Side Dishes: Parmesan Fennel

Every August I feel guilty. Bloggers and food magazines are raving about and providing recipes for sweet corn and super ripe tomatoes. And while I like those things just fine, I don’t feel like I live for tomato season. It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me as a food person. Really, I prefer fall, winter and early spring vegetables. Butternut squash, Brussels sprouts, leeks, celery root, fennel. Some people feel their heart go pitter-pat when they see the first ripe tomatoes in the market. I feel that same emotion when I see the first stalks of Brussels sprouts, like enormous lumpy unopened parasols, or the bunches of Swiss chard that look like (and are probably somehow botanically related to) a weed we used to pick when I was a kid—they were the same shape, but green all the way through, and we’d pick them on walks during preschool and hold them over our head as “umbrellas.”

I can’t really say why this is the case. Surely nothing is more versatile than the tomato, and nothing is easier to prepare than corn on the cob. But maybe that’s it—maybe I like the challenge of fall/winter vegetables. Their edible parts are so often hidden under tough rinds or strange skins (for which see: squash, butternut and root, celery). Some of them seem more like additions to things, rather than things themselves (Exhibit A: leeks). They insist that you be a bit creative with them. For this reason, I love vegetarian cookbooks. I probably have a dozen cookbooks with titles like, “Vegetables” and, “Vegetables from an Italian Garden” and, “Rose Elliot’s New Complete Vegetarian.” I am as devoted a carnivore as you’ll find, but I consider myself to be more of a meat-and-broccoli gal, than meat-and-potatoes gal (not that I don’t love the starches too—it makes me sad that there’s no such thing as a carbotarian, because I’d be such a good one. I guess I just love it all. *sigh*).

So I’m always trying to think of new ways to serve these sort of odd-man-out vegetables. Flip through your average cookbook, and about the only way cabbage is presented is in cole slaw. Broccoli or cauliflower might be roasted. Brussels sprouts (if they appear at all) are generally roasted or sautéed with bacon. All fine, but like anything they become less interesting with repetition. And I’m as guilty of that repetition as anyone. For a long time, the only way I cooked fennel was to quarter it and roast it with some olive oil, salt, and pepper. Delicious, but after awhile, dull.

So I thought to change it up a bit. I cut the fennel into strips about the size of a French fry, tossed it with olive oil and salt, and spread it out on baking sheets. I grated parmesan cheese over it, and roasted it at 450 degrees. The result was soft fennel with a crisp coating of cheese. There were a few strands that had roasted to an almost charred state, and all of it was beautifully brown. It required little effort beyond slicing and grating. The oven did all the work.

If you’ve never had fennel, or never had it cooked, this is a good introduction. The resemblance to French fries makes it approachable, and so far I haven’t found too many things that can’t be made palatable with some cheese. I highly recommend this as a side dish for steak or rack of lamb. If you’re one of those tomato-and-corn lovers, it may help to tide you over until the summer produce shows up. If you’re a winter vegetable lover like me, you may have found a new favorite.

Parmesan Fennel
Serves 4

Two large fennel bulbs
2 tablespoons olive oil
Kosher salt
About ½ cup grated parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Trim fronds and stalks from fennel. Using a vegetable peeler, shave off any browned spots. Ideally you want to choose unblemished bulbs, but sometimes you have to pick the best you can get. If there’s lots of discoloration, pick really large bulbs that you can peel a layer off and still have a reasonable amount left.

Cut the bulb in quarters and cut out the solid core in the middle. Cut the quarters into strips about ¼” thick, about the thickness of the average fast food French fry. Don’t worry if the slices fall apart—some will stay together, but some won’t. Toss the strips and slices in a bowl with the olive oil and a pinch of salt.

On a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, spread the fennel in a single layer (you may need more than one baking sheet to achieve a single layer with this much fennel). Using a microplane grater, or the smallest holes on a box grater, grate the parmesan over the fennel. The fennel should be well coated with cheese—it will look like it’s been through a heavy frost, or a light snowfall. It’s best to grate the cheese over the fennel, rather than grate it ahead and scatter it. It becomes somewhat compacted when you pick it up to scatter it. It will scatter more evenly if you grate and scatter at the same time.

Roast the fennel for 20-25 minutes, or until the cheese is golden brown. Some of the pieces on the outer edges may get a bit darker—that’s fine. You want some contrast between the soft/crisp pieces and the crisp/crisp pieces. If you let the cheese get quite brown, you’ll actually get two dishes for the price of one. The bits of parmesan webbing between the fennel pieces are a sort of parmesan crisp or “tuille” that will add nice contrast to the dish as well. Remove from the oven when done to your liking and serve.

