A Tiny Hiatus

Just a little FYI that the scuttlebutt around here might be a bit quieter than usual for a couple of weeks.  I am housesitting, with all the attendant issues regarding cooking in a strange kitchen, as well as pulling 12-plus-hour days sitting somewhere that is not here, so I'm not quite sure if I'll find the time or ability to do much exciting cooking for a little while.

In the meantime, though—what region(s) should I focus on next?  It's only been a couple of days, but I'm already getting a hankering for some complicated cookery!  And plotting the cooking is a good substitute for actual cooking in a pinch.

Western Europe - Gazpacho (Spain)

I can't remember the last time the high temperature for the day involved fewer than three digits.  Of course, this isn't a surprise.  What is a surprise, though, is that this summer doesn't seem nearly as bad as my previous Phx summer, during which I spent much of my time begging for the sweet release of death, or maybe just a cold spell.

I haven't been able to figure out why I'm tolerating this go-around better.  Has this summer been less horrible?  Or, God forbid, am I getting used to this?  I mean, it is still all quite terrible, and I have been dreaming of fall ever since July, but I do feel like I've been less angry at the weather this year.  Maybe I'm just mellowing out in my old age?  The mind boggles.

The other possibility is that I've learned how to better co-exist with the blistering heat, in that I no longer do things like try to bake bread in an oven that expends more heat than it uses to actually cook things.  We've changed our dining habits to better include foods that don't require constant hovering over the stove or that can be made in non-stove appliances (like toaster ovens).

The best way to win the food battle against the sun, however, is to just eschew cooking at all.  Enter gazpacho!  No heating elements are required, and it's fantastically simple and easy.  This recipe was given to me by a friend from Spain, and it's actually her mother's recipe, so you know it's legit.

First, you're going to need tomatoes.  A lot of tomatoes.  At least two pounds.  Lucky for those of you who live in areas with normal growing seasons, you should be flush with tomatoes now.  I used Roma tomatoes, because they are good and meaty, but any tomato, so long as it is fresh and ripe, will do.  You can even mix tomatoes, if you are into that sort of thing.  Quarter and de-seed your tomatoes (you can also peel them, if you're dedicated).  De-seed and roughly chop both a green and a red bell pepper, along with a cucumber (I used a Striped Armenian cucumber, which didn't require de-seeding, but if you're using a standard hothouse cuke with large seeds, you might want to de-seed this as well) and about 1/4 an onion.  Peel some garlic, as much as you'd like (I was told that proper gazpacho should be right garlicky, so I used almost an entire head).

Blend all the chopped veggies together in a food processor to your preferred chunkiness (depending on the size of your food processor [or the amount of vegetables you're starting with], you may need to do this in batches).  I like my gazpacho hearty, so I only run the food pro until everything is just diced, but if you want a smooth soup, let it go for longer and use a food mill to strain out the seeds and skins (you can also add a little water to each batch if you want to thin it out a bit).  Mix in vinegar (I used apple cider vinegar) and salt to taste; note that the vinegar flavor will become more pronounced after it has chilled, so stop just before you get to your preferred tang, and don't be surprised if you need a lot of salt—it can take it.  Pop it into the fridge for 15–30 minutes to chill and allow the flavors to meld together (you can certainly leave it for longer, if you want a really cold soup).

You can drizzle a bit of olive oil over the top, or add ribbons of fresh basil (as I did).  Served with a grilled cheese sandwich, it makes for a refreshing lunch or dinner on a triple-digit summer's day/eve.  Take that, desert heat!

Southern Europe - Pasta (Italy)

This post feels like cheating.  After all, it's really only half a recipe, because who eats plain noodles?  (Answer:  Me.)  But, assuming that they are not strange like me, people usually enjoy their pasta with something else, and I am not offering that something else here today.

Why?  Mostly, because since I've started making my own pasta, I have a new appreciation for a good noodle.  I can actually taste the pasta now, and you can't beat homemade for a toothsome bite.  Plus, it's incredibly easy to change up pasta, so one recipe becomes many.  I also think that pasta has a reputation for being difficult, when it's really pretty simple (especially if you have a pasta roller), and so demystifying the process seems like a good idea.  (I have guest blogged before about making pasta using just a rolling pin.  It is rough [terrible], but doable.)

At its core, pasta is just two ingredients:  flour and eggs.  In terms of flour, I prefer one with a high gluten content (sorry Cakesoups) because I think it produces the best texture, but you can really use whatever flour you have on hand. I usually go with semolina flour, though I have some Tipo 00 (the traditional Italian pasta flour) in the freezer that I should really think about trying, but I've been successful with standard all-purpose flour, too.  You should be a bit pickier about the eggs, because that's where a lot of the flavor (and much of the color) comes from.  If you can get your eggs straight from the farm (where you can even meet the chicken who laid them!), so much the better; happy chickens who get to scratch and peck and do important chicken-business things outside will produce much brighter yolks, and much tastier eggs, than their battery-caged counterparts.
 

happy eggs.

