Save Schleppy Fruit by Stewing It

Guest blogger Amy Friedman coined the wonderful term "schleppy fruit" to describe fruit that has gone around the bend: mealy apples, fibrous oranges, grainy raisins. Too often people toss these sad specimens, when it is very easy to rehabilitate them by cooking them. Amy's recipe for fruit preserves is a fine example. We also like to make stewed fruit.

We don't really like to call it stewed fruit, as that sounds like something they feed people in nursing homes. On the other hand, it does contain prunes—or "dried plums," as they have been rebranded in recent years—so who are we kidding? The fact is, it tastes great, and it's a wonderful way to use up schleppy fruit.

All you need is some fresh fruit, some dried fruit, some liquid and a little bit of time.

Typically, we have three or four or five mealy apples on hand, as well as a couple of dried-up tangerines or oranges. We usually have at least part of a bag of frozen cranberries. Thanks to Costco, we also have a store of dried fruit that can include prunes, raisins, dried cherries, and/or apricots. We mix and match these depending on what's on hand, but the result is always weirdly the same.

First, cut the apples into bite-size chunks, and toss them into a large saucepan or Dutch oven. Cut up prunes, if you're using them, and add them too, along with a cup or so of cranberries (if you have less than that,  that's fine). Add some dried apricots or raisins if you like. Add a little bit of liquid—orange juice, pomegranate juice, or even water—just enough to keep things from sticking. Then let the mixture cook for about half an hour.

You'll end up with a not terribly attractive fruit mush that will taste delicious, especially under a spoonful of Greek yogurt. And everyone who turns up their nose at your grandma-sounding "stewed fruit" will ask for seconds.

Make It Yourself: Vinegar

Yes, vinegar is plentiful and often cheap if you buy it in the store. And we do: rice, sherry, balsamic, pear, you name it. But we've had trouble finding a good red wine vinegar. The cheap stuff is sour and awful, and even the expensive stuff can taste a little harsh if you grab the wrong bottle, as we so often seem to do.

At the same time, we frequently end up with dribs and drabs of leftover red wine—the end of a bottle that never manages to get used for cooking, the half-glasses abandoned after a dinner party.

We were ruefully tossing a guest's half-full glass one evening when we remembered that back in Connecticut our friend Ruth Lively made her own red wine vinegar using a little oak cask she'd bought. We remembered that the little barrel made mellow, lovely vinegar. So we decided to get one of our own.

We turned to the Internet, which did not disappoint. Two-liter (and larger) casks were available at Oak Barrels Ltd.

The company recommends buying toasted oak for red, robust vinegar and non-toasted for white.

 The process of vinegar making is incredibly simple: Simply add your base (wine, cider), your starter (appropriately called "mother of vinegar" and also available online), and some water, and wait two months.

We waited eagerly for the weeks to pass, and after they had, the resulting vinegar was just as smooth and rich as we remembered Ruth Lively's to be.

So there will be no more wasted wine at this house, and lots more delicious salads.

* Photo from oakbarrelsltd.com/

Pantry Project: Barley and Mushroom Risotto

The pantry project continues apace! We've had a jar of pearl barley kicking around the shelves for a long time; even though we love barley, we never seemed to get around to using it. Then we saw a recipe from Bon Appetit that used barley in place of rice to make a chewy, rich risotto.

We were skeptical at first—wouldn't the barley get tough? But it nicely absorbed the vegetable stock, and the final addition of sautéed mushrooms made for a satisfying winter dish.

Barley and Mushroom Risotto

4 1/2 cups stock (vegetable, chicken, or meat)
2 t. butter
1 cup finely chopped onion
1 cup pearl barley
2 t. chopped fresh thyme or 3/4 t. dried
1 bay leaf
2 t. olive oil
1 pound assorted fresh mushrooms, sliced (we used Chinese shiitakes)
1 minced garlic clove
2 T. chopped Italian parsley (we used curly because Ruth hates Italian parsley)
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Bring stock to boil in a heavy saucepan. Remove from heat, cover, and set aside.

2. Melt butter in a large nonstick skillet over low heat. Add onion and sauté until translucent, about five minutes.

3. Add barley, thyme, bay leaf, and two cups of hot stock; bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until most of the stock has been absorbed, stirring frequently (about five minutes).

