On Inspiration and being a fan

Last night, I met one of my very favorite writers, Calvin Trillin, at a reading of several pieces to celebrate the publication of Cornbread Nation 6 , an anthology of Southern food writing put together by Southern Foodways Alliance. The event was at KGB Bar in the East Village, not the kind of bar that one happens into accidentally; I found it up two flights of stairs in a blank- faced building, a dim room with Soviet era pictures and flags on the walls.

A couple of the writers included in the book were there to read, Jane Black and Francis Lam, plus its editor Brett Anderson to MC as well as Mr. Trillin. It felt like most of the people there either knew each other or were there with friends, chatting about book fairs in Italy they had just attended or mutual talented fabulous author/publisher friends. I sat gawkily alone on my bar stool trying to figure out who was who based on my looking up their Twitter profile pictures (“the Asian guy in the gingham blazer must be Francis Lam….”).

But when the readings began, particularly Mr. Trillin’s, I remembered why I was there. Hearing words crafted to so invoke a place, a person’s nature, an ethos, as to bring a pang of recollection or recognition is what inspires me to write. And it reminded me of the importance of inspiration. Reading the work of excellent writers (or experiencing excellent art or music) has the two-fold benefit of keeping me appropriately humble- no, I’m not the greatest thing since sliced bread- while also giving me something great to which to aspire- don’t be self-satisfied, always try to be better.

Calvin Trillin is one of those writers that can write about a ham sandwich and make it interesting, funny, and meaningful. It will make you really want to go to the place where he describes enjoying this sandwich immediately and have one yourself. His stories about making the Saturday morning food rounds in Manhattan were part of what helped quell my terror at moving here- he made it seem so neighborhoody and unpretentiously delicious. And speaking of unpretentious, he writes sparely, no frills, but still genially, like your uncle telling you about his latest trip. He talks about his wife and daughters a lot, but kindly and respectfully.

I’m not sure why, but I’m very reticent to approach or acknowledge people that I think are “famous”. I guess I feel like they mostly just want their privacy like anyone else, and saying “I really admire your work” doesn’t exactly trip off my tongue. I feel awkward as a fan. But as people began to trickle out at the end of the evening, I made my way out past the table where the writers were sitting and said “IenjoyedthissomuchthankyouMrTrillinI’velovedyourwritingforalongtime” before scurrying out the door.

But in the spirit of the verse that says “if you have a word of encouragement, say it!”, here is what I wish I had had the presence if mind to say:
Your work has made me laugh for many years. I’ve recommended your Tummy Trilogy many times. Your stories about food and travel are so true and funny and lovely that I almost despair to write myself because you’ve already done it so well. Thank you for inspiring me to try to write well.

Hummus is Yummus

Last night was my turn to host my book club. The host usually has snacks and wine and since most of us are either arriving from work or from handing children off to a spouse who has just walked in the door, most of try to go hearty with snacks since it is essentially supper. Typically, I had so many things keeping me busy that I didn’t get any prep done ahead of time and walked in the door with a bag full of groceries and wine at about 5:30 to see a herd of dust bunnies galloping down the hall, piles of mail and clutter everywhere, a full dishwasher, and a lot of cooking ahead of me.

Fortunately, the ladies of book club do not care a whit about my careless housekeeping, particularly if they are well fed, so I turned some MGMT on really loud, put my apron on, and cranked out my hummus recipe because it is so fast and easy and everyone loves it. With hummus in the bag, I got to work on a trio of crostini toppings – diced tomato and basil with olive oil, salt and pepper, chopped mushrooms sautéed in butter with rosemary and a little cream, and this Parmesan spread from 101 Cookbooks that I mixed with chopped artichoke hearts. Kate arrived first and  helped me slice and toast my baguettes from the Antique Bakery (which still bakes all of its bread in an old coal oven) and open wine bottles. I have to admit I had worked up a little sweat getting everything done at the last minute, but our book club is always fun and worth the effort.

