Rewarding Reubens

I recently learned that my Artichoke Glow photograph was selected to compete in the Peoples Choice portion of the Oregonian’s garden photo contest.  I was elated.  I grew up reading the Oregonian and always looked forward to seeing the garden photo winners announced in late December.  It brightened my spirit to see so much beauty during the darkest part of the year.  After doing my happy dance in my fuzzy socks on the kitchen floor, I immediately thought about making a Reuben Panini Sandwich.

Reuben Panini Sandwich

Celebrating with a Reuben Sandwich was hardwired into my brain as a young child.  My Grandparents always took me to Rose’s Restaurant to celebrate my report card.  Anything above a 3.5 was rewarded and I was happy to oblige. 

I remember walking into the red velvet clad restaurant filled with the smell of boiled bagels and sauerkraut, walking past glazed donuts as big as my head, cakes that towered like top hats and chocolate gilded eclairs, sliding into a gaudy red booth edged in gold trim and enjoying a meal alone with my Grandparents.  They would flirt with each other as they told me stories about renovating their house over the years.  I knew their stories by heart. A bagel and butter would be offered, but I always declined.  

When the food server slid the teetering two decker Reuben in front of me, I would grin.  My Grandma would complain that it was too big for me and then I would carefully tuck aside my portion for tomorrow’s lunch.  And then I would dig into the toasted dark rye sandwich filled with corned beef, turkey, sauerkraut, and melted gruyere cheese.  I loved that celebratory meal. 

As an adult, I turn to my own kitchen and Panini press to make my celebratory meal.  I no longer crave a huge monster of a sandwich served in a red velvet pastry palace.  I seek to taste all the ingredients in a single crunchy gooey bite.  Instead of spending $12 on a sandwich, I shop for a few top quality ingredients and make several sandwiches to share.  I like to buy Boar’s Head meats at QFC or Fred Meyer.  Then, I heat up the Panini machine that I gave to My Pirate one year for his birthday. And I assemble the sandwiches.

Here’s how I make them.

Reuben Panini
Serves 1

2 slices of black rye bread
2 slices of corned beef
2 slices of pastrami
½ cup sauerkraut 
4 to 6 slices Gruyere cheese 
Mayonnaise  

Turn the Panini machine on high.  Heat a nonstick skillet over medium and add the sauerkraut to cook off the moisture.  You can add some butter to the sauerkraut to brown it if you feel like showing off a bit.  

Assemble the sandwiches with a layer of Gruyere cheese on each layer of bread.  Add the pastrami and corned beef. Top with the sauerkraut.  Press the sandwich together.  Swipe the outside of the bread with mayonnaise because it doesn’t burn like butter does.  Place the sandwich on the Panini press.  Press the top of the Panini press down.  I take a potholder and press the top down with some heft to smash the sandwich.  Let it cook for several minutes until the mayonnaise has cooked up nice and crunchy and the cheese is melted. Remove from the press and cut the sandwich into thirds.  

Serve with a pickle and a handful of potato chips.  Celebrate!

You can vote daily for my picture here from December 1st to the 17th. It takes just a moment to sign up. I appreciate your help achieving one of my bucket list dreams.  Thanks!  

Violetto Glow

Minestrone and Stormy Weather

Last week, I finished planting all of my new plant acquisitions and uncovered our front walkway.    My Pirate was ecstatic.  

Barnaby helped…                                   (My Pirate took this shot.)

The very next day a windstorm blew in with 50+ mile-per-hour gusts and stuck around for over 24 hours.  The roaring winds knocked over large fir trees and fences throughout our neighborhood.  Branches littered the roads.     

Ouch!  This tree fell within three blocks of our home.  Repairs are already underway.

Then the weather folks forecasted a major winter storm with six inches of snow followed by freezing rain.  So, I nestled my camera battery in its charger and decided to make a massive batch of soup.

I dug through my pantry and was inspired by a jar of tomatoes that one of the Crony Brothers canned and shared with me.  Isn’t he sweet?  I had tucked it away for a special occasion and the moment felt right.  I went outside with a flashlight and harvested kale, leeks, and herbs out of My Victory Garden.  A few cars slowed down to investigate me and I waved at them.

Snow falling around my bowl of soup.