4. Add remaining stock 1/2 cup at a time, allowing it to be absorbed by the barley before adding more, and stirring frequently (about 45 minutes).

5. While the barley is cooking, heat olive oil in large skillet over high heat. Add mushrooms, and sauté until brown. Stir in chopped garlic. Reduce heat to medium and cook until mushrooms are tender (about five minutes).

6. When the barley is done, add the mushrooms, mix in parsley, and season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

Serves four.

Pantry Project: Great Cold Side Salad

In looking for a barley recipe (to use some of the multiple bags of grains in our overstuffed pantry as part of our pantry-reduction project), we stumbled into a great cold side salad recipe from cooking.com. It is one of those sides you could serve anytime, and it uses the sorts of ingredients that most people typically have around the pantry.

Our only problem was that our barley canister was short by a quarter cup. We quickly realized that this salad recipe's barley could be replaced by just about any grain or rice. We remembered that we had an overabundance of black rice, also called forbidden rice.

The consistency of black rice is about the same as cooked barley. You just have to make sure that you rinse it well so that the reddish-black cooking liquid doesn't color everything else in the recipe.

(We cold have substituted quinoa or faro or any of a number of other grains. But the black rice was crunchy and colorful.)

This salad would be particularly good in the summer, but it worked well in the cold depths of January as well.

Ingredients

2 cups cooked rice, barley or other grain
2 cups frozen corn, thawed
1 red pepper diced, or 1/2 red pepper and 1/2 green pepper, diced
3 scallions, sliced or chopped
2 Tablespoons chopped cilantro or parsley

Dressing
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/8 teaspoon ground pepper

Recipe
Cook the rice, barley, faro or other grain. A good rule of thumb is to cook the grain in twice as much water or stock, with a little salt, and simmer for about 40 minutes. Toward the end you might have to add a bit more liquid or drain off any excess. Just taste for doneness with a bit of crunchiness.

In a bowl, mix the first five ingredients.

In a small container with a tight lid, mix the dressing ingredients and shake well. Pour dressing over the salad and refrigerate for a couple of hours.

France: Eat Your Way Through the Country

There is one adjustment you have to make as an American when you go to France. You have to eat like the French. They typically eat small portions and don't snack. But the food is divine — and rich. And despite the photo above, usually not so obviously rich.

On our first full day, we went to the local market, not the supermarket but the building full of stalls with luscious vegetables, beautiful cheeses, olives of may flavors and meat and fish of every stripe. We were stocking up for the pantry at our villa in a little village near the Rhône River.

Once weighed down with bags and bags of produce and other food, we stopped into a little brasserie for lunch, where Ruth had the Cappuccino
 pictured above.

Despite our haul of goat cheeses, fresh green olives in brine, cranberry beans, tomatoes, leeks, eggs, eggplant tapenade, we decided to eat at the local restaurant, Chaverdille, because it is only open Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

It is the only restaurant in the little village, but the food was wonderful. Our theory is that it's difficult to find a bad restaurant in France, because they won't last.

The sauces are deep with flavors, and the preparation is almost always stopped at just the right line. And the wine is incredibly cheap. What's not to like?

Quick Sauces for Fish

From left to right, chipotle mayonnaise, teriyaki sauce and wasabi mayonnaise.

We mostly grill our fish — unless it is blizzarding outside. And we don't sauce it up too much, because good fish is, well, good fish, and you don't need to smother the taste.

When we grill, we usually just top it with a squeeze of lemon and a tiny bit of olive oil, which keeps it moist on the hot grill. See our earlier post about prepping fish for the grill.

But sometimes we want to add just a touch of taste, particularly when we have guests who might not see heaven in a piece of unadorned fish the way we do.

So here are three great sauces — or toppings — to serve with any fish, whether grilled, broiled or pan fried. Two are spicy and one is on the slightly sweet side.

Wasabi Mayonnaise. Wasabi mayonnaise is available at Trader Joes, but you can make it quickly and very inexpensively by merely adding wasabi powder or wasabi paste to mayonnaise. Wasabi is often available in the Asian aisle at supermarkets. We start with 3 Tablespoons of mayonnaise and add 3 teaspoons of wasabi. If you like it really hot, add more wasabi. But be careful. This is not tartar sauce. A little goes a long way, and so it accompanies the fish rather than masking it.