Having recipes like hummus that are easy to throw together are great if you like to have people over but don’t have a lot of time to prepare. I served mine with a platter of crudite – red pepper slices, cucumber spears, slender blanched green beans, and celery to balance the richer crostini toppings, but I often bake whole wheat pita wedges to make quick pita chips.

Hummus

- 1 – 19 ounce can of garbanzo beans, drained

- 2 cloves of garlic, chopped or microplaned

- 3 Tablespoons tahini

- 1 lemon, juiced

- 1 teaspoon ground cumin

- 1/2 teaspoon ground smoky chipotle

- about 2 tablespoons olive oil

- salt to taste

Note: because of the variety of textures in canned beans, I sometimes need more or less olive oil to get the texture I want. If, after blending, the texture seems stiff or dry, add a little more olive oil, or if it seems loose and soft, add a little less. Same thing with the salt- taste it before adding any because some canned beans are already salty.

In the bowl of a food processor (I used my mini prep), combine the beans, garlic, tahini, lemon juice, and spices. Pulse the mixture until you like the texture- I prefer it pretty smooth but with a bit of chunky texture. Once you get the texture you want, taste it for salt and add the salt and olive oil. The olive oil and tahini make it creamy. Serve with a drizzle of olive oil on top.

“Mutz” and Farm-to-Table Dinners

Rynn Caputo and I met because she made a provocative comment about mozzarella on Twitter. Fresh mozzarella is the stuff of legends in Hoboken NJ but is something I have only become familiar with recently. Every deli worth its salt has bowls of white, milky “mutz” waiting to be sliced into creamy slabs for giant sandwiches or tomato and basil salads. So when Rynn tweeted in response to Josh Ozersky’s article “Masters of Mutz” about where to get the best mutz in New Jersey by saying basically “too bad none of it is real mozzarella,” I was intrigued.

She explained that almost all commercial American mozzarella curds are formed by adding an acid to milk rather than a more time-consuming rennet set which actually cultures the milk, eats the lactose, and gives the curds a richer and more tangy flavor. (I think she actually said “if you add acid to grape juice, it doesn’t make it wine.”) She and her chef husband Dave had recently started Caputo Brothers Creamery in Spring Grove, Pennsylvania where they make the more traditional Italian fresh cheeses with cultures, and she invited me to a cheese stretching demo that she was holding at The Cheese Store here in town where she would be able to explain the process and differences more thoroughly.

You can’t go to a Rynn Caputo cheese stretching demo without catching some of her infectious enthusiasm for artisan cheeses and Italy, and she supports her enthusiasm with a thorough knowledge of her topic. Since I am fascinated by fermented and cultured foods, I peppered her with questions during her demo. By the end of the afternoon we had decided that two girls who love cheese as much as we do should be friends, and she had invited to me to come out and make cheese with her at the creamery, and to bring Scott out for one of the farm-to-table dinners that she and Dave host in their home.

So a couple of weeks ago, we found ourselves out in the Kodachrome green Pennsylvania countryside at the Caputo’s old stone farmhouse with a dozen or so friends and neighbors eating a mostly locally sourced Spring feast.

Here’s what we had for supper:

Tuscan white bean and wild onion fritters  with house-made sour cream and basil pesto

Freshly stretched Oaxaca cheese with green tomato relish (made by Rynn’s mom) and olive oil

Sunchoke pasta with sauteed sunchokes and dandelion green pesto.

Wild garlic frittata with straight-from-the-garden asparagus

Berries with homemade limoncello and fresh house made ricotta

Everyone brought bottles of wine to share and one guest who owns an olive oil and vinegar shop brought a couple of bottles of olive oil to taste, an Italian and an Argentinian oil. Once we had tasted both and decided which we preferred, we drizzled the oil over our fresh cheese that Rynn stretched and rolled for us.

I’m looking forward to getting back out there soon to actually make cheese, rather than just consume it (although that’s not a bad idea either).  When I do, I’ll fill y’all in on what I learn.