Side Dishes: Potato Stacks

I’m always looking for something new to do with potatoes. I oven roast the small ones—the ones that are about the size of a ping pong ball--whole with some olive oil, I mash russets, I slice Yukon Golds thin and cook them with a little cream and some Gruyere cheese for a gratin. I’ve also cooked the small potatoes in boiling water, smashed them, and roasted the smashed potatoes. Sooner or later, though, I just can’t face another potato, roasted, mashed or gratineed. Enter this recipe. But there’s something distinctive about this recipe, or rather, about its name.

Sometimes a family has a name for something that other people would find unpleasant or even downright gross. My grandmother used to call every fairly sticky, globy food “goop.” At the dinner table she’d hold up a serving spoon full of something like macaroni and cheese or mashed potatoes and ask, “Would anyone care for more goop?”

What always made this unfortunate was that's what she called what came out of your nose too. My mother always had a particular dislike for this reference, as she said the association always took her appetite away.

My grandmother’s reference was a sort of all-purpose one. Ours is more specific. We have this recipe--we call it potato piles. It doesn’t sound very appetizing, but really potato piles (or potato stacks, to use the term we use around company) are quite wonderful. The reason we don’t call them potato stacks in our day to day vernacular is…well, because we just don’t, but really these aren’t stacks. They really are just little piles of potato slices with some herbs and olive oil. As a result, they’re less of a recipe than a technique.

The herbs can be to your taste. Swap out sage or finely chopped rosemary, if that’s what you happen to have. Or use a combination of herbs. They can be as large or as small as you like, but for my purposes I like about piles that are an inch or so high, and spread out about 5” .They settle a bit as they cook. The higher they are, the longer they’ll take to cook, and you could end up with overdone edges and an underdone middle. The beauty of these is that you get the contrast of soft and crisp in the same dish.

One average size russet potato makes about four stacks, which can be either two servings or four, depending on what you’re serving with them. They’re easy enough that they could accompany a simple weeknight dinner, but fun and tasty enough to serve to company. And you can call them stacks or piles, depending on how proper your company is.

Potato Stacks (Potato Piles)

Ingredients
1 medium baking potato, peeled

1 -2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme

1 Tablespoon olive oil

Salt and pepper, to taste

Summary

·         Peel potato into strips

·         Toss with herbs and olive oil

·         Season

·         Pile on baking sheet covered with parchment

·         Bake at 400 for 15-20 minutes

Detailed Instructions

1.     Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

2.     Using a vegetable peeler, remove potato in strips. Some strips will be very narrow (1/4” wide) and some will be much thicker (up to 1”). When it becomes difficult to get the strips off, either because of the position of the peeler, or because the strips are getting too wide, rotate the potato slightly, and begin on another section. As you go around, you’ll end up with something that looks like an elongated apple core. When you’re in danger of adding sliced finger to the mix, stop and discard the remaining potato. You’ll have about 3 cups of loosely packed potato strips.

3.     In a large bowl, toss the potato strips with olive oil. Add the thyme and toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper and toss again.

4.     Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or foil. Using tongs or your hands, make piles of potato strips about 5” across and an inch or so high. Scrape any remaining oil and herbs out of the bottom of the bowl, and distribute over piles. Scatter with a little additional salt and pepper.

5.     Bake for 15-20 minutes or until piles are golden brown. The edges will be crisped and the center will be cooked through.

Side Dish: Fennel Cabbage Slaw

Fennel Cabbage Slaw

Ingredients

½ head of green cabbage, shredded (4-6 cups)
1 medium fennel bulb, shredded (about 2 cups)
1 large carrot, grated
Dressing
1 ½ cups mayonnaise
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
¼ cup apple juice
2 teaspons fennel seed, toasted and ground
Salt and pepper to taste

Summary
• Combine vegetables
• Combine dressing ingredients
• Toss dressing with cabbage mixture

Detailed Instructions
In a large bowl, combine the cabbage, fennel and carrot. In a smaller bowl, combine the dressing ingredients. Toss the dressing with the cabbage mixture. You can refrigerate this for a couple of hours before serving. If so, give it a good stir when you take it out of the refrigerator to redistribute the dressing.