Chipotle Mayonnaise. For those who like a southwestern taste rather than an Asian flavor, chipotle mayonnaise is made by adding 3 teaspoons of the adobo sauce that comes in a can of chipotle peppers. If you want it really hot, add a chopped up pepper from the can, but only add a small one and be careful, because these canned peppers are really hot.

Teriyaki Sauce. Not everybody likes spicy food, even a little sauce on the side, so serve a little teriyaki sauce on the side for those who like just a hint of sweet. You can buy it in bottles at the supermarket, or you can make it at home. Mix 1/3 cup soy sauce, 1/3 cup Mirin or rice wine, 1/3 cup sake and 2-1/4 teaspoons of sugar. This makes a very liquidy sauce that you would use if you were to glaze the fish while it was on the grill, but it's not thick enough to serve as an accompanying sauce.

We add 2 teaspoons of arrowroot and heat it in a small pan on the stovetop. It will quickly thicken to a syrupy consistency.

Your guests are sure to love one of these little sauces with their fish.

Never Waste a Flavor: Don't Toss That Bean Cooking Water!

Frankly, we debated whether to write this post, fearing that readers would find it pathologically frugal. But one undeniable fact proved the deciding factor: this cheapskate habit has given us many pots of delicious soup and stock. (Also, we come by our frugality rightfully: Ruth's late father left behind a box of batteries carefully labeled "not completely dead.")

As we've reported almost ad nauseum, we cook a lot of beans—black, white, pinto, chickpeas—and eat a lot of lentils. This results in a great deal of rich cooking liquid that we use to boost the flavor of soups and stews. Last week we made a pot of vegetable soup, adding a quart of frozen black-bean cooking liquid; the soup ended up with a velvety richness it would not otherwise have had. Lentil liquid would have been even more velvety.

If you find yourselves with a few cups of leftover bean or lentil cooking liquid, freeze it for later use; if you aren't cooking soup, add it to your homemade stock. You'll be glad that you made the effort.

TWO IMPORTANT THINGS TO REMEMBER: Although the cooking liquid from beans is wonderful, don't confuse it with the soaking liquid you use to soften the beans before you cook them. That liquid should be discarded and replaced with fresh water before cooking. If you don't, you'll end up with an indigestible bunch of beans and a nasty batch of cooking liquid.

Also, this tip should only be used with homemade beans. Don't use that slimy goo that comes with canned beans; although canned beans are great in a pinch, the liquid they come with is full of salt and God knows what else.

Food Label Lies

Here at Eat Well, Eat Cheap we're all about eating healthy, so we're always on the lookout for helpful tips that make it easy to buy, cook and eat healthy food.

Bicycling magazine writes a lot about healthy eating. The advice is usually very good because avid bicyclists need a fair amount of food, but they try to eat well. Imagine going on a 100-mile bicycle ride after you've eaten a Quarter-Pounder, large fries and a Big Gulp. It's not pretty.

Bicycling suggests reading food labels to help with healthy eating. Today, it gives a quick overview of what to believe and what nine labels should be relegated to the Bullsheet.

Here's the Bullsheet:
 
BE WARY WHEN YOU SEE THE FOLLOWING WORDS ON FOOD LABELS—THEY HAVE EITHER NO LEGAL DEFINITION OR NO THIRD-PARTY VERIFICATION SYSTEM:

NATURAL
FREE-RANGE
CAGE-FREE
ANTIBIOTIC-FREE
CHEMICAL-FREE 
HORMONE-FREE
RBGH-FREE
ECO-SAFE
ENVIRONMENTALLY FRIENDLY AND 
GREEN.


Here is a link to the article about the five labels you can trust.

Mushroom Sauce without the Can of Campbell's—Easy and Much Better

The stores are always full of cremini (button) mushrooms, and often they are on sale. They're always good for you, and we've found that prepared correctly, they can enhance many, many dishes. So why do we insist on using canned cream of mushroom soup as a liquid binder in so many recipes when the glop is nearly tasteless and always too salty?

It turns out that making your own mushroom sauce or cream of mushroom concentrate is really easy—and it tastes so much better.

We purchased a bunch of cremini mushrooms and another bunch of shiitakes for a faux-chopped liver appetizer and had about two cups of each left over. We also had lots of turkey and lots of cooked green beans from our Thanksgiving feast. Sounded like a casserole to us, so we decided to make our own cream of mushroom soup to hold it all together—with a bit of help from our trusty old New York Times Cookbook.

