Rub for Ribs
Makes enough for 4 rib racks
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon paprika
2 teaspoons celery seed
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 teaspoons kosher salt
½ teaspoon cayenne
1 teaspoon garlic salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
With a spice grinder or mortar and pestle, grind all the ingredients together until everything is crushed. If you don’t have a mortar and pestle or spice grinder, add the spices to a zipper-lock plastic bag and crush them with a rolling pin. If you don’t have a rolling pin, I think it’s time to hit the kitchen store.
Grilled Fish with Smoked Paprika Butter
This is the kind of recipe you want in your arsenal for those times when the fish is so fresh you feel guilty messing with it. Prepare your grill. Marinate a 1-pound piece of firm whitefish (such as tilefish, swordfish, striped bass, mahimahi) in a little olive oil, salt, and pepper. (Add a squeeze of lemon to the fish 5 minutes before you grill.) While grill is heating up, make some smoked paprika butter: Beat together ½ stick unsalted butter (at room temperature) with 1 tablespoon smoked paprika and a large pinch of kosher or sea salt until it’s blended together. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat and then pour into a small bowl. Once the grill is hot, grill the fish 4 to 5 minutes on each side, depending on thickness, brushing the melted smoked paprika butter as you go. The fish is done when it’s firm to the touch without being rock hard. Remove the fish from grill, brush one more time with butter, and serve.
Simple Corn-Tomato-Basil Salad
If it’s corn-and-tomato-basil season, you should be arrested for not having some version of this salad on the table. There is no official recipe for this—as with all fresh, peak produce, you don’t need to add anything to the chopped vegetables beyond olive oil, scallions, salt, and pepper; proportions of vegetables should be to taste. You don’t even have to cook the corn if you don’t feel like it. But if you do feel like it: Boil the corn for 3 minutes, or cut raw kernels off the cob and fry in olive oil for 3 minutes. (If you want to turn this into a quick fresh salsa for tacos, stir in a few spoonfuls of your favorite salsa.)
Beets and Goat Cheese “Fluff”
Lucky for us, this one falls in the Pink Food category. Phoebe likes these beets without the cheese. Abby likes these beets for painting bright pink lines across her plate. To make: Remove the stems of 5 to 6 beets. Wrap the beets in foil and roast at 425°F for 40 minutes. While they are cooking, add a drizzle of heavy cream or half-and-half to a small log of plain goat cheese (about 5 ounces) and mash together until cheese is slightly fluffy instead of crumbly. Once the beets are cool, peel and chop them into a fine dice. Top them with goat cheese “fluff,” fresh thyme (or tarragon), salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil before serving.
Asparagus with Chopped Egg and Onion
Add 1 pound asparagus (trimmed) to boiling water and cook for 2½ to 3 minutes depending on thickness. Drain and immediately plunge the spears in ice water to stop cooking and preserve their bright green color. Remove from the ice bath and pat dry with paper towels. Chop 1 hard-boiled egg into small pieces and sprinkle them over the chilled asparagus (or over half the asparagus if you, like me, have egg haters in the house) along with 1 tablespoon finely minced red onion and drizzle with a mustardy vinaigrette (such as the Basic Vinaigrette).
Spicy Grilled Pineapple Salsa
This is a must if you picked the fish tacos (and also works with the Bourbon-Marinated Grilled Pork Tenderloin). You’re basically just replacing the tomatoes in a traditional salsa with pineapple. Brush 9 large fresh pineapple rings (remove the tough core if you are using the cross-sections of a fresh pineapple) with a little vegetable oil and place on the grill over medium heat for about 3 minutes on each side until the flesh looks golden and caramelized. Remove from the grill to a cutting board, chop up, and add to a medium bowl. Toss with 1 small jalapeño pepper (minced, pith and seeds removed), the juice from 1 lime (about 2 tablespoons), ¹/³ cup chopped fresh cilantro, 2 tablespoons red onion (minced), salt, and pepper.