Thoughts
Fennel is one of those vegetables that can be intimidating. Which part do you eat? Do you cook it or eat it raw? It’s not unlike a carrot, in that you’re supposed to lop off the fronds and eat the bottom, but unlike a carrot, it’s not a vegetable that we’ve been watching cartoon rabbits gnaw on since we were little tykes.

I happen to love fennel, both raw and cooked. It’s a great winter vegetable when you get tired of the usual suspects (broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower). In the summer, it’s great raw, with the sort of cool refreshing flavor you get with cucumbers. In fact, I add it to my cole slaw every chance I get because I think it’s a nice flavor twist with the usual cabbage. Unlike cucumber, it’s not watery, so it doesn’t weep uncontrollably into the dressing and make it nasty. (Caveat: since all vegetables have a high water content, the dressing will eventually get nasty, but not in 30 minutes or an hour, the way it would if cucumbers were involved.)

So this recipe has a double shot of fennel, with the toasted ground fennel seed and the raw fennel. The toasted fennel seed gives the dressing another dimension—it’s not just mayonnaise cut with vinegar, as so many slaw dressings are. Also, sugar in slaw dressing makes it gritty to my taste. A little is needed to balance the vinegar, but the grit is off-putting. Since I was using apple cider vinegar in this, I decided to use the juice to sweeten it. I have four kids, so there’s always a gallon of apple juice lurking around in my refrigerator.

Fennel is one of those vegetables that will eventually oxidize and turn colors that we normally associate with a bad bruise. It takes a little longer, so you can safely make this the day before you serve it, but in my experience within two days it’s looking a bit suspect, and within three it has a distinctly sad appearance. It’s still fine to eat, and tastes OK, but after the second day I do take the time to cut the little darkened bits off the fennel when I eat the slaw. It seems to mostly change at the corners and tips, so they’re easily removed and pushed aside. However, you might want to take that under advisement in your planning.

Side Dishes: French Fries

French Fries

Ingredients

2-3 medium baking potatoes, peeled and cut to desired “fry” size
Canola or vegetable oil to cover

Summary

• Arrange potatoes in a large skillet, cover with cold oil
• Turn heat to medium, turning fries after 15 minutes
• Drain on paper towel, add salt to taste

Detailed Instructions
Using a pan large enough to hold the potatoes in no more than two layers, scatter the fries, making sure to separate them as much as possible. Any two fries that are right next to each other may stick together. It’s not possible to get every single one separate, but arranging them so that most of the fries are perpendicular to one another, versus side by side, is preferred.

Add enough canola or vegetable oil to just cover the fries. Turn the heat on to medium, and bring to a rapid simmer. You probably won’t have to adjust the heat much, but keep an eye on it. You don’t want it to boil over.

In the first 15 minutes, don’t stir the fries. After 15 minutes you can move them around gently. After about 20 minutes, use tongs to move them around and flip them over so you can see the undersides. When they start to turn golden, they’re close to done. You’ll end up with a few that get a little more brown than golden. Once they’re done, remove from the hot oil with tongs and drain on paper towel. Salt to taste.

This makes enough fries for 4 people.

Thoughts
Dinner at my house on Thursday night is the same thing every week in every season. We have hamburgers and French fries (the exception being the fourth Thursday in November, of course). By the end of a long week I’m ready for a meal that I can prep in 12 minutes, let cook largely unattended, and serve without having to listen to any whining. Everyone likes it, I get no groans of protest when I announce what’s for dinner, no one saying, “Why can’t we have x instead?”

I read about these fries in several places and they really are as easy as they sound. There are a couple of small caveats, but nothing too daunting. I use a 12” nonstick skillet. I’ve used a 12” chefs pan (with straight sides, as opposed to the sloping sides of a skillet) that was not nonstick. I recommend the nonstick because it does make it easier to get the fries out. If you use a regular pan, you’ll have to pry a few off the bottom of the pan, which is a bit tricky when what you’re doing is attempting to dislodge something that’s under an inch or two of boiling hot oil. I’m not saying it can’t be done—it can—but be very, very careful and be prepared to still do some scrubbing once you’ve removed the oil.

A word on the oil—I use canola. I buy a big jug of it at Costco. You can reuse the oil 2-3 times before it starts to break down. We just pour it back into an old oil jug and keep it on hand. When it’s time to dispose of it, we usually line a trash bag with lots of newsprint and pour the oil on that. The newsprint absorbs the oil, and goes out with the garbage. The plastic jug gets recycled.