We chopped the mushrooms roughly and chopped a good-size onion as well. Then we melted two  tablespoons of butter (we used Earth Balance Natural Buttery Spread, which is remarkably like butter and doesn't burn when used this way) in a saucepan and heated the onion until transparent. We tossed in the mushrooms and sauteed them another ten minutes, until they had given up their liquid and started to dry out again. Then we poured in a half cup of white wine and a half cup of red wine and simmered the mixture down to a slightly wet sauce.

At that point, we took the mixture off the heat and stirred in three tablespoons of flour, a teaspoon of leftover gravy and a teaspoon of Braggs Liquid Aminos (for flavor). We added added a bay leaf and two turns on the pepper mill and a cup and a half of water (we'd have added stock, but we didn't have any handy). We added the water slowly, stirring constantly, and put the saucepan back on the burner to bring it to a boil before then reducing the heat and simmering the mixture for another five minutes.

After the five minutes of simmering, we removed it from the heat, removed the bay leaf and had a beautiful silky mushroom sauce that we could have served with steak, or pork chops, or chicken filets. We put it in our turkey (and faux turkey) casseroles with the leftover beans, dressed up with a half cup of cream and a pinch of kosher salt.

With double the stock and cream, we'd have had cream of mushroom soup. But our sauce was perfect for, well, a sauce—and for a casserole. It would work just as well in tuna-noodle casserole or any of those comfort-food favorites that we have stopped making because want to avoid the salty can of Campbell's.

Breakfast Rice

Sometimes necessity is the mother of deliciousness. Last week, caught up in Thanksgiving lists and plans, we forgot to buy fruit and bread for breakfast, and we also forgot to make granola. One morning we woke up with virtually nothing to eat.

As we never, ever, skip breakfast, this posed a challenge.

Foraging through our overloaded pre-Thanksgiving refrigerator, we found that we had leftover brown rice and soy milk, and we remembered a dish we used to make, from the undelicious-sounding but very good Ayurvedic Cookbook, by Amadea Morningstar. You simply simmer cooked white or brown rice with an equal amount of milk, along with a shake of cinnamon and a handful of raisins, for a delicate-tasting and surprisingly hearty breakfast dish. If you start with leftover rice, the whole process takes about five minutes—just long enough for the rice to absorb some hot milk and for the raisins to plump up.

We've said it before, but this experience reinforced our conviction: never, ever, throw out leftover rice.

Video Recipe: Pasta with Pumpkin, Sausage and Kale

Here's another video recipe by our friend John Ross. This one was shot for Fine Cooking magazine. Now you have something to do with those leftover jack o lanterns. The recipe is for pasta with pumpkin, sausage and kale. Click the link or the video arrow below.

Sweet-Savory Fruit Preserve Tastes Good on Everything

Guest blogger Amy Friedman shares a recipe that turns blah leftover fruit into an amazingly flexible preserve that works great on everything from meat to ice cream. 

Sweet-Savory Fruit Preserve

Do you love summer sausage? I do. I especially love it with mustard and fruit preserves. Lingonberries work well, but I recently found I wanted something a little sweeter.

So I made up my own sweet-savory fruit preserve. 

As always with me, it's another "clean the fridge" recipe. I initially did it as an experiment, throwing all sorts of shleppy fruit I had around the fridge into it. 

When the fruit mix was ready to come off the stove, I realized it couldn't decide if it was a spread or a fruit butter. I've tried it hot on blintzes, cheese pierogi, and ice cream, and cold on toast, and it's just fine. Today I discovered that cold, and mixed with a little mustard, it's the perfect accompaniment for summer sausage. 

Here's how to make it: 
Pull out your glass or plastic liquid cup measurer. Into it, cut up whatever fruit you've got in the house, until you've got two to four cups. In my mix, I had an apple, a pear, a peach, about half a cup of shleppy red grapes, a handful of dying blueberries, and about an inch or two of finely chopped ginger. Other fruits that can go in there are gooseberries, nectarines, and plums.

Always make sure you've got an apple or a peach in whatever fruit mix you're making—the natural pectin means you won't need Sure-Jell or other commercial jellers. 


