A Stack of Dishes

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Gail Watson

Cabbages & Fennel Salad + Calabrese Frito: Preserved Lemon Dressing

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At last the unveiling! I present to you the preserved lemons I put up this past summer. They’ve been patiently marinating in the back of my fridge all these months. They’ve been shoved back and forth, used to prop up other things, been in the way, and sometimes completely forgotten- but now here they are- front and center!

Last week, while walking the streets of the city, I was sure I picked up the faintest scent of spring. There was that damp earth coolness, with the back end of sunshine in the breeze. I smelled it, I’m sure I did. Like a drug it got my heart to beat faster and put a smile on my face.

I remember once while riding the subway, I overheard someone (who apparently was from California), say, “New Yorkers are so desperate for sunshine and warmth that when they get a nice day they practically get intoxicated by it!” She scoffed and Pfft!, and then went on to say something to the effect that a life living in perpetual sunshine was the way to go- Really? I don’t doubt that continuous loveliness would not be a fine thing, but I DO get all giddy at the change of seasons. It’s magical to me, and who doesn’t like getting intoxicated from time to time?!?

I ask you, is a steady stream of nice really better than a life with bursts of delight? I am not a particular fan of the gray doldrums of winter, but there is a rhythm to it. It touches my soul that the earth can take such a beating from the bitter winds, and then come back with heartbreaking beauty and tenderness. How wonderful it is to be reminded of regrowth, of the ups and downs of life, that even though things look bleak- it’s really just an incubator for the next. It’s the wane to the wax. It’s Grace.

I’m all about it.

All this is to say that good things are the gifts of patience. Like my lemons. Ah my lovely little lemons! I packed them with love, with anticipation, with slow expectation- and now they have surfaced as my winter blossom.

This is a simple salad, full of heart healthy cruciferous vegetables. Layers of finely shredded green cabbage, thinly sliced Brussels sprouts and shaved fennel, dressed with a creamy yogurt and preserved lemon dressing. I pan fried slices of Calabrese salami to a delicate crisp for a little fine texture and saltiness.

We are always growing and evolving and changing. As the Buddhists say: Life is a river. The river flows and moves along its course, and though it may seem like a static thing- that river over there- it is in fact, always changing- and never the same.

I believe that I am a river- and I take pleasure in the splashing.

Cabbages and Fennel Salad + Preserved Lemon Dressing
Perserved lemons can be found in many markets these days. Be sure to rinse them well to remove some of the saltiness of the brine. Preserved lemons have a mild, unique taste that I invite you to try, but if you can’t get your hands on any, you can use grated lemon peel in its place.
 
serves 4
 
1 preserved lemon, rind only, finely minced
1 c Greek yogurt, plain
2 t white vinegar
1T olive oil
{no need for salt, there is plenty in the lemons}
4 slices Calabrese salami

2 c finely shredded green cabbage
1 c Brussels sprouts, thinly sliced
1 fennel bulb, shaved thinly on a mandoline


In a small bowl combine the lemon, yogurt, vinegar and oil. Set aside and allow the flavor of the lemons permeate the yogurt.

Prepare the vegetables. With the fennel, place in cold water after slicing until ready to use.

In a saute pan, over medium heat, carefully fry the salami until crisp, about 2 minutes each side. Drain on paper towels and set aside.

Remove the fennel from the water and pat dry.  Layer the vegetables amongst 4 plates, then drizzle with the dressing.

Top with a slice of the salami.


Happy almost end of winter!

 
 

Radish Butter on Homemade Rye Rounds

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It’s the late afternoon. Before the wine time, before we bathe and dress and head out to meet friends for dinner. It’s the afternoon respite, when the day’s whirl and swirl of energy has slowed to a breathless ease. It’s the afternoon sit down.

Earlier in the day flour dust rose and settled as I prepared the rye bread dough and shaped it into two logs. The smell of caraway seeds filled the kitchen, and the homey smell of bread straight out of the oven is the now the familiar. It’s so easy to make, so easy to create a masterpiece out of such simple ingredients- it no longer makes sense to do anything else.*

We don’t eat much butter these days. The demon “saturated fat” lurks within and I shun it at every possible turn, but from time to time, there something so simply wonderful as butter on bread. It is a taste so crazy good and so elemental, that it makes me laugh. Because I eat butter so rarely, I can experience a wide open happiness. That’s a really good feeling.

As a kid I remember reading books such as Heidi, where thick slices of wheaty homemade bread were slathered with butter. This was the staple, the basis of existence, the staff of life-the safe place of home.

I go back to that romantic place here.

The combination of radishes with butter and salt is another classic. If you’ve not tried it, please do. The sharp spice of the radish is tamed by the butter, and at the same time brightened by the salt. Typically radishes are sliced into paper thin wisps, then planked on top. For my table I’ve diced and mashed them right into the sweet butter. So simple. So good. A sprinkling of Maldon salt on top and you are complete.

A delightful afternoon snack.

Of simple.

And quiet goodness.

*The recipe for basic no knead bread is found HERE. To make rye, I replaced 1 cup of the white flour with dark rye, and added 2T of caraway seeds. When it came time to shape the bread I divided the dough in two and created two long thin loaves- as long as my oval pot would hold, and then baked them separately.

I Made You Oatmeal Love Cookies…

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I made you oatmeal cookies today. I left out the raisins, because you don’t like raisins. Instead I added extra walnuts, because I know those are your favorite.

I made you oatmeal cookies today, because I’ve had to sit at my computer a lot as I push to get my projects done. You came all the way to see me, and even though you knew I would have a lot of work to do, it’s still no fun when the one you love is so close, yet so far.

I made you oatmeal cookies today, because it was gray and drizzly outside and you were feeling a little blue. You had hoped to walk the streets of my big noisy city, and the day turned out to be the worst day for it. You went out anyway and braved the chilly wetness- which made it a long and unpleasant day.

I made you oatmeal cookies today, because I wanted you to come home to sweetness, and warm kitchen smells, and your favorite treat-

I made you oatmeal love cookies today, because I want you to feel cared for, and for me, one of the ways I show you that, is with the movements of my hands, and my steady pace in my kitchen, and the laying out treats onto plates- because one of my greatest expressions of my heart is food.

And because,

I love you.

Oatmeal Love Cookies
 
I make my cookies with canola oil, rather than butter. Aside from the convenience, I find the cookies aren’t much different, and I appreciate the lower saturated fat. They are a crispy cookie when cooked to the fullest. If you like a little cake-y-ness, bake until juuuust golden. Also feel free to add in traditional raisins if you like. My love does not like raisins, no she do not, but yours might.
 
makes approximately 30 cookies
 
1.5 c all purpose flour
.5 t salt
.5 t baking powder
1 t ground cinnamon
16 T canola oil
1.75 c sugar
2 T molasses
2 large eggs
3 c rolled oats (not instant)
1 c chopped walnuts
 
 
 
Preheat oven to 350˚
In a large mixing bowl combine thoroughly the flour, salt, baking powder and cinnamon.
 
In a separate bowl, combine the oil, sugar, molasses and eggs and mix thoroughly to a thick slurry.
 
Add the egg mixture into the flour mixture and stir until mostly incorporated, then add in the oats  and walnuts, and stir smooth.
 
Scoop out enough dough to pat into a 2″ disk and place on a lined baking sheet at least 1.5″ apart. The cookies do not spread.
 
Bake in the middle of the oven until golden and crisp, about 15 minutes.