Showing posts with label anchovies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anchovies. Show all posts

Monday, August 13, 2012

Julia Child Week: Onion Tart with Anchovies and Black Olives


It's Julia Child Week! Wednesday would have been Julia's 100th birthday, so there have been many tributes: special dinners at restaurants around the country, a lovely new children's book about Julia and her cat in Paris, a panel nominating her top 100 recipes, a picnic I enjoyed yesterday (which will be Wednesday's features here and on AnnArbor.com) ... oh, the festivities! Oh, the food!

I remember watching "The French Chef" with my mother many moons ago; I'd be eating my pb&j, watching as this charming woman made lovely dishes and made us all feel that we could tackle each of these steps, as well. With Julia, cooking elaborate and sophisticated meals wasn't intimidating ... it was fun!

So this week, I'm featuring a variety of Julia's recipes. I looked over the list of the top 100, but many of them were too rich and heavy for hot August days, or they would require specialized equipment or techniques. And I've written posts about lighter dishes - such as souffles and cream puffs and potato salad with vinaigrette - already, so I wanted to offer new items.

So - dedicated soul that I am! - I perused cookbooks to find recipes that struck my fancy, that were easy to make, that were flavorful, that were summery, and that were representative of Julia Child herself: at their essence, a few simple ingredients that shone when prepared properly.

Today's offering is a simple tart, which looks very contemporary - bruschetta-like, reminiscent of foccaccia. And yet, it comes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume I, which was originally published in 1961. The classics will always be perfect and timeless ... just like Julia Child herself.





Pissaladière Niçoise (Onion Tart with Anchovies and Black Olives) [pee-sah-lah-DEEAYR nee-SWAHZ]

(adapted from Julia Child's recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume I)

  • 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 medium onion, finely chopped
  • 3 basil leaves, minced
  • 2 tablespoons minced parsley
  • 1 large garlic clove, minced
  • 1 8" piece naan (or other prepared flatbread)
  • 8 anchovy fillets, drained of oil
  • 8 Kalamata olives, halved lengthwise
  • 1/4 cup finely shredded Parmesan cheese

In a small skillet, heat oil over very low heat.  Add onion, basil, parsley, and garlic; cook, stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes until onion is tender and caramelized.

Preheat oven to 400F.

Place the flatbread onto a baking sheet; arrange the anchovies and olives decoratively on top.


Sprinkle cheese over the flatbread.  Bake for 10-15 minutes until cheese has started to melt and tart is heated through.

Cut into 4-6 pieces and serve immediately.

(Feel free to leave off the anchovies and substitute a few more olives, if desired.  But they really marry well with the olives - strong flavors working together to enhance the whole ....)

Monday, February 13, 2012

Food and Fun at IKEA


My first trips to IKEA, I have to say, were less than stellar; I am on record as actually having called the place "a circle of Hell that Dante never envisioned."  The crowds, the noise, the lack of windows, my utter inability to navigate without getting lost, having been bored while accompanying others on missions of their own ... oy.  IKEA, to me, was nothing but a source of stress.

But then my friend Sassa, a native Swede, invited me on a food tour; she wanted to show me the fabulous items she'd grown up eating.  Sassa is intensely - and justly - proud of her country's cuisine, which showcases the beauty of fresh, simple ingredients and lets their flavors shine without a lot of complication.

Well, an opportunity for food, fun, and friendship?  Of course I accepted!

And so Sassa, my BFF Wendy, and I went on a Girls' Day Out to IKEA, the primary importer of Swedish foods in this area.  And you know what?  I had a fabulous time!  IKEA is now a place where I can truly say I've enjoyed myself - it has been redeemed!

Wendy saved our table - yes, we managed to find a free table in the cafeteria on the weekend! - while Sassa and I gathered up some goodies.  Some of the items, like hot dogs and french fries, were there solely to appease American children; we had no use for them.  Other items, however, were authentically Swedish and thus found their way onto our trays.

Sassa recommended the gravlax - salmon marinated in salt, sugar, dill, pepper, and spice - which came with a thick and tangy mustard-dill sauce and a light salad.  It was rich, meltingly tender, and deeply flavorful without being overpoweringly "fishy."  Wendy is not usually a fan of fish, but even she was won over by the subtlety and luxury of the dish.  (And as a side note, this could even have been a Frugal Floozie Friday feature given that the gravlax cost only $4.99.  The entire rest of our meal - a sweet treat plus beverages - totaled less than $5 as well.)

Our dessert was a fragrant apple cake.  Its shortbread crust was tender and almost bread-like, rather than resembling crumbly cookies; and the apples were sweet, spicy and just crisp-tender (with a bit of extra emphasis on the "tender").  Sassa pointed out that it's typically Swedish to serve a light vanilla sauce as an accompaniment to cake, rather than serving ice cream as is done in the U.S.  I was polite and shared with my friends, but must admit that I probably ate two bites of this for every one that they did!

Lingonberries are a beautiful red fruit with a tart flavor that is somewhat reminiscent of cranberries; they are most noted for being made into jam, but at IKEA there is also a ruby-colored lingonberry-flavored juice drink that is sweet and very refreshing.