Once inside, I went to town using my new knife skills that I had learned at a couples cooking class at Portland Culinary Workshop with my dog-park friends.  I had no idea that I’d been holding a knife wrong my entire life until the chef, Melinda, adjusted my grip forward on the blade by an inch.  This small adjustment has made chopping vegetables fun and fast.  I felt as ebullient as Julia Child in the onion-chopping scene in the movie, Julie and Julia. 

The winter storm only spat out some ice pellets and snow flakes to add some sparkle to the garden.  But, the minestrone satisfied our appetites and kept us warm through the cold wave that dropped the night temperatures into the teens.  My garden leaves were only started to shift into their autumn brightness and now they appear to be freeze dried in place.  I’ll have to wait until spring to see what survived the early winter onslaught.  In the meantime, I’ll stay warm with another bowl of soup.  

My Minestrone Soup

I let my garden and pantry guide the creation of this soup.  I could have added pasta or croutons to thicken it, but I didn't.  Instead, I served my soup alongside grilled cheese sandwiches with Tillamook Extra Sharp Cheddar.

• 1/3 cup of olive oil
• 5 carrots
• four stalks of celery—preferably the heart 
• 2 leeks
• 5 cloves garlic—pressed through garlic press
• red pepper flakes—up to 1 Tablespoon
• big jar of canned tomatoes
• four cups of chicken stock
• four cups of water
• parmesan rind--the bigger the better
• four cans of beans—2 cannellini and 2 garbanzo 
• big bunch of kale out of garden
• ½ bunch of parsley chopped up
• thyme
• bay leaf
• parmesan rind
• salt and pepper

Heat oil in a soup pot over medium heat and add the carrots, celery, and leeks.  Cook for 10 minutes.  

Boil salted water in a separate pot.  Prep the kale by removing the hard center stem.  Chop up. And boil for 3 minutes in salted water and strain. 

Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook for a minute or two until you can smell their aroma.  Slowly add the canned tomatoes by smashing them in your hands.  Add the chicken stock and water.  Then add the remaining ingredients of beans, prepped kale, parsley, thyme, bay and parmesan rind.  Bring to a simmer and cook for 40 minutes. Taste and add salt and pepper.

Wordless Wednesday: Pennisetum 'Red head'

Pennisetum alopecuroides

I picked up a Pennisetum 'Red head' at the plant swap held by the Clark County Chapter of the Hardy Plant Society of Oregon.  Have you ever grown it in your garden?  

Custard-filled Cornbread

Have you ever tried the custard-filled cornbread recipe from The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham?  Whether you love or hate cornbread, you need to try this recipe!  Custard-filled cornbread is one of those rare genius recipes that magically exceed the sum of its ingredients.  

I first stumbled upon this recipe on page 251 in Molly Wizenberg’s book, A Homemade Life.  I immediately whipped up a batch and My Pirate who hates cornbread, giggled after the first bite.  He giggled.  Then, I tested it on my marching band booster friends and ended up being hugged, kissed, and proposed to.  So, I carefully slid the recipe into my favorite recipes binder with the word amazing marked in the corner.

I recently whipped up another batch of this recipe to pair with the red lentil soup.  I used Red Mill medium grit cornmeal and the bigger grits sunk down to the bottom of the pan creating a crusty bottom that only accentuated the creamy custard center of the bread.  I melted butter on top it and I made a fatal mistake; I absentmindedly handed Barnaby, my Great Dane, a small bite.  His eyes widened and he immediately laid down and nudged me for another bite.  

The next morning, I heated up a slice of the cornbread and topped it with my best maple syrup for breakfast.  After breakfast, I let Barnaby lick the crumbs off my plate.  As I rinsed my dish, I looked behind me just in time to see Barnaby twist his muzzle in the refrigerator door seal and carefully clasp the door with his teeth.  The refrigerator door swung open and Barnaby bathed in the light and heard the humming choir before he leaned in towards the custard-filled cornbread.  I sung out in a panicked voice, “Let’s go get a stick outside,” as I quickly shut the door and did my best to distract him.   

Only to find him later in the afternoon, sitting in front of the open fridge again, smiling at the possibilities.  We compromised and I sprinkled some cornbread on his meals for the next couple of days.  His cornbread craving satisfied, he left the fridge door closed.