Dump the fruit into a bowl (or even into the pot in which you intend to boil the fruit—less cleanup! Just don't use an aluminum pot).  Add an equal amount of sugar. That is, if you've got four cups of fruit, add four cups of sugar. Put in less if the fruit is quite sweet.


Add lemon juice. To four cups of fruit, I generally add the juice of a whole lemon. That's about a tablespoon and a half to two tablespoons. 


This is important: LET IT SIT for two hours. The sugar has to do some digestive work on the fruit. Cover it up and head out of the house or something. When you come back, give it a stir, stick it on the burner, bring it to a boil, and then lower the heat as much as you can. (The sugars mean it can scorch easily, so you really want the heat low.) Cover it, and leave it there for two to three hours. Shorter if you want something more like a sauce, and longer if you want something thick and robust. Come back once in a while and give it a stir, to see how the consistency is maturing. I left mine on the burner for three hours. It came out nice and thick and very tasty, with the ginger giving it a lovely piquancy. 

Next time, I might sliver some of the lemon rind into it, and put in a bit more ginger. 

While your preserve is fone, go slice up some summer sausage, put a few spoonfuls of this on a plate, mix in some mustard, and dip in. Yum!

Favorite Kitchen Utensils: Rotary Cheese Grater

We love parmesan cheese, but we do not love scraping our knuckles as we try to get every fragment off the rind. But Parmigiano-Reggiano is expensive, even at Costco, and we don't like to waste any of it. 


Although microplanes work well on larger pieces of cheese, they can wreak havoc on your hands when you get down to the rind—one slip of the wrist, and you're running for the Band-Aid box.  


Fortunately, we invested years ago in a rotary cheese grinder, which with a few turns produces mounds of snowy grated cheese. Even though it's made of plastic, it's endured heavy use for at least a decade now and withstood many trips through the dishwasher.


(For some reason, we can't delete the Amazon link to the left, but it does provide a good view of this marvelous invention.) 


Now we can scrape every parmesan rind down to the very bottom before we toss it into the freezer for future batches of soup. 

Don't Toss That Old Take-out Rice! Make Fried Rice Instead

Anybody who gets Chinese, Thai, or Indian takeout ends up with containers of leftover rice that tend to dry up, forgotten and neglected, on a back refrigerator shelf until they are one day unceremoniusly purged, tossed into the trash or the compost bin. But there's a way to avoid the waste.

Fried rice may be one of the best leftover saviors ever invented (as well as being one of the best comfort foods if you're feeling down, poor, or just a little agoraphobic). Provided you start with cold rice, you can toss anything in; with a dash or two of soy sauce and a few minutes' stirring at high heat, you have a nice, easy meal.

Even though fried rice is one of those dishes so simple that they say any moron can make it, we are not your average morons: we struggled with a lot of failed, sticky versions before we figured it out. The key is using cold rice. This is why leftovers are great. If you make your rice from scratch, be sure to chill it first; otherwise you will end up with a gummy mess.

Also, if you're making rice from scratch, bear in mind that brown rice has a crunchier texture than white, so it works particularly well in this dish.

Looking at the photo above, you're probably wondering what those black squares are. They are fake bacon, which tastes best—most bacony—when it is fried just to the verge of burning.

This recipe is an adaptation of the one in the legendary Henry Chung's Hunan Style Chinese Cookbook.

Fried Rice with Scrambled Eggs and Bacon

4 T. peanut oil
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 c. chopped bacon or ham*
1/4 c. scallions, chopped
1/2 c. red pepper, sliced and cut into one-inch pieces
1/2 c. peas
3 c. cooked cold rice
2 T. soy sauce (you may want more or less, depending on taste; if in question, start with a tablespoon and add if needed)
1 T. sesame oil

1. Heat wok over highest heat. Add one tablespoon of oil, then lightly scramble eggs; remove to separate plate.

2. Add two tablespoons of oil, then stir-fry the bacon or ham until it's crispy. Remove to the plate with the eggs.

3. Add remaining tablespoon of oil, then stir-fry the scallions, red pepper, and peas until just  done—it should only take a minute or two.

4. Add the rice, eggs, and bacon or ham; stir for a couple of minutes until heated and starting to brown.

5. Add soy sauce; remove to a platter and garnish with sesame oil.

* Any leftover meat would work well in this, but bacon and ham add a nice salty bite to the dish.

