Minimally Invasive

Last night’s meal came courtesy of odds & ends from our kitchen and my deep and abiding love of tomatoes. With the abundance of lycopene in my system at any given time, it’s a real shame I don’t have a prostate, for if I did, it would surely be the most beauteous specimen in all the land. Neither showy nor unapproachable, but a humble and gracious gland, welcoming pilgrims from distant lands spurred to their journey by the appearance of the long-foretold wonder.

Or it would at least win many blue ribbons at county fairs.

But no, I’m just a girl, so my husband has to reap the benefits of my obsession, though our driveway isn’t exactly flooded with pilgrims or civic-minded ribbon-awarders, now that I think about it.

The odds & ends worked their way into a meal by virtue of me having no clue what to cook for dinner and remembering a couple strips of bacon, a few slices of sopressata and some onion hanging out in the fridge, the remnants of whole canned tomatoes I stuck in the freezer a few weeks ago, and a little bowtie pasta that looked pretty lonely in the pantry. Some garlic cloves demanded admittance to the party (as they always seem to do, the pushy little buggers) and hot pepper paste arrived masked as tomato paste and barged in before I realized what happened.

No, really — why is the packaging so similar between tubes of tomato and hot pepper paste? I didn’t realize anything was wrong until I’d put about a tablespoon of it into the pan and noticed it wasn’t the right color, consistency, or smell, so I looked at the tube to make sure it hadn’t expired and realized my mistake. Well, my screw-up turned out to be a stroke of luck. The paste added a real zing to the sauce I wouldn’t have gotten from pepper flakes alone, so now I have another ingredient in my arsenal I wouldn’t have if I’d been paying attention.

This wasn’t the typically meat-free meal I like to make on weeknights, but if I eat vegequarian 90% of the time, I don’t mind treating myself every now and then; it’s the only way to stay sane. And let’s face it, pork is the penultimate treat.

The ultimate? Tomatoes, of course.

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter P. You may recognize it from such words as Parsley, Pecorino, and my favorite word of late, Procrastination.

Last weekend’s kitchen adventures were spent in the service of Cinco de Mayo with a chicken and hominy soup and a recipe for beans that took the better part of a day to make, but were worth every last stinkin’ second.

But by the time the fifth rolled around, I just couldn’t bring myself to post anything about it.

What’s that word again? Oh yeah, Procrastination.

Which brings us to today.

The aforementioned soup.

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Moules frites is a classic for good reason:

mussels + wine + butter + cream + parsley + shallots + garlic + fries = delicious

No picture of the frites, sorry. The mussels were the star of the show.

When life gives you rosemary…

make rosemary syrup!

Use it to top your couche-couche…

and start researching cocktail recipes that make use of it for later in the evening.

recipe after the jump

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Make this.

Now.

I used dough from our favorite local pizza joint and a bit more cheese than I’m entirely comfortable admitting to, and it was still so good I’m considering purchasing a bigger pizza stone just to make more of these at once.

Why are you still here? You should be hunting down ramps and grating fresh mozzarella!

Scoot!

That thing I had against leftovers? Not a problem anymore. No sirree, not after last night, at least.

I had quite a bit of filling left after adapting the Plump Pea Dumplings recipe from 101 Cookbooks, so I pondered for a while what exactly to do with it. Then I remembered another recipe I’d bookmarked from Delicious Days (whose photography just kills me) for Egg Yolk Ravioli and dinner was taken care of!

So I mixed together a double recipe of pasta in my food processor (if it’s good enough for Lidia, it’s good enough for me!) and kneaded it until it was pliable, then formed it into a ball before setting it in the fridge to chill for 15 minutes.

Making ravioli from scratch meant digging out the pasta maker we received as a wedding gift and only used once. Not exactly sure why it isn’t in the rotation more often because it turned out nice, thin sheets of ravioli dough.

First, I quartered the dough and ran half of it through the machine to make sure the rollers were completely clear of metal shavings before I got down to it.

