Peach and Radish Salad with French Feta and Almonds

It’s not often that the first word I’d use to describe a collection of chefs’ recipes is “practical,” but that’s just what came to mind as I started reading a review copy I received of The Chefs Collaborative Cookbook. The Chefs Collaborative is a group of chefs, food professionals, and producers who have been fostering sustainable cooking through advocacy and education for 20 years. They inspire others to “embrace seasonality, preserve diversity and traditional practices, and support local economies.” The book is a collection of dishes from the member chefs that take you through the seasons with vegetables and fruits, meat and poultry, fish and seafood, and dairy and eggs. The recipes immediately seemed practical because of the many suggestions throughout for making use of what’s in season at the same time, what you may be growing yourself or finding at your farmers’ markets, or what you may have on hand to use as substitutes. There are ideas for using as much of harvested plants as possible like by saving your chard stems for a gratin, pickling watermelon rind, and adding squash leaves to a curry. I like those kinds of reminders especially when the end results look so delicious in the photos. There are also great bits of information throughout the book about reducing waste, choosing well as you shop, and cooking with different sustainably-produced ingredients. The Rainbow Chard Stem Gratin is from Chef Monica Pope; the Broccoli Hushpuppies made with broccoli stems comes from John and Julie Stehling; the beautiful Grilled Eggplant with Roasted Red Pepper and Black Olive Salad is by Nora Pouillon; Southwest Heritage Bean Soup using heirloom beans is from Kim Muller; and Chestnut Waffles with Roasted Apples and Cream is by Jennifer McCoy. It’s exciting to see a book full of such smart ideas, making use of sustainable ingredients so well, and bringing together interesting flavors. At the height of peach season, I love adding them to as many meals as I can, so I was delighted to see the Peach and Radish Salad with French Feta and Almonds by Michael Schwartz. That was my first stop in the book. 

To make the salad, red onion was thinly sliced on a Benriner mandoline and then left to soak in cold water to take off some sharpness and to make them extra crisp. I also sliced the radishes on the mandolin and soaked them in cold water. The peaches were pitted and cut into thin wedges. An easy vinaigrette was made with champagne vinegar, olive oil, and salt and pepper. The drained vegetables, peach wedges, and some chopped basil were tossed with the vinaigrette and placed on platter. The salad was topped with crumbled feta, more chiffonade of basil, and toasted almonds. 

It’s a crunchy, savory, tangy, and sweet kind of salad, and I loved the mix of flavors. It was a perfect match for some grilled, Gulf shrimp. I’m deciding what to make next and thinking about the Farmstead Cheese Strata with Roasted Tomato Wine Butter. There’s also a Vanilla Carrot Cream Tart that I can’t wait to taste. There’s a lot to like about this book, and I predict its pages will be food-splattered from frequent use. 

Peach and Radish Salad with French Feta and Almonds 
Recipe reprinted with publisher’s permission from The Chefs Collaborative Cookbook by Chefs Collaborative and Ellen Jackson published by The Taunton Press in 2013. 

Michael Schwartz, Michael’s Genuine Food and Drink | Miami, Florida 

French feta cheese is typically made with sheep milk and tends to be milder and creamier than Greek feta. Its understated flavor nicely complements the sweetness of the peaches and the bright, peppery notes of the basil and radishes. Cheesemakers across the country are making a wide range of sheep milk cheeses, including French-style feta. Look for your own local source. 

Serves 6 

1/2 small red onion 
3 to 4 Easter Egg or French Breakfast radishes 
4 or 5 ripe peaches (about 2 pounds) 
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil 
2 tablespoons champagne vinegar 
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves, torn 
1 cup French feta cheese, crumbled 
1/4 cup sliced almonds, lightly toasted 

Thinly slice the onions on a mandoline or with a very sharp knife. You should end up with about 1⁄4 cup. Fill a small bowl with cold water and a few ice cubes and soak the onions for 5 minutes; this mellows the sharp bite typical of raw onions and makes them crisp. Drain the onions and pat dry with paper towels. Thinly slice the radishes on the mandoline. 

Halve and pit the peaches. Cut each half into quarters and slice the quarters into thin wedges. Combine the oil and vinegar in a bowl with some salt and black pepper and whisk to combine. Add the peaches, onions, radishes, and basil, tossing gently to evenly coat the ingredients. Season to taste with additional salt and pepper if desired. 

Divide the salad equally among six plates and top with the crumbled feta and toasted almonds. 