The primary trick to these fries is not to stir them until they’re mostly done. I made them once with great success, then made them subsequent times and couldn’t understand why I was ending up with piles of fried potato bits. Then I realized I was trying too hard to keep them from sticking, and kept stirring them every few minutes. Don’t do it. Wait 15 minutes, then you can move them around. I use tongs to flip them over because the ones on the bottom get a bit more brown than those on the top. Turning them over and rearranging them gives them a more uniform appearance.

We’ve been making these for so long that I actually have a commercial French fry cutter. It can be mounted on the wall (I’m not quite to that stage yet) and the potato rests in a sort of trough that has a grid cutter at one end. There’s a plunger or pushing mechanism with a handle on it. As you lower the handle, the potato gets pushed up to and through the grid cutter, making perfect ¼” square fries. Before I owned it, I had one of those round apple slicers that switched out the apple sectioning insert for one that had a ¼” fry cutter. The fry insert never stayed in very well, and I often had to trim my potatoes so that the cutter would fit over them. After months and months of Thursday night hamburgers and fries, we bought the more efficient commercial one from Amazon. The price was surprisingly reasonable.

I’m not suggesting you rush out and buy a commercial French fry cutter (they are rather heavy and bulky to store, and they really do only do one job), but these fries are worth a try—they don’t make as big a mess as a “traditional” deep fry (admittedly they make some mess, but it’s not to the degree of the deep fry method), nor do they make your house smell like burning fat for two days. And I’ve never met anyone who whined about being served French fries.

Now is the Time: Potato Gratin Gruyere

It’s getting to be that time of year. The time of year when it feels like winter is endless, and spring will never come. The holidays are long over, Martin Luther King, Jr’s birthday has passed (for some of us the only day we get off between New Year’s and Memorial Day). The 5-day forecast keeps showing a little grey cloud with streaks underneath it. Is that a mistake? Isn’t that the same graphic they printed last week? Five little grey clouds in a line? It has to be a mistake.

Oh sure, there are a few daffodils pushing through here and there, but mostly everything looks leaden grey; sky, water, mountains.

The remedy for this is the warm stews and comfy baked dishes we were all anxious to make as soon as the air took on the slight nip of fall. All we could think of was making beef stew, roast chicken, and soup, soup, soup. We made some of them, and then the holidays were upon us, and we all started a baking frenzy. Cookies for Santa, cinnamon rolls for a family brunch, rolls to accompany the holiday dinner. Our houses smelt of frankincense and myrrh, chocolate and cinnamon.

But now we’ve all recovered from the holidays, and yet it’s still cold, and still dark. I’ve been making a point of buying fresh flowers for the house, to remind myself that winter can’t last forever. But tulips, while cheering, aren’t very warming, so I’ve also been exploring in magazines, finding things to make that are comforting, but new and exciting.

I recently stumbled on a recipe for gratineed onions, and thought the sauce sounded wonderful. While searching for something to go with our Saturday night steaks, I remembered it. But we had already chosen a vegetable, and what we were really in need of was a starch. I looked at the ingredients and thought, why not make potatoes out of it? And that’s how this version of Potato Gratin Gruyere came to be.

It’s homey and filling, thick with a creamy sherry-spiked sauce, given a zingy twist with some mustard (the original recipe called for both Dijon and whole grain, which you could use in this dish; I chose to use all Dijon for a smoother consistency). The melted Gruyere over the top browns up to a wonderful crust and makes the whole a thing of cheesy goodness.

Make up a big pan of this and serve it with one of those roasts you spent all of September dreaming about. Now is the time!

Potato Gratin Gruyere
adapted from Gourmet magazine, January 2008
6-8 servings, depending on how cold, dark, and/or rainy it is

2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup stock
1 cup milk
3 tablespoons sherry
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
Salt & pepper
1 ½ cups shredded Gruyere or Comte
4 potatoes, about 3 lbs, cut into approximately 1/4 “ thick slices

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

Melt butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add flour and cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Add stock and milk and cook about 8 minutes, or until thick. Whisk in the mustard, salt & pepper and cook 3 minutes more. Taste sauce and correct seasoning.

In a large ovenproof casserole, arrange ½ of the potatoes. Spoon ½ of the sauce over the potatoes, making sure to cover them well. Season with salt and pepper, if desired. Add the remaining potatoes and top with remaining sauce. Add more salt and pepper, if desired.

Bake for 45 minutes or until potatoes are tender when pierced with a fork, and sauce is bubbly. Top with cheese and bake 20 more minutes, or until cheese is golden.