Tag: vegetarian

  • Skordalia


    I have a fascination with recipes that utilize ingredients that seem to have lost their value: vegetable tops and bottoms, stalks and skins, bones and bits, crusts and scraps. I don’t like wasting food, so when I discover something that allows me to use these delicious rejects in a creative way, I get a little thrill out of it. And do you wanna know what’s laying around our home that’s sometimes challenging to use before it becomes hard as a rock and “useless?”

    Bread. Lots and lots of effing bread.

    My partner bakes some of the best damn bread around and posts saliva inducing photographs of it on our Instagram, but alas, we can only eat so much of it at once, and sometimes we don’t consume all of it before it goes stale. Toward the beginning of his bread kick, we actually started to give the bread away to our friends, but even that didn’t keep us out of the clear, and I was starting to hear creaky protests coming from our food processor that seemed to say, “Please, God, not one more batch of breadcrumbs. PLEASE, NO MORE.” Luckily for our food processor, and for us, I discovered a type of recipe that changed the way I cooked with bread.

    Bread sauces.

    There are several, actually. The Brits have one (it’s just called “bread sauce,” because of course it is). Romesco sauce is also technically a bread sauce, utilizing stale bread to bind all its parts together. There’s even a Peruvian stale bread and cheese sauce that’s intended to be served with potatoes. I cycled through a few of different variations of this style of disposing of Nate’s hearty loaves, but it didn’t take long for me to stumble upon what became far and away my favorite one of the bunch: skordalia. Skordalia is easy to make, versatile in its use, keeps for a long time, and it focuses on two of my all time favorite flavors: garlic and lemon.

    Side note: using a good stale French loaf would be great for this, but in our house, we like sourdough. It really latches onto the lemon flavor, which is the backbone of the sauce. Also, you don’t even need to use stale bread for this recipe, just know that you can. I mean, you’re dousing it in oil and lemon juice and water then blending it into oblivion, so don’t get too hung up on that.

    Skordalia:

    • One 1” slice of stale bread from a large, hearty loaf of bread (we like sourdough)

    • 6–8 cloves of garlic (or, like, more if you’re into that)

    • A heaping ½ cup of slivered almonds

    • ½ cup olive oil, divided

    • Juice of one whole juicy lemon

    • ¾ cup of water

    • Salt to taste

    In a skillet on medium heat, warm ¼ cup of the olive oil until it begins to shimmer. While the pan is coming up to heat, cut your stale bread into 1-inch cubes. Think of it like you’re making some big-ass croutons, because, well, you kind of are. When the oil is ready, add the bread to the pan. It should begin to fry immediately, making a satisfying “deep frying” noise (you know what I’m talking about). If it doesn’t, remove the bread and wait until it gets hotter and try again.

    Fry the bread cubes on all sides, moving them around the pan from time to time. You have a couple options here: fry the bread until it’s golden brown OR until it’s just a little more than that. This will determine the flavor character of your skordalia. Golden brown bread will be a nuttier, milder, and buttery skordalia whereas slightly charred bread will be a more sour, punchy, and smoky skordalia; they both have their place. If you’re using your skordalia as a dip, meant to be eaten more on its own, I’d opt for golden bread since it’ll be milder. If you’re using your skordalia to accompany a meal as a hearty bread sauce component, then I’d do charred bread since it’ll stick out a little bit more. The sourness of the charred flavor bonds with the lemon really nicely, and the smokiness responds really well to meat or roasted vegetables.


    skordalia_01.jpg

    Once your bread is fried to your desired shade of sexiness, remove it from the pan and add it to a food processor or blender along with all the remaining oil in the pan, the garlic, and slivered almonds. Pulse the ingredients to break them down, scraping the sides of the bowl frequently, then give it a good long blend to get them as fine as you can. While the ingredients are whirring away, consolidate the remaining ¼ cup of olive oil, water, and lemon juice into a vessel with a lip so you can slowly pour it out in a steady stream without making a mess. Through the opening at the top of the food processor or blender, slowly add all of the liquid, allowing your skordalia to loosen up and emulsify. You’ll probably need to let it blend on its own for a minute or two afterwards to break down the last few chunks. When finished, your skordalia should be smooth and resemble hummus. Salt your skordalia to taste and pulse to incorporate. Serve immediately or store in your fridge for up to two weeks.

