Roasted Cauliflower and It's All in The Name

Chou-fleur.

It's a fact that some things just sound better in French. I'd rather dig into half a ruby-red pamplemousse for breakfast. Given the choice, I like the sound of sauteéd champignons layered on my steak. And Damien's favorite after a decade of French classes in school? The pommes de terre - far more romantic than a plain old potato.




But, above all, chou-fleur is my favorite. Among the first French words I learned while in culinary school, it's stayed with me ever since. Cauliflower has a quiet beauty that is often underappreciated and so I think its more-charming French name has an elegant ring to it and is therefore more apt. One thing's for sure, here in the States, no one ever accuses cauliflower of being high-brow. Universally loathed by children, and many adults for that matter, I'm not sure what places this veggie so much further down the ranks than, say, its relative broccoli. Or what about Romanesco? Romanesco, a more decorative variety of cauliflower, gets a lot of street-cred - and my theory is that, contrary to Shakespeare's thoughts on the subject, it's all in the name.




I think if the plain cauliflower were more widely known as chou-fleur, we'd see it on more menus and in more shopping carts and market bags. I also think that if cauliflower were roasted as a rule, rather than boiled or steamed, more cooks and eaters would sing its praises. I contend that it is hard to beat a good roasted chou-fleur - crispy, salted, caramelized edges take this humble vegetable from plain to fancy in one fell swoop. And with very little effort or seasoning - which means it had the raw talent all along - it just needs a little push in the right direction. Although as simple as can be, I love teaching this recipe in my classes because it gets them every. single. time. When I say you will eat the whole tray of this - I do not tell a lie. Made correctly, this chou-fleur is as satisfying as a tray of French fries. Almost.



What you'll need:
1 large head of cauliflower
salt and pepper
3-4 Tbsp olive oil

Preheat your oven to 450ªF.
Rinse and dry the cauliflower and separate into individual, bite-sized florets.
Transfer the florets to a baking sheet, making sure they are in one, even layer.
Season generously with salt and black pepper. Drizzle the olive oil over the florets. Use your hands to toss the cauliflower, coating it in the oil and seasoning.
Gently press the florets into one even layer on the sheet and insert into the center of the oven.
Roast for 30 minutes, remove from the oven, toss again and place the tray back into the oven for another 30 minutes, or until the edges are crispy and browned.

{Tips}
Make sure the cauliflower florets are very dry before tossing with the oil and placing in the oven - this will help them to roast and caramelize, rather than steam and soften.
Since cauliflower make for such a beautiful blank canvas, I often make variations of this dish by incorporating other herbs and spices. Depending on what it is accompanying, I often add curry powder, or rosemary and garlic topped with breadcrumbs, or a drizzle of lemon juice, or smoky paprika.

Kale and Spaghetti Squash Gratin and Preventing the Dreaded Curdle

It's fully sweater weather. Which I'm excited about, and not only because its arrival gave me an excuse to gift myself a couple of new cold-weather wardrobe items. I'm also excited because after a summer full of warm weather eating, I'm ready for some food with heft. I'm talking about food that comforts - warms you from the inside out. Just like this gratin.




There can be so much more to gratins than just potatoes. Greens, squash, sweet potatoes, root veggies of all kinds - all can be thrown into a delicious gratin. Layers of veggies and creamy, cheesy sauce - seems fairly straightforward. But it's not. I don't know if I'm the only one, but I think gratins are wolves in sheep's clothing.

The most awkward part about making gratins, my number one fear, is the risk of the curdle. There's nothing worse than putting time and energy into making a gratin, slicing potatoes with precision, creating neat layer after layer - only to pull it from the oven, dig in and find your perfect potatoes swimming in curds and whey. Unless your dinner guest is Little Miss Muffet, I'll bet a split, curdled sauce is not exactly what you had in mind.





There are a lot of reasons why gratins curdle. The two biggest offenders are acid splitting the sauce and baking the gratin in an oven that is too hot.





Because the cream sauce in a gratin is often comprised of whole milk, cream or half and half, the sauce runs a pretty high risk of splitting when anything with a smidgeon of acid in it gets involved. Acid is in most of the foods that you might add to that gratin - leeks, onions, garlic, herbs. In order to considerably lower this risk, take the time to build a stable cream sauce before putting the gratin together. This means making a bechamel sauce as your foundation instead of just pouring milk or cream over the sliced potatoes in the dish and adding cheese and breadcrumbs on top. So, start with a roux, I made mine with half butter and half oil, and then slowly whisk in the warm liquid and a bit of cheese. It's a bit more of a hassle, but worth it in the end.