Old-Fashioned Coleslaw
In a large bowl, whisk together 1/3 cup cider vinegar, 1 teaspoon prepared horseradish, 4 heaping tablespoons mayonnaise, ½ teaspoon celery seed, 1 tablespoon sugar, and salt and pepper to taste. Set aside. Shred ½ head green cabbage (about 5 cups) as thinly as possible (with a mandoline or the shredding disk of a food processor). Add to the dressing and toss to combine. Serve right away.
Mexi-Slaw
In a large bowl, whisk together ½ cup sour cream, the juice from 1 small lime (about 2 tablespoons), 2 teaspoons sugar, ¼ teaspoon ground cumin, 3 chopped scallions (white and light green parts), and ¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro. Add 1 small head red cabbage that has been shredded as finely as possible (with a mandoline or the shredding disk of a food processor, about 5 cups of cabbage total) and toss. Add salt and pepper. This is best served with fish tacos.
Fennel and Apple Slaw
In a medium bowl, whisk together the following: ¹/³ cup apple cider vinegar, 2 tablespoons mayonnaise, 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard, 2 teaspoons celery seed, 1 teaspoon sugar, and salt and pepper to taste. Then add to the bowl and toss: 2 thinly sliced bulbs fresh fennel (use a mandoline or the slicing disk of food processor), 2 peeled and thinly sliced Granny Smith apples (or whatever you can find—the more tart the apple the better; cut apples into matchsticks) 1 tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro, and 1 tablespoon sunflower seeds.
Sautéed Chard with Horseradish
Add 2 tablespoons olive oil to a skillet over medium-low heat. Add ½ small chopped onion, salt, and pepper, and cook until softened, about 2 minutes. Add 1 bunch washed and destemmed chard, and sauté until it wilts, chopping with kitchen scissors in the pan once it has shrunken and become more manageable. Stir in 1 teaspoon grated prepared horseradish (such as Gold’s) and 1 teaspoon of white balsamic vinegar (or white wine vinegar or tarragon vinegar) and serve.
Crispy Kale
The easiest way to prepare kale—and the way we prepare it the most—is to simply sauté a big pile of it in olive oil with salt and a few drops of balsamic vinegar over medium-high heat. Like most greens, a huge mound of kale will shrivel down significantly, but unlike most greens, kale tends to get crunchy if it sits on medium-high heat long enough. (And, for me, that’s a good thing.) The trick is to trim the stems and chop it roughly into chip-size pieces.
Classic Potato and Egg Salad
This was my favorite potato salad growing up. So much so that I’d make my mother prepare twice the amount so I could always have some for breakfast. (My argument: How is it so different from eggs with hash browns?) Add 4 eggs to a pot of water, turn the heat to high, and as soon as the water boils, remove from the heat and cover. They will be perfectly hard-boiled after 14 minutes. Meanwhile, peel about 7 or 8 (2¾ pounds) medium potatoes (Yukon Golds, red, or fingerlings) and boil for 15 minutes (until a sharp knife easily slides through the flesh) and let cool. Finely dice the potatoes and add to a bowl. Once the eggs are cool, remove shells and dice finely. In a small bowl, whisk together 4 heaping tablespoons mayo and 1 heaping tablespoon Dijon mustard. Toss everything together along with a little more than 2 tablespoons chopped red onion (I don’t like too much of it), a few chopped sweet pickles if you’d like, a handful of chopped fresh parsley, and salt and pepper to taste. If the salad seems dry or gloppy, drizzle in a little sweet pickle juice and toss to loosen.
Grilled Bread
This is the “psychological latch” food for the girls: No matter what new recipe is gracing the dinner plate on any given night, they will see their favorite “toast” and feel comfortable with whatever is surrounding it. To prepare: In a small bowl, add salt to some olive oil. (Phoebe sometimes asks me to add chopped fresh parsley or chives or finely minced garlic to the oil.) Brush the sliced baguette with oil, sprinkle with salt, and grill facedown for about 2 minute
s, checking to make sure it doesn’t burn.
