Look Who's Cookieng

First off, no excuses. Here I am, after a long absence. Welcome back, followers.

Now, to the reason we're all here.

For many years, I've dreaded my (more and more infrequent) trips to Madrid. Not because I've assumed the typical Catalan disregard for and snubbing of the capital of Spain, oh no; sadly, I will never be a Catalan patriot. Maybe it has to do with the uncomfortable sleeping conditions at my mother in law's: a sofa bed even I, at 5-foot 2-inches tall, am too long for (whoever invented the sofa bed surely went to hell for all those sore backs anway), in a room that is really a hallway between her bedroom and the living-dining area.

Israel, my husband, is from Madrid. But then, you surely wonder, I should have some regard for the place, right? But Israel not only comes from Madrid, he comes from a big family. And I mean very big: my mother in law has 9 brothers and sisters, each with ther own set of children and grandchildren, which makes up for huge reunions with lots of small talk, smiling until your jaw hurts, and being asked the same questions over and over. This for a person who comes from a tiny, over-psychoanalyzed family in which typical over-the-dinner-table conversations (even when we haven't seen each other in over a year, my usual visiting Buenos Aires rate) can verse on anything from our sex lives, to childhood traumas, to the meaning of life, to how our parents messed us up. Which also means that, given the sensibility of said topics, my family members can often spend long periods of time not speaking to each other.

Anway, last week Israel and I enjoyed our second consecutive summer week without the kids. We spent three days in Madrid on our way back from 4 days in southern Spain (cross your fingers, post to follow). This time, we were alone at my mother in law's (she was with the kids at her weekend house). For a couple on a romantic trip, the attic flat is ideal: it has the most coveted asset in the city: a large terrace overlooking a quaint square, an oasis smack in the middle of the city. The perfect place for lazing around once the sun goes down and Madrid's unique sky lights up with stars. We also got to sleep in her bedroom, a loft-like room with a futon and tatami, just like we have at home.

This time, we played it like tourists (which we are; Israel has been living out of his home town for over a decade now) and Madrid managed to surprise me: the weather was exceptionally acceptable for August, and we came across lots of new (to us, at least) cool spots and things to do.

I always say that the thing I miss most in Spain are cafés like the ones in other cities I've lived in and traveled to (Buenos Aires, San Francisco, New York, Berlin are full of them); you can eat your heart's galore here in Spain, but there are hardly any cafés where you can get a light lunch or a snack at any time of the day (feeding hours are by the book in Barcelona) and spend hours just reading or working. Wireless internet access is almost impossible to come by in bars and the no-smoking law is still pretty much of a joke.

Madrid seems to be incorporating the café thing sooner than Barcelona, though. Harina, a bakery and café right by the Puerta de Alcalá, instantly became our favorite breakfast spot. They bake real bread, an unfortunate scarcity in this refined-flour day and age. They also open at 8:30 am every day, amazingly early for Spanish hours. I do suspect the owners are Argentine, though, due to the suspiciously foreign to Spain sandwiches de miga, medialunas (Argentine version of croissants), vigilantes, and cañoncitos de dulce de leche.



My beloved Le Pain Quotidien (yes, I know, a chain, but still good!) already has three branches in Madrid and no sign of showing up here in Barcelona yet. So we made a point of visiting each of the three at least once; we even spent an entire Saturday morning reading lazily on the terrace of the new Pain Quotidien in Madrid's Plaza Mayor (and were shocked that their prices are even higher than the other two branches, which are already pretty expensive; tourists will be tourists, we dished out every cent and it was worth it).

Then we visited the nearby Mercado de San Miguel, a gorgeous, recently renovated market that now holds more places to eat than actually shop for food (there are a couple of overpriced stalls, like the produce stall we bought dessert from: two nectarines for two euros!). There used to be a stall that sold fancy cooking utensils and another with a well-thought out selection of books on food, but this time I saw that they had been replaced by more stalls to pig out on. The place is so beautifully presented, it makes you want to try something from each and every stall. Even though we had just eaten a full brunch, we couldn't resist and had some pinchos at one of the seafood stalls. I considered the oysters but left them for a future visit.

Another discovery we just happened to stumble upon was Espiritu Santo street, a picturesque narrow street in the city center. Trendy cafés, bakeries and shops have recently popped up along the entire street.

We had a light dinner of gazpacho, a warm vegetable salad, and eggplant parmiggiana at a cute corner café called El Rincón.

