Blue Cayenne

Is there a support group for compulsive cookbook buyers?

Hundreds of cookbooks share my office bookshelves with my collection of history and political science books from my thirty-two year teaching career and my growing collection of photography books.

My history books are sacred possessions but I’m beginning to think I could free up some space for more cookbooks by donating my political science books to the library. Given this miserable election cycle, I don’t want to read any stinkin’ poli sci.

One of my most recent cookbook purchases is Persiana by Sabrina Ghayour, a book of recipes from the southern and eastern Mediterranean. Persian-born Ghayour is a food writer (The Washington Post, The WSJ, Saveur), teacher and cookbook author. This simple recipe for eggplant is from Persiana.

I used her spread to craft an exotic open-face sandwich for dinner last night, adding a couple slices of mozzarella and an absolutely exquisite slice of a red-ripe tomato from my friend Gene’s garden.

I’m going to keep this post short. I’m expecting a cookbook delivery of David Tanis books from Amazon.

Ingredients: Eggplant Sandwich

1 large white onion (cut in half and sliced thin)

1 large eggplant

1/3 to 1/2 C. labneh (or strained thickened yogurt or Persian kashk/whey)

Sea salt

Sourdough Bread (or pita or nan)

Mozzarella Slices

Chopped cilantro (or basil or Italian parsley)

A slice of my friend Sarah’s home grown tomatoes

Directions:

Heat 2 inches of vegetable oil in a large pan. (I used my Dutch oven.) When the oil is hot, fry the thinly-sliced onion until the onion is dark brown, being careful not to burn the onion.

Peel the eggplant and slice it into rounds and then into 1/2 inch cubes. Using the oil you used to fry the onion, fry the eggplant cubes until they are soft and beginning to color. Using a slotted spoon or cooking spider, remove the cooked eggplant cubes to another pan. (Use some self control and refrain from eating all the wonderful fried onion before proceeding.)

Using the back of a spoon, mash half to three-quarters of the eggplant cubes. (You want some of the cubes to keep their shape so that your eggplant dish will have some texture.) Stir in 3/4 of the fried onions. Add the labneh (or yogurt) and sea salt to your taste.

Turn the heat to medium low and cook your eggplant mixture for halt to three-quarters of an hour, stirring frequently until the labneh (or yogurt) turns a medium brown color.

Spread eggplant mixture on a lightly-toasted piece of sourdough bread (or pita or nan). Top with sliced mozzarella and heat under your broiler until the sandwich is hot and the mozzarella just begins to melt. Garnish with remaining fried onion and a slice of tomato. Enjoy.

There I was, like a jilted bride ditched at the altar, clutching a huge bouquet of leafy emerald green sweet basil and wondering what the heck to do next.

Believe me, I had no plans for any major cooking projects using basil when I drove down PCH to the Long Beach Farmers Market this week. It just happened. Like a proposal from a feckless suitor, the huge bunches of exquisitely aromatic basil on the vendors’ tables beckoned and I was in a mood to say yes.

Since these lazy late summer days are salad days at my house anyway, I decided to try David Lebovitz’ basil vinaigrette recipe–a riff on pesto sans the pine nuts. I had just bought some glorious Spanish olive oil from the Antica Olive Oil store in Los Alamitos, so the marriage of my beautiful basil and my extraordinary olive oil seemed perfect.

The truth is that I’ve been working on my vinaigrette game this summer–looking for that certain something that turns an uninspired oil and vinegar vinaigrette into something special. I want it to be pretty, too. This simple vinaigrette recipe seemed like it might be the one.

Fresh basil is a very interesting ingredient. It has graced people’s dinner tables for a very long time.

Basil is believed to have originated in Africa. It has been cultivated in India for over 5000 years and was known to Greek and  Roman cooks. In more modern times, the French and the Italians took basil purees, pistous and pestos, to culinary heights.

According to Harold McGee’s On Food and Cooking, basil was relatively unknown here in the United States until the 1970s. How is that even possible? I guess American cooks were busy turning out tuna casseroles and jello molds. Ugh.