Campfire Potatoes with Crème Fraîche
Place 1 cup small unpeeled, unchopped potatoes on 2 separate pieces of foil (2 cups potatoes total). To each mound of potatoes, add a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, then wrap in foil and put them on the grill grate for 30 minutes. (Listen to them—if they sound really sizzly, check to make sure they’re not burning. Move the foil packets around to make sure they cook evenly.) When they’re cooked, dump the potatoes into a bowl and smash with a fork, just enough so that the flesh bursts out of their skin. Pour a little more olive oil on top, a squeeze of lemon, whatever chopped fresh herbs you’ve got (mint, thyme, parsley, seriously whatever!), and 4 generous dollops sour cream or crème fraîche.
Herbed Barley Salad
Bring 1 cup pearl barley that has been rinsed and picked over, 1 teaspoon salt, and 3 cups water to a boil in a medium pot. Cover and simmer for 50 minutes, until the barley is firm but cooked through. Toss with a handful of chopped herbs (parsley, chives, thyme), 3 tablespoons olive oil, salt, pepper, 3 chopped scallions (white and light green parts), ¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, and a generous squeeze of lemon. Sometimes, instead of the herbs, I’ll toss in about 2 tablespoons of store-bought pesto.
DEAR GRILL-O-PHOBE
Dear Andy,
You know how much I care about making sure a nice dinner is on the table every night. You know how I love to cook, how proud I am of the fact that I can perfectly pan-fry Brussels sprouts, which Abby inhales like gumdrops; that Phoebe’s most requested summer meal is whole mackerel, and that the four of us sit down together and eat the same dinner at least five times a week.
I was thinking about all that the other night as I watched you out the kitchen window, grilling the girls’ favorite chicken on the patio. I was inside, aproned and alone, chopping tomatoes, but I might as well have been cradling a cobbler with oven-mitted hands. There you were—outside in the twilight, refereeing some insane tetherball game between Abby and the dog, chucking a football with Phoebe while simultaneously flipping and rearranging the scene-stealing meat on the Weber, Dark & Stormy in hand.
This whole tableau: It should have warmed my maternal heart. But I have to be honest here—it did the exact opposite. It sent me spiraling. How, after all these years, do I not know how to grill? How have I become that woman, the one who turns over the tongs—her self-worth—to the man of the house as soon as the weather turns?
My college feminist theory professor would kick me with her Doc Maartens, but I’m ready to ask for help. Your help. I don’t want to be inside anymore, rinsing greens. I want to be the griller. I want a taste of the glory! I’m not terribly ambitious. I have zero interest in experimenting with applewood chips, cedar planks, or mesquite. I just want to be able to stand outside, partake in some ball throwing, and grill our favorite yogurt-marinated chicken for the family without humiliating (or hurting) myself. I’m asking for your help.
Dear Jenny,
Please don’t tell me that this is what you were up, tossing and turning about, the other night at 3:00 a.m., when-or was I dreaming this?-I asked you what was wrong and you said “Nothing” but you might as well have said “Everything.” It wasn’t, right? Right? What we need is a plan of action. I hate to shatter the self-serving illusion that grilling is anything short of manly, highly specialized work—definitely not for the womenfolk—but . . . it’s not hard. Or intimidating. Or even complicated. It is, as you are about to see, embarrassingly easy. To do it right, you will need five things: a Weber grill, a charcoal chimney, a newspaper, charcoal, and some olive oil.
Let’s start with a simple, clarifying thought experiment: Think of the grill as a stovetop. Makes it easier, right? And so, the first thing you will need to do is turn your burner on. You do this with your charcoal chimney. You know that thing out on the patio that you keep trying to throw away? See how it’s divided inside by some wire mesh? Stuff two sheets of crumpled newspaper into the smaller compartment, and set it paper side down on the lower grate of the grill; then, fill the upper compartment with charcoal, all the way up, until it crests the top of the chimney. Light the newspaper, making sure it catches, and go make yourself a Dark & Stormy. Much smoke will ensue, but don’t be alarmed. After 15 or 20 minutes, when the flames have died down and the coals on top are going gray around the edges, empty the chimney into the grill, spreading the coals evenly as you do. (The goal is to avoid a big pile of hot coals in the middle of the grill.) Replace top grate (i.e. the cooking surface, i.e. your pan) to get it nice and hot, and go play some tetherball.