And then slowly I rolled, step by step, inch by inch.

Oh yeah, that’s why I don’t use this more often! My arm nearly fell off.

But, as I said, it turned out nice, thin sheets, which I then topped with about a tablespoon of leftover dumpling filling per egg yolk I planned to use. This left me with four frankly not-very-attractive balls of green stuff, into which I formed little craters so the egg yolks wouldn’t escape.

See? Unattractive, but just you wait.

Then I used the egg separators right at the end of my arms to separate the yolks from the whites. The whites went into a bowl and the yolks just sat very perkily atop the green mounds.

Well, ok, not ALL of them were so perky…

That guy at left? He was trouble.

After that balancing act was done, I brushed the dough all around the fillings with egg white and set the other strip of dough on top, carefully sealing each ravioli and doing my best to squeeze out all of the air. Not sure I succeeded on that count, but none burst in the water, which is all I need to consider myself a culinary genius. Set the bar low, kids.

I’m no Martha, but I do love a scalloped edge.

So these babies boiled for 2-3 minutes while I scurried frantically around the kitchen, warming the plates, melting the truffle butter (yeah, you heard me), and getting out the microplane grater so I could top each eggy pillow with cheese before it had a chance to cool off.

I’d say it all turned out well, wouldn’t you?

Finally found ramps at the farmers’ market. Hot damn.

I’m convinced Spring is here now that I’ve seen the herbs and ramps at the Union Square Greenmarket — let allergy season commence! Despite feeling like a kid in a candy store, I kept my purchases reasonable and only bought some winter baudolino and cave-aged cheddar cheeses from Bobolink Dairy and two bunches of ramps.

Just in case you missed it — ramps! They’re here! (They’re queer! Get used to it!)

Last weekend’s Seder was a success; Miriam did most of the heavy lifting, and the only thing I really screwed up was overcooking some asparagus, which I put into the fridge for later comsuption. Heidi’s recent post on plump pea dumplings convinced me that we needed to have them in our lives, and I thought the asparagus would be a natural addition to the filling. Alas, it was not meant to be, as I am lazy. After work, the last thing I wanted to do was slave over wonton wrappers and spilling filling, so the asparagus languished too long and turned in a way that only asparagus can.

:: shudder ::

So I made the dumplings Saturday using my greenmarket find. I cooked one bunch of the ramps in some bacon fat (yummmm) and mixed it with about a cup and a half of peas, lots of black pepper, and two teaspoons of sumac instead of lemon rind; my lemon was nearing its final journey to the afterworld and I thought it should arrive complete with the rind that saw it through its full life on earth. Otherwise, I stayed true to the original recipe.

The easy part, she is over. Now the sealing must begin.

OK, not as bad as expected. And they even held together as they cooked.

I fried them in just enough olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan and they were really something — creamy, fresh and vegetal, like Spring in a bite-sized wrapper.

But we have lots of filling left over, which gives me an idea for another dinner…

Wait a minute, this isn’t Rufus!

Greyhound Friends of NJ held a Meet & Greet this weekend at Rusty’s Place, our local pet store. We took Rufus down for a couple of hours and he seemed to have a great time meeting and greeting all of the other greys, though he did get a bit tangled up in the other leashes and lost his shit whenever large trucks drove by. (Mr. Sensitive actually dragged me across the parking lot when an especially loud truck passed, which made for a hilarious visual, I’m sure.) But in general, he was pretty well-behaved … whew! Gil and I had a nice time talking with other greyhound owners, who predicted we’ll have another adoption someday; I don’t think any of them had just one dog.

In typical fashion, I snapped a bunch of pictures and have posted my favorites after the jump. As always, to see the full flickr set, click on any image.

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When Gil decided to shutter Voyant Publishing, he was left with overstock that he had to destroy. He piled these boxes on the ground under our balcony just before winter and they’ve had a hard time containing their load. Before we bring in someone to cart it all away, I had to snap a few pictures to document their weathered beauty.

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