salmon cakes with lemon yogurt sauce

I tend to shy away from anything savory touting the word "cake" in the title. Cake should be sweet and desserty, not fishy and garlicky. Kind of like how bread deserves to be in loaves, but the word meatloaf brings an instant shudder (don't get Zillah started), no matter how good-tasting it might turn out to be. But then there's something about eating a crab cake sandwich with a dash of lemon and maybe some chopped tomatoes while walking down the boardwalk in a beach town on the east coast...so maybe a salmon cake would be all right after all.

Ixoj's reaction:

And it turns out that they were more than all right--they were delicious and exceedingly simple. So good that I actually made them twice within 7 days and I decided several things: 1) If you're lazy when cutting up the salmon, your cakes will have over-sized chunks and won't be as delicious. 2) They are an excellent alternative to any other way one might want to cook salmon. I can't tell you how sick I was of grilled/broiled salmon with a bit of lemon and oil on top. 3) Cilantro is a recommended addition to either the cakes or the sauce. 4) Leftover salmon cakes are good, but should definitely not be heated up in the microwave at work unless you wish to be ostracized by your coworkers. Room temperature seems like a pretty good option to me.

Zillah's reaction:

Having led a life markedly and sadly bereft of boardwalks, I have to confess I'm not particularly familiar with crab cakes and their relatives (I think I may have cut my salmon into over-sized chunks. I promise it wasn't out of laziness. I think it has more to do with the fact that I'm not entirely sure how large 1/2" is. Flakier pieces of salmon would have been better.). This obviously should change: more boardwalks and more fish cakes.

I did a few things differently with this recipe. I toasted a piece of wheat bread in the oven and crushed it into crumbs, but it didn't provide quite enough binding power, so I tore up half a piece of fresh bread and that helped. Mayonnaise makes me want to die, so while I halved all the other amounts, I put in the whole egg, and added a tablespoon or so of yogurt. Next time I'll add a bit more cayenne. I did add some fresh mint to the yogurt, which was pretty fabulous. The only salmon I could find was lightly smoked, which I heartily recommend. Just as a side note, the cakes were a bit bigger than I thought they would be, but that could be because my salmon chunks were a bit on the large side--I'd go for as flaky as possible. Also, they do reheat well on the stove, and probably would in the oven too.

Salmon Cakes with Lemon Yogurt Sauce
Adapted from Gourmet Aug 2008

1 pound skinless salmon fillet, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 slices firm white sandwich bread, torn into small pieces + about 1/3 cup panko bread crumbs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/4 tsp cayenne
2 T chopped chives, divided
1 1/2 tsp grated lemon zest, divided
juice of one a lemon, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

Mix together bread and crumbs, mayonnaise, egg, coriander, cayenne, 1 tablespoon chives, garlic, 1 teaspoon zest, half the lemon juice, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Add salmon and season with black pepper (and cilantro or mint if you'd like). Form into 4 cakes (4 inches in diameter).

Heat oil in a pan until a bit of water flicked into the pan dances with delight. Cook salmon cakes, turning over once, until golden and just cooked through, 6 to 7 minutes total.

Stir together yogurt, remaining lemon juice, 1/4 teaspoon salt, remaining tablespoon chives, and remaining 1/2 teaspoon zest (and cilantro or mint, if you'd like). Serve salmon cakes with sauce.

a red lentil soup (and an explanation)

Once upon a time, a stroke of luck meant that we were freshmen roommates. over the course of the year, we discovered that we liked to spend the wee hours of the morning making impossibly elaborate desserts with naught but a couple of thrift store pots, a very chocolatey cookbook, and the enthusiasm and boundless energy of two teenagers living away from home for the first time. As the years went on, the desserts expanded into impossibly elaborate meals, and then just an impossibility as we tragically moved too far apart for more than an annual coming-together in which we attempted to make all the recipes we had been emailing each other for the last few months, leading to a serious strain on both stomachs and bank accounts. (But Thanksgiving 2011 was so. damn. good.)

We were lamenting the tragedy of the situation while in the midst of one of these gluttonous cookfests this last Christmas, when ixoj was in London. And then gradually it dawned that it was high time we exploited the wonders of the brave new world of technology in which we live (read: video chat) to further our ongoing quest to stuff our faces. And then we could put the recipes on our very own blog. It's not quite the same as sitting down together and devouring a portabello lasagna or going into raptures over a malted milk chocolate cheesecake, but it's better than nothing.

