Lentil Sausage Soup

Lentil Sausage Soup

You know when you go to a sit-down restaurant–usually an Italian place–and the waiter asks if you’d like any fresh-ground pepper or Parmesan cheese on your soup or salad?  There must be something inherently funny about this scenario. I mean, isn’t there something vaguely discomfiting about having someone lean over your meal to drop stuff on it? Ever see the Saturday Night Live sketch with Adam Sandler and Dana Carvey as two overly enthusiastic pepper grinder guys? Like many SNL sketches, it goes way too long and gets fairly raunchy, but it does capture the awkwardness of the situation (and it includes Chris Farley with a totally ridiculous beard, so it might be worth a watch):

Also, while we’re pointing out what’s a little unusual about this practice, why is it always an Italian place? Couldn’t the waiter at a Mexican place grind extra cheddar on my enchiladas? And why don’t they “fresh-grind” other things? What if I want some fresh-ground beef to top my salad, hmmm? Or some fresh-ground chocolate shavings on my dessert? (Actually, they could fresh-grind that straight into my mouth…cause that wouldn’t be awkward.) For whatever reason, it has been decreed by the Italian restaurant powers-that-be that only pepper and Parmesan may be fresh-ground tableside. Not that I’m complaining. I’m no fan of extra pepper, but can never turn down a little extra cheese for free. The ideal soup, for me, comes away from its encounter with the cheese-grinder looking a glacier of cheese rolled straight across its top. The soup in the picture below, with its dusting of white, is maybe halfway there. Except perhaps in the case of this aromatic lentil sausage soup, because it really doesn’t need much to enhance its flavor.

Sausage Lentil Soup

As I mentioned in my last post, a copycat recipe for Carrabba’s herbed dipping oil, my husband and I enjoy Carrabba’s as one of our favorite chain Italian places. When we dined there recently, we both ordered the same thing (this never happens–we’re one of those couples that generally refuses, on principle, to order the same thing): their lentil sausage soup. Because it’s just. that. good. Having discovered lentils only in the last year or so, I’ve gone a little lentil crazy to make up for lost time. Around here, there have been spiced red lentils, lentil dahl, and a funky red lentil sweet potato stew with mango chutney-goat cheese toasts that my kids made lots of empty promises to get out of eating. My husband and I lap it all up, though, and this soup is no exception. As we shamelessly licked our bowls finished our meal at Carrabba’s, Anthony asked me, “Could you make this at home?” A week or so later, I tracked down this recipe and after making it deemed it, if not a perfect match for the restaurant version, delicious enough to forget what might be different. With aromatic vegetables, creamy, wholesome lentils, a pitch-perfect blend of herbs, and piquant sausage for a bit of bite, it’s everything one could hope for in a fall/winter soup. Plus, it goes great with crusty bread and that herbed dipping oil referred to above.

And yes, the waiter at Carrabba’s offered to fresh-grind Parmesan cheese on top. Yes, I accepted. No, I did not jump up and kiss him like Janeane Garofalo in the SNL sketch–licking my bowl in the restaurant was embarrassing enough.

Lentil Sausage Soup

Lentil Sausage Soup
(Adapted from Food.com)

Ingredients:

1 lb. mild Italian sausage
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 onion, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
1 small zucchini, chopped
6 c. chicken broth
3/4 tsp. salt
2 c. dry brown lentils
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes (more if you like more heat)
1/2 tsp. dried basil
1/2 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. dried parsley
1/2 tsp. dried thyme

Grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

Directions:

  1. In a large stock pot, cook the sausage over medium heat until browned. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving as much sausage grease in the pot as possible.
  2. Add minced garlic, onion, celery, carrots, and zucchini to the pot and sauté for a couple minutes. Return sausage to the pot and add all other ingredients.
  3. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, covered, for about 1 hour or until lentils are soft.
  4. Use an immersion blender to puree some of the soup in the pot until desired consistency is reached, or remove about 2 cups of the soup and carefully blend in a countertop blender until pureed; return to the pot and stir. Add more broth or water if soup becomes too thick.

Top with grated Parmesan cheese.