I’m not doubting McGee, though. He is a culinary giant.  A Yale PhD (in romantic poetry!), he writes about food chemistry and history and has authored a number of important books including On Food and Cooking which was first published thirty-two years ago and was revised and updated in 2004. His book is seen by many as the book that pioneered the kitchen science book genre where technical food science is translated into engaging reader-friendly prose.

McGee also has written for The New York Times, Food and Wine Magazine and Physics Today and is a sought-after lecturer/teacher in venues as varied as The French Culinary Institute in New York City and the Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory. (No.The Fermi reference is not a typo.)

Since 2010, he has been a visiting lecturer at Harvard, teaching their course “Science and Cooking: From Haute Cuisine to Soft Matter Science.” Talk about a Renaissance man!

Back to basil. Basil is in the mint family and is related to culinary herbs ranging from lavender to marjoram to oregano to sage and thyme.

Heaven knows I’ve tried to grow my own basil.  McGee’s book calls basil a “hardy” annual. Not for me.

I keep buying those pots of basil at Trader Joe’s and convincing myself that I won’t kill yet another one. Einstein was right, of course: “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” So it is with me and growing basil.

Interestingly, McGee writes that the delicious aroma of the sweet basil leaf varies greatly depending upon the age of the plant. “The flavor of basil depends not only on the variety, but on growing conditions and the stage at which it is harvested. Generally, aroma compounds make up a larger proportion of young sweet basil leaves than old, by as much as five times. In leaves that are still growing, the relative proportions of the different compounds actually vary along the length of the leaf, with the older tip richer in tarragon and clove notes, the younger base in eucalyptus and floral notes.”

I can see this vinaigrette being drizzled over any number of cold vegetables. Today I enjoyed it over cold roasted beets.

Lebovitz describes drizzling it over white beans. That sounds good, too.

Maybe I’ll do that for dinner.

Ingredients: Basil Vinaigrette

1/2 C. extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/2 T. red or white wine vinegar (I used a white balsamic)
1 T. water
1 small shallot (peeled and sliced)
1 t. Dijon mustard
3/4 t. kosher salt
2 C. loosely-packed fresh basil leaves

Directions:

Combine olive oil, vinegar, water, shallot, mustard and salt in a blender. Add coarsely chopped basil leaves. Blend, scraping down sides of blender jar, until you have a smooth sauce. This will take about 15 to 30 seconds. This vinaigrette can be thinned with a bit more water or olive oil.

There is a vendor at the farmers market I frequent who stands in front of his stand every week and sings “almost too yummy” about his produce in a scratchy tenor voice.

On more than one occasion, I have heard the nearby vendors good-naturedly (and with an intentional delay) adding their voices to the first vendor’s song. When they do, the “almost too yummy” refrain ricochets across the market like the mountain echoes in Alpine yodeling. It always makes me laugh.

Here is an impossibly easy mushroom side dish. Despite its ease of preparation, it is, as my vendor would sing, “almost too yummy.” Try it.

Recipe:
8 oz. whole white mushrooms
2 cloves garlic (minced)
1 T. chopped parsley
salt and pepper
1 T. olive oil

Directions:
Saute mushrooms and garlic in a heated pan with 1 T. oil for two to three minutes. Once pan is sufficiently hot, add 2 T. milk and cover the pan and continue to saute until mushrooms are soft. Remove pan from heat and add 2 T. cream cheese. Stir until cheese melts and forms a smooth sauce. Return pan to medium heat and stir until sauce is bubbling. Spoon mushrooms into a heat-proof serving dish and sprinkle with parmesan or swiss cheese. Heat briefly under the broiler of your oven until the cheese melts and begins to brown. Remove from oven and garnish with chopped parsley and sprinkle with paprika and/or a pinch of cayenne pepper. Enjoy.

Cook’s Notes: I spooned the mushrooms and their sauce over mashed Yukon gold potatoes and it was pretty wonderful. I think this would be a great brunch dish served with buttered toast points, too.

Here is a link to the original recipe at Lovefoodies.com:

Creamy Garlic Mushrooms