Ok, so technically you can make pasta entirely on the countertop (or whatever your work surface), but I tend to use a wide, shallow bowl for the first steps so as to limit the amount of mess I make (see guest blog link above).  Start with 1 1/4 c. flour of your choice; I like to add a pinch or two of salt and a few good scrapes of fresh nutmeg.  Mix that all together, then make a deep well in the center of the flour.  Crack in two (room temperature!) eggs, and, using your fingers, beat the eggs briefly in a circular motion until combined.  Continuing in a circle, slowly begin to move outward, incorporating the flour a bit at a time.  Once it's all turned in a a shaggy mess, you can add in the remaining flour more roughly.  Dump everything out onto your work surface, then mix everything together until you have a lump of dough.  If you're having trouble, you can add a drop or two of water to help everything stick.

Once you have a cohesive mound, you can start kneading.  The ease with which to dough responds to your caress is related to the flour: more gluteny flour (like semolina) can be pretty hard to knead, but try to resist the urge to add more water (semolina absorbs water slowly, so too much water to start will result in a soggy dough at the rolling stage).  You'll want to knead for about 10 minutes, or until the dough is elastic and ever-so-slightly tacky (but not sticky)—it should be something like a denser bread dough.  When kneaded to your liking, cover the dough in plastic wrap (or put into a ziploc bag) and let it rest for 30 minutes.

After the dough has had a quick nap, it's time to roll (literally).  I am one of those fortunate souls who has a Kitchenaid mixer with pasta roller attachment, but you can get hand-powered rollers (or you can be masochistic and do it will a rolling pin, which I don't really recommend).  You'll want to follow the instructions for whatever rolling mechanism you have, but here is some general advice:

1.  Roll the dough out on the widest setting a few times.  This helps provide an additional level of kneading to the dough, which makes it smoother and easier to work with.

2.  Make sure the dough is well-floured when you start.  This will keep it from sticking in the machine and/or tearing.

3.  Conversely, don't be too downtrodden if Sage Advice #1 is difficult.  I like my pasta dough to be pretty dry (as I find it makes for a delightfully al dente noodle), but this means having the run the dough through the roller several times.  It starts like this...

 

but can, with persistence and a few choice swears, be persuaded to become this

which can then be rolled out progressively thinner.

4.   Start off with a small hunk of the dough.  Otherwise, you'll end up with an extra-long sheet of pasta.

5.  If you want a toothsome noodle, DO NOT roll the pasta out to the thinnest setting.  Also, don't use the thinnest setting if you plan on making ravioli, because it might not be sturdy enough to contain the filling.  My roller goes to 8, and I usually stop at 6 for regular noodles, 4 or 5 for ravioli.

6.  Don't let your cat swat at the pasta as it dangles from the roller.  It's just a bad idea.

I'm full of bad ideas!

Once the pasta is rolled, you have several choices.  The pasta can be left in sheet form for lasagna, or you can cut it into squares for ravioli.  If you have a cutter attachment (mine came with fettuccine and angel hair), you can swap that out for the roller and have perfectly-sliced noodles (I recommend both rolling and slicing each piece of dough before moving on to rolling the next one, as cut noodles take up less space).  You can also do large noodles, like tagliatelle; just flour the sheets of dough, fold them up, and use a knife (or pizza cutter) to slice the noodles to your preferred dimensions.

Rustic tagliatelle

Be sure to keep everything well-floured (so that they do not stick to each other), then toss the noodles a bit with your fingers to separate them.  As for cooking, fresh noodles only need a minute or two (seriously!) in boiling water; fresh lasagna noodles need no precooking, and raviolis are done when they float to the top of the water (a couple of minutes at most).  This recipe usually makes enough pasta for four people, though you can also save any leftover in the refrigerator (wrapped tightly in plastic wrap) and roll it out the next day (though I wouldn't go much longer than one night in the fridge, or else the dough will get too dry).

You can also experiment with different colors and flavors; a tablespoon of blanched and finely-chopped spinach or roasted beet (added with the egg) will result in beautiful green or red pasta; if you have access to cuttlefish ink, you can make traditional pasta al nero di sepia (though it's less vegetarian-friendly, but super Venetian).  If you'd rather play around with flavor, spices and/or fresh herbs can liven up a noodle, but be sure to use a light sauce (or else you'll overpower the taste of the pasta).

CARBS: A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND.