A Cranberry Tart and Some Exciting News

Cranberries can be so much more than just juice and sauce.




As a big fan of cranberries, I am not against either form of cranberry - actually, I am kind of against the jiggly cranberry sauce that plops from a can and then remains a cylinder of red jelly. I just think there is more room in the kitchen for cranberries than we sometimes allow for. It's as if someone decided cranberries weren't good enough, perhaps because they aren't as naturally sweet as other berries, and they've been in the corner ever since. Think about it - they don't even make the cut when it comes to listing all the types of berries: strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries - never cranberries. And when it comes to talk about fruits packed with antioxidants and being extraordinarily good-for-you - blueberries hog all the spotlight. But then Thanksgiving rolls around, and everyone suddenly loves cranberries, only to be cast aside again on Friday - shelved for another year.

Poor cranberries - you're not bad, you're just different.



So, because I don't think cranberries should play second fiddle to other berries anymore, here is one attempt at letting them shine.




I borrowed this recipe from David Tanis via Food & Wine Magazine. The only change I made was to use almond flour instead of AP flour in the almond custard - just for an added almond boost. And while this tart will be brought along to my family's Thanksgiving festivities tomorrow, it's going to become a regular hit on my ever-growing playlist. The cranberry-almond combo is one of my all time faves, so this tart will make appearances throughout the fall and winter - not just for Thanksgiving.

And, as if the payoff of a delicious dessert wasn't incentive enough to make this tart, it has an added bonus - the bright red cranberry syrup you'll be left with in the end. I have all sorts of ideas for what I'll do with mine - I'm picturing scrumptious holiday cocktails, cranberry spiked ice cubes, cranberry-shortbread cookies and even a little tart and sweet topping for my morning yogurt and granola. And I might freeze some - so that I can get show some cranberry love in the off-season, too.




Before I leave you to enjoy your Thanksgiving holiday - I'll share some exciting news. The good folks at Gather Journal just came out with their new fall/winter issue - and I'm delighted to be a contributor. Gather Journal is a dream read for anyone who is into food or just beautiful photos - so definitely check out their list of stockists and pick up a copy! You'll be hooked - just like I was.

Pumpkin Curry and Bland Disappointment

Full disclosure - this dish looks better than it tasted and I loathe disappointment in the kitchen.

My friend and favorite farmer, Hector, generously gifted me with this beautiful sugar pumpkin and I couldn't wait to get it into my oven. To be honest, I have never cooked with real pumpkin before - always the store bought puree. As I schlepped it home from the market, visions of homemade pumpkin puree, pumpkin pie, roasted pumpkin seeds, pumpkin scones and pumpkin curry danced in my head.




It was a big'un - weighing in at at around 4 lbs, so I knew I would have more than enough to realize at least two of the scrumptious pumpkin dishes I had in mind. The first half went into an adaptation of Nigel Slater's pumpkin curry. The second half was destined for puree so that I could make a minified version of Kate's honey whole wheat pumpkin bread. Well, I highly recommend the bread recipe. Baked and devoured within one 24 hr period - I enjoyed it with afternoon tea, nibbled on it as pre-dinner snack, had it with vanilla ice cream for dessert and with my coffee the next morning. However, if you are going to make this curry dish, do what I immediately wished I had done after tasting it - make it with sweet potatoes or butternut squash.




I wouldn't have minded the recipe fail as much if it had been a less labor-intensive dish. However, after hitting a couple of different stores for the ingredients that I don't always have on hand, like lemongrass stalks, chilies and ginger - and then having to blend pastes, etc, ending up with a dish that is less-than tasty is, frankly, annoying.



Part of it is my own fault - I got the bones of this recipe from Nigel Slater's Tender, and while it is housed in the 'Pumpkin and Other Winter Squash' chapter, I should have remembered from my time in Ireland that sometimes the squashes we specifically identify as winter squash all fall under the umbrella term of pumpkin in the UK and Ireland. So, the ingredient that Mr. Slater universally identifies as pumpkin in this chapter and recipe, could actually be what we know as butternut squash or acorn squash, or even the rather sweet kabocha squash. And I suspect that's what he intended because this dish needed some of those natural sugars.

I also willingly take the brunt of the blame because I broke a cardinal rule of cooking - one that was drilled into me in cooking school - to taste, taste, taste! I cut up the pumpkin and hastily threw it into the curry sauce, which I had spent the better part of an hour meticulously building, without nibbling the pumpkin first to see that it was worthy. If I had tasted the pumpkin before chucking it in there, I would have found that it was, in fact, rather bland and tasteless and not suitable for this curry. No amount of spices and aromatics were gonna save that pumpkin from the land of bland. Ah, the regret.