And so we now have a blog. Fed up with all the food styling and photography blogs masquerading as cooking blogs, and having to scroll through 50 million pictures of eggs perfectly lined up on pseudo-vintagey anthropologie plates, bowls of flour, sugar, and baking soda (really? as if we've never seen flour before), or about-to-be-zested-lemons on our way to a recipe, we decided that unless we happened to have a camera nearby or it would be helpful, this would be a photo-free (or maybe photo-"lite") blog (plus zillah's camera is cheap and pathetic and she doesn't know how to use it well, and the whole time difference thing makes the optimal lighting thing difficult, and we just don't really care). There will also be occasional posts about food-related deliciousness in our various cities of residence/travels (expect a lot of London--as soon as zillah leaves, ixoj arrives).

And so, on to the recipe.

Red Lentil Soup with Lemon 
(adapted from 101 Cookbooks)

After several abortive attempts undermined by the vagaries of employment and time differences and visitors and so on, we finally managed our first trans-Atlantic rendezvous. And since it's soup weather in frigid London and ixoj is helping zillah overcome an aversion to lentils (it seems like a bit of a stumbling block for a destitute vegetarian) and this seemed like a good way to circumvent that lentilly mushiness (zillah has a texture thing), 101 Cookbook's red lentil soup with lemon seemed like a good way to go.

Recipe notes:

We both feel that Heidi's recipes tend to be a bit bland. Good, but bland. Bland isn't necessarily bad--pierogis are bland, but delicious, as are bread and oatmeal and spaetzle--but her recipes always promise a certain amount of taste-bud-ecstasy...and then...not so much. We adapted the recipe a bit to add some flavor, but both agreed that it needed even more--perhaps more ginger and lemon. The recipe seems to call for too much water, and immediately after pureeing, the soup seems really watery. It thickens up quickly, though, so you might need to add water if you heat it up the next day.

Zillah's reaction:

I have long hated lentils because of that strange combination of mushiness and graininess (mealiness?) that they tend to have (like beans. awful awful beans.). But it turns out that pureeing them smooth means no more mushiness or grittiness (or at least it's tempered enough not to be an issue). I think that the recipe would benefit from some spice--either chili powder or a fresh, chopped chili added with the garlic and ginger in the first step. I also don't think that it really needs the rice--next time I'd probably eat it with some sort of flat bread, since I felt a bit like I was eating a casserole, and I kind of hate most casseroles. Maybe the rice would work better if the soup were a bit thinner. I found some Cypriot yogurt on my walk home through Kentish Town, and it was uber-tangy (technical term) and delicious and cut through the blandness of the soup well.

Ixoj's reaction:

I have always loved lentils for most of the reasons that Zillah hates them. I'm a texture person in every kind of way (except for things that are squshily reminiscent of eye balls). The original recipe did indeed seem rather bland, but after the addition of plenty of garlic, ginger, and lemon, I thought it perked up nicely. If you enjoy a bit of heat with your meal, definitely add some chilies to the onions. And now about the rice. I ate several small bowls with slight variations. Bowl 1: soup and yogurt only. Bowl 2: an overly heaping scoop of rice, soup, yogurt. Bowl 3: a teensy spoonful of rice, soup, no yogurt. I thought the soup was great completely without the rice and great with a small spoonful of rice, but with a lot of rice it turned into something bordering on goulash. I like goulash, but soup masquerading as goulash is not my favorite thing. So my advice is to include the rice, but add it sparingly. I also thought it was a little weird to top the soup with spinach. If I were not planning on having leftovers, I would probably toss the spinach in to the pot of soup rather than serve it as a topping.

The recipe
(4-5 servings)
2 c. red lentils, rinsed
5 cups water or vegetable broth, plus more to thin the soup to your liking
1 T turmeric
4 T butter
sea salt
1 large onion, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
2.5" knob of ginger, peeled and grated
2 t cumin
1 t mustard seeds
Bunch of cilantro, chopped
Juice of at least 2-3 lemons--probably a bit more to taste
1 8 oz bag baby spinach, roughly chopped

warm, cooked brown rice
Greek yogurt

Bring the lentils to a boil with the water, turmeric, 1 teaspoon sea salt, and 2 tablespoons butter. Lower heat, cover, and simmer until tender (15-20 minutes). Puree. You may need to add more water after the soup thickens a bit.

