Orange You Glad it’s Friday?

One of my favorite things about winter is fresh-squeezed orange juice! I’ve been lucky in that I’ve spent many years of my life surrounded by orange trees. Growing up in California, we actually never had an orange tree of our own but the thing about living in the San Joaquin Valley is that even if you don’t have an orange tree, you always know several people who do! Well it’s been several years since I’ve lived in California but now here I am in Sicily, surrounded by orange trees once again, and I’m loving it!

There’s just something about the smell of a freshly peeled orange that will brighten my mood even on the worst days. And since I spent December and part of January suffering through a terrible bout of insomnia, these oranges have really had their work cut out for them! I’ve been juicing them in the morning, snacking on them during the day and adding them to green salads in the evening. I even served my latest orange salad creation at Christmas dinner. And since it seemed to be a hit then, I decided to share it with you!

Thanks to my cousin Corinne for helping me figure out the salad dressing recipe once and for all! Here it is:

Orange Cranberry Salad with Walnuts and Blue Cheese
Salad:
1 head Butter, Boston or Bibb lettuce
4 oranges, peeled and sectioned
handful of sweetened, dried cranberries
handful of toasted walnuts
crumbled blue cheese
Dressing:
4 T. fresh orange juice
1 T. white wine vinegar (or anything you have on hand)
1 clove garlic, minced or pressed
4 T. olive oil
pinch of salt
freshly ground black pepper

Read More

A Salad in Dishabille

While vacationing on the beaches of North Carolina, and spending as many hours watching the Food Network as dipping my feet in the ocean, I began to feel a little ... I suppose I could call it a foodcrush taking hold ... a foodcrush on, well ... a certain Jamie Oliver. Yep, that would be The Naked Chef.

This foodcrush isn't based on the winning power of his crooked smile or English accent (and I will never admit otherwise). The Jamie Oliver foodcrush has everything to do with the food I watched him make while wearing my pajamas in the hotel at noon while my husband (wearing a seer-sucker!) read Charles Taylor on the beach.

A food blogger deprived of the Food Network in her own home makes for a food blogger especially vulnerable to food celebrities and food porn. I admired Giada's breasts and tiramisu. I wanted to touch Paula Deen's hair and taste her fried chicken. I marveled at Rachel Ray's stamina. Iron Chef made me strangely nostalgic for Star Trek. As I watched the challenger break into a sweat, I could just hear Leonard "Bones" McCoy saying through clenched teeth, "I'm a doctor, not an Iron Chef."

And then there was Jamie. He made a leek and prosciutto pasta topped with porcini bread crumbs, which I promptly cooked once back in Pittsburgh, but didn't post--despite its tastiness--because it seemed to resemble this recipe too closely, and, considering the recent paucity of posts, I didn't want to seem like a one-trick pony. Then, Jamie grilled some octopus, tossed it with radicchio and chorizo sauteed in garlic. I had never imagined such a thing: simple, rustic, and--so it seemed to me at the time--a bit on the bawdy side. I suppose that's why Mr. Oliver fashions himself The Naked Chef, an infelicitous appellation, perhaps, read through foodcrush-tinted glasses, it seems not only not silly, but (at the risk of reader eye-rolling) earnest.

This recipe strikes me as naked indeed: juicy peaches, fresh mozzarella, greens lightly dressed in lemon and olive oil, mint to keep things cool, and pepper flakes to spice them up. It's a sweet, milky, tart, and piquant salad, just the thing for humid summer nights. I don't recall ever pairing mozzarella with peaches, but let me tell you now, this is a lovely marriage. I couldn't help but think that the pale and mild mozzarella was taking on the sweet peaches' blush. Cringe, if you will, but I can't help it. This salad is sentimental love poetry on a plate.

While writing this post I remembered that I had already posted a peach salad recipe. It was spinach-based, and featured feta instead of mozzarella. This was the first recipe I posted after moving to Pittsburgh. I was weary of unpacking boxes in the heat, but giddy about an imminent kitchen renovation which has yet to happen. This peach salad recipe may be less imbued with the sort of kitchen fantasies materialized in the form of stainless steel appliances and subway tile backsplashes; instead, it musters fantasies of simple summer dinners prepared in a cramped, ugly kitchen, and eaten in good company. These are fantasies stripped of finery. Thanks, Jamie.

Peach and Mozzarella Salad
Adapted from Jamie Oliver's The Naked Chef Takes Off. Serves 2.


If this recipe has a flaw--and I'm not saying it necessarily does--it would be that it can veer from moist toward soggy. It's a good idea to drain your mozzarella thoroughly, pat it dry, and maybe even press it between paper towels before tearing it into chunks. If your peaches are especially juicy, go easy on the lemon and olive oil dressing.