    Side note: if you’re taking your skordalia out of the fridge to use for later, we’d recommend having it come up to room temperature on its own as opposed to microwaving it, since the application of heat really alters the fresh lemon juice flavor. That being said, don’t let that stop you from adding a dollop of this goodness to a lunch on-the-go that you’ll heat up at work or wherever you go later. It’ll still be delicious, just know that it’ll be a little different. The garlic flavor will come out more and the lemon will play less of a role.


    skordalia_07.jpg

    Yield: about 2 cups

  • Everyday Gnocchi


    Gnocchi is one of those recipes that mystifies me when I find out that someone thinks that it’s difficult to make, because not only is it really easy (and cheap) to produce, it’s also easy to produce a lot of it; and that’s exactly what we do. It’s common for me to whip out about four batches at a time of this recipe (a standard mixer should be able to hold two at once) then freeze the lot on a sheet tray and store these little guys in a large plastic bag. It’s such a satisfying meal for us, and the knowledge that we can put in minimal effort for it makes it all the more alluring after a long day of work where you just want something delicious and quick. Just pick your sauce, pop these kids out of the freezer and boil ’em in water till they float, and you’re set.

    Side note: yes, the gnocchi in this recipe are pressed onto a gnocchi board. Do you need to do that? No, no you don’t. Do grooves hold more sauce? Yeah, they do. Will your dinner be any less delicious if your gnocchs are just little grooveless potato lumps that you cut off from your giant slab of dough? Nope, it’ll be awesome.

    Did we press these onto a groove board just for this post so our gnocchi will look awesome even though we almost never do it in real life?

    You bet your ass we did.

    Everyday Gnocchi:

    • 1 cup of cooked skinless russet potato flesh, thoroughly mashed with as few clumps as possible.

      • Side note: When I do big batches of gnocchi, I will often add my cooked potato to a food processor and blend it until it’s very smooth, along with the olive oil. This changes the texture of the potato dramatically, making it much smoother (almost like a potato cake batter, and makes a much stickier dough after you add the flour to it. I’d recommend doing this, but if you’re tired and just wanna mash the potatoes by hand, your gnocchi won’t be any less delicious.

    • 2 tablespoons olive oil

    • 1 large egg

    • a big three-finger pinch of good salt

    • 2 cups flour

    Mix the mashed potato, egg, olive oil, and salt until thoroughly combined. Add the flour all at once and mix (your hands are the best tool for this if you don’t have a mixer) until all the flour is integrated. Continue to knead the dough until it becomes firmer and pulls away from the sides of the bowl.  The dough should be smooth, not unlike bread dough but much less springy. If you’re using a mixer, you’ll need to use the paddle at first to blend the flour into the wet ingredients, then switch to the dough hook once the it all begins to come together. Knead it for a minute or two until it becomes a tight dough. Let the dough rest at room temperature for about 30 minutes in a bowl with a cloth over it before proceeding to shaping.

    Transfer the rested dough to a lightly floured table or counter and begin to roll it into a long snake-like shape; it should be a little less than an inch in circumference when you’re finished. The dough will be quite tough and glutinous, so I’ve found that letting gravity stretch it a bit by pulling it and letting it hang in the air (as well as giving a few good thwacks on the table) works quite well to elongate it. Once you’ve got it rolled, take a knife or dough cutter and cut the dough into little nubs. The ideal size of a single gnocch for us is about the size of your thumb pad, so when you’re done, your table might look like it’s covered in a bunch of little floury thumbs (not to be grotesque, but hey, it’s an image you won’t forget).

    Your gnocchi are ready. They’re good to boil in the moment, or just place them on a sheet tray lined with baking parchment and freeze them for later. They keep for…well, we don’t actually know how long they really keep for; we’ve never let them sit around for too long. Oh, well…

    Optional: After cutting the dough, you’re welcome to press your little gnocs onto a gnocchi board to get their groove on. Simply take a gnocch and press it with your thumb onto a floured board, almost like a thumb print cookie, then remove it and fold it into itself so it returns it’s round shape once again with the grooves facing outward (duh). I’ll admit, it’s a bit of a tedious process, but they do look lovely when they’re finished and they really do hold more sauce. I’d recommend this method if you’re tossing them in a tomato sauce.


    gnocchi_dough_19.jpg

    Yields about 65-70 gnocchi, roughly 4 servings.