Another drink that is classically Swedish is a beverage made with elderflowers, which come from the elderberry tree.  It came in a juice box and was very lightly flavored - almost a bit like a lightly brewed, sweetened green tea.  It was unique and distinctive, and yet also not entirely unfamiliar.  Sassa told us that it's common to take a bunch of elderflowers and soak them in lemon and water for three days before straining the liquid and bottling it.  She said that the tree's berries aren't typically used until after the first frost, which then intensifies their sweetness when cooked into a syrup.

After our light lunch, we meandered through the store a bit admiring the simple beauty of Scandinavian design, the vibrant colors of household accessories, and the inexpensive pricing that seduces a shopper into buying a little of this ... one of those ... oh, and that too! ... because it's all just so enticing and accessible and aesthetically distinctive.  This was the first chance I'd really had to peruse and investigate, rather than being on a single-minded mission.  And it was fun!

But our primary purpose was to learn about the food, and so we then found ourselves in the small grocery section tasting chocolate samples, inhaling the fragrance from the famous cinnamon rolls, and listening to Sassa offer us the proper and beautiful pronunciation of glögg [glOOg] - the famous spiced wine punch.


Sassa told us that the anchovies from back home are distinctly different than the ones available in the U.S., so I made sure to buy a can of them.  (Just as it is with the rest of the items in the store, if you meander around the grocery section of IKEA your head spins as you see 83 different things you want to get!)  The anchovies are a critical ingredient in many dishes from Sweden and - of course! - I intend to try a few new recipes.  Scandinavian shrimp are sweeter than what we usually have access to, so a bag of them came home with me as well.

A mix for a beautiful, dense, dark brown bread was available; all I needed to do was add water to the carton, shake vigorously, let it rise a bit and then bake it.  This is not my usual m.o., but it was admittedly much easier than hunting down the rye flakes, linseed, and barley malt I would have needed to make my own authentic multigrain loaf.  The bread's slightly sour flavor was exceptional when served simply with sweet creamy butter; combining it with the lovely Ost Lagrad cheese, which is firm and also a bit sour, made an ideal breakfast the next morning.  (Needless to say, I'd rushed home from the store and immediately baked the bread so I could play with my new ingredients and enjoy my treats!).

I couldn't leave the store without a jar of the famous lingonberry jam.  And although it's not pictured (I'd already opened the vacuum-sealed bag), I bought some espresso to use in the wonderful new machine Jeremy gave me for Christmas, because coffee is an essential part of Swedish culture.  Sassa told us that coffee parties are a lovely social gathering at which it is traditional to serve seven different types of sweets, from pastries to cookies.  In the past, it was the quaint social custom that a guest would be invited to partake of the goodies three times before finally succumbing to temptation; it would have been considered rude to leap in any sooner.

Many, many thanks to Sassa, who was a most charming hostess, for the grand tour of Swedish foods!  I came, I saw, I ate, I learned, and I had an absolutely wonderful time!

Monday, January 24, 2011

International Week -- Pasta con Aglio e Olio

This plain-looking pasta dish is ridiculously simple, yet flavorful beyond my ability to describe it. It takes almost no time to prepare, and yet is remarkable for its richness and ability to satisfy. And it has a secret ingredient which you'll likely not guess -- and which most people who eat it won't guess either -- that provides less of an overpowering assertion and more of an "umami" [ooh-MAH-mee]: that indefinable savory "je ne sais quoi" quality that cannot be discerned but which makes its presence known.

This is another recipe shared through my ex-husband, from an Italian immigrant he met a few years ago. I'm told that the man's English was rather poor, but his eyes and his smile shone as he described this dish in the foreign (to him) language, because his love for it is so pure and abundant.

Now, first let me translate the Italian name of the dish for you: Pasta con Aglio e Olio [PAHS-tuh kohn AHL-yo eh OHL-yo] means "Pasta with Garlic and Oil." Oh, how woefully inadequate that title is, even in the more beautiful language!

Because the sauce for the pasta contains not just garlic and oil, but also anchovies.

Yup, you read that right -- anchovies. Those little fuzzy, smelly fishies that can guarantee you won't have to share your pizza with anyone if you plop some of 'em on top.

And yet, once they've melted into the garlic oil -- and they will essentially melt, leaving only miniscule traces of their existence -- those anchovies impart a flavor so full of depth, with a hint of smokiness and a touch of saltiness that isn't readily identifiable as "salty," that you will simply want to inhale platesful of this dish.

You could add peas or carrots or spinach or tomatoes or any other vegetable to this meal to brighten it up and to add nutrition. But sometimes simplicity is precisely what you need.

Pasta con Aglio e Olio (Pasta with Garlic and Oil)

pasta of your choice, for 4 servings
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 large garlic cloves, minced
1 2-ounce can anchovy fillets in oil, drained of most of the oil
2/3 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 tablespoon butter
parmesan, for serving

Cook the pasta according to package directions.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the red pepper flakes and garlic, and cook just until the garlic starts to turn lightly brown. Add the anchovies.



Cook, pressing down on the anchovies with a spoon, for 5 minutes or so, stirring to break up the anchovies.


Add the broth, and bring to a boil. Cook until sauce is dark brown and reduced by half.


Stir in butter, then pour sauce over pasta; toss to coat pasta with the sauce.


Serve with parmesan, and mangia bene! [MAHN-juh BEH-neh] = eat well!





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