Broccoli with Sauce Mornay

5 05 2011

Raw foodists love to sing broccoli’s praises, telling of the folate and antioxidants in the crunchy green stems. But my kids refuse to join the chorus. For some reason, they’ll happily eat turnips and radishes and kale but whine and pout about broccoli. To get this Super Food into their tummies at dinner last night, I knew I needed to A) cook it (raw was out of the question). I also needed to B) perk it up. And I knew just what would do the trick: sauce Mornay.

You might not recognize the French name, but you’ve likely tasted this creamy white sauce, a staple of French cuisine. Essentially a bechamel flavored with cheese, sauce mornay is a classic with chicken, vegetables and even fish. Unfortunately, after an entire generation insisted on using it to drown often overcooked vegetables, it fell out of favor.

Now we’ve swung so far to the other side of the spectrum that the concept of a white sauce is a novelty. Indeed, my kids were stunned to find a platter of sauce-covered broccoli at the dinner table. “What is it?” they wanted to know. After a few bites their skepticism faded and the broccoli disappeared in record time.

Sauce Mornay
1 T butter
1 1/2 T flour
1 cup hot milk
1/4 cup parmesan cheese

In a small saucepan over low heat, melt butter and whisk in flour. Stir and let bubble for about two minutes. Remove from heat and add hot milk. Whisk until mixture comes to a boil. Raise heat and boil for one minute, stirring well. Remove from heat and add cheese, salt and pepper. This recipe can be easily doubled.





Sweet Potato Fries

1 05 2011

As a professional food writer and restaurant critic, I keep an eye on trends. For the past few years, one of them has been burgers. Convenience aside, I just don’t see the appeal. The sad truth is that most burger joints, even high end ones, simply don’t live up to the local and organic standards that many of us set for ourselves and for our families. Organic produce? Humanely raised beef? Reasonable amounts of sodium? No, no and no.

So when the kids wanted burgers for dinner yesterday, I knew where we were going before the words were out of their mouths. And we didn’t even have to click our heels three times to get there. There’s just no place like home when it comes to food that’s really treated with care.

For the patties themselves, I used high quality ground beef from a cow raised at the CSA that I belong to. Kosher salt, pepper and a little trick I learned from Bobby Flay about not smashing the meat when you shape the patty were all I needed to whip up some restaurant-caliber burgers.

But you can’t have burgers without fries, and I wasn’t about to give some spuds a double dip in the deep fryer. (Yes, a double dip. How else do you think restaurants can get them so crisp?). Instead, I made something far lower in fat and, with all those A and C vitamins, far healthier, too: sweet potato fries.

Sweet potato fries are simple to make. Just peel and cut the sweet potatoes into fry-sized slices. Toss them lightly in olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper and put them on a parchment-lined baking sheet at 450 for 25-35 minutes, or until crisp. Like any fries, these are absolutely delish when they come out of the oven, but their appeal fades as they cool. So eat them fast. At my house you have to, or you risk not getting any!





Fresh Peas with Butter and Parsley

1 07 2010

When I think of “firsts,” I think of kids — first steps, first word and so on. But today I had a first of my own. I shelled peas.

Considering how much I love food (and considering that for most of my professional career, I’ve been paid to write about it), this admission might be surprising. I’ve made mayonnaise, canned peaches and cranked a food mill for applesauce, but somehow I never had time for peas.

But as time management gurus will tell you, there’s always time. It’s up to us to decide how to spend it.

I thought fresh peas weren’t worth my minutes. How wrong I was. And not just because the fresh peas, briefly boiled then quickly tossed with butter and parsley, were sweeter and more delicate than anything that comes in a bag. The real treat was spending half an hour with my oldest daughter, opening pods and dropping the peas in a bowl, talking about her upcoming swim meet and the dance she’s choreographing to her new favorite song. In other words, it’s not about the peas.

Peas with Butter and Parsley

Shell peas. Boil in plenty of salted water just 2 or 3 minutes (or until nearly tender), then drain. Melt a bit of butter in a skillet; add peas and chopped parsley and cook over medium another minute or so. Season to taste and serve immediately.





Turnips with Bread Crumbs and Parsley

29 06 2010

A reader asked for advice on how to use turnips. Here’s a recipe so good, it might convince the skeptics in your household to give turnips a chance.

The flavors are seductive yet simple — just toasted bread crumbs, butter, parsley and lemon. The recipe calls for fresh bread crumbs but who has time to make those? I substituted store-bought Progresso (something everyone should keep in the pantry) and the dish turned out fine. More than fine, actually. Click here for the recipe for Turnips with Bread Crumbs and Parsley.





Rethinking Radishes

5 06 2009

IMG_0785Radishes are not a favorite in my house. Probably not in yours, either. My kids don’t clamor for radishes. My husband never pulls one out of the fridge to snack on. If I make a cold salad involving radishes, they inevitably end up pushed to the side of the plate. Normally I can live with this, but not this week when radishes were one of the only local vegetables to be found at the farmers market.

So I did what any mom would do. I got sneaky.

One night not long ago I was relaxing on the couch with a few cookbooks and ran across a recipe for cooked radishes. At the time I thought, Why bother? Now I wracked my brain, trying to remember where I’d seen that blessed thing. Then I found it. Farmer John’s Cookbook has a recipe for sauteed radishes, in which you quarter the radishes, saute them in butter until tender, and then wilt the radish greens in the same pan before tossing everything together for a palate-catching side.
IMG_0787
Turns out, the heat softens the radishes’ peppery bite, making them taste more like a turnip. (Some of you may be saying, turnips aren’t my favorite, either. And to that I say, have you tried an organic, farm-fresh one? It just might change your mind.) I tweaked the recipe a bit, slicing the radishes instead of quartering them, replacing the butter with olive oil, and sprinkling feta over the top before serving.

Next time I’m at the market, I just might pop some into the bag — even if there’s more produce to choose from.








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