Serves 6-8.

Pulled Pork Tostadas

Pulled Pork Tostada
I know in the past, I’ve gotten pretty excited about what I call the Double-Duty Dinner. In a nutshell, it’s when something you make one night for dinner gets re-used later in the week in a different-tasting way. Like a roasted chicken on Monday that doubles for chicken soup on Thursday, or rice from a stir-fry that gets turned into pilaf the next day. Pulled pork has always been among my favorite Double Duty Dinner heroes. If pulled pork were my employee, it would get the Most Valuable Multitasker award. I would give it a $25 Amazon gift card and take it out for lunch…to a barbecue joint…just to watch the awkwardness unfold. Hidden cameras would be involved.

Pulled Pork Tostadas 4

 

Anyway, pulled pork one of those versatile foods that seems to be just as comfortable in a pizza as on a sandwich–or in this case, on a tostada. This recipe calls for a few pre-made cups of it. I’ll leave it up to you what kind of pork to use, since there are a million pulled pork recipes out there and you quite possibly already have a favorite (or one you’d like to use for the other half of a Double-Duty Dinner). For ours, I seasoned a pork butt with brown sugar and a spice rub and let it simmer in the Crock Pot with some veggie broth for several hours. Still, I could see a barbecue-flavored version working just as well or even better, especially if you dig the taste of sweet, tomato-y barbecue sauce and creamy tomatillo dressing together. Now I think I need to make this again ASAP just to try that.

Pulled Pork Tostadas 2

 

Pulled Pork Tostadas with Creamy Tomatillo Dressing
(Adapted from How Sweet Eats, dressing from The Girl Who Ate Everything)

Ingredients:

1 c. grape tomatoes, quartered
1/4 c. cilantro
1/2 c. red onion, diced
1 lime, juiced
salt and pepper, to taste
4 flour tortillas
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2-3 c. pulled pork, warmed
6 oz. Cotija cheese
2 c. lettuce, shredded
Creamy Tomatillo Lime Dressing

Directions:

1. Make pico de gallo: in a medium bowl, combine tomatoes, cilantro, red onion, lime juice, and salt and pepper. Set aside.

2. To make tostada shells, heat oven to 400 degrees. Line a large baking sheet (or two) with aluminum foil. Brush olive oil on both sides of tortillas and bake 5 minutes on one side, then flip and bake on the other side 2-3 minutes.

3. Assemble tostadas with shell, pulled pork, pico de gallo, cheese, lettuce, and tomatillo-lime dressing.

Ham-Asparagus and Cheese Strata

Can you believe it’s almost Easter? I feel like I’m still cleaning up from Christmas and like I still need to get my husband a Valentine’s Day gift. Just the other day I emailed someone saying “Hope your new year is off to a good start!” I clearly need to get with the times. It’s 97 degrees outside and going to be April in two days. (Speaking of which, anybody got any good April Fool’s pranks?) Pretty soon it’ll be 2025 and I’ll be going, wait, I thought I was still in my twenties! Or at least my thirties!

As the seasons seem to roll by faster and faster and time slips through my fingers like so much crumbly pie dough, I am comforted by the rituals of holidays. And when I say “rituals,” I mean food. As of this moment, my family has literally zero official plans for Easter, which is weird since we are very active Catholics and celebrate Easter as probably the most important holiday of the year. But even though we haven’t pinned down our plans, there are certain things I know will happen. Like ham. Ham will happen. After Easter eggs, ham seems to be the quintessential Easter food for Americans. According to About.com, the reason for this is that meat used to be slaughtered in the fall, and before refrigeration, pork was cured–a process that takes several months. It was around Easter that the hams were finally finished being cured and ready for consumption. And here I thought it had something to do with usurped pagan rituals. The things you learn, right?

