate tray coated with oil and roast about 30 minutes until tender. Cool and scoop the flesh from the skin. Puree in a food processor or with a hand blender in a pot until smooth. Thin the soup with stock and season with salt and pepper to taste. Add honey and stir until dissolved. Garnish with toasted seeds.

Cost Calculator
(for 4 servings)

2 lbs butternut squash (at $0.75/lb): $1.50
3 cups homemade vegetable stock: $1.00
4 tablespoons honey (at $8/jar): $1.75
salt, pepper, olive oil: $0.30

Total: $4.55

Health Factor

Two brownie points: More of a puree than a soup, this one’s mostly squash, and squash is squashed with vitamins and nutrients. Aside from Vitamin A (which its bright orange color belies), it has Vitamin C, potassium, fiber, B-vitamins and even omega-3 fatty acids, and is suggested to help fight cancer. All those nutrients come with it natural sugars which amount to calories, and a dab of honey furthers these both. But with fats left to the wayside, you can pat your back.

Green Factor

Eight brownie points: This was a simple feat, making such a simple dish so local and seasonal. It’s mostly squash, which was grown without pesticides at an upstate farm and sold nearby in NYC’s Greenmarket. The honey happened to hail from the same places.

They’re not as freaky as they sound, though, these uncommon grains. People have been eating them for longer than potatoes; they are some of the most rustic food staples around. Most of the time, we tend to refine our grains into powdery flour, extracting the bran and germ from them, along with most of their nutritional content (which is often added back later to “enrich” the flour). The ironic thing is that, after all that work, bleached, enriched, refined all-purpose flour is cheaper today than the whole grains that are much coarser — especially noting the word “refined.” Oh well! You can help change that by eating more of the latter. And all the better to your health for it.

But how do you cook them? Here’s one way.

freekeh, from Cayuga Organics

bulgur, from Bob’s Red Mill

You certainly don’t need to make this pilaf with both bulgur and freekeh; likewise, you can make it with any whole grain. Barley, farro, spelt, quinoa, oats, wild or brown rice, choose your own adventure. A combination of more than one types of these grains make a pilaf a little more interesting, for a little contrast of taste and texture. Note that bulgur and freekeh are wheat (or in the case of this freekeh, made from spelt which is very similar to wheat) products and are therefore not gluten-free.

Start by cooking your dry grains, both the freekeh and bulgur, in separate pots as they’ll have different cooking needs. I found that a cup of bulgur to two cups of water, simmered covered about 20 minutes or until all soaked up, cooked it just perfectly. For the freekeh, which are larger grains, a cup of that to three cups of water worked out the same way. Let these cool uncovered a while; also, stir them up a lot as you do so that it gets to air out and separate. Now they’re just chewy and dry enough to coat with olive oil and combine with other ingredients in a pilaf. Since it’s winter, I went with roasted squash as the main addition to this one.

butternut squash cubes before roasting, in olive oil, salt and pepper

and after, crisp and caramelized

Sweet and mild-tasting, it doesn’t compete too much with the subtle, nutty flavors of the grains. Then, because it is so flavorful — salty and briny — I added crumbled bits of feta to this dish. It’s a natural choice for serving in salads and scattered dishes like this pilaf, since it crumbles so easily. It also gave it some Mediterranean flair to complement these grains, which are commonly eaten in the region. Some chopped parsley and lemon juice came next, and what isn’t better with a sprinkle of them?

chopped flat-leaf parsley

mixing it all in

Sweet, savory, earthy and fresh-tasting this pilaf was, all combined. It’s not the kind of dish that’ll blow a circuit in your tastebuds, but it’s pleasantly light and healthy, just the perfect kind of thing to dig into every day. I’d eat it every day, make one big batch over the weekend, although it doesn’t take very long to cook from scratch right away. It even makes an easy party-pleaser, as tried and tested on guests at a small potluck I threw, on a rather lazy Sunday when I admittedly didn’t feel up to cooking elaborately. What better food to serve people you care about than the healthiest, anyway? So long as you make enough, no one goes home hungry, and you’ll have leftovers you won’t feel bad about polishing off. Incidentally, no one knew what they were eating, the grains at least, and the word “freekeh” was not to be uttered without some confusion and spelling checks throughout the night. It was my first introduction to the stuff, too. (The attendant at Cayuga Organics’ Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket told me all about it and even provided recipe cards for it at their stand.) I’m looking forward to cooking it next into a soupy, risotto-like dish, maybe, or just swapping it in for rice and now and then, as I’ve already been doing with that bulgur.