“Great Personality” Cauliflower Olive Penne

I made this delicious cauliflower pasta for the first time this winter and immediately loved it. I had seen this recipe and liked the idea but it was one of those weeknights when I had cauliflower and pasta but not much else from the original recipe and I was tired and hungry so I used what I had already. In one of those happy accidents of leftovers alchemy, I liked my version so much I never went back to try the original inspiration.

I knew I wanted to share the recipe here but there was a problem. Nutty roasted cauliflower, green picholine olives marinated in coriander and herb de Provence, smoky sweet piquillo peppers, creamy salty tangy sheep’s milk feta – it was delicious and satisfying. But if the explosion of Pinterest has illustrated anything, it is that people like to cook food that not only sounds good, but looks good too. We want the whole package. And when I take pictures of some things I cook, the visual just don’t do the flavor justice. Some dishes just aren’t as easy on the eyes as others.

It’s like the classic set – up conversation:

“I have this friend. He’s smart, funny – you’ll love him!”

“Awesome! What does he look like?”

“He looks smart and funny! He’s a lot of fun!”

“But what does he look like???”

“He has a GREAT personality.”

Don’t judge this recipe by its looks alone. Get to know it. Look for its hidden depths. Because, really,  it has a great personality.

Cauliflower Olive Penne

- 1 head cauliflower

- olive oil

- 6 brined green peppercorns, crushed*

- 1 teaspoon anchovy paste

- 1 clove garlic, crushed to a paste

- 1/4 cup coarsely chopped green French picholine olives

-1/4 cup chopped roasted piquillo peppers (or roasted red bell peppers)

-about 2 ounces feta, crumbled (I used a sheep’s milk feta)

- 1/3 cup panko crumbs

- 6 ounces dried penne pasta

Heat the oven to 400. Separate the cauliflower head into small florets, cutting the stems and bigger florets into bite sized pieces. Toss with just enough olive oil to lightly coat, spread the florets out onto a big baking sheet and roast until the bottoms and edges start to brown, about 20 minutes. stir the cauliflower once to make sure the bottom isn’t browning to quickly, but otherwise leave it alone.

Meanwhile, begin to bring a pot of salted water for the pasta to a boil.

Get the olives, peppers and feta ready to go; if the olives have pits, smash the olive on a cutting board with the bottom of a glass or the flat side of a knife blade. The pit will be loosened and the olive will be easy to chop.

In a large saute pan, pour about a tablespoon of olive oil over low heat; add the crushed green peppercorns, anchovy paste, and garlic paste and allow the garlic to just cook through. Stir once in a while to keep the garlic from sticking and burning.

Toss the panko crumbs with a little olive oil and toast the crumbs, either in a skillet on the stove or in the oven. Keep and eye on it; the oil makes it brown quickly.

Cook the pasta; since it usually takes about 10 minutes, give or take, start it a little after halfway through the cauliflower’s cooking time.

Remove the cauliflower from the oven and add it to the pan with the garlic. Gently stir to infuse the cauliflower with the garlic mixture, then mix in the peppers, feta, and olives. scoop the very lightly drained pasta into the saute pan with the cauliflower mixture. That splash of starchy water will keep the whole thing moist without watering the flavor down.

Toss the crumbs through the pasta just before serving. Finish with a little drizzle of fragrant olive oil.

*Brined green peppercorns come in a jar and look very similar to capers. They are pungent and have a lemony pepper taste that is great with a wine sauce on fish or chicken or in a creamy vegetable dip. Their flavor is midway between black and white peppercorns. In the brine, they keep indefinitely.

Smoky Spanish Frittata

Just a word of warning: if you tell a butcher that you need  “enough sausage for two people”, the two people he has in mind are not you and your lovely spouse, but two hungry offensive linemen from the Chicago Bears. And by the time you realize his misapprehension, he has already cut, wrapped and bagged your sausage. All that is left is to lug your giant bag of sausage home, use it for its intended purpose and then start figuring out other clever ways to use the rest. Not an unpleasant task, I know.