  • Smoky Baba Ghanouj


    The baba ghanouj recipe is a little nod to the only Middle Eastern restaurant from my Oregonian hometown of Coos Bay/North Bend, simply named Cafe Mediterranean. My family is reasonably certain that when they first opened that we generated a venerable chunk of their revenue. Back in the early 2000’s, living in such a small town, we hadn’t really ever been exposed to food like that before, and it was such a welcome influence that it sent us on a mezze kick in our own kitchen that lasted for years. They had a strong menu, but for us, the star of the show was their baba ghanouj. One day, we asked for the recipe, and they graciously revealed the secret ingredient that made it so addictive: a little kiss of liquid smoke. It ties everything together so nicely, opening up a larger dialogue between the eggplant and the garlic.

    Since then, we’ve tweaked it to make it our own, for instance, roasting the eggplant longer for a deeper flavor and adding a lot more garlic. We also boost the smoky flavor by garnishing the dish with a little dusting of smoked paprika.


    Smoky Baba Ghanouj:

    • 1 large eggplant, halved
    • ¼ cup tahini
    • 4–5 cloves garlic, crushed
    • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
    • Juice of 1 lemon
    • A drop of liquid smoke
    • Salt to taste
    • Olive oil for garnish
    • Smoked paprika for garnish


    Preheat oven to 350°F. Cover a baking sheet in aluminum foil then lightly oil the surface. Roast the eggplant on the baking sheet skin side up for about 2 hours or until the flesh of the eggplant is very tender.

    When the eggplant is cool enough to handle with your hands, scoop the flesh out of the skins and place into a food processor with the tahini, garlic, cumin, lemon juice, and liquid smoke. Pulse at first, breaking everything up into more manageable sizes for the blades, then blend steadily until completely smooth. Taste test and add salt to your liking. When finished, place the baba ghanouj into a serving dish and drizzle with a little bit of olive oil and a light dusting of smoked paprika.


  • Warm Broccolini Salad


    It really is a shame that people don’t eat more vegetables. Too often they take the back seat, pushed to the side of the plate only to be overshadowed by protein, and we think that this mentality is problematic. Yes, protein is important, but if that’s all you think about, that’s all you really get. Nothing you decide to eat (or cook, for that matter) deserves to be an afterthought.

    This is a case argument for the multi-course meal at home. Not only does it create more of an experience for what you’re about to eat, it shifts the focus of the eater. You aren’t barraged with a bunch of things together on one plate that you’re forced to eat all at once, and often convinced to prioritize. Instead, you take your time, savoring one thing after another. The multi-course meal affects the cook as well. If you’re creating things to be eaten one at a time, then every course needs to be independent and be as delicious as possible. A vegetable dish meant to stand out on its own is far better than a vegetable side that is meant to compliment something else, and that’s exactly what this dish we’ve made does: it stands out.

    This salad is really simple, but still possesses many of the primary flavors needed to feel “complete.” While it can certainly be made in a large skillet or frying pan, our favorite method of cooking is actually a wok or a grill. These methods promote a good sear on the broccolini quickly, more easily avoiding the mushy side effects of over cooking. The vibrant and green stalks still have a little bit of a crunch as well as a slightly blistered exterior. You can make this for a group of people easily, but it also makes for a delicious finger food in about five minutes. We like picking up the stalks and eating the florets first that have sopped up the spicy garlic and lemon dressing and finishing with the crunchy stems.


    Warm Broccolini Salad:

    • 2 bunches broccolini
    • 1 teaspoon vegetable oil
    • Pinch red pepper flakes
    • ¼ teaspoon fennel seeds
    • 2 peppercorns
    • 1 large clove garlic, peeled
    • 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
    • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
    • Salt to taste
    • ¼ cup fresh parsley leaves, packed, roughly chopped, for garnish
    • ½ ounce feta cheese, crumbled, for garnish

    In a mortar and pestle, pound the red pepper flakes, fennel seeds, and peppercorns until they become a powder. If you don’t have a mortar and pestle, just grind it all up in a spice or coffee grinder. Add the garlic clove to the spices and pound until the mixture becomes paste-like, or just finely chop the garlic and stir together with the spices. Transfer the paste to a small bowl and stir in the olive oil and lemon juice. Add salt to taste then set aside.


    Prepare the broccolini for cooking by slicing down the stalks, following the branches of the florets; you want nice long strands of broccolini, so let the natural growth of the stalks guide your knife. Heat a large pan (or wok) on high heat then add the vegetable oil and broccolini quickly, cooking until bright green and a little sear develops on some parts of the florets and stalk, about 2 minutes. Give the broccolini a quick stir/flip and cook for 2 more minutes after adding a teaspoon of water to the pan and putting a lid on the pan. Make sure the broccolini is cooked through, then remove from the pan and transfer to a bowl.