Melt some more butter in a skillet. Add the garlic and ginger and cook until fragrant, then add the onion, cumin, and mustard. Cook over low heat until soft. Add the cilantro, stir briefly, and then remove from the heat. Stir the onion mixture into the soup, and then stir in the lemon juice. Add salt and pepper as necessary. Heat the remaining butter in the same skillet, then toss in the spinach and stir, cooking just until barely wilted.

Serve the soup with the rice, either in the bowl or on the side, and top with the spinach and some Greek yogurt.

a british easter and a leek-spinach-goat cheese quiche

Since cooking for one is a bit of a drag sometimes (ramen: easy and delicious), whenever I have someone over for dinner (this doesn't happen often, since I know maybe 6 people here), gluttony tends to be the order of the day. Complicating this, though, are all of the issues one encounters when one has very few actual cooking appliances, one's oven is an utter mystery, and ingredients, while labelled in English, are still befuddling (vegetable suet?). It's like when ixoj and I first started cooking together, before we had proper, grown-up equipment like rolling pins and colanders and multiple pans, and were propping up cakes with oatmeal canisters (which I'm certainly not above doing now).

Anyway, I was determined to have a proper Easter feast--buoyed up by a momentary parting of the clouds and a brief cessation of snow.  No leg of lamb or hot cross buns (the latter strike me as more appropriate for Christmas anyway--the whole currants and cinnamon and mixed spice (the British equivalent of pumpkin pie spice) and whatnot), but after an amble around the muswell hill farmer's market, i ended up with a fennel, radish, and landcress salad (I'm a sucker for an enthusiastic farmer waxing eloquent about a foodstuff I've never heard of); celeriac, Jerusalem artichoke, and pear soup; leek, spinach, and goat cheese quiche; asparagus (this bit was thanks to tesco); excellent bread courtesy of friends; and lemon pound cake w/ lemon curd and strawberries.

[Sidenote: in case you have an incomprehensible oven like myself and you try to make a lemon pound cake and take it out when the top is dark brown and turn it out only to discover that it's completely uncooked in the middle and the batter starts to run out all over the place, you can actually slide the cake back in the pan--cooked side down--and put it back in the oven and it will eventually cook through--and the sugar syrup you drown it in will help it stay together, especially when you cut it into slices in an attempt to camouflage the disaster. And if you try to cream the sugar and butter with an immersion blender since you don't have a mixer and your arm is cramping up from desperately trying to achieve a fluffy consistency with naught but a wooden spoon, the cake will be a little more dense than you might be used to, but it's still perfectly edible, by which I mean addictive, especially when smothered with lemon curd.]

Anyway, it was all good tasting, appropriately spring-like, and I think, post-cake-but-pre-quiche, I may have finally deciphered all of the different symbols on the oven--apparently the setting I thought was 'cook like a regular oven' just turns on the upper heating element extra high (read: broiler. I think.).

Leek, spinach, and goat cheese quiche
375 F / 190 C, about 35-40 minutes

Crust (from Smitten Kitchen)
1 1/4 cups flour
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons cornstarch (or, in the UK, corn flour)*
1/4 t. salt
3 oz / 6 T unsalted butter
1 egg
*Note: corn flour in the UK is fairly similar to cornstarch in the US. according to the wisdom of the Internet, though, this is apparently not the case for corn flour in the EU.

Mix together the flour, cornstarch, and salt. Cut in the butter however you like--fork, a couple knives, or rub it in with your fingers--until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add the egg, and mix until you have a dough. Roll out into a circle and press into a 9" tart or pie pan. (Or, if, like me, you don't have a rolling pin and don't feel like using a soy sauce bottle, you can just press it into the pan.)
Refrigerate for at least 30 min.

Filling
olive oil
2-3 cloves garlic, smashed and/or diced
3 medium leeks, sliced
1 medium onion, diced
nutmeg, to taste
a couple sprigs of thyme, chopped
large bunch spinach, chopped
about 8 oz. goat cheese (or more if you like--I just added it until it basically covered the base of the quiche)
3 eggs
1 c. milk
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and sauté for about 30 seconds. Turn the heat to low, and sauté the leeks and onion slowly until soft and caramelized (about 30 minutes). Add the nutmeg, thyme, and spinach--stir until the spinach is just wilted. Remove from heat.

