Clutching

Finally, a chilly snap of weather. That is to say, 65 degrees but here in the semi-tropics we Northern-winter born take what we can get to momentarily feel the environment nod to autumn. Even if leaves do not change color and sweaters are things we tell our babies about while holding pictures of our home towns in their snowy, wintry blankets with trees tipped in icicles. Far distant places and memories it would seem.

Except for that "cold" snap I mentioned. That was Sunday. When it seemed one had to take their only chance for weeks to make something warming, something vastly different from the local grouper with key lime butter and a thousand varieties of shrimp which is the norm here year round. Not that I'm complaining. But everyone needs a change now and then.

Food and Wine republished a recipe for Chickpea Spinach Stew in the September issue (cited below). It sounded complex and different. Saffron. Chickpeas and their liquid. Tomato. Spinach. And I certainly would have loved to write to you now how we enjoyed it. But, for reasons having to do with a tiny dancing baby hereabouts, "stew" and only one tomato is not an option. Were it not for these differences in our needs, I know the recipe would have been pitch-perfect. I also know this because in the original form it was deemed a reader favorite, hence the republishing.

A good deal more tomato and water or broth to make it a true soup, then and we were off to a land of chilly air, soup bowl grasping, and sweater dreaming. A land where, happily, an increasingly discerning toddler ate all her soup and her tiny nips of crusty French bread. This soup is gorgeous to behold and even better on the palatte.

Spinach, Tomato, and Chickpea Stew
adapted from this Janet Mendel recipe, Food and Wine '05
Serves 6

Once the soup is heated, do not go on cooking it or you will lose what little liquid is within to condensation and it will once again become a stew. Unless you prefer it.

If you wish to keep it warm for a party, put it in a tureen in a residually warm oven until service time or keep it on the warm setting of a crock pot. The garlic/ saffron/ salt flavor seems to quickly and permanently dissipate if the soup is mishandled over heat. But the good news is that treated gently to reheat, the left over soup is an even better soup than the first. It was hard to believe it could be better but indeed it was.

A note on the spices: If you are not familiar with ground clove, I suggest you taste a bit before using the full amount here, some care for only a hint. The original recipe calls for cumin, which you may care to add. Finally, saffron is a costly ingredient. However, it is a good keeper and a little goes a long way. Trader Joe's Markets have it very reasonably, if you happen to be near one.

3 cups water, divided
10 ounces baby spinach
3 large garlic cloves, crushed
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
2 Pinches saffron threads
1 tablespoon sweet paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
One 15-ounce can chickpeas with their liquid
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 28 ounce can whole peeled tomatoes

Pour 1 cup water into a pot and bring to a boil. Add the spinach and cook over high heat, tossing frequently, until wilted, about 2 minutes. Drain the spinach in a colander, pressing hard on the leaves to extract the liquid. Coarsely chop the spinach.

Using the flat side of a large knife, mash the garlic to a paste with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and the saffron. Transfer the garlic paste to a small bowl. Add the paprika, cloves and mash until combined. Stir in 1/4 cup of the chickpea liquid.

Wipe out the pot. Place over medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons of the olive oil to the skillet and heat until shimmering. Add the onion and cook over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until they are softened, about 3 minutes. Add the tomatoes, crushing them between your fingers as you add them. Add the spiced garlic sauce to the onion and tomato in the pot and cook for 1 minute. Add 2 cups water and return to a simmer.

Add the chickpeas and the remaining chickpea liquid to the skillet. and bring to a boil over moderately high heat. Add the spinach, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 15 minutes. To serve, drizzle with remaining olive oil.

Free to be You and Me

Rancho Relaxo. That is the name of someones home. I wish it were the name of my home. Maybe it will be. Half of our family is in motion, once again. To Jacksonville, this time. I have an opportunity then, to name that house. I grew up in one of those burgs where people gave their homes serious, reverent names: Seven Oaks. Edgewood. Merry Mount. Oh, how would old Bedford receive this news? Somewhere, the Robertson family is smiling right now. Maybe I have taken the right idea from everything we learned from them as children: Be the girl Bedford made, just don't fail to see the humor in where we came from. Naturally, like a good show horse, "Rancho Relaxo" would be it's nickname then, and something like "Idlewild" or "Green Corporale" would be its formal name, of course. I tease about not taking old conventions seriously, but I only tease. Oh, and by the way, that is the Breakers at Newport, not my house.

So, will you come, to Rancho Relaxo? We will have a relaxed sort of a salad, (as you know, I eat copious amounts of greenery now that salad can actually taste delicious) the sort that is salad topped with candy. Except the candy will be savory and no one will know its candy. Except you and I, kicked back with our Cactus Pear Margaritas, and living the good semi-clandestine life of kids from an old-prep community, in a house called Idlewild but only ever referred to as Rancho Relaxo. You, and me, free, and eating salad with candy.