Thrifty, Light, and Wonderful: Pavlova

Because we make a lot of Caesar salads, we end up with a lot of leftover egg whites. We can't stand to waste them, so we put them in a bag in the freezer, and when we have four or more saved up, we make one of our favorite desserts: Pavlova.

This fruit-topped meringue is easy, cheap, and great in the summertime, because it's light as air. We don't know anybody who doesn't love it.

There are many good recipes for Pavlova, including Fine Cooking's fine recipe for a six-egg-white version, but we tend to use a variation of Nigella Lawson's simply because it's so easy:

Pavlova with Fresh Fruit

4 egg whites at room temperature
1/4 t. cream of tartar
1 1/2 c. powdered sugar
2 t. cornstarch
1 t. white vinegar (you can also use cider vinegar)
1 t. vanilla
whipped cream
fresh fruit*

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

3. Using a mixer, beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar until satiny peaks form. Beat in the sugar, a third at a time, until the meringue is shiny and stiff.

4. Sprinkle the cornstarch, vinegar, and vanilla over the meringue, and briefly mix to combine.

5. Mound the meringue on the baking sheet, forming a rough circle, and flatten to about an inch and a half in height. Place in the oven, and immediately reduce the heat to 300 degrees. Bake for one hour.

6. When the hour is up, turn off the oven, but leave the Pavlova in until the oven has cooled.

7. Place the cooked Pavlova on a big plate, top with whipped cream—this is a matter of taste, but we find that just a light layer works best—and pureed or sliced fruit.

* Any fruit works: strawberries, raspberries, mango, kiwi, passion fruit. We often thaw a bag of frozen raspberries and use that. For the photo above, we didn't have whipping cream, so we mixed fresh strawberries with half-and-half and a little sugar, and that also was good.

The Great Spice Debate

Is it really true that you should replace your spices every six months? We've never done this, because it would cost a fortune. Also, we've found that although some spices lose their zing after a few years, others hold up just fine for a very long time. We moved a container of crushed red pepper flakes from San Francisco to Sonoma County to Oakland to Connecticut, and those flakes packed a punch right up to the end.

Salon addressed this issue a few days ago, and it's worth reading. The author not only delves into the six-month question but gives excellent tips for getting the most out of your spice investment. In a nutshell: buy them whole, and grind them as you need them. Ground spices give up the flavor ghost much sooner than their whole counterparts, because their essential oils dry up.

"Buy whole" is good advice, and we try to do that. Overall, though, we hang onto our spices as long as we can and replace them as we need to.

Make It Yourself: Croutons

Does anybody really like store-bought croutons, those overpriced, throat-scorching little cubes of processed nastiness that taste only of salt and have an ingredient list as long as your little finger? Okay, that's a little judgmental. But the fact is, homemade croutons are so easy and economical that once you get into the habit of making your own, you will forget all about the kind on the supermarket shelf.

All you need is some bread. Fresh bread works fine, but we like to use stale leftover heels. By stale we mean anything from two days old to rock-hard. Any type of bread will do. White bread, wheat bread, pita bread—anything nonsweet works (though if you want cinnamon-raisin croutons in your caesar salad, go for it).

Cut or tear the bread to the desired size. For salads, we like roughly one-inch cubes that will stand up to crunchy greens and a strong dressing.

Put a skillet on medium high heat and add a little olive oil. You don't need much, just a couple of tablespoons for about two cups of croutons. Once the oil is hot, toss in your bread and, using two spoons, keep tossing it to spread around the oil. Then let it cook, tossing again every few minutes to avoid scorching.

When the cubes are beginning to brown, add salt, pepper, and anything else you like. Chopped garlic is good. So are thyme or sage—dried or fresh. Last night we put smoked paprika on whole-wheat pita croutons, and it tasted great. Let the croutons cook for a few more minutes, until they are golden. That's it.

Leftover croutons will last a couple of days, but we've found that we rarely have leftovers.

The Pantry Project: Vegetable Soup

All week we've been eating out of our freezer, and by last night we'd exhausted the leftovers, slightly amazed by how many beans and lentils were involved: Salsa Casserole, dhal, and something called "bean stew" that we couldn't remember making but turned out to be a pleasant surprise, filled with black-eyed peas and kale. 