Good mozzarella doesn't come cheap, and this is not the place to skimp on quality because those rugged little hills of mozzarella are really what make the dish. I've been quite happy with the two brands I've found at Whole Foods, but I've sworn off the stuff sold by Trader Joe's. I've tried it quite a few times in the interest of saving a buck, but found it to be consistently flavorless and rubbery. And that makes for a sad mozzarella.

Jamie Oliver's recipe includes a few thin slices of prosciutto. Sounds good to me, but I didn't have any on hand, and I can't say I missed it.

2 ripe peaches, pitted, peeled (only if you like), and cut into wedges
4 oz. fresh mozzarella cheese, torn into chunks
2 cups salad greens
2 tablespoons lemon juice
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
salt and fresh ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon-1 teaspoon dried pepper flakes (some like it hot, some like it not)
a handful of fresh mint leaves

Whisk together lemon juice, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Toss salad greens in this dressing and divide between two plates. Arrange peach slices and mozzarella on top of greens. Sprinkle with pepper flakes and mint leaves.

Read More

Mangoes and Cream

This week's ice cream was a winner. Oh yes, the ice cream trials have been ongoing. That bowl of burnt caramel ice cream dusted with black sea salt was simply the last effort worthy of a public airing.

I can't say as much for the stuff my ice cream maker has churned out in recent weeks. One batch, it turned out, was suited better for breakfast. Following the gushing praise of a certain Haverchuck (who, for many weeks, conducted his own ice cream project), I poured a batch of sweet oatmeal into my Cuisinart compressor, and hoped for the best. And, really it wasn't bad. Who doesn't like the idea of warm oatmeal-raisin cookies topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a dash of cinnamon? This was, though, a hefty ice cream: oatmeal, cream, and--let's not forget--several egg yolks. Oatmeal ice cream, it turns out, is not really meant to follow food. Only after a fast of, say, 8-10 hours is it a sane option, and that is why it is best eaten with a cup of joe and a side order of bacon. Never opposed to breakfast sweets, Patrick tried it scooped on a pancake and topped with maple syrup. Then he moaned and climbed back into bed.

Ice cream mishap #2 soon followed. I was excited about this one: mint chocolate chip. This was the most popular flavor, after chocolate and vanilla, that I scooped during my time as a North Carolina ice cream counter girl in the mid-nineties. Armed with nostalgia, I read Orangette's recent praise of David Lebovitz's mint ice cream recipe; but there was also a practical factor. At this very moment, a mint patch is creeping across my back yard. This being the first spring we've lived in this house, I didn't even know we had a mint patch. Then, one day, it was there, and it was big. Dreaming of a sustainable ice cream, I waded into my sea of mint, steeped my harvest in cream, poured it in my ice cream maker, tossed in a few handfuls of chopped dark chocolate, and waited. The result was yucky. To put it more precisely, it tasted like dirty grass (with chocolate chips). My guess is that my variety of mint is not the best for imparting flavor to food and drink (the mint juleps turned out yucky, too). No, mine is an ornamental sort of mint, which is spreading like wildfire in my backyard while my basil and rosemary are barely hanging on.

Well, after wasting all of those yolks, this egg-less mango ice cream seemed the way to go. Relatively new to the homemade ice cream scene, I had fallen under the impression that all good ice creams start with custard bases. I was wrong. This mango ice cream, made with a no-cook base of pureed mangoes and cream, is the silkiest, creamiest ice cream I've had in a long time. Far from being heavy, though, it's, well, refreshing. Pale orange and flecked with lime zest, this is a pretty dessert, perfect for hot summer nights. Needless to say, the mango ice cream is long gone, while the oatmeal and dirt flavors are still lingering, sprouting freezer burn.


Caramelized Mango Ice Cream
Makes about 1 quart. Adapted from Roy Finamore's Tasty: Get Great Food on the Table Every Day. Recipe appeared on Chow.com.


For tips on how to dice a mango, go here.

For the caramelized mango:
1/3 cup sugar
1 mango, peeled, pitted and cut into large dice

For the mango ice cream:
2 large (or 3 medium) ripe mangoes, peeled, pitted, and coarsely chopped
grated zest and juice of 1 lime
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon molasses
pinch of coarse salt
2 cups heavy cream

1. For the caramelized mango: Pour the sugar into a heavy medium skillet. Cook over medium heat, swirling the sugar around in the pan often, until it is dark amber. Add the diced mango. The caramel will sputter and seize up. Cook, stirring, just until the caramel dissolves. Scrape the caramelized mango into a bowl, cover, and chill thoroughly.

2. For the mango ice cream: Process the mangoes in a food processor until you’ve made a smooth puree. Add the lime zest and juice, sugar, molasses, and salt. Process for a minute or so to dissolve the sugar. Scrape the puree out a bowl, whisk in the cream, cover, and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.

3. Freeze the ice cream base according to the instructions for your ice cream maker. When it’s just about frozen, add the caramelized mango. Continue to freeze until ice cream is firm. Transfer to a container with a lid, and let the ice cream cure in the freezer for at least 2 hours before serving.

Read More