Now that you've gone to the trouble of making the sauce, be sure to give it a fair chance by letting that gratin cook on a lower temperature than you would normally - try around 325ºF - placing it uncovered under the broiler for the last few minutes to brown the top. Allowing the cream sauce to violently bubble and boil for a long time in the oven will almost definitely split it.



I guess this isn't technically a 'gratin' because I omitted breadcrumbs from the top. I didn't have any on hand, nor did I have the bread to make some - but you could definitely add a layer on top, which you would do just before baking.

Fills one 8'' round baking dish
What you'll need:
1 small spaghetti squash, one that weighs ~2 lbs
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, cut into 1/2 inch dice
4 cups baby kale (or 1 large bunch kale of your choice)
2 Tbsp flour
1 1/4 cups half and half, maybe a bit more
1/2 cup Parmigiano-Reggiano, freshly grated
Salt
Black pepper
Cayenne pepper


Preheat the oven to 375ºF
Cut the spaghetti squash in half, place each half, cut side down, on a parchment lined baking tray. Bake for 30 minutes.
Remove from oven and allow to cool until you can handle it.
Use a spoon to remove the seeds from the squash. Then, using a fork, scrape back and forth, creating long strands of 'spaghetti.'
Once each half has been scraped clean, discard the skins and set the bowl of spaghetti squash aside.

Gently warm the half and half in a small pot on a back burner, keeping an eye on it to be sure it doesn't boil over.

In a wide pan, sauté the diced onions in the butter and oil over medium-low heat, until they begin to brown - around 15 minutes.
Add the kale to the onions and season with salt, pepper and cayenne. Stir to incorporate.
Once the kale has wilted, sprinkle with the flour and stir well - until the flour is transluscent and sticks to the veggies.
Using a whisk, slowly incorporate the warm half and half, until it thickens to a sauce.
Bring to a simmer, stir and if the sauce is gloppy and too thick, add a bit more half and half until it is thinned - it should coat the back of a spoon.
Add half of the cheese, stir to melt it and turn off the heat.
Add the squash to this mixture. Stir well to coat and transfer the entire mixture to a baking dish.
Top with the remaining cheese and place under the broiler for 8-10 minutes, until the cheese is golden brown.

Game-changer, Tip #7: Homemade Ricotta

Since deciding to leap into the world of freelancing, I often feel as though I'm performing a spectacle of plate spinning. Constantly trying to keep the plates going, adding new ones all the time - take my eye off of one, and the whole thing is liable to fall to pieces.

One of the many plates I spin is restaurant reviewing. A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of checking out a restaurant in Fort Greene, called Lulu & Po. By far the most delectable thing I was served all night was a more-ish plate of homemade ricotta, pesto and warm pizza dough. The idea was to top the bites of crackly dough with the creamy ricotta, drizzle with the pesto and munch away. It was as simple anything and yet, heaven on earth. The kind of dish that makes you want to curl up in a bed of it.


Making homemade ricotta is kind of trending in the world of food. Forgive me for this, but I guess you could say that it's ri-hotta at the moment. I'm not entirely sure why the sudden spike in interest - maybe it's because people recently discovered how easy it is to make. And maybe it's also a revolt against the extremely steep price tag that seems to be slapped on fresh ricotta in various cheese joints, which will go unnamed, all over this town.

This isn't an unattainable kitchen dream reserved for only the most skilled of chefs and cheese-makers. ANYONE can do it people - that means you. Fresh ricotta is mind blowingly delicious and definitely a cooking game changer. The next time someone asks you to fork over 8 or 9 dollars for a shockingly small container of fresh ricotta, just say no. Instead buy some heavy cream and a lemon, use the milk and salt you already have at home and be on your way.



I had some pizza dough, frozen from my last batch. I defrosted it until it was room temp, rolled it out, drizzled liberally with olive oil and dusted with sea salt before baking it for a little bit longer than I would if I were making a regular pizza. The goal was a crisp crust to contrast with the pillowy ricotta. I drizzled a little honey on top of each dollop of ricotta, making for a salty, sweet, lemony bite every time.