Bulgur and Freekeh Pilaf with Roasted Butternut Squash, Feta and Parsley
(makes about 6 servings)

1 cup bulgur
1 cup freekeh
5 cups water
about 1 lb butternut squash, skinned, seeded and chopped into about 1-inch chunks
about 6 oz. Greek feta, crumbled
half a bunch Italian flat-leaf parsley, chopped
about 4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
juice of half a lemon
dash of cayenne pepper (optional)
salt and pepper to taste

Cover the bulgur with 2 cups of water and place on medium-low in a saucepan. Reduce heat to low when it begins to bubble, and cook for about 20-30 minutes, until water is all soaked up. At the same time, do the same for the freekeh and 3 cups of water. Once cooked, fluff grains with a fork and let cool, uncovered, for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss the squash pieces in about 1 tablespoon of the olive oil and a couple pinches of salt and pepper, and the optional cayenne pepper. Roast for about 10 minutes; flip and toss once with a spatula and roast for another 10-15 minutes (depending on how large your chunks are) until pieces are just golden and crisp on the outside. Let cool completely, about 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, toss the grains with the remaining olive oil and lemon juice and season with generous dashes of salt and pepper. Add the crumbled feta, squash and parsley. Serve immediately to retain crispness of the squash pieces; mixture can also be made up to a couple days in advance.

Cost Calculator
(for about 6 servings)

1 cup bulgur (at $4.39/28 oz. bag from Bob’s Red Mill): $1.25
1 cup freekeh (at $6/pint from Cayuga Organics): $3.00
1 lb butternut squash (from Red Jacket Orchards): $0.75
6 oz. feta (at $6/lb): $2.25
half a bunch of parsley: $1.00
half a lemon: $0.17
4 tablespoons olive oil, salt, pepper, cayenne: $0.30

Total: $8.72

Health Factor

Three brownie points: Tremendous. You don’t often see such a variety of vitamins and nutrients squashed together in so few ingredients, as you do here. With Vitamins A and C aplenty from the squash, fiber, protein, calcium and a slew of nutrients from the whole grains (check out this chart comparing freekeh to other grains), and some leafy-green Vitamin K from the parsley (use as much of it as you want, the whole bunch, why not?), this dish is low-carb and well-rounded. A great complete meal. The fats are pretty minimal, from the feta and heart-healthy olive oil, and you can skimp down on portions of these if you want.

Green Factor

Eight brownie points: Organic grains from local farms distributed by Cayuga Organics might be all the rage lately, and for good reason. They’re versatile, interesting to explore and healthy, and they’re an encouraging sign of more grains being produced in the state. Bob’s Red Mill, another line of all-natural and organic grains that I got my bulgur from, is based in Oregon, but it’s widely available and was even in my local (and none too fancy) Associated Supermarket in Crown Heights. Squashes are still around this wintery season at the Greenmarket, as are carrots, which could work nicely here as well; maybe some roasted rutabaga or turnips would be a tasty twist here instead. The feta, parsley, lemon and olive oil were not local in this version, though a really great feta can be found from Three-Corner Field Farm if you catch them at the market.

All told, they can be a mouthful to say, and many more gaping ones to eat. Major league salads like these are often taken as a complete meal — they’re a smorgasbord of everything you need in dinner. Nothing against them, and of eating fresh, but what of the simpler times, when just a couple of well-paired components might suffice? Now that sounds refreshing to me.