But, all is well that ends well - we didn't starve that night. As an antidote to the tasteless pumpkin, I doused it in lime and blanketed it in cilantro and upped the spice ante and we ate it. And I rapidly got over it - the delish pumpkin bread helped. And I learned a lesson - which is that I don't really like cooking savory dishes with sugar pumpkins. So, in the future, I'll be reserving them only for purees and baking.

But - definitely make this dish!  Because this dish really needs an extra kick of sweet and because I want to spare you the same mistake I made, I adapted the recipe below to include butternut squash rather than pumpkin.



Recipe adapted from Nigel Slater's, Tender
Thai-style Winter Squash Curry with Chickpeas
What you'll need
For 4 servings

4 large garlic cloves
1 3-inch piece of ginger, peeled
1 stalk lemongrass, tough outer leaves removed
1 chili, fresh or dried, chopped
2 Tbsp coconut oil
2 large shallots, minced
1 Tbsp yellow mustard seeds, toasted
1 large can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
2 tsp ground coriander
2 tsp ground turmeric
1/2 tsp ground cayenne
6 cardamom pods
1 lb butternut squash, peeled and diced into bite-sized pieces
1 cup veggie stock
1 can coconut milk (13.5 oz)
Salt and pepper
1 bunch fresh cilantro
2 limes

Combine the peeled garlic, ginger, diced lemongrass and chili in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until pureed. Reserve to the side.
In a large heavy-bottomed pot, combine the coconut oil, yellow mustard seeds and shallots. Sauté over medium-low heat until the onion begins to turn translucent at the edges - 3-4 minutes.
Add the garlic/ginger/lemongrass/chili paste and chickpeas. Season with salt and pepper and stir. Cook for another 2-3 minutes, until the mixture becomes fragrant.
Use the back of your knife to crack open the cardamom pods - roughly chop the seeds housed within the pods. Add the chopped seeds to the pot along with the cardamom, turmeric and cayenne.
Next, add the diced squash and stock, stirring well to combine. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and cook over medium-low heat, so that the liquid is just simmering, until the squash is fork-tender - about 15-20 minutes.
Add the coconut milk to the pot and stir. Continue to simmer, uncovered, over very low heat for another 5-10 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning as necessary.

Serve over brown rice and garnish with fresh chopped cilantro and half a lime.

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.

The Hurricane

Sandy stranded me in Arizona. In Tucson for a dear friend's wedding, a three day trip turned into a week-long trip and a small group of us, the NYC refugees, banded together to make the most of it, all the while worrying about our families, friends, work and empty apartments back in NYC. When would we get home? What would we find when we got there?

Considering the utter destruction Sandy brought to my precious Red Hook and other spots across this city I love so well, I consider myself very lucky. When I look at the post-apocolyptic-esque photos coming out of places like Breezy Point, Staten Island and Hoboken, I am quite aware of my good fortune as I type this from my couch in my well-powered apartment, with the hiss of the heat in the background and the ability to shower, brush my teeth, and cook a meal. Many of my fellow Brooklyn and NYC neighbors cannot do any of the above - and I am truly grateful.

As we circled Newark airport last night, the view from my seat revealed a New York I did not recognize. We soared past a half-lit Manhattan skyline that I honestly wouldn't have spotted if not for the illumination of the Empire State Building that marked not only 34th street, but also where the power ended. In areas of vast darkness throughout New Jersey and New York, the only lights were those of flashing blue and red - emergency vehicles still dealing with the devastating aftermath. After a week out west fully removed from the reality of this storm, watching news reports and devouring newspaper articles in an effort to get a picture of what we were missing and coming home to - we finally started to understand.

Today, I've tried to catch up on things I've missed while away, but entering this late in the game, I'm finding it hard to get back to normal when I know that so many of my local haunts have been battered and brought to a screeching halt by this storm. In the coming days and weeks and in typical New York fashion, this city and its residents will get through this. I will definitely volunteer time and donations of basic necessities to those impacted in Red Hook. I know that the Red Hook Initiative is helping to organize efforts down there specifically, but there are lots of organizations like them throughout New York and New Jersey doing the same, so if you have time and are able - people are obviously in need of it.

Here's a good list of volunteer sites for this weekend.
And folks such as these cyclists help to make this city great.
These costumed kids made me smile.
This woman is awesome.

There is no recipe here this week because, well, it just doesn't seem relevant and for the first time since I started this blog, the food is on the back burner.