Like most Americans, I have come to expect a ham to be the centerpiece of an Easter dinner, typically followed by weeks of leftovers in the form of ham soups, ham macaroni and cheese, and anything else ham can decently be included in. But before the Easter dinner, Easter brunch is another opportunity to enjoy this traditional Easter food. This ham-asparagus and cheese strata took center stage in our Easter brunch last year and I am still thinking about it. (Then again, I practically think it’s still 2014, so maybe don’t read too much into that…) Really, though, this dish was highly memorable. Its delightful rainbow of pastels was perfect for Easter, and I got a bigger kick than I probably should have out of the sunny-side up eggs nestled around its top. I loved the taste of the salty ham with the milder asparagus and piquant bite of Gruyere cheese. Plus, working vegetables directly into a breakfast casserole always gets my approval.

So as I’m trying to decide what to make for Easter breakfast, or brunch, or whatever we end up doing this Sunday, this one is at the top of my short list. Ham will happen.

Ham-Asparagus and Cheese Strata
(Adapted from Better Homes and Gardens)

Ingredients:

8 oz. asparagus spears, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces
5 cups bread cubes (preferably French bread)
2 c. shredded Gruyere or white cheddar cheese
1/4 c. chopped green onions
1 c. diced cooked ham
10 eggs
1 1/2 c. milk
olive oil, to taste
salt and cracked pepper, to taste

Directions:

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to boiling. Add asparagus and cook for 5 minutes or until bright green. Remove and set aside.

2. In a greased 9 x 13 inch baking dish spread half the bread cubes. Top with the cheese, green onion, and half the ham and asparagus. Top with remaining bread.

3. In a bowl whisk together 4 of the eggs and the milk. Evenly pour over the layers in the dish. With the back of a flat spatula, press the bread down into the egg mixture. To with remaining ham and asparagus. If making ahead of time, stop here, cover, and refrigerate until ready to bake.

4. Bake uncovered in a 325 degree oven for 30 minutes. Remove from oven and with the back of a wooden spoon, press 6 indentations into the top of the strata. Pour a whole egg into each indentation. Return to oven for 20-25 more minutes. Let stand 15 minutes.

5. Drizzle top of strata with olive oil and season generously with salt and pepper. Cut into squares and serve.

Serves 6-8.

The B.E.L.T.CH.

In June 2005 when my husband and I were frivolous young things living on love and Hamburger Helper and a combined annual income equivalent to two days at Disneyland, we took a trip to beautiful Vancouver, British Columbia. We spent our days exploring Stanley Park, making fun of Canadian money (ever heard of “loonies and toonies”?), and wandering the neighborhood of Kerrisdale, where we were staying at a lovely B & B. These were the days before Yelp, so as we strolled the neighborhood, our dining choices were left to chance. Luckily for us, we ended up at a fantastic little cafe called The Red Onion Restaurant. (It’s still there, come to find out.) As far as I remember, I think we ended up eating there several times during our 5-day stay. (This may have also had to do with the fact that we hadn’t rented a car.) But the other reason we kept coming back was for a inappropriately delicious sandwich:

the B.E.L.T.CH!

This amped-up version of the classic BLT packed in a fried “E”gg and “CH”eese to compose the (B)acon (E)gg (L)lettuce (T)omato and (CH)eese sandwich. You know a sandwich is a true great when it’s been nine years since you had it and you still think about it semi-annually. So when my husband made it today, it brought back only good gustatory memories. See, the regular BLT has always seemed a little skimpy and skinny to me. Like, go eat a sandwich, sandwich! This version solves that problem with creamy Havarti and a hearty fried egg. It’s like breakfast met lunch and they both lived happily ever after. So thanks, Red Onion Restaurant! And thanks to my husband for making such a big, beautiful B.E.L.T.CH. It’s what he does best. 😉

The B.E.L.T.CH.
(A Love Letter to Food Original, inspired by The Red Onion Restaurant)

Ingredients:

Cooking spray or 1 tsp. butter
1 egg
salt and pepper, to taste
3 slices thick-cut bacon
2 slices whole wheat toast
1 Tbsp. mayonnaise
1 slice Havarti cheese
Tomato slices
Lettuce or spinach leaves

Directions:

1. Cook bacon as desired until crispy.

2. Meanwhile, fry the egg: coat a small skillet with cooking spray or melt 1 tsp. butter over medium heat. Crack the egg directly into the skillet and let cook 3-5 minutes, or until the yolk no longer looks runny. Flip the egg with a spatula and cook on the other side an additional minute. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Assemble the B.E.L.T.CH.! Spread mayo on toast slices and layer with tomato, lettuce, bacon, fried egg, and Havarti.