So what happens when you have leafy Tuscan kale, fresh and finely shredded, and a juicy pomegranate sans peel? You’re two-thirds of the way to an uncommonly satisfying salad. Some olive oil, vinegar, honey and a dab of mustard, and a one-two-three dressing for them is done.

bunches of Tuscan kale

Running my fingers across the leaves of the Tuscan kale I’d found at the market I knew that I didn’t want to cook it anymore. This variety has broad, billowy leaves that more resemble chard than the common kale. It doesn’t have much crinkling around the edges, and the stems are a cinch to remove. I’d gotten a bunch from D&J Organics (the farm stand at Union Square with all the pickled veggies and spiced tofus out to sample), but they’re grown at many other local farms, even in this dead-cold time of year. Roasted, braised or quickly sauteed, they’re a great side for any entree; but fresh, you can really taste their grassy greenness and they’re even more potent with vitamins.

stems are spared for the salad

and the leaves rolled up and sliced to shreds

I was also inspired to serve them fresh by Stacey Murphy, of BK Farmyards. When she came on Let’s Eat In last week with Liza de Guia, she spoke of making a pesto with fresh, pulverized kale instead of herbs. I’ll have to try that still, but in the meantime, I rolled up a few leaves and chopped them into stringlike chiffonades for this salad.

I also mentioned a story in the Times called the 11 Best Things You Aren’t Eating, when we were talking about rutabaga. Turns out rutabaga was not on that list, I was mistaken, but pomegranate juice was, and it was true that I wasn’t eating (or drinking) it. Pomegranates are not local, and once broken open, they kind of look like they came from another planet. But as the story said, they’re full of antioxidants, and may lower blood pressure.

just a forkful of honey (mustard dressing)

pomegranate

If the juice seems too pricey to splurge on, one pomegranate will probably give you a cupful, and you can use the seeds in more ways than just popping them in your mouth. Try them on cereal, ice cream or salads. They make a bit of a mess when you peel the pith and skin away, as the ruby red nuggets tend to burst now and then and squirt all over the counter (I was peeling one in front of the computer and was amazed to find red droplets on the screen). But they’re so pretty and tasty you’ll want to forgive them instantly.

How this recipe post became so unwieldy and convoluted for such an uncomplicated dish, I’m not sure. But I’ll leave the recipe to speak for the rest of the preparation, and keep in mind that some things, like salads, are best kept short and sweet.

Tuscan Kale Salad with Pomegranate and Honey Mustard Vinaigrette
(makes about 3-4 servings)

1 bunch Tuscan kale
about 1 cup pomegranate seeds
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 teaspoons honey
2 teaspoons mustard (any kind, I used Dijon but you can try with grainier types, too)
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Remove as much of the stems from the kale leaves as desired. Roll them up lengthwise, and cut into thin, 1/8-inch strips. In a small bowl, combine the honey, mustard and vinegar. Drizzle in the olive oil while stirring rapidly to emulsify. Toss with the kale, and top with the pomegranate seeds.

Cost Calculator
(for 3-4 servings)

1 bunch Tuscan kale: $2.50
about 1/3 pomegranate (at $3/each): $1.00
honey, mustard, vinegar and olive oil: $0.50

Total: $4.00

Health Factor

Two brownie points: This one is teetering toward one brownie point, but given the generous amount of dressing I gave my batch, I think I’ll save the golden score for another time. As mentioned, pomegranates have you covered on antioxidants, and they’re pretty low in calories for being so sweet. If you aren’t eating kale, it’s one of the best foods for you, too, and any kind. It’s dense with Vitamins K, C and A, and it’s got iron, fiber, calcium, B-vitamins, protein, and gosh, I’m not sure what it doesn’t have anymore. This dish is a really good way to keep winter colds away.

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: It’s mostly kale, from D&J Organic Farm in Suffolk County, so it’s pesticide-free and less-traveled. The pomegranate was grown in Mexico, according to its sticker, as it’s a tropical fruit. Honey was the only local part of the dressing’s ingredients, I’m afraid, though there are some great mustards being made around Brooklyn nowadays, like McClure’s.

So when I saw carrots that looked really good at the Greenmarket, I did the only sensible thing and stocked up like a lunatic. Who cares if there’d be only carrots to eat that week? Not too many things looked particularly fetching that day anyway. This is one of the reasons why it usually makes more sense to do your menu-planning after you shop, especially if you plan to eat locally and seasonally. The time spent “planning ahead” frequently just goes waste. Sure, you might have a sense of what’s available beforehand, but you won’t necessarily know what’s available that’s amazing until you check it out, so dependent on chance and nature this is. That’s it, I’m going on an amazing-only diet.