White Clam Sauce and How to Tackle Clams

About once a month, a hankering for linguine with white clam sauce sneaks up from behind, taps me on the shoulder and tells me to pull up a chair at the nearest Italian restaurant so I can order a big, steaming bowl. The most memorable of these sneak-attacks was after my mother and I had seen a movie starring Bill Crystal and Robert DeNiro in which DeNiro, surprise surprise, portrays an Italian mob boss. The movie was rather forgettable - but the scene that starred a mountain of linguine with white clam sauce clearly stayed with us because right after exiting the theater we went on a mission for that sauce. Many miles and a few restaurants later, we silently scraped clams and twirled our forks around mouthfuls of linguine.

Like so many great Italian dishes, the beauty of this meal is in its simplicity - which also means that the raw ingredients have to be quality. For a finger-licking briny clam sauce, that means getting some really good clams. Mine were fresh from coastal Long Island and I picked them up from the fishmongers at the greenmarket on Saturday. I had really good intentions of cooking them on Sunday - but then as life is sometimes wont to do - something better came up and we skipped the clam sauce Sunday night.

Did I fret about the fresh clams chilling in my fridge? Nay, I did not. Because Andy, the fishmonger, shared some helpful tips for keeping the clams fresh. He told me to put them in a metal bowl - no fresh water because the clams would drown - covered with a damp kitchen towel. And never put them directly on ice because the fresh water left by the melting ice cubes would also kill them. If stored dry in a metal bowl, they'll apparently stay fresh for 5-7 days in the fridge. Now, I'm not going to tell you I'd be all that comfortable with eating clams that have been in my fridge for a week, but I can tell you that they tasted fresh from the sea by the time I got around to making this meal - and that was 4 days after I had purchased them.

Once you're ready to cook the clams, be sure to carefully sort them. Any clams, and this goes for mussels too, with broken shells should never see your pot - you should toss them. Once sorted, use a veggie brush to give them a serious scrub-down and then immerse them in cold water for 15-20 minutes. You'll find that any remaining sand or silt will fall to the bottom of the bowl, which is a good thing, because that means all that sand or silt won't end up in the bottom of your sauce. Scoop the clams from the water and they're ready to go.

Because I have no issue with pairing garlic with garlic, I ate my garlicky clam sauce with broccoli rabe, sizzled in garlic oil and eaten straight up. Some folks blanch their broccoli rabe before sautéing it to remove some of its bitterness - but I like the bitter, so I skip that step.



For 4 people
What you'll need:
3 dozen littleneck clams (8-9 per person), cleaned
5 large garlic cloves, finely minced
4 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp minced chili OR red chili flakes
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 handful fresh parsley, chopped
1/4 cup pasta water
1 lb spaghetti or linguine
Salt and black pepper

In a large pot of boiling water, drop your spaghetti or linguine to cook until al dente.
In a skillet wide enough to fit the clams almost in a single layer, add the olive oil, garlic and chili. Sauté over medium low heat for a few minutes, until the garlic starts to turn golden brown and becomes fragrant.
Turn the heat up a touch and add the white wine, then the clams and half of the chopped parsley.
Immediately cover the clams with a tightly fitting lid. Let the clams steam for roughly 8-10 minutes, this depends on the size of your clams, how jam-packed the skillet is, etc.
After 8 minutes, remove the lid and with a slotted spoon or tongs, remove any clams that have opened - set them in a bowl to the side. Keep the lid on for a few more minutes to continue cooking any clams still unopened.
**Any clams that are unopened by the time most of the other clams have cooked, after 12-15 minutes, should be discarded.

Add 1/4 cup of starchy pasta water to the skillet with the clam sauce and the remaining chopped parsley. Taste and season with a bit of black pepper and salt if needed.
Drain the pasta and drop it directly into the clam sauce, tossing a couple of times to coat the pasta in sauce. Transfer the cooked clams, shells and all, back into the pasta and sauce and serve.

{Tips}
The juices from the clams are quite salty, so be careful about how much salt you add to the clam sauce, it should need very little.
If you find the prospect of eating a dish filled with clam shells unappetizing, you can remove the clam meat from the shell and simply toss the meat back into the sauce.

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.

Kale and Eggs and The Breakfast of Champions

Kale sure is the popular kid at the greenmarket these days. But, mostly folks are looking for Dino kale, aka Lacinato kale, aka Tuscan kale. Its like Jason Bourne with all the aliases. I'm not sure at what exact point this specific type of kale started to get all of the kale kudos, but I don't think it's all that and a bag of chips. I mean, I like it a lot. I'm just saying, there are other varieties of kale out there. Other varieties of kale that bring more to the flavor party.

