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Zucchini Roll Ups with Provencal Roasted Tomatoes: And the Camera Calamity

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One of the worst things happened to me yesterday. Not a tragedy, but certainly a calamity that has left me unsettled and distraught: My camera done got broke.
It’s not hard to imagine the fact that I use my camera just about every day. If I’m not shooting actual food for myself or for my internship, I am practicing technique, or {attempting to} teaching myself new things. It might surprise you to know that I photograph far more things than I publish. Sometimes because they are just studies, but sometimes, (and I hate to admit this), yes sometimes, things turn out dreadfully. It has been known to happen that I have trashed and completely reshot an entire recipe several times until I felt I got it.
This is, in fact, a new sort of me.

This is not to suggest anything except that I am learning to be a nit picker. Since this is not a genetic proclivity, I have a long way to go. At times it can be a bothersome struggle, but I am learning that there is  music in the process for me. Perhaps what I am really getting at is not that I am learning to be overly critical, but to go past the point of “good” creation. It’s a different realm, it’s the practice of getting to a better quality of “yes”. Sometimes it’s satisfying, mostly it’s satisfying. Some days it’s downright aggravating.

Like I said, I am nascent at this new phase. I have many baby steps ahead of me.

But today I’ve experienced a mechanical failure, and so I am derailed for the week. My beloved Canon 5D has dislodged its mirror. For those who don’t know: The mirror is behind the lens in front of the sensor. It’s main function is to reflect what you see through the lens up into the view finder so you can actually see through the camera. When you press the shutter button, the mirror flips up and allows light to enter through the lens, hit the sensor in the back of the camera, and VIOLA! record the image onto the sensor.

According to the web, I am not alone in this problem. A factory defect (bad glue?) is the culprit. So cheery Graydon at the other end of the 1-800 number, assured me that a ticket and tag and assessment etc etc will be swiftly executed, and without delay or cost my baby shall be repaired. *sigh*

His idea of swiftly was a week to ten days- an interminable amount of time to my mind. Good god.

So! Onward to Plan B. I have a point and shoot, I have my iPhone and I have plenty of other things to do. I shall make the most of it, I shall rise in the face of adversity, I shall most likely learn something very good! So thank you very much. Again… *sigh*

The breakdown occurred halfway through this shoot, specifically while I was taking a shot of the zucchini being grilled (hence no photo, sorry). Perhaps you can’t tell, that would be nice.

As a result this shoot did not turn out to the “yes” I was hoping for. I decided to let that go, it’s the karmic dada of this recipe. It was “meant” to be this way. It’s the Art of the recipe expressed. {gawd}

However, let me be clear, this only goes for the photography. The styling could have been better, I could have been a bit more creative in the shooting process, but the recipe is quite lovely.

This is a perfect dish for a luncheon or a light supper. Tangy goat cheese is rolled up in thin strips of grilled zucchini and paired with roasted tomatoes that are so sweet and flavorful, and still quite juicy.

The rolling is a little fiddly, but laying the zucchini down on a layer of plastic wrap is a fantastic tool. I really hope you enjoy this one.

Zucchini Roll-Up with Provencal Tomatoes
The rolling makes this dish look a bit fancy, but it’s really pretty easy to do, and little touches like this make the simple so special. The rolls can be made ahead of time and, either quickly rewarmed, or served at room temperature.
 
Serves 2
 
10 medium Campari tomatoes
2 cloves garlic, minced
1T olive oil
1T dried basil
S&P
2 large zucchini
1 oz goat cheese
1/2 cup part skim ricotta
S&P
 
Preheat the oven to 425˚
 
Slice the tomatoes in half through the midsection. Place tomatoes into a bowl with the garlic, oil, basil, S&P (to taste) and toss to combine ingredients.
 
Place the tomatoes skin side down into a roasting pan and spoon any remaining marinade over the top. Place into the oven and roast until the tomatoes start to shrink, about 35 minutes.
 
Slice the zucchini in thin strips along the long end of the squash. Heat a grill pan on the stove, spritz with cooking spray and grill until mostly done. The squash will continue to cook after you remove them from the heat, if you cook it to perfection on the grill they will turn to mush as they cool and not be sturdy enough to roll. The zucchini should show some opaqueness in the flesh, and the green skin should be bright.
 
In a food processor combine the goat cheese and ricotta and a pinch of salt and puree smooth.
 
Lay down a sheet of plastic wrap on your counter and line up the zucchini on it, overlapping. Carefully spread the cheese mixture in a thin layer, then using the plastic wrap for support, roll up the zucchini, sushi style.
 
Carefully unroll the zucchini onto the cutting board, seam side down, then cut in half.
 
Serve half a roll and half the tomatoes. A drizzle of fruity olive oil would be nice here, and a slice or two of peasant bread would be perfection.
 
Enjoy!

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.