So these carrots and I had some good times. I roasted a number of them, as triangular chunks in olive oil and sea salt and they turned out better than expected. I made a lot of stock that week, which they went into, and a minestrone-like soup with them, too. I ate them as snacks, skins and all. Then a birthday brunch potluck party was coming up. I had to make something to bring. “I’ll just see what’s at the market that morning,” I told the host, when reserving my place with a plus-dish. It was on the way to his home. But that’s not what I ended up doing, as there was one carrot left.

I was never a huge fan of muffins, which so often seem like a more socially acceptable way to eat extra-large cupcakes in the morning. Scones suit me better, they’re barely sweet and more biscuity. They’re not supposed to knock your socks off with flavor, if you’re wearing any at that hour, just fill you up in a few portable bites. But like with muffins, you can manipulate them to be more healthful, by using whole grain flours or adding fresh fruit, vegetables or nuts to the batter. So I dyed a batch of scone dough orange with the carrot, finely shredded, and added some cinnamon and walnuts as well.

carrots go through a fine grater

half whole wheat flour and all-purpose with baking powder, spices and sugar

And ginger, nutmeg and equal portions of whole wheat flour and all-purpose. The egg was beaten and combined with the carrot, and mixed with the dry ingredients, which had already been cut with butter. Because of all the moisture that the shredded carrots lent the dough, I hardly needed to use any milk, as most recipes include. Give it a splash if you try it out yourself; it can really depend on how juicy your carrot was.

combining the wet and dry ingredients

forming the dough into scones

Once you have a workable dough, forming the scones is really simple. Imagine making a pizza, but not having to deal with yeasty dough that pulls back every time you stretch it, or wanting to make as thin a round sheet as you can possibly make — okay, so it’s not actually like making pizza at all. Which is good. You just pat the dough into a ball, squash it down on a floured surface, and pat it into a wheel about 1 1/2 inches thick. Now, cut the round into quarters, and then wedge-shaped eighths. Sprinkle the surface of the wedges well with sugar, if you want to make them glisten a little. Bake, and let cool. And a halfway healthy breakfast pastry is done — these last pretty well throughout the week.

Carrot Walnut Scones
(makes 8 )

1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
3 tablespoons sugar, plus more for sprinkling
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 egg
1/4 cup milk
1 medium carrot, finely shredded (about 1/2 cup packed)
1/3 cup or so walnut pieces
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg (optional)
1/4 teaspoon salt

Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Cut in the butter with a pastry cutter or using your fingers until butter pieces are no larger than a pea. Make a well in the center and add the egg and milk. Beat gently with a fork. Add the shredded carrot and continue stirring, scraping down some of the dry ingredients from the sides as you stir. Add the walnuts about halfway into mixing. Stir until all ingredients are incorporated.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Pat dough into a ball and turn onto a lightly floured surface. Press down into a round, evenly flat wheel about 1 1/2 inches or so tall. Cut into eighths and sprinkle the wedge-shaped eighths with sugar. Place about an inch apart on a baking sheet and bake for approximately 15 minutes, or until just golden.

Health Factor

Five brownie points: This is still a buttery, traditional breakfast pastry, but it’s not as buttery as can be, and it’s also been given a boost with fresh vegetable vitamins. True, you’re only getting one eighth of a carrot if you eat just one scone, but it’s better than nothing. And whole wheat flour has a host of health benefits over refined, yet is not often found in scones and other stuff like this.

Green Factor

Seven brownie points: I’ll have to scope out some of these locally sourced flours next time I’m at the market, or rather, when my hulking bag of whole wheat flour is out. It’s been exciting to hear that more grains and flours are available from small farms upstate through Cayuga Organics, and if reports are correct, may have that amazing quality over the average versions. The upstate small farm carrots, of course, we know are already there.

Sometimes the simplest things really are the best. I’d planned to cook, eat, and write about an elaborate dish on my day off. It would be exciting, colorful, and completely novel. It would also somehow incorporate soaked and mostly-cooked white beans, which I had leftover. After a morning of deliberation and preparation, it was done: sour citrus wedges, briny olives and mealy white beans, unexpectedly brought to congress with plenty drizzles of olive oil. But once it was photographed and poised to be eaten, I found that I didn’t really want to shovel it down. It was just a bit much.