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Mahi Mahi and Semi-Dried Pickled Root Vegetables with Herb Salt

There are plenty of challenges for a restaurant to source all of its food locally in a place like Austin where we have 80 degree December days when the farmers’ markets are bursting with great produce. So, imagine what it must be like to rely on local ingredients at a restaurant in Sweden where winter is long and dark and summer is brief. And yet, that challenge is just what makes Faviken Magasinet, a mountain estate and restaurant in northern Sweden, so interesting. In the new book Faviken, Magnus Nilsson describes how he transformed the menu to take advantage of the best of locally produced food and make the remote restaurant a destination. I recently received a review copy of the book. The restaurant’s menu changes throughout the year and even from day to day depending on what’s available. Gardens just outside the kitchen supply freshly-picked vegetables and herbs in the summer, and that produce is then carefully stored, dried, pickled, fermented, or otherwise preserved for winter use. For meats, Nilsson has sought out specific breeds of animals, raised ethically to the ages he prefers, from nearby farms. For instance, his preference for beef is that from dairy cows that are five to ten years old. The chicken, which happens to be Brahmas, are raised to an age of about eight months, and along with ducks, geese, and quails, they’re raised for the restaurant at a local farm. Game is hunted, wild herbs and berries are foraged, and fish is brought from the closest shore.

It was fascinating to read about dinner service at Faviken and how precisely everything is timed. The dining room seats sixteen, and everyone is seated and served at the same time. The carefully chosen, dried, cut, and precisely cooked meats are placed on warmed plates which are hurried to the dining room. There’s a practiced choreography of cooking, plating, and delivery. In the summer, vegetables are picked in the garden moments before they land on plates. Kale is described as “steamed so briefly that it is dying on the plate.” I’d love to see this kitchen in action, and I’d love to taste the food. The recipes in the book are presented exactly as they are prepared in the restaurant. That means some ingredients and techniques seem very particular like “one lavender petal from last summer” and “vinegar matured in the burned-out trunk of a spruce tree.” But, I took the recipes as inspiration to think seasonally about what’s available here and now. I was intrigued by a dish in the book that included a pork chop and semi-dried pickled root vegetables. I replaced the pork with a simply seared piece of fish, and focused on the pickled vegetables. I stopped by the farmers’ market and found two kinds of carrots, Chioggia beets, red radishes, and daikon radish. I made a brine with apple cider vinegar, sugar, and salt and added fennel seeds, black peppercorns, and dried red chiles. The chopped root vegetables became quick, refrigerator pickles which I chilled for a few days. Then, I followed the instructions for the semi-dried pickled vegetables in the book. The vegetables were sliced and left on a parchment-lined baking sheet to dry for a couple of days. Then, they were sliced into skinny sticks. I also made the herb salt from the book which is one way fresh herbs are preserved for the winter at the restaurant. I gathered oregano and chives from my herb garden, chopped them in a food processor, mixed them with sea salt, and pushed the mix through a sieve. Nilsson explains that as the herb salt slowly dulls over the winter months, he finds the change in flavor interesting. To keep the herb salt bright green, it can be stored in the freezer.

The semi-dried pickled vegetables were chewy and maintained good puckery flavor. They were a great match to a simple piece of fish, and the herb salt added a fresh savoriness. I didn’t attempt to create a full progression of dishes as would be served at the restaurant, but I enjoyed taking bits and pieces from the book for a simple meal. There’s a lot to be inspired by in the book and applied to what’s available wherever you’re cooking.

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Parmesan Tuiles with Grapefruit and Chile Salad

It's common enough to find citrus fruits in salads. Grapefruit and avocado or orange and fennel are two classic examples. I wanted to make something similar but brighter and spicier and more of a winter version of a summer dish. I had a page from last September's Food and Wine in my idea stack, and I kept coming back to the parmesan tuiles with heirloom tomato salad. A small, crisp, savory cookie was a good vehicle for a bite or two of salad, and I started re-imaging the salad on top with winter's citrus. I had just received a box of Texas red grapefruit from TexaSweet, so I was ready to experiment. Some kind of chiles definitely needed to be included as well as something herby. I also wanted some sort of vegetable to balance the grapefruit's sweetness. I tried a mix of chopped grapefruit segments, tiny slivers of habanero, sliced green onion, and broccoli sprouts, and it was good but not perfect. The habanero was just way too hot in a big bite of salad, and the sprouts didn't add texture. I tried again with thinly sliced jalapeno and fresno chiles, some fine julienned pieces of radish, and parsley. That iteration combined all the flavors and textures I had in mind.