Custard-filled Corn bread

from A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg and originally from The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham 

3 T. unsalted butter
1 cup flour
¾ cup yellow cornmeal, preferably medium ground
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
2 large eggs
3 T. sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups whole milk
1 ½ T. distilled vinegar
1 cup heavy cream--I use 3/4 cup
Pure maple syrup, for serving

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  

Butter an 8 inch square or 9 inch round pan, then place it in the heated oven  while you make the batter.  

Melt the butter then set aside to cool.

Combine the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and baking soda in a bowl and whisk together. 

Whisk together the butter and the eggs until they're well combined.  Add the sugar, salt, milk and vinegar.  Whisk together.  Then whisking constantly, add flour mixture and whisk until smooth.  

Pull the heated pan out of the oven and pour in the batter.  Then carefully add the cup of cream in the center of the pan of batter.  Do not stir.  Slid the pan into the oven.  Bake for 50 minutes to 1 hour.  Serve warm, with butter and maple syrup.

Yield:  6 to 8 servings

Ready for Soup

A windstorm is blowing in and the fir cones dropping on our new pergola roof sound like bombs going off.  The Assistant, Sadie, is hiding in the bathtub and I’m the idiot sitting out under the pergola listening to the breeze blow through the fir trees and the crows angrily complain.  So far, we’ve only seen a hint of the promised 60 mph wind gusts.  I love a good storm, but we haven’t attached our pergola to the patio yet.  I’m crossing my fingers for no lift off.

This week has been a long succession of rainstorms.  We received almost two inches of rain in 24 hours, which my garden happily soaked up.  I’m seeing very little autumn coloring in my tree leaves before they drop off in apparent relief.  Waiting for a storm is fun.  I’ve gathered up candles and a flashlight just in case we lose power.  And we still have some soup in the fridge. 

We’ve been living off a batch of Melissa Clark’s, Red Lentil Soup with Lemon.  It is a lovely soup perfect for warming your soul and elegantly feeding last minute guests.  

Red Lentil Soup with Lemon

I love reading Melissa Clark’s cookbooks.  She shares a story with each recipe and tells you how to successfully make a dish including all her tricks and techniques.  She doesn’t abandon you mid-step.

Red Lentil Soup with Lemon has sustained me through celebrations and the flu.  Unlike the muddy tasting lentil soups of my childhood, this recipe has layers of flavor based on the umami foundation of the caramelized tomato paste with cumin.  The final squeeze of lemon brightens the warm spicy flavors and I only partially puree my soup with an immersion blender so that I can still find chunks of carrot on my spoon.  To serve it, I pour a quick drizzle of oil across the top of the soup bowl followed by a sprinkle of cayenne pepper and possibly a few pinches of goat cheese.  On the side, I offer grilled cheese, buttered crostini, homemade crackers, or custard filled cornbread.  It’s your call.

The winds are kicking up and I’m back inside.  A branch just fell on top of the pergola roof with a shudder and Barnaby jumped on my lap/laptop.  We’re hunkered down and ready for a bowl of soup.  Please cross your fingers that my pergola roof doesn’t fly away!

Red Lentil Soup with Lemon
 by Melissa Clark

• 4 Tbsp. olive oil, plus additional good oil for drizzling
• 2 large yellow onions, chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
• 2 Tbsp. tomato paste
• 2 tsp. ground cumin
• ½ tsp. kosher salt, or more to taste
• A few grinds of freshly ground black pepper
• Pinch of cayenne or Aleppo pepper, or more to taste
• 2 quarts chicken or vegetable broth
• 2 cups water
• 2 cups red lentils, picked through for stones and debris
• 2 large carrots, peeled and diced
• Juice of 1 lemon, or more to taste
• 1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Warm the olive oil in a soup pot over medium-high heat with the garlic cloves until the oil shimmers.  Remove the garlic cloves.  Then add the onions and sauté them until they are golden.  Add the tomato paste, cumin, salt, pepper and cayenne, and cook stirring constantly for 2 minutes or until the mixture deepens in color.  Add the broth, water, lentils, and carrots.  Simmer for 30 minutes or until the lentils and carrots are soft.  Taste and adjust seasoning. Puree the soup with an immersion blender until roughly half the soup has been pureed.  Stir in the lemon juice. Serve in a soup bowl drizzled with good olive oil and a dusting of cayenne.