Yesterday, a good friend turned us on to Root Down, a great new restaurant with a fabulous, retro vibe and great views near 20th and I-25. Though their menu doesn't go into Potager-style detail about the sources of their many delightful ingredients, the restaurant vows it "prefers to stay as organic, natural and local as possible," and based on the flavorful meal we shared there, I get the sense they mean it.
Joel and I shared an outrageously good and generously-sized roasted beet and shaved fennel salad, which featured mizuna, goat cheese, spiced nuts and a blood-orange spiked dressing. The tasty Parmesan quiche that followed was served with a perfectly-dressed, orange-infused arugula salad and a splash of pesto. To my mind, the quiche needed one more thing, and it wasn't pesto. Maybe sun-dried tomatoes? Still, the custard was beautifully textured and the nuanced tang of the cheese was splendid. Probably the best quiche I've had in a restaurant (my quiche is the best, sorry restaurants!) since that charming bistro on Evans near DU closed about nine years ago. Wonder what that wonderful chef is up to these days...
Anyway, speaking of quiche, here's my take on it. First of all, if you make the best pie crust in the world—if crust is your point of pride—go ahead and make your own crust. More power to you. However, to me, making my own crust seems like a real waste of time, particularly since, as a wheat-avoider, it means trying to make a gluten-free crust. Why bother? The frozen crusts at Whole Foods (or anywhere, for that matter) are just fine. And having one in the freezer means I can grab it and make quiche (or pie, or whatever) in an hour instead of an afternoon.
To my mind, when it comes to quiche, it's the custard that separates the winners from the weanines. So listen—experiment with your custard. Let's start with the pint of cream. Trying to cut back on fat? Don't use all cream—do a cup of cream or half-and-half and a cup of whole or 2% milk. Dairy issues? Try 2 cups soy cream or soy half-and-half instead. Or perhaps a combination of soy cream and rice milk. What you're after is 2 cups of creamy, milkish liquid. Try it a few ways, and see what you come up with. The worst thing that can happen is your custard won't set right, and even that's not much of a disaster. You'll have a slouchy quiche, but it will still taste great.
Finally, what are you going to put into your quiche to define it? To me, the perfect quiche ingredients are bacon, goat cheese and rosemerry. But I also love basil and goat cheese quiche. Not to mention feta, sun-dried tomato and basil quiche. My advice here is to keep it simple. No more than three "flavoring" ingredients, nothing too wet (it will make your custard soggy) and nothing too overpowering (a little asparagus goes a long way, for example). Whatever you add to your quiche, make it smaller-than-bite-sized, so it doesn't disrupt cutting—and forking. If you're new to quiches, start by thinking about what you like to add to scrambled eggs or omelettes. You'll be sure to like these same ingredients in—or on—your quiche.
Kathryn's Perfect Quiche
4 eggs beaten
1 pint heavy cream (or 1 cup cream + 1 cup milk)
5 slices bacon, cooked until crisp
about 1/3 small log goat cheese
1 stem fresh rosemary (a little goes a long way)
1 pie shell, frozen or handmade
Mix together eggs and cream (or cream and milk) to make custard.
Crumble bacon, goat cheese and rosemary evenly into empty pie shell.
Gently pour custard over bacon, goat cheese and rosemary to nearly fill shell.
Bake @ 425˚ for 15 minutes. Then, reduce temperature to 350˚ and cook until done (give it 40 minutes to an hour at this temperature). To test for doneness, shake quiche gently from side-to-side. The middle of the quiche shoule jiggle slightly, but not ripple.
Variations: Replace bacon, goat cheese and rosemary with feta, sundried tomatoes and basil—or any other combinaiton of ingredients that appeals to you!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Going Local in Utah
Last week I spent a few days visiting family and skiing in Utah. First of all, let me say that Solitude is a well-named and well-heeled ski resort. I loved the quiet on the mountain and the comfort of the Inn. I would definitely revisit that bunny hill!
Since I'm always on the prowl for new local tastes, I was delighted when our cheese plate at the Inn's fine restaurant, St. Bernards, included an offering from Utah's own Beehive Cheese Company.
The cheese in question, "Barely Buzzed" was awarded back-to-back 1st Places for flavored cheddar at the American Cheese Society Annual Competition in 2007 and 2008. And I'm not surprised. It's a fantastic cheese.
When I heard the cheese described, I had my doubts. A cheddar rubbed with espresso grounds? Okay, the website makes it sound better: "A labor-intensive cheese that’s hand-rubbed with a blend of Colorado Legacy Coffee (roasted by the Cheesemaker's brother) and French lavender buds."
Still, I worried the coffee flavor would be overpowering (I'm a tea drinker, friends). No need. The cheese and rub blended perfectly, creating a complex, subtle and sweet flavor with an easy finish. The cheese was a standout, though it shared the plate with Italian Parmaggianno, St. Andre, Danish Blue and a host of other tasty treats.
It was a nice reminder. Wherever you are, eat local!
