The Opera Queen

Tag: recipe

Go Eat

By

On April 6, 2017

In food, writing

I’ve gotten away from food writing, among other things, the last few years. There’s no real reason for this (other than dramatic life events, I suppose) — my love of cooking remains unabated, and I do it several times a week, more than usual the last while, as I stock up my freezer with portion-sized things in anticipation of a busy time.

However, sometimes I don’t crave anything hearty so much as fresh, light, tasty. I love my salads, but virulent IBS doesn’t make it possible to enjoy salads as much as I’d like. It’s only been through trial and error I’ve discovered what my body will and won’t accept: Boston lettuce, yes; kale-anything, no. Based on some tasty recent experiences at a favorite restaurant, I started experimenting with basic ingredients, ones I knew wouldn’t upset me, but would still satisfy my hunger for crunchy, tasty, light… and easy. It may come as a shock to some, but working from home doesn’t automatically mean that nothing is hard, tiring (even exhausting), or draining — quite the opposite, particularly if one happens to live alone.

Regardless of work environment and family status, the last thing one may wish to do at the end of a busy, full day is cook up a large, heavy meal, especially at the end of a winter season that’s already been filled with many meals of that nature. Some very basic washing, blotting, chopping (similar to Nigella Lawson describing stirring as “soothing,” I find chopping has a similar effect on me), and then light mixing, is the best kind of therapy I can think of, not to mention incredibly nourishing.

I’ve been heartened the last little while by the reaction I received to my first “light dinner” experiment; when I posted a photo of my creation on Instagram, the reaction was pleasingly enthusiastic. Tonight I decided to make a follow-up, using a few ingredients I wish I’d originally had, and usually always do have on-hand. I think we all have our basics we like to have at hand — in our pantries, refrigerators, sitting on the counter or breadboard, waiting to be used. My basics (as you’ll see listed below) include flat parsley (also called Italian parsley), cannellini (a white kidney, but smaller), plum tomatoes, roasted red peppers (else a chopped, marinated peppers), feta cheese, kalamata olives, sometimes sun-dried tomatoes, and more often than not lately, radicchio (because I can digest it without trouble; because it keeps for a while; and because it is tasty). These ingredients are in addition to very good olive oil and white balsamic, both of which I always have at hand. I use almost all the ingredients in the recipe below — but if you want to use everything, go for it; feel free to throw in some marinated artichoke hearts, pieces of cooked, chopped chicken breast, and/or snips of curly endive and/or fresh dill, too.

Of course, this should be enjoyed with crusty baguette that has been warmed up quick in the oven.

Photo: mine. Please do not use without permission.

Radicchio Dinner Salad

1/2 head of radicchio
1/2 bunch flat parsley
1 plum tomato
1 whole roasted pepper OR 2-3 spoons of chopped peppers from the jar
1 400g/398ml/14 fl oz tin of cannellini, rinsed and drained
8-10 kalamata olives, pitted
1 double-thumb-sized chunk of feta (optional)
6-8 sun-dried tomatoes (optional)
extra-virgin olive oil
white balsamic
fresh pepper
salt

Thinly slice radicchio lengthwise, then roughly chop. You’re aiming for luxurious, longish purple shards. Place in a large salad bowl.

Rinse parsley and roughly chop. Shake excess moisture off. Wrap in a towel to blot water.
Do the same with the cannellini; after rinsing and draining, wrap them in a towel (paper or cloth; either is fine) to absorb the excess moisture. This step is very important, both for flavour, and for the texture of your salad.

Chop plum tomato, keeping mind to discard the seeds before placing in bowl with radicchio. (Again, this affects not only the flavour, but the texture, and if, like me, you have a hard time digesting them, it’s a favour to your body.)

Roughly chop roasted pepper, or measure 2-3 generous spoons of chopped pepper from the jar. Throw it on top of your radicchio. Don’t worry if you get a bit (just a bit!) of the oil from the marinade in there; that gives flavour.

Roughly chop kalamata olives and throw in the bowl.
Same with sun-dried tomatoes, if using, and feta, which you can roughly chop, or crumble with your fingers straight into the bowl.