I also noticed that the cupcake craze has reached Madrid as well, this corner bakery is very American in its decor as well as the colorful frosted little cakes I'm not particularly crazy about myself (but the place was so cute and I had to go in and take a picture):



But my favorite place on the street was a tiny hole-in-the wall grocer's selling only very select merchandise. They opened only a month ago, and the owner was only happy to tell us stories behind the provenance of several products we asked about. We picked up several items to lug back home with us, such as a pound of beans very similar to black eyed peas (called carillas, and from León in Castille), mint green tea from Navarre, La Vera smoked paprika, and my favorite of all: a jar of violet jelly (French, of course). The man tempted us by showing us the jar in the light, and the beautiful purple specks just did me in, I had to have it to spread on my morning toast. We left the shop fulfilled and anxious to tell my mother in law about it so she can become a regular customer. About half a minute later, as we sat down for an apéritif, Israel accidentally dropped the bag and the 6-euro jar of flower preserves smashed to bits. In a frenzy, I rushed back into the shop, hoping the man would take pity on me for my clumsy husband and replace the jar free of cost, just because we were nice people. But no, these are times of crisis, freebees were never heard of in Spain anyway. I bought a second jar on the spot.

Today I had a couple of hours alone at home in the afternoon and I decided to put the violet jelly to good use, so I baked these cookies, based on a recipe I learned at the summer intensive course I took at the Natural Gourmet Institute in New York last month (stay tuned for future post!).

These cookies have a wholesome flavor I love; they're made with almond meal and oat flakes (plus a bit of whole what pastry flour) and sweetened with maple syrup. You can fill them with any jam or jelly you're in the mood for (I've also filled them with orange-ginger marmalade, and once with carob and hazelnut spread, which the kids loved), though I must say that the violet jelly suits them almost too well, as the rich batter contrasts with the delicate flavor of violets. The original recipe called for grinding the oat flakes in a processor; I like them whole though so I skipped this part. The recipe also called for almond and vanilla extracts; as we have been away from home, I only had orange blossom extract on hand and thought, why not. It was a good thought. Be very careful not to burn them; the recipe called for 18-20 minutes in the oven, but I had to remove them promptly after 15 minutes, just in time. They keep well in an airtight container (they're so delicious, they probably won't last too long!).

Violet Jelly Cookies (from a recipe by the Natural Gourmet Institute)

Ingredients:

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup almond meal
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup melted coconut oil
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon orange blossom extract

Jam or jelly, your favorite kind

Directions:

Preheat oven to 175ºC and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, combine flour, almond meal and oats. Whisk well. In a separate bowl, whisk together oil, maple syrup, salt and orange blossom extract until emulsified. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir until combined. With a scoop (or your hands) make little balls with the dough. Pat down a bit and place on prepared baking sheet. in the center of each cookie, press down with your thumb (or pinkie) to make a small indentation. Fill with jam or jelly.

Place in the oven and bake for 15-18 minutes, or until bottoms of cookies are slightly brown. Place on wire rack to cool. Yield: aprox. 20 cookies

Artichoke Preserves

The other day my friend David, former owner of La Magrana restaurant in the town of Fonteta in the beautiful Empordà region, made these for us. He placed a few of them in a creamy pumpkin soup, and the extra ones in a small bowl on the side. We couldn't stop until the last drop of oil (and there was plenty, rest assured!) had been sopped up with the also homemade bread. David gave me the recipe and here goes my first try:

At the restaurant they used to serve these babies warm in a green salad. You do use up a lot of oil, and it's important to make sure it's good quality extra virgin olive oil for the results to be high quality as well, but you can use the extra oil (if there is any left over after sopping and sopping with bread) for salads.

Ingredients
4 fresh artichokes
extra virgin olive oil
black pepper
soy sauce
rosemary and thyme

Directions
Discard the tough outer leaves of the artichoke. Slice off cap and discard. Slice what is left of the artichokes very thinly. Place in a pan or casserole. Press with bottom of wooden spoon and cover with good quality extra virgin olive oil. Add black pepper, dash of soy sauce, rosemary and thyme. Place on lowest heat possible, and let cook ever so gently for about an hour. Test with a fork for tenderness. Place in a jar once they've cooled a bit.

There will be a lot of left over oil that you can use for salads.