This Siberian kale is a prime example. It's rather more tasty than Tuscan kale. It's not as crunchy, but it's still got body and I find it more versatile. I've used it in soups, salads, stir fries and quiches, and this week, I ate it for breakfast.



Wheaties, step aside, because this is truly the breakfast of champions.

Aside from how obviously nutritious this breakfast is - what with all the kale and garlic and egg - it tastes good as all heck too. I know what you're thinking - chili and garlic may seem a little much for taste-buds that have only just rolled out of bed - but it's all rather subtle and the honey kind of keeps this dish in check. Keeps it firmly planted in the breakfast category. Truthfully, since I have developed an extremely bad habit of running on coffee and caffeine fumes until around 11 or 11:30 every morning, this served more as brunch for me this week.

Speaking of brunch, I'll leave you to your weekend. Hopefully, it's filled with kale and eggs.



Hardly a recipe is needed for this one.
I roughly chopped half a bunch of Siberian kale and sautéed it in some olive oil, chili and garlic slices - that I finely shaved, Godfather-style - and seasoned it with salt and black pepper.
I chose sunny side up eggs, kind of crispy on the edges, because that's how I like them. But you can go whatever way you prefer with the egg: fried, poached, scrambled, soft-boiled.
Here's the clincher - serve this with whole grain toast, slathered in a bit of butter and lots of honey.
I highly recommend layering a bit of kale and egg on top of the sweetened bread and making sort of an open-faced sandwich. Savory kale - runny yolk - honey - crunchy toast. You get the picture.

I think this dish would work equally as well with swiss chard, mustard greens, other varieties of kale - any hearty green, really.

Eggplant Rollatini and Metacognitive Cooking

Sometimes a dish doesn't mean anything.

I was an English major in college. Sometimes, in those super-intellectual, metacognitive moments that only exist while seated in the center of a very long seminar on the Russian Novel of the 19th Century, we would be in the deep throes of a discussion about what the character represents, and I would think to myself - maybe we're reading too much into this. Maybe he's just a character. Maybe he was just a character based on Tolstoy's next door neighbor or something. Maybe, every single word or line or character doesn't have a deeper meaning. Especially when that novel is 1400 pages long. Maybe, sometimes, stories are just stories. Meant to be enjoyed.




These days when I cook and when I write, I find myself riding the same thought train - maybe sometimes dishes are just dishes. Maybe not every plate of food needs to be analyzed and discussed.

And this is one of those dishes.



In short - eggplant parm, in all of it's cheese and tomato glory, is one of my most favorite dishes of all time. And, to me, eggplant rollatini is only a tricked-out version of the same. Rolled, stuffed - it all looks and sounds a little nicer, but in spite of it's attempt at fanciness, it's still not a glamorous dish by any means. It's kind of messy and not all that pretty or revolutionary. It is what it is.

Recently, I made it and I loved it and I thought, I want to share this. But then I thought - but what will I write? Where's the meaning of this eggplant rollatini? What makes it interesting? I caught myself in the middle of this line of reasoning and then I thought - the meaning of eggplant rollatini? Come on, Carrie - snap out of it.



So, I give you my eggplant rollatini. And I share it because, well, eggplant rollatini makes me feel good. And there were eggplants still around at the market and I wanted to use them - in spite of my dreaded eggplant throat itch. And because it's almost autumn and the evenings are kind of chilly and eggplant rollatini is the perfect antidote. So here it is - a dish just for the sake of eating something delicious.



What you'll need:
3-4 Japanese eggplants
1/2 lb fresh mozzarella
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 cup fresh ricotta cheese
small handful parsley leaves, chopped
1 egg
Salt and black pepper
Olive oil
2 cups marinara sauce

Trim the ends from the eggplant and using a mandoline or a knife, cut the eggplant into thin slices, lengthwise - about 1/4 inch thick.
Lay the slices of eggplant on a rack or around a large colander and sprinkle generously with salt. Leave the salted eggplant to sit for 15 minutes or so. This will draw the excess water from the eggplant and remove any bitterness.
Use a clean towel to blot the eggplant dry.
Preheat an oiled, cast iron grill pan and, working in batches, grill the eggplant slices for about 2 minutes on each side, or until tender.
Once all of the eggplant is grilled, set aside.
In a small bowl, mix together the ricotta, Parmesan, parsley and egg. Season with salt and black pepper.