The best part about ricotta is that it's a cooking project that won't hijack your day. Get it started and leave it to drain while you get on with whatever you've got on tap for your Saturday or Sunday. And, don't fret about the pizza dough if you don't have it on hand, substitute fresh crusty bread or toasted crostini - or just eat it with a spoon while no one is watching.


What you'll need:
Yields around 1 cup of ricotta

2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
3 Tbsp lemon juice or white wine vinegar
3/4 tsp sea salt
1 Tbsp lemon zest
A few drizzles of honey

Combine the milk and cream in a small pot and place it over medium heat.
Gently bring to a light boil and add the acid. Stir once and lower heat, cooking for another 2-3 minutes.
Turn the heat off and leave the pot untouched for 30-40 minutes.
While you wait for the curds to fully develop, line a sieve or colander with two to three layers of cheesecloth.
After 30-40 minutes, gently ladle the curds into the lined sieve.
Once you have transferred all of the curds, gently pull the sides of the cheesecloth up and lay them over the curds, to lightly cover.
Allow to sit and drain for at least 15 minutes. The longer it drains, the thicker it will become. Please note though, that the longer it sits, the more risk of it drying out, so 10-15 minutes should be sufficient.
Store the ricotta in an airtight container in the fridge for a couple of days. Although, you'll want to use it immediately.

Game-Changer, Tip #6: Marinate Some Artichokes

Who doesn't love a good marinated artichoke heart, amiright? They're so dang versatile. Salads, fish, pizzas, frittatas, pastas, antipasto platters. Whir them with some of their oil in a food processor and you've got a homemade artichoke dip. Bam.


It's true, you can buy marinated artichoke hearts, ready to go. But if you hit the olive bar for those guys, you're looking at having to pony up somewhere around $9 a pound. And marinated artichoke hearts, with all of their lovely oily goodness, are not lightweights my friends - they have some heft to them. So, you might be unpleasantly surprised to find that the 4 whole artichoke hearts you managed to cram into that little plastic container cost more than the 6 pack you have in the other hand.

The ones on the shelf in the jar are cheaper, yes - but, they also include stuff like 'natural flavor' or preservatives and if you think that company is allowing you to pay a mere 3 bucks for artichokes packed in a high quality olive oil you are mistaken. Those artichokes that seem like kind of a good deal, are definitely packed in veggie oil - and I don't know about you, but given the choice, I'd rather be eating a heart-healthy oil, like olive oil. Not to mention, they usually taste rubbery and bland.


So. Here's the tip - make your own. Buy a 12 oz bag of frozen artichoke hearts from Trader Joe's for like $2.50 and get marinating.

The end result is much better bang for your buck and your taste buds. You're in full control of flavors and ingredients - so you can rest easy chomping into those artichoke hearts knowing they haven't been overly inundated with sodium, veggie oil or preservatives. Once marinated, you have them on hand as an easy and flavorful addition to - well - just about anything.


What you'll need:
1 12 oz package of frozen artichoke hearts, defrosted
1 cup cider vinegar
1 cup water
1 dried chili pepper or 1 teaspoon chili flakes
1 bay leaf
3-4 sprigs fresh oregano, rinsed and dried
1 lemon - zested into strips
5 cloves garlic, whole
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black peppercorns


Bring all of the ingredients, except for the artichoke hearts, to a boil in a small pot over medium heat.  

Add artichoke hearts and mix to fully cover them in liquid. 

Turn the heat down and cook on a low simmer for 5 minutes. 

Using a slotted spoon, remove the artichoke hearts from the liquid and lay in a large bowl or dish to cool down to room temperature. 

{At this stage, I also retain the lemon strips, garlic cloves and chili pepper, since I want to keep those in the jar while the artichokes continue to marinade in oil, but that's up to you.}

Once the artichoke hearts have cooled down - pile them high in a 14-16 oz jar with a tight seal. 

Cover the artichoke hearts with good olive oil - make sure they are really completely blanketed by the oil - and close the jar. 

They're done. Ready to go.

{Tips}

If you don't have fresh oregano on hand, maybe go for a few sprigs of fresh thyme - or leave it out.

If you are adverse to spice, leave out the chili altogether.
You should store the artichokes in the fridge - they should last for at least a month.
Don't waste the oil - that's good stuff! Use the oil you have leftover for pestos, pasta sauces, omelettes or anything that can use and handle the extra flavor.