Serves 1.

Fennel-Crusted Pork Roast with Autumn Vegetables

The first time I ever bought a parsnip (which was only last year) was at a local farm. We had taken the kids to enjoy the pumpkin patch and while they were occupied picking out a pumpkin or snuggling a chicken or some other agrarian activity, I strolled over to the market where the farm sells its crops. At some point in my browsing, a pale, waxy-colored cyclone of a vegetable caught my eye. I knew I should be able to identify it…but what the heck was it? Was it a turnip? Some funky tuber? An oversized albino carrot? No, my friends, it was in fact……

a parsnip! (Isn’t parsnip one of those words that when you say it over and over it sounds totally ridiculous? Parsnip. Parsnip. Parsnip. Try it.) I decided then and there to buy a bag of parsnips, if only for the fact that I had never tried them before and was feeling up for a culinary adventure. When I got to the counter to pay, the farmer/cashier looked at my purchase and said, “You’re not from around here, are you?” First I took offense, like is my city slicker-ness that obvious? I mean, geez, I only live like ten miles from this farm. I tried not to appear chagrined as I answered.

Me: “Um, yes, actually, I live not far from here.”
Farmer/cashier: “But did you grow up here?”
Me: “….Yeeeesss.I grew up in Chandler.”
F/C: (suspiciously) “You’re not from the East Coast?”
Me: “No…?”
F/C: (grunts) “Huh. I never had someone from Arizona buy parsnips.”

A-HA! I was relieved to realize it was not my freaky face or some strange accent I’m unaware of that made appear alien. It was the fact that I was purchasing parsnips. (Though it did make me wonder why this farmer grows parsnips if no one around here buys them.) At any rate, his surprise made me even more determined to take these exotic vegetables home and give them a try. Which I did, and discovered them to be like a sweeter version of carrots–quite tasty when roasted with olive oil.

As it turns out, parsnips have a long and privileged history. The Roman Emperor Tiberius accepted part of the annual tribute paid from Germany to Rome in parsnips, and they were considered a luxury food for aristocratic Romans. In the Middle Ages parsnips were a staple starch, significantly more popular than potatoes. So if you’re inclined to try this recipe for fennel-crusted pork with roasted carrots, onions, and parsnips, you’ll be continuing the rich and storied saga of this root vegetable. More than that, you’ll enjoy a succulent pork tenderloin surrounded by an earthy crust of fennel seeds as well as oven-crisped carrots and red onions. For a simple, less-is-more weeknight dinner, our family loved it. So guess what, farmer-cashier-man? I’m gonna keep on buying your parsnips, even if I AM from around here. How do you like THEM parsnips??

Fennel-Crusted Pork Roast with Autumn Vegetables
(Adapted from Real Simple)

Ingredients:

3/4 lb. carrots, peeled and cut into 3-inch sticks
3/4 lb. parsnips, peeled and cut into 3-inch sticks
1 medium red onion, cut into 1/2-inch wedges
2 Tbsp. plus 2 tsp. olive oil
kosher salt and black pepper
1.25 lb. pork tenderloin
2 Tbsp. fennel seeds, crushed

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. On a rimmed baking sheet, toss carrots, parsnips, and red onion with 2 Tbsp. olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for 15-18 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, season the pork with salt and pepper, then coat with crushed fennel seeds. (You can do this by spreading the seeds on a plate or piece of wax paper and rolling the tenderloin over them.) Heat the remaining 2 tsp. olive oil over medium-high heat in a skillet large enough to accommodate the length of the tenderloin. Cook the pork, turning occasionally, until all sides are browned, about 8-10 minutes.

4. Remove vegetables from the oven and stir. Make room in the center of the baking sheet and place the pork on it, surrounded by the vegetables.

5. Return the whole thing to the oven and continue to roast another 16-20 minutes. Let the pork rest at least 5 minutes before slicing.

Serves 4.