Like starting from scratch: a journey to vegetarian cooking

Greg Turner — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 18:23:05 +0000

We’ve gone to a mostly vegetarian diet since my daughter declared her new status this past Christmas. It’s been easy in some respects. I put food on the table, we eat it. Not a big deal. But in many ways it’s like starting from scratch. I’m uncertain, don’t know a thing about ingredients or spices, don’t have the confidence in the kitchen I did when cooking with meat. I began to question myself as a cook.

I understand meat. I know what happens to connective tissue when a roast is braised; I know the flavor bacon fat gives to green beans. I can roast a chicken. I even understand some vegetables. I can roast broccoli now without a second thought. Fresh green beans without bacon fat are delicious when boiled fast in salted water. But the rest of this stuff escapes me. I’m in unfamiliar territory.

So now I guess I need to practice. It’s what a person does when he doesn’t know something. It’s what I do, at least. And I’m telling you this because I’d appreciate it if you bear with me. If you want to learn how to cook vegetarian meals, great. Maybe we can stumble through together. If you’re a seasoned pro, even better. Maybe you can leave me some tips in the comments. I think I’ve been stalled (and stalling) on this blog because I felt like I need to be an expert, but really all I need is time in the kitchen.

Tomato Basil Salad with Tuscan Bread (for two)
1 giant heirloom tomato, locally grown
1/2 loaf of excellent, hearty bread cut into thick slices, at least two per person (the garlic in the bread I used imparted wonderful flavor to the meal)
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (the better the olive oil, the better the dressing)
2 tablespoon balsamic vinegar (again, the better, the better)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil (or less, to taste)
4 tablespoons shaved Parmesan cheese
Fresh ground pepper, to taste

I’d like to be able to say I make my own bread. Some day that might become a reality, but at this point, I still buy my bread at the local supermarket. This weekend I bought a great Tuscan bread infused with olive oil and garlic. We used half the loaf for garlic bread last night, served next to stuffed shells (I just followed the recipe on the back of the pasta box. For the shells, I mean. For the bread I toasted thick slices and slathered them with butter I melted in the microwave.)

The second half I used for lunch:

First, make the dressing. Combine the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper, and basil in a container and shake vigorously. Then slice and toast the bread. While the bread toasts, chop the tomato into bite-sized pieces. On a plate, lay out two thick slices of bread for each person, and liberally scatter with the chopped tomato. Shake the dressing again, and drench each plate. Finally top the tomatoes and bread with shaved Parmesan cheese. It’s really that simple.

The key to this dish is fresh, high-quality ingredients. Here in Florida, spring has arrived in full splendor and glory, so we can get things like heirloom tomatoes. And don’t even ask if the extra expense is worth it. It totally is, as is the inconvenience of having to wait for local tomatoes to come into season. The difference is night and day.

So that’s my first step. That’s the commitment I’m making to vegetarian cooking and to this blog. It’s not going to be fancy, not for a while at least, but the ingredients will be as good as I can get given the time I have, and I’ll strive to make them seasonal.

I swear, it’s just like starting over.

How to cook vegetarian

Greg Turner — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 19:15:58 +0000

On the way back from my in-laws Christmas day, my daughter announced she was officially a vegetarian. My wife and I weren’t surprised. We knew it was coming the day she disavowed bacon, and I’ve been encouraging her since reading Michael Pollan’s “Farmer In Chief,” which includes striking information on environmental impact of the US food industry. Still, it throws a wrench in my overall plan of learning again how to cook.

To mark the occasion of my daughter’s vegetarian transformation, I wanted to do something special. An appetizer. In the past, we’ve enjoyed the frozen spinach artichoke dip produced by T.G.I. McGuilicutty’s (and yes, I’ve hated myself for it). Why not do something similar? Luckily, I’d seen a close recipe in Rocco’s 5 Minute Flavor. Did I mention how I already hated myself a bit? Don’t judge. It was heavily discounted, and there must be some merit, some universal truth in spending $7.95 on a book that lists at $26.95 by a former chef (he’s just a cook now) who enjoyed one of the most well-publicized and precipitous falls from favor in the public cooking world.

And I tell you this: if there is no other recipe in the whole book, the artichoke dip alone is worth the price of admission.