    While the broccolini is steaming, add the olive oil and lemon juice mixture as well as the parsley leaves and toss until the broccolini is thoroughly coated in the dressing and herbs, then top with the crumbled feta. Serve immediately.

    Serves 2–4.


  • Smashed Raspberry Grilled Cheese


    Our challenge of savory seasonal eating continues!

    Raspberry season is upon us, and we quickly discovered through our research process that there’s not a whole lot of savory raspberry recipes out there, which we found simultaneously disappointing and alluring. We found plenty of jams, jellies, cookies, pavlovas (Christ, so many pavlovas) and cakes, but no one seemed interested in figuring out how raspberries could make their way out of the realm of dessert.

    But if there’s a way to make something savory, we will find it. As usual, the key was cheese.

    Grilled cheese sandwiches are essentially a step below pizza ingredient-wise, so they’re near the top of the favorite food list for us. Few things can compare to crisp and thickly sliced rustic bread (Nate makes the best) with melted cheese. However, there is one thing that these sandwiches usually lack to create what is more commonly accepted as a “complete taste” on its own, and that’s acid. That’s why you see grilled cheese and tomato soup paired together all over the place.

    So we thought…why not switch up the acid?


    Berries and cheese go way back, so we weren’t too scared about them intermingling. Our acidic subject? Fresh raspberries. Our cheese? We eventually decided to go with a blend of chèvre for flavor and Jarlsberg for texture. So we smashed some raspberries we got from Sauvie Island Farms after a lovely day of berry picking onto some of Nate’s homemade 50% whole wheat sourdough bread and got cooking.

    The results? Crunchy, fluffy, creamy, gooey, and tart. It was everything we hoped it would be and more. If you have any fruit laying around, especially incredibly fresh fruit, we wholeheartedly recommend you put your thinking cap on and find a cheese that’ll pair well with it, then immediately stuff it in a grilled cheese sandwich. You will not be disappointed. Sometimes it really is the simplest things that taste the best.

    Smashed Raspberry Grilled Cheese Sandwich:

    Makes 1.

    • 2 thick slices of good rustic bread (whole wheat sourdough was magical with this, but if you wanna try something else, it’ll still turn out awesome)
    • About 1 tablespoon of butter, room temperature
    • 8–10 ripe raspberries (enough to cover the surface of one piece of bread)
    • 2 ounces of Jarlsberg cheese, grated
    • 1 ounce chèvre, room temperature
    • A dash of freshly ground black pepper

    In a small bowl, mix the grated Jarlsberg and chèvre together along with the fresh black pepper. Set aside.

    Butter both pieces of bread on one side using ½ a tablespoon of butter each. On the unbuttered side of one of your pieces of bread, lay out your raspberries and smash them with a fork, moving the juices around until the entire surface of the bread is covered. Spoon the cheese mixture on top of the smashed raspberries and spread it until the cheese covers the surface of the bread. Put the other piece of bread on top, buttered side up.

    Preheat a non-stick pan on medium heat and put the sandwich in the pan. Allow each side to cook for roughly four minutes, adjusting heat as needed to cook the sandwich through, or until each side of the bread is golden brown and the cheese is melted. To help the melting process along, you can put a lid on the pan, keeping the heat trapped in, though you should limit this because you will lose that deep crispness with too much steam.

    Allow sandwich to cool, then go to town.


  • Fresh Strawberry Ice Cream


    Oregon’s berry bounty is impressive, especially in the summer. Wave after wave of variety comes into its own and it can seem overwhelming when the time comes to choose which one to work with, but after much deliberation, Nate and I think that we’ve finally decided on what our favorite is.

    Is it the plentiful, tart, and quintessential Pacific Northwestern blackberry?

    No.

    Is it the delicate, elegant, and high-brow dessert-loving raspberry?

    No.

    Is it the versatile, delicious, and nutritious blueberry?

    No. No it is not.


    For us, the most sublime berry is the one that welcomes us into the warmer months in Oregon. Hitting their peak in early summer, their season comes and goes quickly. It’s important to get them while you can because, as summer develops, they just aren’t the same anymore, then they disappear altogether, waiting for late spring once again. We are, of course, talking about what might be the most popular berry in America: the strawberry.