Since I'm always on the prowl for new local tastes, I was delighted when our cheese plate at the Inn's fine restaurant, St. Bernards, included an offering from Utah's own Beehive Cheese Company.
The cheese in question, "Barely Buzzed" was awarded back-to-back 1st Places for flavored cheddar at the American Cheese Society Annual Competition in 2007 and 2008. And I'm not surprised. It's a fantastic cheese.
When I heard the cheese described, I had my doubts. A cheddar rubbed with espresso grounds? Okay, the website makes it sound better: "A labor-intensive cheese that’s hand-rubbed with a blend of Colorado Legacy Coffee (roasted by the Cheesemaker's brother) and French lavender buds."
Still, I worried the coffee flavor would be overpowering (I'm a tea drinker, friends). No need. The cheese and rub blended perfectly, creating a complex, subtle and sweet flavor with an easy finish. The cheese was a standout, though it shared the plate with Italian Parmaggianno, St. Andre, Danish Blue and a host of other tasty treats.
It was a nice reminder. Wherever you are, eat local!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
The Spring of Discontent, Tempered by Duck Eggs
Our final CSA pick up was last week, so I'm savoring the last of the goodies. In this bundle: potatoes, onions, garlic, leeks, cabbage, celery root (supposedly good for soups, but I haven't tried it yet), squash, carrots and parsnips.
Now, it's the long wait until asparagus picking, perhaps in April or May. In spite of the greening and warming all around us, this is when local food shares dwindle and new growth hesitates. In the natural order of things, it's a hungry time. If it weren't for the approach of planting season (I'll probably put broccoli and greens in the garden in two scant weeks), I'd hardly know what to do with myself.
Yesterday, I had my friend Maria over for lunch after a lovely walk on the High Line Canal. She helped me pull together a pot of potato leek soup in no time flat -- and as a treat, we each had a fried duck egg (the first I've tried from my Eastern Plains Natural Foods share).
The duck egg's white was a little rubbery, I'll admit, but the yolk was heaven: a rich, weighty, upright, orange-hued jewel of just the right viscosity. It reminded me of some spectacular turkey eggs I enjoyed for my birthday last spring, thanks to the Santa Fe Farmers' Market.
Whether you're a potato leek fan -- or have never had it -- you might like to give my recipe a try. It started with a recipe I found online, which turned out to be a little too strong (onion-wise) for me. I think I've got it about perfect now, and would gladly eat it days on end. It brings back my time spent in London during grad school, when I had this soup (served in a bread boule) after seeing a matinee of Measure for Measure at the Old Vic. Yum.
Potato Leek Soup
1. In stock pot, saute 1/2 - 1 chopped onion and 1 thinly sliced leek (only the white and light green parts) on medium heat in 3T butter until they begin to brown.
2. Add 5-7 thinly sliced, palm-sized yukon gold or red potatoes.
3. Cover potatoes and onion mixture with 32 oz. chicken stock/broth.
4. Simmer at medium until potatoes are fork tender (20-30 minutes).
5. Lower temperature and use potato masher to reduce soup to desired consistency.
6. Add 1/2 - 1 cup cream.
7. Continue cooking at low for a few minutes, stirring often.
8. Serve alone or with rustic bread, and enjoy.
Now, it's the long wait until asparagus picking, perhaps in April or May. In spite of the greening and warming all around us, this is when local food shares dwindle and new growth hesitates. In the natural order of things, it's a hungry time. If it weren't for the approach of planting season (I'll probably put broccoli and greens in the garden in two scant weeks), I'd hardly know what to do with myself.
Yesterday, I had my friend Maria over for lunch after a lovely walk on the High Line Canal. She helped me pull together a pot of potato leek soup in no time flat -- and as a treat, we each had a fried duck egg (the first I've tried from my Eastern Plains Natural Foods share).
The duck egg's white was a little rubbery, I'll admit, but the yolk was heaven: a rich, weighty, upright, orange-hued jewel of just the right viscosity. It reminded me of some spectacular turkey eggs I enjoyed for my birthday last spring, thanks to the Santa Fe Farmers' Market.
Whether you're a potato leek fan -- or have never had it -- you might like to give my recipe a try. It started with a recipe I found online, which turned out to be a little too strong (onion-wise) for me. I think I've got it about perfect now, and would gladly eat it days on end. It brings back my time spent in London during grad school, when I had this soup (served in a bread boule) after seeing a matinee of Measure for Measure at the Old Vic. Yum.
Potato Leek Soup
1. In stock pot, saute 1/2 - 1 chopped onion and 1 thinly sliced leek (only the white and light green parts) on medium heat in 3T butter until they begin to brown.
2. Add 5-7 thinly sliced, palm-sized yukon gold or red potatoes.
3. Cover potatoes and onion mixture with 32 oz. chicken stock/broth.
4. Simmer at medium until potatoes are fork tender (20-30 minutes).
5. Lower temperature and use potato masher to reduce soup to desired consistency.
6. Add 1/2 - 1 cup cream.
7. Continue cooking at low for a few minutes, stirring often.
8. Serve alone or with rustic bread, and enjoy.
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