Salad of Spinach, Pear, and Pecan Brittle with Vinaigrette
North Salem, 2008


3 cups fresh, clean spinach leaves
1 cup pecan brittle (recipe below)
1 cup thinly sliced pear
1/2 tsp. salt and more to taste
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tbls. white wine/ Chardonnay vinegar
1 tbls. minced shallots
2 tsp. Country Dijon mustard
1 tbls. lemon juice
1 tsp. honey
1/4 cup olive oil


Into a large salad bowl add spinach, season with salt and pepper, and toss. Set aside.


In a small bowl, combine shallot, country Dijon, vinegar, lemon juice, honey, and whisk until combined.While whisking vigorously, add olive oil in a steady stream to create emulsification (creamy and combined).


Lightly dress spinach in large bowl with the vinaigrette, keep remainder to the side and serve along side salad for those who wish more. Arrange pear slices around the top of the salad. Sprinkle pecan brittle over the top of the salad: crumbs are fine, but be sure pieces are slightly smaller than bite size. Serves 4.


Pecan Brittle


1 cup pecans
1 tbls. butter
3 tbls. light brown sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. dry mustard
1/2 tsp. chili powder (ancho, if possible)
1/2 tsp. dry ginger
1/2 tsp. smoked paprika


Preheat oven to 350 degrees. On a baking sheet, spread pecan evenly and place in oven until lightly darkened and toasted. Remove from oven and set aside.


Into a small saucepan over low heat, place butter, sugar, and all remaining ingredients. Stir vigorously until mixture is melted and takes on a near-liquid consistency, do not allow this to darken or burn. Add pecans stir quickly until all nuts are evenly coated. Spoon hot brittle into a pile of any height or shape, onto tin foil. Allow to cool for 15 minutes. Once cool, pull brittle away from foil, place on a cutting board, and with a large knife and a bit of effort, cut and break brittle into pieces slightly smaller than bite-sized. Don't worry about crumbs and small pieces, it can all go over the salad.

A season in the life

We are coming up on the moment when The Brisket will have to be addressed. More than a week has passed since this side of beef first entered my world and I am less hungry now for the cover girl of a sandwich which started this briney chapter. However, one needs to learn how a great corned beef comes to life. One needs to have sure hands in the name of preventing any future famine by making previously disrespected cuts of beef sing with all the interest garnered by some prom-queen of a cut, like standing roast, or that floozie, the crown roast; thus preventing one from ever starving through fear of being reduced to consuming tough ugly old cuts. No, in this house, we believe brisket should be the glory hound of great smoking que, corned beefs, and treated with the respect it would have had had it run a different road, such as the one that leads it to pastrami at Ben's Deli. Right. One needs to stop parading about the living room with the brisket flag, pipe down, and just cook the meat.

But not now. Later. Are you hungry? I would love a last dive into the wintery produce bounty. The clocks will turn back this weekend and when they do, those of use who have observed Southern springs through the "On The Farm" section of the newspaper are waiting with the measured breath of the once-again-a-year-older maturity that anticipates with such glee the news that the arrival of asparagus have proved out our surviving one more winter. Long, willowy stalks next week. Today, one last visit to the winter that was. Linger with me for a moment. We'll have a warm salad, perhaps? Let's say, a bit of roasted golden squash, some baby spinach, a little sauteed chorizo for some Spanish zing? Shall we? And how about a Pinot Noir, I'd say French, but there are some guys out there in Oregon, close to my heart, making a spirited Pinot Noir that you should hunt for, if you have a minute before we eat. We'll have a warm loaf of crusty french bread and just break it up into wild chunks, okay?

I've set the table with a gypsy of an old placesetting I found hanging around, and those salad forks were my Grandmothers. We'll wait out these last angry moments of winter together. One year wiser, one squash less lean. And we will be better for having taken this fleeting moment to delay over a season which treated us harshly, as winters are prone to do, but through which we lived richly. A season, any season, deserves celebrating with you.


Warm Spinach and Squash Salad with Chorizo
North Salem, 2008

1 acorn squash, about 1 1/4 lbs or so
4 tbls. olive oil
Kosher salt
Ground black pepper
1/2 cup mexican chorizo, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 cups fresh baby spinach, washed and dried
2 tbls. sherry vinegar

Preheat over to 400. Line a baking dish with aluminum foil. Cut acorn squash in half and scrape out seeds. Place squash on the foil-lined dish cut side up. Using about a tablespoon of the olive oil brush the cut surface of the squash all over. Dust lightly with salt and pepper. Bake 30 minutes or until a fork inserted into the middle of squash enters easily. Holding the squash with a hand in in an oven mitt, scrape out the cooked flesh onto a cutting board and cut this up, as well as you can, into bite sized chunks. Place into your salad bowl and add spinach. Toss. Spinach will wilt slightly from the heat of the squash, all the better. Season with salt and pepper.

In a small skillet over medium heat, add remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil. When the oil is hot and shimmering, add the chorizo and saute for 5 minutes, until edges become golden. Add garlic and saute 2 more minutes (do not burn the garlic, it will become bitter). Take the skillet from the heat and add the sherry vinegar, stir quickly with the chorizo and garlic. Drizzle all over the acorn spinach mixture in the salad bowl. Toss to coat all evenly with the dressing. Taste for seasoning, add salt and pepper to taste. Serves 4 as a small plate.