    One might think to oversimplify this common ingredient; after all a strawberry is a strawberry is a strawberry, right?

    Noooooope.

    There are so so many species of these little beauties, and they all taste a little different from one another. However, there are two that rise above the rest for us: Hoods and Seascapes. I’d be impressed if anyone went wrong with either one of them if you get them at the right time, and the time is now, but as this recipe suggests, like so so many things in this world, we believe that they should be drowned in cream and churned.

    P.S. This fresh fruit ice cream proportion works magic with these strawberries, but don’t let that stop you from getting creative. If you apply the same amount of any fresh fruit into this recipe, it will work. Let this be a way for you to experience all the best fruit this summer. I mean, that’s what we will be doing…

    Fresh Strawberry Ice Cream:

    • About 1½ cups (335 grams) fresh, ripe strawberries, tops removed (Hoods or Seascapes if you can get them)
    • A pint (472 grams) heavy whipping cream
    • 1¼ cups (263 grams) whole milk
    • ¾ cup plus 1 tsp (161 grams) sugar
    • Scant ¼ cup (67 grams) light corn syrup
    • A dash xanthan gum

    Blend strawberries in a food processor or using an immersion blender, then transfer into a large bowl big enough to hold all ingredients. Whisk in the cream, milk, sugar, corn syrup, and xanthan gum.

    Ready your ice cream maker (if you have a freezer bowl type make sure the bowl is completely frozen! This usually takes at least 24 hours.), and begin churning immediately. Churn for 25–30 minutes, or until the mixture resembles thick soft serve ice cream. Transfer ice cream to an airtight container, but before putting on the lid, cover it with a layer of plastic wrap, allowing it to stick to the entire surface of the ice cream. Seal the container and place in the back of the freezer for at least 4 hours prior to serving. For best consistency, freeze overnight.

    Temper about five minutes before devouring.


  • Strawbanero Sorbet


    Sorbet gets a bad rap.

    “Why would you want to eat that when you could have ice cream?”

    “That‘s gross, no thanks. I’ll take the good stuff.”

    “Aww, I’m sorry that’s all they have for you…”

    Rude.

    I’m going to make something clear here. If you think that sorbet is gross, it’s because all the sorbet you’ve had is garbage. It’s simple as that.

    I can understand the aversion; lots of commercial sorbet can be incredibly icy, resembling more of of a sad popscicle that got crammed into a pint container, but know this: it doesn’t need to be this way. Real sorbet is light and bright, harnessing the pure and unadulterated essence of the fruit it was made with. In a way, it’s like a little time capsule, keeping the fruit at the peak of its ripeness so you can revisit it every time you open your freezer. Good sorbet outshines any alternative no-fat, low-carb, low-sugar, high-protein, “guilt-free” bullshit on the market today. We tried some just to see for ourselves what the fuss was all about (for science!) and let’s say that we won’t be returning to that arena any time soon. Or ever.

    While Nate and I love almost everything about ice cream (eating it, making it, designing it) we understand that it’s a sometimes food. So, in an effort to find a dessert lower in fat that would be a little easier on our bodies and also rid ourselves of the ungodly amount of strawberries we purchased at the farmer’s market this week (they were just so pretty) we came up with this little recipe. Using amazing strawberries make it bright and floral while the habanero lends its own sweetness to the mix along with something a little extra.

    Strawbanero Sorbet:

    • 2 pounds ripe strawberries, tops removed

    • 1 small(!) habanero

    • ¾ cup sugar

    • ¾ cup water

    • ¼ cup light corn syrup or tapioca syrup

    • 2–3 tablespoons lemon juice (to taste)

    Put the sugar and water in a sauce pan over high heat and allow the mixture to boil, dissolving all the sugar in the solution. Once it resembles a syrup, remove from the heat and let it cool to room temperature.


    Spear the habanero on a fork and flame the skin over a gas burner (or with a blow torch) until the entire body of the chile is black. Remove the habanero from the fork and place in a plastic bag for 10 minutes or so, allowing the chile to sweat and its outer skin be very tender. Rub the char off the habanero, then remove the stem and the seeds, discarding them.

    Put all of the strawberries and the processed habanero into a food processor and blend until completely smooth. Strain it, if you like. Transfer the very fine strawberry habanero pulp to a large bowl and whisk in all the simple syrup and corn syrup. Chill in an airtight container until cold, at least an hour (we recommend overnight as it will allow the subtle flavor of the habanero to develop further).