Retrieve the towel-blotted parsley, then cannellini, adding both to the bowl.

Add a small glug of olive oil, and a sprinkling of olive oil; grind in pepper and salt as you wish.

Toss.

Enjoy (especially with crusty baguette).

Store unused portions in airtight (preferably glass) container.

Easy, delicious, healthy; now wasn’t that easy?

Desperately Seeking

By

On October 22, 2010

In video

Amidst LG Fashion Week, theatre openings, a benefit gala, and a sure-to-be-kick-ass concert, I’m also looking for this, in book and film form:

Also: I fully intend on posting audio from my interviews with Ivy Knight and Kristina Groeger as well as Matthew Jocelyn this weekend. Furthermore, I’m hoping to post my long-overdue recipe for Moroccan vegetable stew very soon, especially since I’ve been recommended on Twitter by more than a few people for my food writing. Aww.

In the meantime, seeking the punk-rock cabaret-glam of Breakfast on Pluto. McCabe, Murphy, Jordan, Rea, Friday, yes please, more. Amen.

Tweet

Peace Full

By

On June 27, 2010

In food

It’s been a dramatic weekend in Toronto.

Amidst reports of police brutality and wanton violence, it’s hard to know who or what to believe. My household, like many in the area, hunkered down with the TV, radio, and internet. The dreary, cloudy day didn’t help the collective mood of the city -it made the sounds and images that much more depressing.

So it was that I spontaneously decided to cook. My kitchen really is my refuge.

Despite the humidity, soup felt right. It’s comfort food, after all. I decided on a Jamaican-style sweet potato soup, owing to a half-bag of said veg in my cupboard, and the crying need for something hot, spicy and nourishing. As the news reports detailed more arrests (as well as -oh yeah! -actual progress at the G8 an G20 meetings), I held my soup bowl and felt, in my literal and figurative guts, that things would be okay. And they were, at least in my little world.

You will need:

  • olive oil
  • roughly 6-8 sweet potatoes (you can also use yams), chopped
  • roughly 2-3 tbsp chopped fresh ginger (about a third the size of your hand)
  • 2 garlic cloves, chopped
  • 4-6 cups chicken stock (depending on how runny you like your soup)
  • 2 medium-sized orange slices
  • 1 cup cream
  • Spices (in order of use): ground turmeric, ground coriander, ground cumin, organic brown sugar, fresh ground pepper, fresh nutmeg, cinnamon
  • salt to taste (I like sea salt)

Pour oil into a deep pot -make sure it’s enough to cover the bottom and warm on a medium heat.

Place chopped garlic and ginger into pot; stir and let saute for about 3 minutes, until fragrant. Sprinkle 1/2 tsp of turmeric on top and stir.

Add chopped sweet potatoes (or yams). Stir so that the ginger and garlic covers the pieces. Saute for about a minute, and then add roughly a 1/2 cup of stock. Stir. Replace lid.

Note: you’ll be repeating this add-stock-and-stir thing a lot, so be sure to keep a watch. You basically want to cook the sweet potatoes in stock until they’re mushy.

During this time, be sure to add your spices: turmeric (about 1 tbsp), ground coriander (1/2 tbsp) and ground cumin (1 tsp). Add about 1/2 tbsp of brown sugar (less if you’re using yams). Squeeze in the juice from the two orange slices with your hands. Stir it all and keep cooking.

Use the bottom of the spoon you’re using to stir things to break the pieces apart. Keep adding stock and stirring. I like this slow method -it produces a rich flavour and you get to control how thick or thin the soup is.

When the potatoes are soft (and you have a decidedly soup-y looking concoction), add a bit more stock and stir. Using either a hand-blender or a traditional blender, puree the lot right down. This make take a few tries, as ginger tends to be stalky sometimes, but keep going. If you don’t get every little bit, don’t worry; you can always put the whole thing through a hand blender one more time later on, unless you like bits of spicy ginger in your soup.

In any case, post-puree, you should have a beautiful orange-yellow pap. Put back onto low heat and stir. Add cream, in little bits, constantly stirring and taking care you don’t get any flare-ups from the thick soup (they hurt!).