I actually made the parmesan bases two different ways. First, I followed the recipe from the magazine for the parmesan tuiles which is a mixture of grated parmigiano-reggiano, softened butter, a little flour, and some black pepper. That dough was formed into a log and cut into round cookies that baked into lacy, crisp wafers. The second version I made were just parmesan frico. I piled stacks of grated parmigiano-reggiano on a parchment-lined baking sheet and baked until the cheese melted into rounds. When cooled, the two cookies were almost the same with the latter being a little quicker and easier to make. For the salad, I cut the peel and pith off of two ruby red grapefruits, and then cut segments which I chopped into chunks. A jalapeno and a fresno chile were each thinly sliced, and two radishes were julienned. Two green onions were thinly sliced, and some parsley was finely chopped while a few leaves were left whole for garnish. All of the salad items except for the whole parsley leaves were combined in a bowl, seasoned with salt and black pepper, and then scooped with a fork to strain off the liquid when placed on each parmesan tuile.

The sweet, fresh, slightly bitter taste of the grapefruit was the center of attention, but the chiles did not go unnoticed. The radish, parsley, and green onion all added good balance. The big, bright flavors, as well as serving it on a parmesan cookie, made it a fun salad for winter. Of course, summer tomatoes would be good here too, but citrus worked extremely well for a February salad.

Radish Rye Flatbread

I grew up in Illinois, the very center of the Midwest US, where we used to say that every recipe had a can of soup in it. Yes, despite being the agricultural mecca of the country, the Midwest was known as a land of casseroles more so than one of fresh, fabulous food, but all of that might have changed in the last few years. I received a review copy of the new book Heartland the Cookbook and learned of several new things about the food scene there. The number of artisan food purveyors has drastically increased. There's now La Quercia in Iowa which makes prosciutto from heritage Berkshire pigs, foraged foods are showing up on high-end restaurant menus, microbreweries and microdistilleries are making small batch products, and Prairie Fruits Farm in Champaign, Illinois and other small dairies are making chevre. Years ago, I attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, and I don't recall any local cheese purveyors in town back then. I was thrilled to read about this change and the growing focus on local foods. I also learned that the Midwest now has thirty-three Slow Food chapters making it second only to the California Oregon Washington region. In addition to delivering all of that great news, the book is also full of beautiful photos of rural landscapes and, of course, food.

The recipes include breakfast dishes, breads, nibbles and drinks, salads and soups, main courses, and desserts. Several of the dishes recommend locally made items like that chevre from Champaign, Illinois or Chicago-made Vosges chocolate that's used in a hot fudge sundae with salted caramel sauce. I haven't made it back to the Midwest for a visit lately, so instead of using specific products from there, I cooked with the spirit of the book by using what I could get locally in Austin. There's a recipe for four seasons flatbread which showcases seasonal items in different toppings. The flatbreads themselves are made from no-knead recipes also in the book. I chose the no-knead sour caraway rye dough topped with a fresh herb cheese, sliced radishes, and chives. I used a feta, spinach, and herb spread made by Full Quiver Farm, and I found pretty, Easter egg radishes, and some green garlic which I added to the toppings, at the farmers' market last weekend. The no-knead dough was as simple as dough gets. Bread flour, rye flour, instant yeast, salt, cocoa powder for color, caraway seeds, molasses, yogurt, and water were mixed in a large bowl. Since there's no kneading, you do need to mix thoroughly with a spoon, but then the dough just sits to rise for a couple of hours and that's it. The dough was patted into an oval on a baking sheet, and it baked until browned and crisp on the surface. Once cool, the cheese was spread on top, and it was covered with sliced radishes and green garlic and chopped chives.

Fresh, early spring flavors of radish and green garlic and a thin layer of rich cheese were complemented nicely by the rye flatbread with caraway, cocoa, and molasses. As soon as local heirloom tomatoes appear, I'll use them for the flatbread version made with clover honey dough. The other recipes I'm looking forward to trying are prairie panzanella made with cornbread, an heirloom bean ragout in an acorn squash, and the next time we use the grill, I'm making the smoked goat cheese. Mostly, I'm looking forward to my next visit to the Midwest where I'll be seeking out some of the food artisans I learned about in the book.

I’m submitting this to Yeastspotting where you’ll find some seriously well-made bread.

Lemony Quinoa Salad with Shaved Vegetables

This summer is becoming the season of salads, and this one comes from April’s Food and Wine. It’s from Jeremy Fox of Ubuntu which is a restaurant and yoga studio in Napa. The restaurant’s menu focuses on vegetable-inspired meals with daily-harvested and farm-fresh produce. I hope to visit it one of these days, but until then, I have the recipes from the magazine. For this salad, I feared the ingredients might require an extended search mission, and I was ready to make substitutions as needed. Just when I was willing to relent, I easily found both red quinoa and black radishes. Little shopping successes like that give me hope for future ingredient hunts. Once all the items had been gathered, the salad was very simple to assemble.