    Prepare your ice cream/sorbet churner (if you using a freezer bowl make sure that it is completely frozen—this typically takes up to 24 hours). Remove the sorbet mix from the fridge and add the lemon juice, then pour into the churning machine. Churn for 15–20 minutes, or until it becomes thick and almost smoothie-like. Transfer into an airtight container like a large tupperware; cover in plastic wrap, allowing it to stick to the entire surface of the sorbet, lid it, then chill in the freezer for at least 4 hours.

    Serve in cups, cones, or maybe even in a spritzer for a zippy float.


    strawberry_habanero_sorbet_03.jpg

  • Cookies & Cream Grows Up


    This monstrosity was borne out of wondering what to make for National Ice Cream Day. There were two schools of thought at first. I was thoroughly excited about making our very first chocolate ice cream, while Nate had his eye on experimenting with a cookies ’n’ cream. The time came to when we were wandering the aisles of a grocery store near our house and we knew we had to make up our minds soon. At the last moment, Nate had the utterly genius idea of…simply not choosing.

    data-animation-override>
    ‘¿Por qué no los dos?’ he said to me.

    “¿Por qué no los dos?” he said to me.

    He’s a madman, I thought.

    We bought good chocolate, Oreos, and heavy cream and went home.

    What transpired was a combination of a rich chocolate ice cream that resembled chocolate mousse—spiked with a little bourbon because we found it raiding the pantry and also why wouldn’t you do that? Then, in it’s last moments of churning, we crammed it full of crumbled Oreos.

    There’s no possible way we can prepare you for how delicious this is. I almost got angry the first time I tasted it because it was so delicious. Angry. Lesson learned from making this ice cream: when you’re deliberating between two things, sometimes the best possible outcome for the choice is, in fact, choosing both. And I have to say, this is the best tasting compromise I’ve ever come across in my life.

    ¿Por qué no los dos?

    Boozy Dark Chocolate Cookies & Cream Ice Cream

    • 1 pint heavy cream
    • 1 cup whole milk
    • ½ cup sugar
    • ¼ tsp. good sea salt
    • 8 oz. good dark chocolate, 60% cacao or higher (we recommend Valrhona or Woodblock)
    • Scant ⅛ tsp. xanthan gum
    • 1½ tbsp. bourbon or rye whiskey
    • 10 Oreo cookies, crumbled (plus more to snack on, because porqué no?)

    In a heavy bottomed 2-quart pan, heat cream, milk, sugar, and salt until simmers and the sugar and salt completely dissolve. Place chocolate into the bowl of a large food processor. Pulse until broken into small chunks, the smaller the better. Add 1 cup of the hot cream-milk mixture while the food processor is running. Blend until chocolate is melted, making a rich ganache.

    In a medium bowl, pour the rest of the cream-milk mixture. Add the ganache to the cream and whisk until fully incorporated. Add the whiskey. Add the xanthan gum, and stir until dissolved. Chill mixture for at least 2 hours before churning.

    In your ice cream machine, churn the mixture for 25–30 minutes or until it thickens enough to stick to the churn or a spoon. Right before you stop churning, slowly add the cookies and churn for about a minute. Quickly transfer to a freezer-safe container. Cover with plastic wrap and the lid, and freeze until desired hardness is achieved. We recommend overnight, but this depends on how cold your freezer is.

    Yields about 1.5 quarts.

  • Chilaquiles


    Everyone seems to have a default breakfast. You know the one. You’re mulling over what to eat in the morning, then you sigh and say “I’ll just make this. Again.” Very frequently, it’s a rag tag assembly of whatever you have on hand in your fridge on a regular basis. It’s a reflection of your cooking habits where your stock characters/ingredients all work together.
    This particular meal (if you really think about it) was probably the result of drinking way too much the night before and not wanting to go to any large lengths to create a fancy meal the following morning. I can imagine the inventor’s thought process going something like this:

    “Lets see. I’ll take some super stale tortillas that I was too drunk to put away last night (they’re still good, right?) and…fuck it, I’ll just fry ’em up with some eggs and salsa. Christ, my head hurts.”

    Pretty sure that’s how it went down.

    In a way, chilaquiles are the Mexican answer to fried rice: an excess of a starchy meal component that is used in an ingenious way to get rid of leftovers. Chilaquiles are a spicy, fresh, and satisfying breakfast situation that bring a huge variety of textures and flavors to one meal. If you haven’t made these before, you better get on it. You just might have a new favorite default breakfast.