Add the rest of the spices: a pinch of cinnamon, and a few good grates of the fresh nutmeg. Grind a good amount of fresh pepper straight into the pot as well as roughly 2 tbsp of salt and stir well. Cook on low heat (lid on) for about 15 minutes, stirring a few times.

If you still find the soup too thick, add more stock to taste, heat, and stir. Keep in mind -it’s supposed to have that pungent, spicy hot-sweetness to it. The odd chunk of ginger is actually quite delightful. And it’s even better the next day.

Ladle into bowls and enjoy.
Voila, comfort.

Freaky-Good Frites

By

On June 7, 2010

In food

Yesterday’s cooler weather inspired in me a desire to make stew. However, my inspiration changed as the grey skies cleared in the afternoon. After a spate of domestic-y work & long-overdue gardening, I felt like something less…stewy. Also, starting a stew at 7pm is never a good idea. So I decided on steak frites. The steak part -fine, easy-peasy; I had a nice clean BBQ to grill them on, which made things even easier.

The frites? Not so easy. I’d never made them, if you can believe it. Perhaps it’s because I was never a spud person (though living in Ireland, I became one more out of necessity) and indeed, still am not entirely one -but the crisp, hot, carby goodness felt just right to end an afternoon of laundry, cupboard-cleaning and weed-pulling.
The response to my frites-making exploit on Facebook was so positive, I thought I’d share the recipe. I used one posted online as well as my own good common sense. Try it if you have a chance -easy, and yes, very good. This serves two people (or one very-hungry woman, natch).

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 20-25 minutes

You will need:
4-5 medium-sized organic potatoes (Yukon Gold is best)
4-6 cups of ice water
roughly 2.5 to 3 cups canola oil
1 cup olive oil
sea salt
+ a whack of paper towels for blotting
Method:
Scrub potatoes and julienne. You want the shape to be long and skinny (do cut chunkier, a la pub style, if you like ’em that way, but mind they take longer to cook).
As you chop, place the julienned pieces in a big bowl of waiting ice water; mind the edges of the bowl are filled near the top, with plenty of ice (and keep adding cubes as you add the cut potatoes). I used a metal bowl to keep the temperature nice and cool.
Once you’re done chopping and your taters are in the bowl, leave them to soak for 15 minutes. (Make something else, or pour a glass of wine to enjoy whilst admiring your garden handywork…)
At about the 10-minute mark, heat the canola oil in a large, broad pan on the stove; place on medium heat.
After 15 minutes, drain the potatoes from the ice water in a colander. Discard any ice cubes, leaving potatoes in the colander. Give a gentle shake. Spread paper towels out on a flat surface, then spread the potatoes on them.
Cover with another paper towel and gently blot.
Turn the heat of the oil up to medium high.
Place half the potatoes in the hot oil. They should sizzle on contact (test with one if you’re not sure). Mind that the oil covers them entirely.

When they’re semi-done (yellow but not golden), remove with a broad slotted spoon or tongs (carefully) & place on fresh, dry paper towels. Gently blot.

Check to see if there’s enough oil for the second batch of potatoes, and add as necessary. Again, you want the oil to cover the potatoes entirely. Repeat as before, removing the potatoes when they start to yellow and placing them on fresh, dry paper towels. Blot carefully.

Add the olive oil to the pan, and turn the heat down to medium. Wait about a minute (so it heats up), then place the first batch of potatoes in; shake the pan. Follow by placing the second batch in with the first, and shake again. The oil should be bubbling merrily, with the potatoes bouncing around inside.

Cook about ten to fifteen minutes, shaking the pan every few minutes or so.

When the potatoes turn that happy golden colour, your frites are ready. Using tongs or a broad slotted spoon, carefully remove them to a dry colander. Sprinkle liberally with sea salt and gently toss with your fingers.

Now… serve with your favorite accompaniment and enjoy.