Beat together the eggs and milk. Season with salt and pepper.

Crumble the goat cheese over the crust. Add the leek/spinach mixture, and then pour the custard over the filling. Bake at 375 for 35-40 minutes, or until the filling is set and a knife inserted in the middle comes out fairly clean. Let it cool for 10 minutes. Good tasting warm or cold.

the comfiest comfort food

This is what zillah actually wanted to eat the night she made the Asian noodle salad, she just doesn't know it yet. With a flaky, buttery crust (Deb from Smitten Kitchen certainly knows how to do pastry right), and a light, smooth gravy, it's pretty much the perfect meal on a dreary day. But since spring is coming, and we might be running out of days to eat this, I found it imperative to post this as soon as possible.

As I typed out this recipe, it suddenly looked long and complex. But it doesn't feel that way when you're making it, I promise. My only complaint is that the original recipe for the sauce doesn't have much flavor, in my opinion. Butter and garlic are great, but combined with flour and broth, they make for a very bland gravy.  It needed something more, so I added dried thyme and rosemary. I may have once put in some Herbes de Provence and maybe sage as well.

White bean and Swiss Chard Pot Pies
From The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook or online here with my slight alterations shown below

Biscuit Lid
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
13 tablespoons unsalted butter
6 tablespoons sour cream/greek yogurt
1 tabelspoons white vinegar
1/4 cup ice water
1 egg, beaten, + 1 tablespoon water (for egg wash)

Directions:
1. In a large, wide bowl, combine the fl our and salt. Add the butter and, using a pastry blender or your fingertips, cut them up and into the flour mixture until it resembles little pebbles. Keep breaking up the bits of butter until the texture is like uncooked couscous. 
2. In a small dish, whisk together the sour cream, vinegar, and water, and combine it with the butter-flour mixture. 
3. Using a flexible spatula, stir the wet and the dry together until a craggy dough forms. If needed, get your hands into the bowl to knead it a few times into one big ball. Pat it into a flattish ball, wrap it in plastic wrap, and chill it in the fridge for 1 hour or up to 2 days.

Filling
2 tabelspoons olive oil
4 oz diced pancetta (optional)
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 carrots, sliced into 1/8 inch rounds
2 celery stalks, sliced
pinch red pepper flakes
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 garlic cloves, minced
about 4 cups thinly sliced Swiss chard leaves
3 1/2 tablespoons butter
3 1/2 tablespoons purpose flour
3 1/2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
2 cups white beans, cooked and drained
1/2 teaspoon each dried thyme and rosemary leaves (or other combination of homey herbs)

Directions:

Make filling: 

1. (If including pancetta)  Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium- high heat in a large, wide saucepan, and then add the pancetta. Brown the pancetta, turning it frequently, so that it colors and crisps on all sides; this takes about 10 minutes. Remove it with a slotted spoon, and drain it on paper towels before transferring to a medium bowl. Leave the heat on and the renderings in the pan. 
2. Add an additional tablespoon of olive oil if needed and heat it until it is shimmering. Add onions, carrot, celery, red pepper flakes, and a few pinches of salt, and cook over medium heat until the vegetables are softened and begin to take on color, about 7 to 8 minutes. 
3. Add the garlic, and cook for 1 minute more. 
4. Add the greens and cook until wilted, about 2 to 3 minutes. 
5. Season with the additional salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Transfer all of the cooked vegetables to the bowl with the pancetta, and set aside.

Make sauce:
1. Melt the butter in the saucepan over medium- low heat. Add the flour, and stir with a whisk until combined. Continue cooking for 2 minutes, stirring the whole time, until it begins to take on a little color. 
2. Whisk in the broth, one ladleful at a time, mixing completely between additions. Once you've added one- third of the broth, you can begin to add the rest more quickly, two to three ladlefuls at a time.
3. Once all of the broth is added, stirring the whole time, bring the mixture to a boil and reduce it to a simmer. Cook the sauce until it is thickened and gravylike, about 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Stir the white beans and reserved vegetables into the sauce.

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.

Assemble and cook pot pies: Smitten Kitchen says you should divide the filling in 4 ovenproof bowls, but as I don't have any of those, I used a 8 x 10 inch pan that I set on a baking sheet.