    This recipe is designed to give you freedom to do what this dish does best: get rid of leftovers. All you really need are the things listed in the chilaquiles section, but adding a garnish or three and a couple add-ins can transform a good bowl of chilaquiles into a great one. We certainly have our preferences, and we can make this breakfast in our sleep, which is a helpful skill if you’re waiting (in vain) for your coffee to brew.

    Chilaquiles

    • 10 corn tortillas, left out overnight to become stale, cut into eighths
    • Oil for frying
    • 2 eggs, beaten
    • ½ + ¼ cup salsa, divided
      Note: Use any salsa you like: red or green. The idea is to use up whatever you have lying around. If we were to give you a recommendation, however, we would tell you to use our recipe for morita salsa. It turns out very 👌👌.

    Garnish

    • More salsa
    • Cilantro, chopped
    • Queso fresco, crumbled
    • Crema
    • Lime slices
    • Fresh avocado, sliced

    Optional add-ins

    • 4 oz. chorizo, veggie sausage, protein of choice
    • ¼ of a medium onion, chopped
    • ½ of a small zucchini, sliced
    • ½ cup roasted corn

    In a deep skillet, heat a generous amount of oil on medium high and fry the chips in several batches until they are crispy and golden. Allow them to cool slightly drain excess oil on a plate with a paper towel. Set aside. Remove almost all leftover oil from the skillet if a lot remains.


    Chilaquiles-01.jpg

    Heat the same skillet on medium heat and cook your desired add-ins at this time. When they are done, add in the eggs and cook quickly, like scrambled eggs. When the eggs are almost done, add the ½ cup of salsa and stir until all of it is evenly incorporated. Add the chips and stir well. Add the remaining ¼ cup of salsa and stir well.


    Chilaquiles-02.jpg

    Serve immediately with a few garnishes, and tuck in.


    Chilaquiles-03.jpg

    Serves 2.

  • Leek Powder Pierogis


    Leek-Powder-Pierogi-5.jpg

    We are very often products of our upbringing. This recipe is a really fun blend of my mother’s culinary curiosity and my father’s Polish ancestry.
    Leek powder was borne out of my mother getting sick of throwing out leek greens, so she found a way to use them and even make them keep for a long time. Gastronomically she was gifted with preserving things, and she was willing to give anything a chance. Anything.

    My father loves feeling connected to his Polish roots, and one of the main ways that he returns to them is through food. It’s the little things like sauerkraut, a well-made kielbasa, or the richness of sour cream that take him back.

    Naturally, I inherited both of these compulsions, so here we are. Pierogis are just about the most Polish thing I can think of, and I love the crap out of them. Crispy and cheesy potato dumplings. What’s not to like? To bring this to another level, I decided to try adding a little bit of my mother’s evil genius influence. The leek powder gives the dough a fun color and a wonderful herb-like flavor that’s perfect for its potato counterpart.

    Leek powder pierogi dough

    • 2½ cups (300 g) all-purpose flour, plus more as needed
    • ½ cup lukewarm water
    • 1 egg, room temperature
    • 2 tbsp. sour cream
    • 1 tsp. salt
    • 1 tbsp. leek powder

    Potato filling

    • 2 cups mashed red potatoes (about 1 lb raw potatoes)
    • 2 tbsp chives, chopped
    • 1 tsp. salt
    • 2 oz. cheddar, shredded
    • 1 tbsp. butter
    • ½ tsp. fresh ground pepper

    Knead all the ingredients for the pierogi dough together until combined. The dough should be only slightly sticky, so add more flour as needed. Refrigerate for 30 minutes to let the leek flavor infuse and the flour bind to the moisture.

    While the dough rests, boil quartered potatoes until soft. Strain and mash, adding cheese, butter, salt, and pepper. Mix until fully incorporated. Allow the mixture to cool slightly before adding the chives; they shouldn’t cook.

    Roll out the dough to about ⅛” (thinner is okay) and use a cookie or biscuit cutter to cut out the dough. Use two pieces of dough per pierogi, spooning about ½ tbsp. (think half a ping pong ball) of potatoes on one. Wet your fingers and dab it around the edges, sealing it.

    Heat a skillet with 1/2 tbsp. butter over medium heat. Cook until golden brown on both sides. Serve with sour cream, applesauce, fresh dill, or caramelized onions.

    Makes 24 pierogis.