Spanish chorizo sausage and its cousin Portuguese linguica are, basically, awesome sauce-age. They are typically dried, kind of like a salami, although some are softer than others, and are intensely flavored with delicious things like smoked paprika and garlic and chunks of pork fat that melt out when they are heated, flavoring everything with porky, sausagy deliciousness.

Since I had made this bulk purchase of sausage to make a seafood paella last week, I had a bit of a Spanish theme going on in my mind: what could I do with a jar of fire roasted piquillo peppers, sausage, some onion, and my smoky piquante Spanish paprika? Make one of my favorite quick suppers, a Spanish frittata. All I needed  was some cooked potatoes, eggs, and soft, creamy, tangy chevre.

A frittata is an open-faced omelet with vegetables, cheese, and meat mixed into the eggs rather than being folded in after the eggs are mostly cooked. My frittatas tend to be heavy on the fillings. And while this recipe is one of my favorites, a frittata is just as adaptable to what you have on hand as an omelet is; the important thing to bear in mind is that (and this is especially important if you, like me, like a lot of fillings) you must pre-cook the vegetables before the eggs are added. Raw or undercooked vegetables release a lot of water while they are cooking and that water just makes your eggs awful and soggy. The other benefit to cooking the vegetables ahead of the eggs is that you can add that layer of flavor that a little browning in a bit of flavorful fat provides. The creamy potatoes, sweet peppers and onions, creamy/tangy chevre and smoky sausage give the frittata a full balanced spectrum of flavor.

Smoky Spanish Frittata

serves 2-4

- 1 teaspoon oil (unless you are using a non-stick skillet)

- 2 ounces  chorizo sausage, diced

- 1/3 cup chopped red onion

- 2 small waxy potatoes, peeled, cubed, and roasted or boiled (about 3/4 cup)

- 2-3 jarred roasted piquillo peppers, sliced

- 2 ounces fresh goat cheese/chevre (I used Laura Chanel chevre)

- smoked paprika

- salt

- 1 tablespoon parsley leaves, chopped

- 5 eggs, beaten

Preheat the oven to 350 or your broiler to medium-high.

If you are using a cast iron skillet as I am, use the teaspoon of oil to lightly grease the entire inside of the pan so that the eggs are less likely to stick. I don’t have non-stick, but I understand that if you do, that step is unnecessary.

Over medium heat, heat the diced sausage through until some of the orange fat begins to ooze out; add the potatoes and onions and saute until the onion begins to soften and the potatoes begin to brown. Dust everything with smoked paprika according to your flavor intensity preference. Scatter the pan with the sliced piquillo peppers; crumble the chevre into the vegetable mixture, leaving rough chunks of the soft cheese. Toss in the parsley and sprinkle with a little salt.

Put a pinch of salt into the beaten eggs and pour them over the skillet, evenly distributing it over the vegetables and sausage. let it cook over medium until the edges become opaque and bubbles begin to rise through the eggs in the middle of the pan.

Place either in the oven or under the broiler to finish cooking the top of the eggs. Keep an eye on it; it should only take a few minutes before all of the eggs are opaque and lightly cooked through.

Let the frittata sit to cool and set slightly before slicing in wedges; it’s also good at room temperature.

Dark Chocolate Pots

Let’s just say, hypothetically, that you were invited to dinner at a friend’s house and you say “what can I bring?” and it ends up that you’re bringing dessert. And then let’s just say, for example, that you had bought a bag of lemons and were planning to make a lemon tart, but then the crumb crust that you put in the oven while your dear spouse is taking a nap on a Saturday afternoon starts leaking butter into the bottom of the oven and billowing smoke sending you running into the hallway with a towel to frantically wave under the fire alarm in the direction of the kitchen window that you flung open so that it doesn’t go off and wake everyone up. And then just say you are totally out of ingredients to make the crust again and your totally fed up with crusts anyway and are completely over pastry in general and don’t feel like going to the grocery store but are still on the hook for dessert in a couple of hours. What is one to do? Hypothetically, you know. Ahem.