Game-changer, Tip #5: Infuse Your Own Oil

I have never spent money on a bottle of flavored oil. Each time I am tempted and catch myself grabbing the neck of a bottle to lift off the shelf, I am inevitably plowed over with sticker-shock. I'm left standing in the aisle, holding the bottle, jaw agape, thinking, I have oil and garlic at home - why should I pay $8 for this? 

Chances are that you already have at least one type of oil in your pantry. And, if you're anything like me, a mind-bending collection of spices waiting in the wings, ready for their big shot in the spotlight. So, you're already prepared. Making your own flavored oil is a doddle. Ready in no time - they'll bring flavor to your life in a big time way. Taking five minutes to infuse your own oil is a game-changer. Your taste-buds will thank you for this one.

Warning: once you start making your own flavored oils, you might end up with a fridge full of them. It only takes one time. It's a highly-addictive habit.

Here's the scoop for the hot infusion technique, using fresh rosemary:
Pour 1/2 cup of olive oil into a pot - throw in a couple stalks of cleaned and well-dried rosemary. Let it steep over moderate heat. Strain and decant into a tightly sealed jar. Put it in the fridge for rosemary-flavored delights all week.

Instead of whole herbs, you can also experiment with aromatics such as garlic, lemongrass, shallots and fresh chilies. Or, try your hand at infusing peanut oil or more neutral grapeseed oil with whole spices like star anise, cardamom or coriander seeds. Looking for a little more citrus in your life?

I made a quick chili oil by infusing 1 Tbsp. of crushed red chili flakes with 1/2 cup olive oil - I intend to use it to make eggs this morning and on top of homemade pizza later this week.

Garlic oil is an obvious choice - call on it for a quick pasta sauce, as a dipping oil for bread, as the oil in which you saute veggies when staring your next soup, or to coat a roast chicken before placing it in the oven.

My last suggestion is a versatile lemon oil. Infuse oil with the zest of a lemon and top risottos, cous cous, fish or chicken for an extra layer of citrus essence.

Look at your spice cabinet. Look at your herb garden. Think of the possibilities.

A word to the wise: Anytime you add fresh herbs or veggies to oil you run the risk of accidentally also adding some unwanted bacteria to the mix. This is mainly due to their water content. Make sure all of the organic matter is strained from the oil before storing it & use it within a week, keeping it tightly sealed in the fridge.
The risks of bacteria are far less when using completely dried spices and herbs - although they don't last forever either. So your best bet, even with the dried spices, is to make a little bit at a time - enough to use within two weeks or so.

Game-changer, Tip #4: Not Complex, Just {Compound} Butter

Growing up, I detested cold, raw, hard butter. I never buttered my bread. It was like biting into tasteless chunks of cold fat. I think my butter-loving gene went to my youngest brother, because he had a long-time love affair with butter and ate enough for the both of us. Knowing it wasn't socially acceptable to eat butter with a fork, he used bread as a vehicle to ingest butter. He piled it on his bread, gradually pecked away at it, and when none remained, spread more butter on same piece of bread and continued this process, careful never to get a mouthful of actual bread. Until someone {probably bossy older sister, aka me} yelled at him to stop from the other side of the table.

Don't worry about my brother's cholesterol or the lack of butter in my life - he grew out of that stage and I have since seen the light. To have survived a classical French culinary training, life in both France and Ireland, and come out on the other end not obsessed with butter would have been an impossible task. But butter is different in Europe. Without a doubt, it's creamier, a dose more salty and just more flavorful overall. Butter is often not refrigerated in Europe, rendering it always spreadable and never at danger of ripping your bread to shreds. The chilly temperature of the fridge is a common flavor-killer - lots of foods would be better enjoyed if taken from the fridge and allowed to warm, just slightly, enough to get rid of the chill. That way, rather than just tasting cold, you are able to enjoy the actual flavors of the food.

This is true for butter as well. Do your own experiment if you don't believe me. Take a small knob of butter out of your fridge and leave it out until it is room temperature. Spread that on a piece of room temperature bread. Taste it. Then take a cold slice of butter from your fridge and {try to} spread that on a piece of room temperature bread. Taste it. Which better highlights the flavor of the actual butter?

Allowing butter to live in a butter dish on your counter has added benefits beyond constant spreadability and better flavor. When room temperature, it is easily turned into compound butter, which is a fancy term for flavored butter. It might be an old-school technique, but making compound butter is definitely a game-changer.