Damn Good Dinner

By

On March 15, 2010

In food

Few things inspire me like a person new to the culinary world; it implies both a healthy curiosity and a concern for healthy eating. Anything homemade is always going to beat microwaved Frankenfood. So a recent note from a fellow Twitterati/ journalist felt like a call to inspiration, the way I painter is drawn to canvas or a musician to their instrument. Sharing food ideas and any help is my passion, because I love to cook.

I sent this fellow journalist a response, included a link to my last recipe posted (a hit with busy moms), as well as helpful book suggestions (listed below). I also promised myself I would starting posting recipes more often.

As it happens, I had a very hectic day: two blog posts, several phone calls, emails, a doctor’s appointment, and some running around. I wanted something fairly easy and effort-free, if also homey, flavoursome, and healthy. Ergo, meet my Oven-Roasted Herb-Garlic Chicken Breasts.

Prep time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 30-40 minutes

You will need:

4 chicken breasts, skin and bone on
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp olive oil
2-3 garlic cloves
1 sprig rosemary
1-2 tsps dried oregano
1/2 lemon
1 tsp sea salt

Pre-heat oven to 425F (use the convection setting if you have it, otherwise set at 450F).

Pour 1 tbsp of the olive oil into a large broad oven dish; you can use a large glass one or a nice square roaster, but keep it shallow, and make sure the breasts fit snugly together.

With clean hands, anoint the fresh chicken breasts with the butter; Nigella Lawson has a wonderful expression (from her basic roast chicken recipe) of spreading the butter around “like a very expensive handcream” -which is apt. Make sure every little bit of the chicken breasts are lubricated. Place in the oven dish, making sure pieces are snug but not busting.

Wash and dry your hands, and then carefully pick the needles from the rosemary sprig. Discard the stalk. Using a very sharp knife, finely chop the needles, and sprinkle them evenly on the tops of the breasts.

Follow this with the oregano (again, use your fingers to sprinkle -much nicer distribution that way). Pour the other tbsp (or so) of olive oil on top.

Take your garlic cloves and peel, then half them. Place the flat part of your knife on top of them, and give a few good pounds, so you’re crushing the cut cloves (you may need to do this in stages, doing a few garlic pieces at a time -which is perfectly fine). You’ll find nice flat pieces of fragrant crushed garlic to scatter on top of the chicken breasts.

Take the half a lemon, cut it again in half, and slice into very thin pieces; scatter on top of the breasts. Sprinkle the sea salt on top (again, use your fingers) and drape a piece of tin foil on top, then pop the dish into your hot oven.

(You can use this time to throw a salad together, if you wish; a basic cucumber/tomato/mixed greens is good with a light dressing. I also happened to have some roasted potatoes already made, so I popped those into an earthenware dish, gave a glug of oil, a grind of pepper, and threw into the same oven for the chicken’s last 10 minutes.)

After 15 minutes, remove the chicken, and take off the foil. Things will be sizzling and fizzling, so mind you don’t stand too close or poke your nose in to inhale the fragrant, herb-garlic aroma.

Using a baster or a spoon, spread all those lovely chickeny/buttery/olive oily juices over the breasts a few times, then whack back in the oven for another 10 minutes or so with the foil off.

Poke a breast (pun unintentional) with a sharp knife after the ten minutes is up; the meat should feel solid, and the juices run clear. Take the chicken out (again, mind the sizzle), baste one more time, and whack back in for 5 to 7 minutes.

For a nice burnished top, turn the broiler on medium-high heat and leave the chicken breasts in (without moving the oven rack) for about 3 or 4 minutes after this (keep watch). The lemon slices and crushed garlic might be singed and blackened at their edges; this is perfectly fine.

Remove and… voila. Enjoy. Serve with salad and, if you like, starch of your choice.

Oh, and those book suggestions: I recommend these for both newcomers and seasoned home cooks, for the breadth of their ideas, accomplishment of their respective authors, and overall ease. They are:

To this I would only add one other book: How To Eat, (Random House, 1998) by Nigella Lawson, which provided inspiration for this recipe in the first place.

All of these titles are perffect for the cook who’s harried, hurried, and not entirely familiar with the culinary arts. Bon appetit!

Woman. Hungry.