Chocolate Cream Pots

serves 4

- 1 cup heavy cream

- 6 ounces dark chocolate (I used 72%)

- 2 egg yolks

Chocolate Pots

- 2 tablespoons raw sugar

- 1 tablespoon strong coffee or espresso

- 1 tablespoon rum

- 1 1/2 tablespoons butter

- tiny pinch of cayenne pepper

- sweetened whipped cream*

Chop the chocolate into little bits. Heat the cream in a heavy bottomed pan until it comes to a simmer. Remove the pan from the heat and pour in the chocolate; let the chocolate sit in the cream for a minute or two and then whisk together until dark and smooth. Beat the two egg yolks together with the sugar and then pour a little of the hot cream into the eggs to heat them up. Put the pan back over low heat and whisk the egg mixture back in. Heat until the faintest wisps of steam begin to rise, stirring the whole time; it should only take a couple of minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the coffee, rum, butter, and cayenne, whisking to melt the butter and blend everything into a silky smooth custard.

Pour the hot custard into small bowls, espresso cups, or ramekins (I used little jam jars) and allow it to cool. Because this is such a rich dessert, it only takes a small amount to satisfy; and because of this richness, it’s best not served cold, but at a softer, silkier room temperature.

Top with a generous drift of sweetened whipped cream. *I whipped the cream with sugar and a splash of rum and vanilla extract. The contrast of airy vanilla scented cream and meltingly truffle-like chocolate is heavenly.

Happy Pi Day!

To celebrate, I’m going to share a delicious painting (or three) by one of my favorite Southern artists.

Gladys Always Put A Rabbit’s Foot In Her Apron Pocket When She Made A Meringue

by Oxford, Mississippi artist Amy Evans Streeter

Amy is the Oral Historian for Southern Foodways Alliance where she gathers and documents the stories that make up the rich and varied food culture in the Southern U.S.

Camille’s Grandmother Loved Duke’s Mayonnaise and Costume Jewelry

It’s this embrace of the gorgeously eccentric personalities of the South, while still embracing and celebrating its traditions (like Dukes’ Mayonnaise and dill pickle chips) that I love about her work.

Velma Had A Secret

I also love the visual storytelling. Storytelling, yarn-spinning, layered, complex, absurd, hilarious, colorful, evocative, is to me a defining characteristic of “Southerness.”  And Velma Had A Secret is about as loaded a four-words-and-a-painting short story as it gets.

To see more of her artwork, follow these links:

AmyEvansStreeter.com

or

KoelshGallery.com

Hot and Sour Soup- a Visual Guide

After the last post I wrote about hot and sour soup, I realized that it might be helpful to do a little visual aid. I introduced three relatively unusual ingredients that are usually found in Asian markets, often in packaging that doesn’t have the English names prominently displayed. One of my friends said she hadn’t ever heard of the mushrooms or lily buds before and had no idea what they looked like. I know I have spent plenty of time staring blankly at a shelf full of unidentifiable brown oddly shaped vegetation next to more brown oddly shaped vegetation looking for that one thing I need for a recipe.

So, when stocking your pantry for hot and sour soup, here is the line up:

These dried mushrooms are the earthy flavor base for the soup. They are intensely, flavorful and add richness and depth to whatever you put them in. Rehydrate them in hot water for about twenty minutes to soften the caps. Snip the tough stems off before adding the mushrooms to soup. I always keep a bag of both  dried shiitake and porcini mushrooms; I use them in risotto, meatballs, winter stews and pasta sauces. They are indispensable in my pantry.

Lily buds, or golden needles as they are sometimes called, are the buds of Tiger lilies. They add a floral, musky flavor to the soup. They will need to be soaked in hot water for 20 to 30 minutes. After they have been soaked, check the stem end to see if it is still hard; if so, trim the very tip end off and throw it away.

Finally, there is the attractively named wood ear mushroom, sometimes called Chinese black fungus or cloud ear fungus. It grows in little frills on the trunks of trees. It is used less for its flavor than the crunch it adds to the mostly soft textures in the soup. I usually buy it dried already cut into strips, although I’ve also seen it sold whole.