Picture, if you will, a dollop of roasted garlic compound butter added to the top of a still-hot-from-the-grill steak, its melted, sweet, garlicky goodness spilling down the sides, permeating the steak for ultimate flavor. Try putting a dish of chive butter on the table next time you serve mashed or baked potatoes. What about orange butter for your Sunday morning pancakes? Take a welcomed break from the monotonous and spread cinnamon butter on your weekday morning toast. All you need is room temperature salted butter and your choice of herbs, spices or aromatics - the list of possibilities limited only by your imagination.

Recently, having gotten pretty sick of listening to myself talk about doing it, I finally decided to start growing herbs in our apartment. I have to say, beyond the obvious culinary benefits of having fresh herbs at my disposal, my mini herb garden has proven a thrifty way to decorate our place. Yesterday, I had my first "harvest" of lemon verbena, lemon balm and oregano. Since oregano and lemon are best flavor friends, I went for it and made this delectable compound butter destined for afternoon snacks and a possible roasted-chicken.

What you'll need:
Unsalted butter
Herbs, spices or aromatics
Salt and black pepper

If using herbs, mince them up. If using roasted garlic, turn it into a paste. If using raw garlic, shallots, ginger, etc, I recommend grating them directly into the butter to better disseminate the flavor throughout. If using citrus zest, use a microplaner.
In a bowl, add flavoring of choice, salt and pepper to the room temperature butter, gently folding the seasoning so as not to overwork it. You can also do this in the bowl of a stand mixer, using the ladle attachment on low speed.
Reshape by filling a ramekin or other mold and allow to chill slightly, if you'd like. Or you can try wrapping it tightly with plastic wrap or wax paper, and molding it into a long cylindrical log, like you would with cookie dough. If you allow it to chill in the freezer for a short while, you can slice the butter easily and arrange on a plate. {Remember to let it come back up to room temp before using it!}

Game-changer, Tip #3: Parmesan Rinds are Flavor Gold

This tip is short and sweet. You know that wedge of Parmigiano-reggiano that you've been grating away at for the last month or so? Once it gets down to a seemingly worthless nub, don't throw it out! That little end piece still has lots to offer. Parm rinds are flavor gold and using them to boost your soups, stews and sauces is a game-changer.

The concept is quite simple - drop that rind into whatever you've got bubblin' away on the stove for an added flavor extravaganza. The same soups, stews or sauces you might think of topping with a hit of Parmesan cheese are good contenders for the rind move. It offers an earthy undertone and a subtle cheese flavor that will have you hoarding cheese rinds and shocked that you ever disposed of them.

The weather the last few days had really been getting to me. Even though yesterday was half-decent, I was just not appreciating that nip in the air. I wanted to curl up with soup. Something warming to envelop my soul and transport me from my weather (and birthday) blues. I took to the stove and concocted this white bean and potato soup with parmesan, topped with beautiful greenmarket spring onions that I crisped up along with bacon bits. It's got comfort written all over it.

You'll need:
Potatoes, 4 or 5 large, peeled and diced into large chunks
White beans (cannellini beans), 2 cups (pre-soaked)
Stock, 6 cups
Bacon, 5 or 6 slices, diced into thin strips
Parmesan rind, 1
Spring onions, 4 or 5 onions diced
Garlic cloves, 3 or 4 crushed
Fresh parsley, 1 handful
Red chili flakes, 1 or 2 pinches
Bay leaf, 1
Salt and fresh cracked black pepper

In a large stock pot, combine the beans, stock, bay leaf, chili flakes, garlic cloves and parmesan rind.
Allow to simmer on medium-low heat until the beans begin to tenderize.
Season with salt and pepper.
Add the peeled, diced potatoes and chopped fresh parsley.

In a separate nonstick pan, fry the bacon bits until brown and crispy.
Remove bacon, leaving the rendered fat in the pan. Use that same bacon fat to fry the chopped spring onions until crispy and golden.
Remove from pan with a slotted spoon and place on paper towel to drain excess fat.

Once the potatoes and beans are cooked, taste and adjust seasoning.
Remove the Parm rind and bay leaf from the pot.
Ladle soup into bowls and top with a generous sprinkling of crispy bacon and spring onions.