1. Roll out your dough into one large rectangle (or small circles, if you're lucky enough to have the requisite bowls) and cover your pan or bowls with an overhang, or about 1 inch wider in diameter than your receptacle. 
2. Whisk the egg wash and brush it lightly around the top rim of your pant (to keep the lid glued on) and drape the pastry over each, pressing gently to adhere it. Brush the lids with egg wash, then cut decorative vents in each to help steam escape. Bake until crust is lightly bronzed and filling is bubbling, about 30 to 35 minutes.

meditations on spicy asian noodle salad

When ixoj and I were trying to decide on our very first recipe for the blog we should have started together years ago, she sent me the link to this salad right after I got home from a (delicious) dinner of chicken cordon bleu and banana dulce de leche pie at some friends' house. Since I'm vegetarian and gave up sugar (with the necessary exception of hot chocolate) for Lent, except for in occasions where potential social awkwardness outweighs my food-centered convictions, I was feeling a little odd post-dinner, and a salad sounded perfect.

Last night, after expanding my 4.5-mile trek home through a bizarre snow/sleet/rain storm with detours into three different stores in search of some damn tofu (it's surprisingly difficult to find in London outside of Asian food stores (which, as a sidenote, they call Oriental food stores, which always surprises me, since 'oriental' in the US is vaguely un-pc with colonialist undertones (thanks, Said)), and I had, of course, forgotten to pick it up with my overpriced lemongrass at the one Thai supermarket in Camden), I wasn't craving a cold salad quite so much. But it was late and I was feeling woolly-minded and adaptation wasn't really my forte at the moment. Plus, I found when I arrived home that I didn't have any fish sauce, which I think would have added some needed complexity to the dressing, which really just tasted very, very spicy, and not much else. In other words: I felt a little let down (a situation I rectified by some judiciously imbibed hot chocolate). But it isn't entirely the recipe's fault. I wouldn't go so far to take all the blame, but perhaps it's a mutual letdown, mixed with bad timing.

Spicy Asian Noodle Salad (with some notes for possible improvements)
(from here, where you can also see beautiful, well-lit photos taken with an expensive camera)

Note: I think that this salad really is best for summer, and some tomatoes would work well here, along with some chopped bok choy. I think it would also benefit from a quick saute of the noodles in the tofu pan, so that they get hot and a little crispy, and a quick pickling of the vegetables before adding them to the salad. I picked up some fresh rice noodles at the store, and while I didn't use them last night, I think they'd work well here too.

Ingredients

12 oz.-ish extra firm tofu, cut into small cubes (drain well, wrapped in a towel with a plate or bowl on top)
Vegetable oil
2 servings flat rice stick noodles

Spicy lemongrass sauce
3-4 cloves minced garlic
1" minced fresh ginger or galangal (I used the latter)
2 finely chopped lemongrass stalks
1-2 minced bird's eye chili peppers (I used two, and it was definitely on the very spicy side)
1 t turmeric
5 T soy sauce
1.5 T sesame oil
1 T rice vinegar
2 t raw or brown sugar
Fish sauce (the original recipe says you can use salt, but I think the fish sauce would be better)


Vegetables/herbs of choice
I used a generous handful of both cilantro and Thai basil, some spring onion, shredded carrots, matchstick cucumbers, and shallots. Some other good options would be bok choy, bean sprouts, peas, etc. A good option would be to quickly pickle at least the carrots, onions, and cucumbers in some vinegar with a bit of salt and sugar.

2 T crushed peanuts or toasted sesame seeds.


Directions
1. Chop and drain the tofu for 10 minutes (or just pat it very dry)
2. Combine all the ingredients for the spicy lemongrass sauce in a small bowl.
3. Toss the tofu cubes with 2 T (or more) of the sauce and set aside to marinate for 10-15 minutes.
4. Heat the oil in a non-stick skillet, then add the tofu and cook until it's well browned (2-3 minutes on each side).
5. Meanwhile, cook the rice noodles (about 5 minutes in boiling water). Drain, rinse under cold water.
(at this point, I would toss them in with the tofu for a minute or two)
6. Put the noodles in the serving bowl, drizzle and toss with a little sesame oil, then toss with the vegetables/herbs and tofu. Drizzle with the dressing, and add peanuts or sesame seeds if desired.