So it was time to move on to the other frozen bags and containers: broccoli raab, peas, vegetable stock, leftover bean-cooking liquid, and parmesan rinds. That may not sound very promising, but we're experienced scavengers. We knew that our refrigerator contained aging baby carrots and celery and that our pantry held a lot of canned tomatoes, rice, and (yes) beans. It was a no-brainer: we decided to make vegetable soup. 


It's hard to go wrong making vegetable soup, but it's possible, if you add too much water or use the wrong vegetables. (Many years ago we made a giant batch using eggplant and green peppers. Don't ever try this.) But over the years we've finally gotten it down, and we make it every time we need to clean out the crisper drawer.

We hesitate to call this a recipe, because it changes every time we make it. Sometimes we use potatoes instead of rice; sometimes we use hominy instead of beans. Here's what we made last night.


Vegetable Soup


2 T. olive oil
1 large onion, chopped 
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 stalks celery, chopped
1 cup chopped baby carrots
1 t. dried thyme
4 cups vegetable broth* 
2 cups bean-cooking liquid
1 parmesan rind
1 cup cooked broccoli raab, chopped roughly
1 cup frozen peas
1 28-ounce can diced tomatoes
1 can kidney beans
1/2 cup jasmine rice**
salt and pepper to taste


1. Heat the oil in a in a large pot or Dutch oven. Sauté the onion, garlic, celery, carrots, and thyme for a few minutes, until they soften.


2. Add the liquid, parmesan rind, broccoli raab, peas, tomatoes, and kidney beans. Cook for a few minutes, then taste for seasoning. Salt and pepper as necessary.


3. Add the rice and cook until it's done (about 15 minutes). If the soup is too thick, add water or broth to thin it. Taste again for seasoning. 


4. Fish out the parmesan rind and serve, proud that you've made such delicious use of a few cheap leftovers and pantry basics.


* Usually, we just use water when making this soup, but the leftover stock and bean water really boosted the flavor. 


** Cooked rice also works well in this recipe.

Let Your Red Wine Breathe

"Letting the wine breathe" has become a joke, one of the pretensions that make wine drinkers so comical and intolerable to the rest of the population. But it really is a good idea, and not just for expensive bottles. We've found that inexpensive reds benefit enormously from a breath of fresh air.

A wine that can taste sharp or flat straight out of the bottle often deepens in delicious ways when it's given a chance to open up in a glass or decanter. So, if you know you're going to be drinking a certain bottle with your pasta, crack it early and pour a couple of glasses before you sit down to dinner. You'll be pleasantly surprised.

On a related note, we've been seeing ads for the Rabbit Aerator, which allegedly performs the same function for $30. We asked one of the knowledgeable wine guys at our local liquor store about this device, and he was unimpressed. For the same price, a decanter does an indisputably fine job. Or you can just plan ahead and open your bottle ahead of time, for free.

Hot Sauce: Ignore the Hype and Visibility

We're big fans of Cook's Illustrated and its TV show, America's Test Kitchen. We were charter subscribers to the original Cook's Illustrated, which died an untimely death. We think that Fine Cooking actually channeled the original Cook's, but that doesn't take away from the great cooking advice found at the current Cook's media empire outlets.

A recent review by the Cook's crew reminded us of our strong opinions about hot sauce. We're always up for trying any kind of hot sauce that lands on the counter or table in front of us. Many years ago we even made a pilgrimage to the island in Louisiana where they grow and produce Tabasco sauce.

But since that time and for many, many years we've avoided the omnipresent Tabasco as a condiment in our cooking. We found it too hot to taste the flavor. Not that we mind really hot. We don't. But it was just difficult to get through the heat to get to any flavor enhancement for food.

When Cook's ran a blind tasting of hot sauces, its panel found the same thing. The famous one was too watery but exhibited too little flavor to taste.

The winner? Two sauces. First: Frank's RedHot Original Hot Sauce. Not searingly hot, but a bit of tomato flavor coming through with the cayenne peppers and vinegar. We agree. It's a great sauce to add heat AND flavor to dishes.

Second: La Preferida Louisiana Hot Sauce. Hotter, for sure, but also very tasty. The judges split on these two great additives. The panel members who like more spice and heat voted for La Preferida. The judges who wanted more flavor liked Frank's.