So, turning my attention to the remaining cup or so of white beans that weren’t used up — yet again, the poor runts — I made a puree with their soaking water, and a minced clove of garlic. It was the same extra-large heirloom cannellini beans that I’d used in a cassoulet a week ago, but any white bean would suffice here just as deliciously. I wouldn’t call this a soup, though, as it was too purely beans to be anything else (it had a dash of olive oil to sizzle the garlic with, and salt and pepper, too). But if you ever need something that satisfies like a soup, and have those four ingredients, then this makes a fabulous last-minute stand-in.

odd bowlfellows: olives and oranges

the recipe that would have been: a white bean salad with olives and oranges

The poached egg placed on top cinched the deal for this meal superseding the last one for me. A soft-cooked egg just makes me melt. It gives any dish a pool of pure richness with its yolk. It’s a touch of sunshine, especially needed for a food that has no color to speak of otherwise (murky white bean puree). Don’t cheat yourself of its full potential with an egg that wasn’t laid from a cage-free hen, perhaps fed some protein by a conscientious farmer — a good egg like this is worth its price.

simmering the beans in water

“This is what you eat when there’s nothing to eat,” my mom used to say whenever she was cooking eggs at an odd time of the day (aka not the morning). Usually, she’d serve one over leftover rice, which she watered down to make soupy with just that — water. She’d splash the bowl with soy sauce to finish, then break up the egg with her chopsticks. And that was that, a filling, simple snack or pseudo-meal, for when there’s “nothing” else to eat. I could eat this when there is, however. Plus, an egg (like beans, which are packed with carbs as well as protein) just sates the hunger so well. I don’t think the satisfaction needs to owe anything to comfort-food fondness, either. Statistically speaking, an egg cooked in no oil is about 50 calories. Two of them, and you’ve got what a 100-calorie snack pack will provide you, damage-wise. I’ve been a fan of carrying around hard-boiled eggs instead — they’re wrapped, naturally, in their shell, and they’re the perfect, compact size for snacking. Really. Try it sometime.

In any case, making this recipe — and putting away the first attempted one — reminded me that a couple of drab-sounding ingredients can turn out to be pretty stunning: a bowl of beans, an egg. Like modern artists, who were trained to paint like the Renaissance ones, but ultimately went back to spreading colors around like when they were three, cooking can benefit from such an innate approach. And believe me, if you’re trying to make it every day, then this is usually the preferred path.

White Bean Puree with Poached Egg
(makes 1 serving)

1 cup white beans, soaked overnight and cooked in water until tender, water to cover retained
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 egg
1 teaspoon vinegar
salt and black pepper to taste

In a small pot, heat the olive oil and the garlic for about 1 minute, until just sizzling. Add the beans and their cooking water. Season with a pinch of salt and pepper. Use an immersion blender or transfer to a food processor to puree. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Bring a separate small pot of water to boil, and add the vinegar. Crack the egg into a small bowl. Turn off heat completely, and slowly drop the egg into the pot of water. Cover pot and let sit for about 5 minutes to poach. Carefully lift the poached egg with a slotted spoon and top on a bowl of the bean puree. Serve immediately.

Cost Calculator
(for 1 serving)

1 cup cooked runner cannellini beans (from a 5-lb bag for $25): $1.00
1 egg (at $4/doz): $0.34
1 clove garlic, 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt, pepper: $0.35

Total: $1.69

Health Factor

Five brownie points: It depends on what you mean for this dish to be. If it’s a snack, then you could do a lot worse than a 50-calorie egg, and a 150-calorie or so cupful of beans, with minimal seasonings. If it’s a meal, then it could use some rounding out with vegetables for more nutrients. Beans do provide you with lots of fiber, not to be found in too many other types of food, however. And for a vegetarian dish, this one is pretty protein-happy. Forget the preservative-filled power bars and such.

Green Factor

Eight maple leaves: Go for less ingredients if you’re looking to cook more locally and sustainably, as a general rule. It’s easier on you, and as I found with the discarded recipe mentioned above, can prove even better results on your taste. In the midst of a recession of fresh produce that’s local to the Northeast area — winter — it’s a good time to play around with beans, eggs and other staples that are not dependent upon the seasons. Even if that means barely tampering with them.