First, red radishes, black radishes, carrots, and fennel were thinly sliced on a Benriner. Then, the slices were transferred to a bowl of ice water which was refrigerated for an hour. That is what made this salad what it was. The vegetables became incredibly crisp with a lasting, transformed texture. The red quinoa was cooked in water, allowed to cool, and then combined with a simple vinaigrette of lemon juice, lemon zest, olive oil, salt, and pepper. The shaved vegetables topped the quinoa to finish the salad.

It’s so simple, it might even sound boring, but it was light, crunchy, and lemony. The vinaigrette mixed into the quinoa brought plenty of acidity and seasoning for the entire plate. The flavor of the fennel mingled its way among the other vegetables in a nice way, and the cold crispness of the slices were the textural opposite of the cooked quinoa. I hadn’t eaten black radishes before, but the flavor was very mild. The skin was thicker than that of the red radishes, and they seemed a little firmer when being cut. The visual appeal of the contrasting colors and shapes matched the experience of eating the different textures in the salad. Simply put, this was fun to eat, and chilling shaved vegetables is a technique I’ll definitely use again.

Sliced Spring Salad with Avocado and Feta

Have you read A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg yet? The book is moving and touching and funny, and I couldn’t put it down once I started it. Her stories describe times with her father, time spent in Paris, and meeting and falling for her now husband. All of which involved food in one way or another, and each story includes a recipe or two. And, about the food, I have several post-its marking pages of things I intend to make. The first of those to be tried was the sliced spring salad. I had some radishes and cilantro from Hands of the Earth Farm, and the weather’s been warm and muggy and just right for a crisp salad.

To begin the preparation, the red wine vinegar and Dijon vinaigrette was made in a small bowl. Then, there’s a description of the order in which the vegetables should be sliced based on the speed at which they oxidize. I should mention that the writing of the recipes is as well-done as that of the stories in that they are both clearly of the same voice. I won’t ruin it by quoting it here. The radishes were sliced first, then radicchio, followed by endive. Those were tossed in a large bowl with cilantro leaves and some of the vinaigrette to taste. Last, the avocado was sliced and placed on top, and the salad was sprinkled with French feta. It was quick and easy to assemble, and the most time-consuming part was probably picking the leaves off the cilantro stems.

It was a colorful, fresh combination that was perfect with some simply grilled chicken. The radicchio and endive were crunchy and flavorful, the radishes added a peppery note, and the buttery avocado was delicious with the cilantro. French feta is a little milder than Greek, and it worked very well here. As noted in the recipe, goat cheese would also be good. It was a winner that we’ll definitely have again. Up next from this book could be meatballs with pine nuts, or slow-roasted tomato pesto, or custard-filled corn bread, or caramelized cauliflower with salsa verde. So many post-its.

Winter Kaleidoscope

I returned home after a great week in Ireland and got to pick up some fresh CSA vegetables the next morning. The carrots, radishes, and daikon were bright and beautiful. It’s the crispness of radishes and the sharp, peppery flavor that I like, and I usually always eat them raw. However, I have been intrigued by a few dishes I’ve seen lately involving cooking radishes. I pulled Patricia Wells’ Vegetable Harvest from the shelf and found a warm salad nicely suited to the season and these fine vegetables I’d just acquired. In the book, Wells tells the story of the first delivery of fresh vegetables she received in Paris, how colorful and fresh they were, and the recipe that was included. That recipe is close to what you see here, but I had to make a couple of changes.

Jerusalem artichokes were to be included, but there were none at the grocery store and therefore none in my version of the dish. I also left out the turnips because I had both red and watermelon radishes. So, my vegetable melange included: carrots, red radishes, watermelon radishes, daikon, parsnips, and garlic. Now, the 16 cloves of garlic suggested in the recipe may sound like a lot, but they become mild and lovely as they cook. All the vegetables are to be very thinly sliced and then cooked over low heat with cumin, espelette, and a little olive oil. My pantry was missing piment d’espelette, I need to order some along with fennel pollen and more Aleppo pepper, so I used a small bit of cayenne instead. Everything cooked together, covered, for 20 minutes. Once on the plate, fragrant walnut oil was dribbled about, and I added some chopped parsley as well. The low heat ensures the vegetables retain some crunch but yield just slightly. I would suggest cooking the parsnips for a few minutes on their own and then adding everything else. Their texture was a little firmer than that of the other items, but it could have just been that the store bought parsnips weren’t as amazingly fresh as the CSA produce.

The dish was nicely spiced by cumin and cayenne, and the walnut oil accented it very well. It’s an uncomplicated preparation, but each element played an important part, so don’t skip the walnut oil or cumin. The colors were thrilling and added to the sense of freshness. This warm but crisp salad with some rosemary roast chicken made a simple and delicious fall meal.