Spinach Mushroom Tofu Tart

I recently began buying my produce from someone new. For several years I received a 10-kilo weekly box from Recapte, a company based in Lérida. I was happy with it, but the truth is that their selection of produce, albeit seasonal, was a bit limited. And after so many years, one can eat only so many kilos of chard or cauliflower in a given month.
In recent years more and more local farmers or small companies have started offering a similar service of sending organic seasonal produce to your doorstep, so I tried a few of them until I found the one I have now, which I love. Xavi Soler runs Masía Soler, a family-based farm or "masía" (Catalan word for a relatively small estate of land). They not only offer seasonal produce but also other products such as olives and olive oil, eggs, organic chicken and pork, homemade preserves like jams or tomatoes, and even their own wine and Serrano ham. They deliver to the city 4 days a week and you can choose exactly how many kilos of each product you want.
Today Xavi brought, among other things, some beautiful fresh spinach, two gigantic leeks, and a big bag of mushrooms. The perfect combination for a savory tart, I thought. Unfortunately, I had no quiche pastry at home, nor the time or ingredients to make my own. But I remembered one of my favorite Montse Bradford recipes (which is on a previous post), a pastryless "quiche" that binds the ingredients together with tofu blended (with miso for flavor) till it's creamy. I did have plenty of tofu at home so I decided to play it by ear, based off of Montse's idea. The result was, lo and behold, a soft, moist, pastryless quiche.
I served it with a millet-amaranth "risotto".




Spinach Mushroom Tofu Tart Recipe
Ingredients: 500 gr. fresh spinach 1 large leek, white and green parts 500gr. mushrooms 1 package plain tofu 2 tablespoons white miso 2 tablespoons olive oil
First prepare all your ingredients: Wash the spinach carefully and dry in a vegetable spinner. Remove any coarse stems. Chop the leek. Trim the tails off the mushrooms, wash and dry with a tea towel. Heat some olive oil in a large wok. Insert the leek with a pinch of salt and sauté for 5 minutes. Then add the mushrooms and keep stirring until they have released all of their water. Add the spinach and stir until the leaves are wilted. Take off heat.
Blend the tofu together with the miso, olive oil, and a few tablespoons boiling water, until you achieve a creamy consistency. Mix in with the vegetables, making sure it all blends well.
Put the creamy mix in a prepared oven pan. Bake at 180º for 40 minutes or until the tofu starts to get golden brown.
This can be eaten warm or at room temperature, and it's even better the following day, when the flavors have settled.

A Weekend in London

I spent last weekend in London, as a birthday celebration/romantic getaway with my husband Israel.
We stayed at a small hotel in Notting Hill and pretty much didn't leave the neighborhood for the entire weekend. Saturday morning was spent strolling down Portobello Road with its the market (the food stalls my favorite part, although I did admire the English porcelain teacups at the antiques market. The British know their tea, and I always say a nice cup is vital to the tea-drinking experience). We attended a midafternoon film session at the classic Electric Cinema. How can theaters not be like this anymore? It's hard for me to imagine any happier combination than a movie, a comfy leather sofa complete with footrest, and a café inside the movie theater selling hot drinks, alcohol and snacks (real ones like the guacamole with toast we had, not just your regular butter-drenched popcorn). It was truly a pleasure and a sight for sore eyes (and sore feet, after all the morning's walking).
But what surprised and delighted me most was what a gourmet city London has become. British food has a lousy reputation worldwide with their omnipresent fish & chips, but I've always found it easy to eat in London due to the great amount of vegetarian possibilities (at least, compared to Argentina or even Spain). On previous visits, though, I had never seen as many gourmet boutiques, cafés and restaurants.
Here go a few hotspots from the weekend:
On the long trek from Gatwick airport to the hotel, we made a quick stop for pizza at Arancina. The orange Fiat 600 in the window was what drew us in (plus the fact that we were starving after the trip). An arancina (which translates as "small orange") is a typical Sicilian ball of breaded rice, filled with meat or vegetables, and fried. The veggie pizza hit the spot: warm, crunchy, filling.