By

On January 28, 2010

In food

As I tucked into my quickly-thrown-together past earlier tonight, the thought occurred that it was perhaps a bit late to be digging into such a rich dish. 10:30pm? Yikes.

“Have to hit the gym tomorrow,” I thought, with more than a hint of anxiety.

While I am a big promoter (and lover) of physical activity, I can’t deny that a larger thought overtook the guilt-tinged one: damn it, I’m hungry. I had a long, stressful day, it’s cold out, and damn, I was really hungry. Women are often, I feel, given the nth degree of guilt when it comes to our relationship with food. It’s as if we’re only meant to eat salad, fruit, and tuna, and never revel in the hugely enjoyable delight that comes with gastronomy. “Stay thin!” every media image shouts, “body fat is disgusting!” It’s as if I have choose: a great body, or fulfilling my appetite. How unfair.

Thus, it follows that a large part of my attraction to Nigella Lawson is her turning away from this guilt over all things food-related, and freely, sensuously celebrating indulgence in the acts of cooking and eating. I still sometimes think that, despite my truly admiring her bringing in a decidedly European approach, we’re too far too youth-and-skinny obsessed (especially in North America) to truly heed her message. She isn’t arguing for gluttony -but nor is she arguing for poe-faced self-denial. She’s arguing for rich, luscious womanhood, something I’m still not sure North America can wrap its size-0-youth-obsessed heads around.

And so it was that I found myself greedily spooning in mouthfuls of gorgeous, creamy, vegetable-laden pasta lastnight, amidst watching documentaries, writing future blogs, and organizing a myriad of projects. It hit the spot. I offer this handy stir-together recipe for all busy, harried women -and men -who want a good, nourishing meal after a long day. Pour yourself a glass of wine while you’re at it. Eat, and enjoy.

You’ll need:

roughly a handful of pasta (or two, if you want leftovers)
salt
olive oil
Noilly Prat (or other good white vermouth)
1/2 cup broccoli (baby is best)
1/2 red pepper
1/2 tomato (or 1 plum tomato)
1/4 red chili
a handful of spinach leaves
1/2 cup tomato sauce (passata, jarred, or creamy are all fine)
roughly 4 tbsp fresh-grated parmesan

Salt and boil water. Add pasta, stir, add more salt (I use coarse-cut sea salt, but use whatever you like).

As the pasta cooks, prep the vegetables. I’ve listed broccoli, red pepper, spinach, and chili, but you can also use carrot, zuccini, onion -whatever you have on-hand, but keep it varied, colourful, and flavourful.

Peel broccoli stems and discard the peels. Cut peeled stems on the diagonal in medium strips; judge florets accordingly. You want them to be bite-sized. Set aside. Roughly chop red pepper (again, keep pieces bite-sized -medium-ish, in other words). Set aside. Chop tomato and set aside. Wash and roughly dry spinach leaves. Remove stems. Chop roughly and set aside. Carefully slice chili pepper (it’s a good idea to wear gloves); if you don’t like things too spicy, discard the seeds. Set aside, making sure the chopped chilis don’t touch anything else.

Drain pasta once it’s cooked; 8-10 minutes should do the trick, depending on what type you use -I like penne or large shells for things involving sauces, but if you only have spaghetti or some other ribbon-like pasta, then leave out the tomato-based sauce (and indeed, chopped tomato) and go with butter and garlic instead.

Using the same pot you cooked the pasta in, heat up the olive oil. You’ll need just enough to coat the bottom of the pan. Turn down the heat to medium. Add chopped broccoli, and stir around to coat. Add a splash of Noilly Prat and clamp the lid on to steam lightly for 3-5 minutes. When broccoli is a bright green, add the red pepper and stir. The mixture might still be liquid -that’s okay. Add the chopped tomato and stir around. Clamp on the lid and allow to bubble merrily for about 2-3 minutes. Add the chilies and stir; let cook for about a minute.

Shake off excess water from the pasta and throw in, along with any tomato-based sauce you may be using. Stir. Add chopped spinach. Stir stir stir. The spinach might seem overwhelming for the pasta, but as it is heated with the rest of the mixture, it will quickly wilt down, leaving gorgeous green ribbons winding their way through the pot.