In 10 minutes, your coals will be mostly white, glowing pink at the center. You should be burning at medium-high heat. Brush the grate with olive oil, and using your tongs, lay the chicken down, leaving some space between each piece. The chicken, which has been pounded thin to allow for tenderness and even cooking (read: minimal stressing over its doneness), shouldn’t take more than 7 to 8 minutes total. I turn them every couple of minutes, so they don’t burn, and move them out to the edges if the fire feels too hot. When they’re firm to the touch but not rock hard, you’re ready to go. See how manly and dangerous and . . . manly that was? No? Humor me at least.
Love,
September 2009
Kale: Why the Hell Not?
When Phoebe was in her “Threes” program at nursery school one of the first things she learned about was the weather. The kids would all take turns affixing smiley-face suns or frowny-face storm clouds onto a big poster titled “What’s the Weather Today?” She started asking us to describe the sky outside whenever we’d leave the house. “Sunny, Mommy?” “Cloudy, Mommy?” Once, when she asked me this question, the sky happened to be so dark and foreboding that I found myself struggling to use the word cloudy. (This is probably the only time being an editor by trade conflicted with the day to day of motherhood.) It wasn’t the right word to describe it, but it was the only word in her weather vocabulary. I hesitated. I briefly contemplated saying “really cloudy,” but that wasn’t right either.
“Ominous,” I finally said. “The sky looks ominous.”
“What does that mean Mommy?”
“It means the sky looks kind of dark and scary.”
“Oh. You’re right. The sky is dark and scary. It is ominous.”
From then on, whenever the sky looked this way she would correctly identify it as “ominous,” much to the shock and delight of any grown-up who was around to hear it.
I had an epiphany about parenting around this moment, an epiphany that most moms and dads probably have way before their child turns three: Kids are game for anything. It’s the grown-ups who have the harder time switching things up, letting go of a routine, trying something bigger and better.
Just because the world of institutionalized learning tells kids they need to know the words sunny, cloudy, and windy doesn’t mean they are not capable of also learning the words ominous, blustery, and scorching. In fact, to them, there really isn’t any difference between the words cloudy and ominous. Words are just a combination of sounds. It’s the grown-ups who inject the shroud of grown-up-ness around “big words” by not using those words. It’s not the kids who think they can’t handle them.
So, to come back to Planet Dinner, if pizza, pasta, and nuggets are the expected words at the dinner table, the “sunny” kind of meals, then why are we not presenting them with some more, uh, “ominous”-sounding meals, like curry, like quinoa, like kale. When I posted a kale salad recipe on the blog one of my most loyal readers wrote “Okay even I’m going to have a hard time with this one. Kale for kids? You might have just lost me.” The thing is, I had the exact same reaction when my friend Naria told me she served kale to her five-year-old. But then I asked myself the same question parents around the world ask their kids every single night at the table: “How will you know if you don’t try?” It’s up to me and Andy—it’s our job—to try things at the table. Constantly. It’s up to us to figure out how to come up w
ith a marketing plan for kale at our table. This doesn’t mean that they like everything we put in front of them. (They’ve seen quinoa on the table at least fifty times and, other than a few happy five minutes in 2009, still refuse to go near it.) But I will say that both girls have not only become avid kale fans, they have tried to convince their unsuspecting classmates to try it, too.
Kale with Avocado and Pickled Onions
This was literally the recipe that convinced my kids to like kale. Total time: 20 minutes
1 cup water
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
½ teaspoon salt
½ medium red onion, sliced
1 large bunch kale, washed, stems removed, and chopped (8 to 10 cups)
¼ cup olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste
1 avocado, cut into chunks
In a small saucepan, add the water, red wine vinegar, sugar, and salt and bring to a boil. Add the onion and simmer for 15 minutes. Remove the onion from the pickling liquid with tongs and set aside in a bowl to cool.
Dinner: A Love Story Page 19