Game-changer, Tip #2: Make your own salad dressing

Homemade salad dressing will transform your salads and your pantry. All of those seemingly fancy or difficult-to-make vinaigrettes in restaurants can be on the table at your house too. Getting in the habit of whipping up your own dressings is worth it. It's a cooking game-changer.

I know what you're thinking. Why make your own when you can grab that bottle with the attractive label that sits on the supermarket shelf and contains lots of salad dressing awaiting your consumption? The first reason is actually about 10 reasons - the ingredients listed on the back of that bottle. Depending on which brand is your go-to, that dressing with which you just doused your once-fresh-and-healthy-salad is probably loaded with sugar in the form of high fructose corn syrup, amongst other various emulsifiers, additives and preservatives designed to make it last for-ev-er. Plus - isn't it kind of depressing when you peer inside your fridge and see the door lined with 15 half-used bottles of salad dressing? Take back your fridge and think of all the money you will save in the process. Money not spent on pre-made dressings can be instead used to fill your pantry with other multi-tasking ingredients, like oils and a variety of vinegars. It's greener to make your own salad dressing too - less waste in the form of empty jars and bottles. See? Good for your wallet, good for your health, good for the earth. The benefits are endless.

We live in an age ruled by convenience and buying salad dressing is nothing if not convenient. But, equipped with the right tools (read: a mason jar) and a little know-how about the basics of salad dressing science, you'll soon see endless salad dressing possibilities in your basic fridge and pantry ingredients.

Bear with me here - I promise this is as mathematical as I get. Here's the very basic equation:
1 part acid + 3 parts fat + some salt and pepper.

So for a quick lunch vinaigrette:
1 Tbsp. vinegar of choice + 3 Tbsp. olive oil + salt and pepper. Whisk it together. Boom - you've already made salad dressing.

A classic French vinaigrette uses the same ratio, but also standardly includes dijon mustard and a shallot. It's a great staple to have on hand, because like most salad dressings, they can be called on for double-duty as a meat or fish marinade. Seeing as how it's so versatile, maybe you want to make a lot of this basic French vinaigrette and have it on hand for the next week or two:
1/2 cup white wine vinegar +
1 1/2 cups extra virgin olive oil +
salt and pepper +
a tsp of dijon mustard +
1 minced shallot
Put it all in mason jar, shake it up, stick in the fridge. Done.

Now for the exciting part. This is where it gets fancy. Acid doesn't just mean vinegar. Why not use fresh citrus juice instead? Lemons, limes, grapefruits, oranges - all will happily oblige.

It's not just the vinegars that can be switched in and out (sherry, cider, champagne, rice wine, balsamic) there's also an endless array of oils (walnut, peanut, hazelnut, sesame) just waiting to be paired with a nice bit of acid.

Or, how about making a WARM dressing for your next spinach salad - use the bacon fat left in the pan instead of oil!

Add fresh herbs to the mix. Add minced garlic, shallot, ginger.

One of my favorites is this cider vinegar and tarragon dressing. Get a wide mouthed mason jar and throw in:
1/2 cup cider vinegar +
1 cup extra virgin olive oil +
2 cloves garlic  +
1 tsp of dijon mustard +
1 sprig of fresh tarragon, leaves only +
salt and pepper
With a little help from my trusty hand blender, I whiz it all up, right in the jar. No mess and the dressing is ready for duty. No hand blender? No worries. Here's your chance to break out that food processor that you never use. Or if you have a mortar and pestle, first smash up the chunkier ingredients, like herbs, capers, garlic and shallots and then shake it all up with the remaining ingredients in a clean jar. For all of these dressings, a basic whisk fueled by good ole' fashioned elbow grease will suffice, but it is more difficult to achieve an emulsion - which is fancy talk for getting the oil and vinegar to combine and stay that way. A bit of mustard does help the emulsion along. I like the shaking in a jar because it's fast and vigorous enough to achieve an emulsion without breaking your arm off with the whisk.

Hopefully, you get the idea. Once you become a vinaigrette aficionado you can start to experiment with your own flavors and ratios. For example, since I like acidic dressings with real bite, I tend to go easy on the oil resulting in dressings that are closer to 1 part acid + 2 parts fat.

No need to reinvent the wheel, either. Although the ingredient list on standard store-bought dressings can leave a lot to be desired, the basic flavor combinations might be on point. So it's not like you have to give up your favorite dressing - just "borrow" the flavors as inspiration. Honey and mustard. Orange with ginger. Garlic and balsamic. Oregano and feta with red wine vinegar.