Gently grate the parmesan straight in. Stir gently and turn off the heat. I’ve given a measurement of 4 tbsp, but certainly, use as much (or as little) as you wish. You want the cheese essentially to draw things together. Grate more on top (if you wish) once it’s in your plate, in a mound of gorgeous tomato-y lusciousness.

Spoon in. Drink wine. Repeat.

And most of all: no guilt. You’re hungry. Period.

Visions of Sugar Plums

By

On December 25, 2009

In food

Yes, it’s Christmas Eve, and you probably won’t be slaving in your kitchen reading this. But think of this recipe as good reference for the future -or even Orthodox Christmas, coming up in early January.

Personally, I’ve always loved dried fruits: their pungent sweetness and gooey, ever-so dessicated texture I find intoxicating. And they’re healthy too. So once I came across a recipe that integrated them with other ingredients (nuts and booze, huzzah!), and transformed the lot into a bake-free, semi-healthy holiday option, my tastebuds started leaping.

The recipe below is based on Lucy Waverman’s entirely excellent recipe for sugar plums that appeared in an old issue of Food and Drink magazine. I experimented a little bit and found this combination, with dried cranberries and green cherries, gives just the right amount of sweetness; the colours also add a cheerful Christmas touch. The recipe makes enough for roughly 24 small sugar plums, or 18 medium-sized ones. I like to keep mine toytown-small (to borrow Nigella‘s adorable phrase) -it makes popping them into one’s mouth so entirely satisfying, and after a huge holiday meal, the last thing you want is a cumbersome, vulgar-sized treat. These are also insanely easy; they don’t require any baking, and are great for getting other, non-cooking types involved. The plums are also good for those who are wheat or sugar-sensitive. Oh, and they’re totally delicious. Enjoy.

You will need:

  • 1/4 (50 mL) halved pecans, toasted*
  • 8 dried figs
  • 8 dried dates
  • roughly 1/4 cup (50 mL) dried cranberries (you want about a handful)
  • roughly 1/4 cup (50 mL) dried green cherries
  • 1 tsp (5 mL) grated lemon rind
  • 1 tbsp (15 mL) cherry brandy
  • 1 tbsp (15 mL) runny honey
  • 1/4 tsp cinnamon
  • roughly 1 cup sweetened shredded coconut

* To toast pecans, pre-heat oven to 400F; spread pecans on a baking sheet, making sure they aren’t overlapping. When the oven is hot, throw the sheet in the oven for about 5 minutes -they’ll be giving off a luscious deep scent by then, so you know they’ll be done. Keep an eye out so they don’t burn! Remove promptly and shake the sheet around; leave them until you’re ready to use them.

Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.

Roughly chop the dates; place in a food processor with the sharp blade already on.
Cut the tough little nubs off the figs (their tops, that is), roughly chop them, then throw them in the processor too, along with the cranberries, cherries, and toasted pecans.

Blitz the processor on and off, so that you get a fine, crumb-like texture. The cherries and cranberries will be big green and red flecks. Add the grated lemon rind, cherry brandy, honey and cinnamon. Turn the processor on. It’ll take a bit of time to mix everything down to a paste and properly integrate the honey throughout the mixture. You’ll know it’s ready, however, when the mixture starts to come away from the edges of the bowl.

When mixed, scoop out a lusciously sticky portion using a teaspoon (or other small measuring tool). With wet hands, roll into a tiny little ball and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Continue, wetting hands and teaspoon (or whatever you’re using -I have a small bowl of water handy), forming little balls.

When you have 24 (or so), get started on coating them with the coconut.

Wash your hands and then spread the coconut in a decent layer across a large plate or other flat, lipped surface. Carefully roll sugar plums, one by one, in the coconut, and place back on the parchment.

Leave them to sit on the baking sheet about 10 minutes, just to make sure the coconut sets. Mind putting them away -they’re delicious little morsels, but they are also very delicate. Then again, isn’t every good thing at Christmas in need of a little TLC? I think that squarely includes all the talented people cooking Christmas dinner tomorrow…

From my home to yours, much joy, peace, and deep gratitude. I wish all of you a wonderful, wonderfully delicious holiday season, full of love, laughter, wine and song.