Ingredients (serves 4)
1 14 oz. can of artichoke hearts, finely chopped (I’m a fan of Virgo. They’re organicish and inexpensive, which is much more than I can say for Progresso)
3/4 cup mayonnaise (the original recipe suggested low-fat or reduced fat, but that doesn’t quite have the same wonderful unctuous mouth feel as the real stuff)
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup parmesan cheese, grated fine
2 tablespoons fresh basil, chopped fine (yes, fresh counts here. I wouldn’t dare use the dry stuff for this recipe)
1/2 cup panko bread crumbs (this is my addition, for color and some texture)
1 fine French baguette

Technique
Mince
Chop, fine

Method
Bake

To make the dip, simply combine the artichoke hearts, mayonnaise, garlic, parmesan cheese, and basil in a 8” * 8” baking dish. Stir them all together then sprinkle the top with the bread crumbs. Cut the baguette on a bias and arrange the slices on a baking sheet. Put the sliced bread and the artichoke dip in a 425(degree F) oven for about 5 minutes. The bread will crisp up and the dip will get nice and bubbly. Right at the end, zap the dip under the broiler for about 30 seconds to brown the bread crumbs and give them some additional crunch.

For the main course, I went with an old standby, spaghetti and tomato sauce with garlic bread.

Ingredients (serves 4, without being piggish)
For the sauce
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes, mostly drained
1 8oz can tomato sauce
four garlic cloves, crushed and copped fine
kosher salt
1 teaspoon dried oregano (or more, to taste)
1/4 cup grated parmesan + 1/4 cup grated parmesan held in reserve

For the pasta
1 16 oz package of dried spaghetti (duh)
2 level tablespoons kosher salt

For the garlic bread
3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 loaf of crusty Italian or cu ban bread, cut in half lengthwise

Technique
Chop, fine
Mince

Method
Boil
Simmer
Broil

Fill a 6 qt stock pot with four quarts of water. Add two level tablespoons of kosher salt and set the water over high heat

While the water is coming to a boil, set a large sauce pan over medium-high heat. Add a tablespoon of olive oil. The pan is at temperature when it feels warm to a hand that’s several inches above it. Add the garlic and let it soften and turn translucent at the edges. Make sure to keep it moving so it doesn’t burn.

note: burned garlic is very bitter and gives a hard, sometimes unpleasant edge to sauces and soups.

When the garlic has softened some, add the diced tomatoes and the tomato sauce and stir it all together. Let the mix come to a boil, then lower the heat to medium-low (low-medium), and allow the sauce to simmer. Give it a taste and add a little salt, if necessary.

Without any extra ingredients, the sauce will taste very bright and acidic, like a slightly under-ripe tomato. Add the oregano, stir it in, and taste. The sauce should taste more mellow now. Gone is the tannic edge and in its place is a rounder, deeper flavor. If the sauce still tastes tart, try adding a bit more oregano or a couple grinds of black pepper. As a last resort, you could add a trace of sugar, but then you might as well have saved yourself the trouble and just bought the jarred stuff at the store, savored its cloying sweetness.

When the sauce tastes good (tasting along the way is the secret to an excellent tomato sauce), slowly stir in 1/4 cup of the Parmesan cheese and then leave it alone. From here on out, the sauce will take care of itself.

Your water should be boiling now, so go ahead and carefully place your pasta in the pot, give it a stir, and let it go. Set the timer as directed on the box (I usually go for the lowest suggested time so I don’t inadvertently cook my pasta to mush), and give it a good stir about two minutes into the cooking time. That’s when the pasta will release most of its starch into the water and thus will be most likely to stick together into a giant spaghetti rope. Looks cool, but is pretty inedible.
After you’ve given the pasta the second stir, It’s time to toast the garlic bread. Set a small sauce pan on one of your remaining burners (sorry, Bittman) and bring it to medium-high. Add the olive oil and butter. When the butter has melted, add the minced garlic. Don’t let it sit in the pan. Stir, keep the pan moving and heat the garlic until it begins to go translucent, then use a slotted spoon to remove it from the pan. Get a brush (or you could just pour it over the bread) and brush the bread with the butter mixture.

Note: If you want an extra garlicy touch, reserve the minced garlic to spread on the bread once it’s out of the oven.

Stick the bread in the oven under the broiler for about a minute (check it at 45 seconds, just to be safe). When the bread begins to brown on the edges, take it out.
When the beeper beeps, drain the pasta.

Plate the pasta, cover with a couple spoonfuls of the sauce, and serve with the garlic bread, sliced. Put the remaining Parmesan cheese on the table so guests can adjust the sauce’s cheesiness to their liking.

A good spaghetti sauce is easy to make. Cook it slow, taste along the way, and add nothing in huge quantities. Use the best ingredients you can (don’t you dare use off-season tomatoes; go for canned), and keep it simple. It’s a formula that’s served me well for a long time, evidenced by this exchange:

Daughter: What are we having for dinner?
Me: Spaghetti and tomato sauce.
Daughter: The stuff you make, or the stuff from a jar?
Me: The stuff I make.
Daughter: Good.

That vote of confidence from a picky eater? It’s a wonder I don’t make the stuff every night.

Kitchen Sojourn » basil

Like starting from scratch: a journey to vegetarian cooking

How to cook vegetarian