Friday's dinner was at Leon, a restaurant chain that is an entire new concept (their cookbook is precious too): healthy fast food for the masses. I had one of their trademark superfood salads (smoked mackerel, peas, beans, greens) and Israel had a gobi, a sweet potato and cauliflower curry with rice and spice. If everyone in a rush ate like this, we'd be living in a better world.
One of the best discoveries (for me at least, as it's been around a while) was the bookstore Books for Cooks, and entire shop of what has of late become my passion: the literature of food (I'm currently devouring Bill Buford's exciting Heat). Not only do they sell the books, they also try out the recipes hands-on. As I spent at least an hour leafing through the reads, Israel sat down at the back and dunked into a moist and citrusy Greek coffee cake. The testing kitchen in the back serves three or four small round tables, and offers tea and coffee, cakes, or soup and wine for lunch. They also organize cooking workshops. Too bad I was only in the city 48 hours, and didn't have time to sign up for one of them.
Just off of Potobello Road on Blenheim Crescent, Books for Cooks is on the same block as two other treasures: The Travel Bookshop (which became famous in the film Notting Hill) and The Spice Shop, where I picked up a cute yellow tin full of spice mix for making Harissa.
I was blown away by a deli/shop/café/restaurant on the posh Westbourne Grove called Daylesford Organic. We sat down for a light lunch (I had a parsnip and curry soup with homemade multigrain bread, and Israel had pappardelle Bolognese) at a counter overlooking the busy Saturday crowd filling up the shop. I'm not sure which emotion was stronger: my awe and excitement, or the suffering for not having such a dream of a place anywhere near us at home. Daylseford sells everything organic, fresh, seasonal, and local, from cheeses and meats to produce to bread and pastries to preserved foods. The place is impeccably decorated all in white, and they also have an adjoining shop that sells objects for the kitchen and home. I could've gone on a wild shopping spree there.


We also ooed and awed at 202 right next door, though we unfortunately couldn't get to try it and only admired from afar (there are only so many places you can go in 48 hours).
But the cherry on top of the weekend (and, in fact, one of the main reasons why I chose London for the birthday celebration) was, without a doubt, Saturday night's dinner at Ottolenghi in Islington, one of the best meals I can remember in a very long time.
I had been hearing the buzz about these two Jerusalem-born chefs for a while, their cookbook was a hit last year ,and I regularly read their blog as well as Yotam Ottolenghi's New Vegetarian column for the Guardian online. So you could say there was some bias in favor of my liking it beforehand.
Ottolenghi is restaurant, café, deli, and bakery. As an appetizer we were brought a platter of four different types of bread (two of them were actually more like savory sponge cakes) with a tiny bowl of olive oil (green, intense, my favorite kind) for dipping.
Ottolenghi serves tapas-sized dishes that are perfect for sharing. On the menu (which changes daily) they recommended ordering three dishes per person for a full meal, but we weren't extremely hungry (I eat like a bird, and we basically had been eating all day long, slowly but surely) so we ordered three for the two of us. Israel let me do the choosing, which was not easy, but I think I did a good job.
We started with char-grilled zucchini (or courgettes, as the British call them) with pecorino, chervil, tarragon, red basil, toasted pistachios and truffle oil. The courgettes were cut quite thick, and grilled to perfection with a crunchy texture, accentuated by the pistachios. I find that they really know how to handle their herbs (which is at present what I would like to learn more about) in order to make the most out of flavor and create combinations that play off of each other as pleasure to the taste buds.
Then came pan-fried jumbo shrimp with purple sprouting broccoli and lime aioli. Four shrimps conformed the serving, and since you can never get enough shrimp (at least I can't) Israel let me have 75% of it. I instinctively shut my eyes to close of the senses and increase my sense of taste, they were that good. I had wanted to taste purple sprouting broccoli for a while (it's not easy to come by at home). Its crunchy greenness contrasted with the intensity of the lime aioli and browned garlic. The only thing wrong with this dish was that there wasn't enough of it.



The tempura battered baby fennel, leek, carrots and courgette flower with saffron aioli was mainly for Israel. I am not a big fan of tempura, as I always find it tastes more of fried batter than anything else. But the selection of baby vegetables won me over, especially the fennel, as it has its own distinctive taste which was able to shine through even the fried batter.
When our server brought over the dessert menu, I immediately declined; there was no way I was washing away the explosion of flavor still going on in my mouth with any sugary concoction. But Israel couldn't resist and ordered a cheesecake with caramel and macadamia nuts which I admit to having tried (who asked for two spoons?) and found rich, buttery, and sinful. Personally, I am more interested in the Ottolenghi as chefs than as pastry makers.


Who would've known you have to travel all the way from Barcelona to London to get such an amazing take on Mediterranean food?
I recongnized Yotam Ottolenghi himself (from his photo in the cookbook) having dinner at a nearby table and my sweet Israel went over and asked him to sign the menu for his shy wife who is a fan. I am planning on framing the menu and hanging it on the kitchen wall for inspiration.