Cool (Hot) Beets

By

On September 21, 2009

In food

I’m writing this from my kitchen -my place of refuge, my studio, my laboratory, all rolled in one. It’s funny how such a simple change of locale -from upstairs to down -can drastically alter the way one approaches one’s work. No wonder coffee shops are so filled with people on laptops; what is sometimes lost in personal interconnection in such circumstances is often gained in the field of inspiration and initiative (though I’d argue one is deeply connected with the other).

So, after much thought -and a joyous session in roasting beets (more below), I’ve decided to include simple recipes as part of Play Anon. Rather than watering down its content, I feel it will add to, and complement it. Food is as much a part of culture as theatre, dance, painting, sculpture, electronic art, and so on -though it is also vastly more immediate, and I feel, intimate in its nature. Food is what we share as humans. We cannot live without eating. And like all cultural things, it provides needed nourishment -not only to our bodies, but on spiritual, mental, and emotional levels.

Right now, I’m typing with hands softened by good olive oil, just used to anoint the beets which now roast in the oven. I love beets, and always have done, ever since I was a child, standing beside my mother, hands stained purple, carefully peeling, apron firmly tied. I grew up thinking there was only one way to prepare them -that is, my mother’s method: boil to death, messily peel, drown in butter. While I’m not immune to the charms of butter and salt (though now, I’m finding good quality in each harder to come by), I feel treating such a beautiful vegetable so heinously borders on the sinful. Basic rule: if the vegetable is good, it should stand on its own. Period.

So while I applaud Lucy Waverman integrating beets into various dishes to tempt the palette of any beet-hating President, I prefer my purpley root veg straight-up. Antony John understands this. I had the wonderful fortune of visiting his beautiful farm, Soiled Reputation, last month. Sitting just outside the town of Stratford, Ontario, the farm grows organic vegetables which are then used in many restaurants across the Southern end of the province. Jamie Kennedy, the activist-chef (and one of my very-favourites, for his food and his ethos), uses Soiled Reputation’s veg, including their lovely, feathery greens, filled with sweet and bitter tastes.

One of the things I brought back from my trip was a bag of beets. Though pink on the outside, they’re white on the inside. They yield a sweeter flavour than regular beets, and I am wagering, roast up deliciously.

Roasting is, incidentally, my favourite method, though I have also experimented with marinating sliced beets in good balsamic, and then barbequing, both with foil and without. But there’s something awfully comforting about the smell of roast-anything wafting through the house, particularly as temperatures drop and the season turns. With the advent of autumn, root vegetables come back to prominence at my table.

Depending on the size of the beets, you may wish to slice them (I chopped a few bigger ones in half width-wise) and i always take the top off (the part where the greens sprout), though I tend to leave the “tail” -there’s something so merry about them, even if you can’t (or won’t) eat that portion.

So you will need:

Roughly 12 beets, small, or 8 small, 2 medium, 1-2 large, all very well-scrubbed.

  • Leave the small beets whole; chop the medium beets in half width-wise; chop the large beets in manageable chunks.
  • Pour good olive oil on top -about 3-4 tsp should be enough, but use your judgment; you don’t want them swimming or dripping in it, but you want enough to lubricate the beets and the casserole dish they’re sitting snugly in, rosy cheek to pale jowl.
  • Sprinkle salt on top: sea, rock, red, whatever you wish.
  • Toss with your bare hands.
  • Cover with foil, loosely; pop into a pre-heated oven (400F) for about 15 minutes; check after that to see if they’re done how you like, or if you need to add more oil.

I’d leave them in another 15-20 minutes. Prick with a fork if you’re really not sure but they’ll be making little sizzley sounds to indicate they’re cooked.

And… that’s it.

Really, wasn’t that easy?

Addendum: 30ish minutes did the trick. Delicious, succulent, sweet, and rich. I said it before, I’ll say it again: beets are beautiful. Take that, Mr. Obama.

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