Preheat the oven to 375ºF.
Ladle a bit of tomato sauce into the bottom of a baking dish - to prevent the eggplant from sticking to the bottom.
Laying a slice of eggplant flat in front of you, use a teaspoon to dollop filling on one end of the eggplant slice. Carefully roll the eggplant around the filling and transfer the rolled, stuffed eggplant to the oven dish.
Repeat the same for all of the eggplant and filling.
Ladle the tomato sauce over the eggplant.
Cut the fresh mozzarella into slices about 1/4 inch thick. Scatter the mozzarella around the top of the sauce.
Place the dish into the center rack of the oven and bake for about 25 minutes, or until the mozzarella cheese is brown and bubbly.

Two Bean Tuna Salad and Food in Cans

Bean salads are relics of American food history. Generally, when I think of them, I see visions of mushy, canned green beans and bland, canned wax beans thrown together with canned kidney beans - all tossed with some sort of distilled vinegar dressing. A dressing that, no matter how much is added, will never be able to compensate for the supreme watery blandness of the beans.

The thing is that there are some canned foods I support, and some I don't. And for a long time, offenders like three bean salads gave all canned foods a pretty bad rap. Pre-cut, pre-cooked string beans and wax beans in cans, along with other most other canned veggies, are firmly placed in the do-not-support category. They are always too soft and tasteless and generally lackluster. On the other hand, I can fully get behind canned beans such as cannellini, red kidney and garbanzo beans. Canned legumes of this sort are some of the few canned foods that I stock in my pantry. Yes, I prefer dried, and yes I stock those too, but let's face it - sometimes you just need beans to be ready in a pinch and you don't want to soak them and boil them and wait until tomorrow for them to be ready. And in those instances, canned beans are a lifesaver.




And as for the whole canned tuna issue - until recently, I found it difficult to buy it at all. Worried about fishing sustainability issues and bycatch and mercury, it's a tough one to navigate. But, I have to be honest, I miss a little canned tuna in my life. For the same reasons that I sometimes like to use canned beans - it's ready to go, it's fast, it's nutritious. It's relatively cheap. So when I caught onto the work that the folks over at Wild Planet are doing, I was pretty happy. Now I feel like I can eat canned tuna without the weight of the depletion of the seven seas on my shoulders. No sponsored plugs here, I just like what they're doing and if I'm going to buy canned tuna every once and while, I'm going to buy theirs.





This is not your average bean salad. Yes, I could have made it a true three bean salad, but aside from general associations of watered down beans, I also think that three bean salads are kind of one-note in terms of texture too. Like, why combine garbanzo beans with red kidney beans AND cannellini beans? Generally, once in your mouth, the texture of all three is very similar. And, let's be real, they don't taste wildly different from each other, especially once dressed. You might as well just pick one and go with it.

And that's what I did. I used fresh haricots verts, or fancy French string beans that are nice and thin and tender, and used only one canned bean - my favorite canned bean - cannellini. Combined with canned tuna and a zingy mustard dressing, this salad is the opposite of everything that it's distant cousin, the three bean salad, represents. There's crunchy texture from the blanched string beans and sharp bite from the paper-thin, raw red onion. And for those that miss the mush-factor of an average three bean salad,  the cannellini beans kindly provide that service - in only the best way possible. The slighty briny tuna really rounds out this salad, making it perfect as a stand-alone lunch dish - which is how I enjoyed it. It's kind of like if a Tuscan bean salad met an American bean salad and had a love child - this would be the result.



For 4 as a side salad or 2 as a main
What you'll need:
3 handfuls haricots verts, aka French green beans
1 can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 can tuna in olive oil, drained
1/4 large red onion, sliced paper thin
1 Tablespoon whole grain dijon mustard
2 Tablespoons red wine vinegar
3 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Salt and black pepper

Fill a large pot with salted water and place over high heat to boil.
While waiting, in a small bowl, combine the mustard, salt, pepper and vinegar. Whisk together. In a slow stream, whisk in the olive oil. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside.
Once the water boils, add the trimmed haricots verts to the pot for 3-4 minutes. Immediately drain the beans and immerse in a bowl of ice cubes and water - this will stop their cooking and shock them into retaining a vibrant green color. Once cooled, drain the beans again. Once dry, lay them on the bottom of a large salad bowl or platter.
Add a layer of the thinly sliced red onion on top of the green beans.
Follow this with the drained, rinsed and dry cannellini beans.
Using a fork, carefully remove large chunks of the tuna from the can and spread them around the top of the salad.
Dress the salad and serve.