Lentil and Veg Crumble

This delicious concoction is based on a similar one that Clea posted recently on her blog. I added lentils, and changed a couple of other ingredients, to make the dish a meal in itself. The result was scrumptious: the juicy veggies and lentils contrast with the crunchy hazelnut topping, which also adds a perfect touch of sweetness. My version also adds a bit of mugi miso, to play off of the sweetness. It's very easy to make and you can try with a variety of vegetables (I might even try a chickpea version soon).

Lentil and Veg Crumble Recipe
Ingredients:
3 carrots, grated
1 zucchini, grated
1 cup cooked lentils
1 strip kombu (cooked together with the lentils)
1 teaspoon mugi miso
1/4-1/2 cup lightly roasted hazelnuts, coarsely milled with a mortar and pestle
2 tablespoons breadcrumbs
1 tablespoon almond powder
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pinch salt
a few tablespoons rice (or other) milk

Sauté the grated veggies in a wok with the olive oil and a pinch salt, until tender. Add dried basil. Remove from heat and add the cooked lentils and kombu (cut into pieces).
Pour everything into a baking pan and press a bit with a wooden spoon.
In a bowl, mix the roasted and milled hazelnuts, breadcrumbs, almond meal and rice milk until it all comes together.
Sprinkle this mixture on top of the vegetables.
Bake at 180º for about 40 minutes or until the top is golden brown. Can be served warm or cold the next day, when all the flavors have set.

Another Colorful Summer Salad

Here's one more salad, just before the summer turns to fall (the farmer I buy produce from just sent an email saying that last weeks cherry tomatoes were the last of the season, boo hoo):

Colorful Summer Salad Recipe
Ingredients:
fresh green beans
cherry tomatoes
arame seaweed
roasted hazelnuts
cooked haricot beans
chopped parsely
a few small radishes, sliced paper thin with a mandoline
ume plum vinegar
dressing: juice and rind of 1 lemon, olive oil, apple juice concentrate, 1 pinch sea salt

Soak the arame in water for 10 minutes. Drain.
Blanch the radishes in boiling water for a few seconds. Drain and pour a few drops ume plum vinegar to keep the color.
Top and tail the green beans. Boil for just 3 minutes. Drain and pour cold water over them to stop cooking. Drain again.
Chop the cherry tomatoes in half and sprinkle some drops of ume plum vinegar on them.
Mix together all of the ingredients in a bowl.
Prepare the dressing by mixing all of the ingredients, to taste, in a separate small bowl. Serve on the side.

Couscous and Chickpea Summer Salad

Made a delicious salad today. So delicious, in fact, I wolfed it down before I even remembered to take a picture to post here. So you'll just have to take my word for it: this salad is a happy, nourishing treat on a hot summer day. I ate a huge bowl and savored every bite.
This salad is a spin off of a recent post from Heidi Swanson's blog 101 Cookbooks, Cherry Tomato Couscous. I wanted to go for a bit less grain and more veggies. I also added some ingredients (seaweed, pine nuts, radish, green onion, alfalfa sprouts) to make it a nourishing meal in itself. As my teacher Montse Bradford insists, I macerated the tomatoes and cucumbers to make them a bit less yin and more yang. You don't need to do this, but the added saltiness (even though the vegetables get rinsed) tastes great, especially on a sweaty day like this one in Barcelona.

Couscous and Chickpea Summer Salad Recipe
Ingredients:
1 cup cooked couscous (whole wheat, preferably)
1 cup cooked chickpeas
1 small cucumber, sliced paper-thin with a mandoline
1 small green onion, sliced paper-thin with a mandoline
a couple of radishes, thinly sliced
a handful cherry tomatoes
a handful alfalfa sprouts

dressing:
juice and zest of 1/2 lemon
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
a pinch fleur de sel
garnish:
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
toasted nori seawead, cut into bits
1 tablespoon toasted pine nuts

First prepare the couscous. (Have the chickpeas already cooked from the day before.) Let couscous cool while you prepare the other ingredients. Slice cucumber and place in a colander with a teaspoon of salt. Let drain for 20 minutes or so. Rinse and pat dry. Slice tomatoes and sprinkle a few drops of ume plum vinegar. Let set for 20 minutes or so. Rinse. Slice radish and onion. Put couscous into a large bowl. Add sliced vegetables and chickpeas. Dress with lemon juice and zest, olive oil, and vinegar. Mix carefully. Add pine nuts, chopped parsley and seaweed. Serves 2 as main course or 4 as side.