So, what are you waiting for? Get experimenting! In case you need a little nudge, here's a lemon and caper vinaigrette that I like for everything from drizzling over grilled asparagus or stuffed artichokes, to dressing a simple arugula or escarole salad, to using as a quick fish marinade.
I recently read an article featuring Chef April Bloomfield's lemon-caper dressing on Food 52 - and she leaves whole lemon bits and whole capers in the dressing, which is an option too.

Lemon and caper vinaigrette:
The juice and zest of one lemon +
3 times that in extra virgin olive oil +
1 large garlic or shallot +
1 tsp dijon mustard +
salt and pepper +
1 heaping teaspoon of whole capers

Using a hand blander, puree it all together.

Using a mortar and pestle - crush up the capers and shallot/garlic and lemon zest. Add that to a jar with the remaining ingredients and shake, shake, shake.

Using a food processor - combine all of the ingredients, save the oil, in the bowl of the processor. Pulse a few times to chop - then on low to medium speed, drizzle the oil through the lid.

Using a whisk? You know the drill.
                                                         

Game-changer, Tip #1: Roasted Garlic

Roasted garlic is manna from heaven. It is easily achieved and having it in your arsenal means you can transform a multitude of humdrum dishes into something special. Dishes with a little je ne sais quoi. It's simple and it's a cooking game-changer.

It is one of the rare treats in life for which minimal effort is required, but there is maximum payoff. After it has roasted, you will find garlic transformed - the roasting process condenses all of its natural sweetness and rids the garlic of any bite or hint of spice, leaving you with the creamy, flavor-engorged cloves that are are certain to breathe new life into your most played out dishes. One caveat to keep in mind is that even though this garlic plus roasting equation leaves you with a sweeter product, it also means that the garlic flavor becomes milder. Therefore, adding just a few cloves of roasted garlic to a dish, as you might when it's raw, does you no good. In terms of roasted garlic quantities, think more in heads than cloves - depending on what your making, one or two whole bulbs of garlic should usually suffice.

The added bonus is that while it's roasting, you can look forward to what flavors are to come, but you are instantly gratified by the aroma that wafts through your kitchen. And if you live in a NYC apartment like mine, then it'll waft through your bedroom, living room and bathroom too.

Roasted garlic seems luxurious. Maybe it's because I already hold raw garlic in such high esteem, that roasted garlic is almost too good to be true. If garlic is the princess then roasted garlic is the queen. And so I ask you, which of your friends wouldn't be impressed with a roasted garlic aioli? Or delighted to be served your homemade roasted garlic butter? You can add roasted garlic to your pizza, homemade pasta, make roasted garlic hummus, infuse a cream sauce with roasted garlic, whip up a batch of roasted garlic mashed potatoes, experiment with salad dressings, swirl it into a soup, slather it on a hunk of crusty bread, even make cookies? Well, maybe I'd draw the line at cookies, but you get the point.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
Dig out a head of garlic.
Cut through the entire bulb at the tip-top, just to expose the flesh of the cloves. I use a bread knife for this step, because the serrated edges cleanly cut through the papery skin, but you can also just use a sharp knife.
Place the garlic on a piece of tin foil  and sprinkle it with salt, cracked black pepper and a smidgeon of olive oil.
Encase the garlic in the tin foil, making a tightly wrapped ball.
Place it in the middle of the oven rack.
Wait.
(You're going to start smelling that garlic and that's going to make you want to open the oven - but don't do it!)
Wait at least 45 minutes, maybe an hour - depending on how large the head of garlic - and remove it from the oven.
Again, this step requires patience: DO NOT attempt to handle the garlic straight from the oven - I promise, you will burn yourself.
Once it's cool enough to handle, hold it by the root end and either squeeze the softened cloves directly into whatever dish or sauce you are infusing OR to ensure a more even distribution of flavors, I sometimes squeeze the softened cloves onto my cutting board and paste it (read: smush it all together with the back of my knife) - leaving me with silky smooth, roasted garlic paste that I can confidently mix it into my dish, knowing there won't be any lumps or uneven flavor pockets.

I had good intentions of using this roasted garlic for a pasta dish. But, alas, between the smell and my rumbling belly, I could not wait. I found myself in Mazzola bakery purchasing a loaf of olive bread, on which I slathered my roasted garlic paste and ate it all. One slice at a time.