As with all dried foods and spices, I keep them in an airtight container in a dark cabinet. Stored like this, they will keep for a long time.

Starve a fever, feed a cold, and Hot and Sour Soup allergies?

I don’t know if it’s because of the unusually mild winter we’ve had this year, but we have been just sucker-punched by allergies this year. It’s just been non-stop sneezing, sniffling, congestion, and dark circles under puffy eyes for the last several weeks. My most irritating symptom has been that my right eyelids have been constantly twitching unless I take allergy meds, and Scott’s has been a nagging sore throat.

Chicken soup is a lot of people’s idea of the perfect anodyne for illness, but when we’re under the weather we both crave fortifyingly spicy Asian soups like Thai tom yum with lemongrass, Vietnamese pho with sriracha and chiles, or Chinese hot and sour soup with vinegar and white pepper. Hot and sour is especially good in the winter; maybe because it’s a bit thicker than the clear broths of tom yum and pho, it seems to stick to your ribs on a cold night. I have always had hot and sour as a first course soup in restaurants, but this home-made version is a meal in and of itself. I recommend eating it in your comfiest and least flattering pajamas.

This recipe might be a little intimidating at first because of the exotic ingredients, but it is really just pantry cooking. I get the dried mushrooms and lily buds at an Asian market and keep them all together in a container (they keep indefinitely) like an emergency hot and sour soup kit for next time I’m in need. Since you only need a few each time, a package of dried mushrooms will be enough to make a year’s worth of soup. Vinegar, soy sauce, and canned bamboo shoots are all things you’ll have in your pantry if you ever cook Chinese food.  And I buy a few thin-sliced lean pork chops, use one for the soup, and freeze the rest individually for next time. I always have eggs and chicken broth around so tofu is usually the only thing I need to buy fresh.

The dried shiitake mushrooms can often be found in regular supermarkets, so if you have trouble finding the wood ears and lily buds, just add a few more shiitake to the soup and skip the harder to find ingredients until you happen run across them. I love all of the elements of this soup, but the earthy meaty richness of the shiitake is an essential element to me.

Hot and Sour Soup

- 3 ounces lean pork, diced small, or ground pork

- Vegetable oil to fry pork, about 1 teaspoon

- 5 dried shiitake mushrooms

- 2 tablespoons dried wood ear mushrooms (also called black Chinese fungus)

- 8-10 dried lily buds (also called golden needles)

- Boiling water to rehydrate mushrooms and lily buds (about 2 cups)

-  1/2 cup sliced bamboo shoots, drained and cut into strips

- 3 tablespoons rice vinegar

- 1 tablespoon cider vinegar

- 2 tablespoons soy sauce

- 4 ounces firm tofu, sliced into strips

- 2 tablespoons cornstarch

- 3 1/2 cups chicken broth

- 1 egg, beaten

- 1 teaspoon fresh ground white pepper (more or less, to taste)

- sliced scallions

Pour boiling water over the dried shiitake, wood ear mushrooms, and lily buds and allow them to rehydrate for 20 minutes. Drain, reserving about 1 cup of the water. Some shiitake mushrooms are a little gritty, so if you notice that sediment has settled to the bottom, strain it through a fine sieve or coffee filter.

Trim the tough stems from the shiitake mushrooms and then slice them into thin slivers. Cut the lily buds in half and pull them apart into long shreds. Set the mushrooms, lily buds, strips of bamboo shoots and tofu aside.

Measure and mix the vinegars and soy sauce into a small bowl or ramekin. Beat the egg in a small bowl too. Stir the cornstarch into the cooled reserved soaking water.

A note about the cornstarch: the thickness of the soup is a matter of personal preference. The thickness of the soup can adjusted but it’s a good idea to start small and work thicker a teaspoon at a time after the soup has simmered and thickened. I’ve given amounts for a lightly thickened soup. If you want to add more, mix a teaspoon of water at a time with a splash of cold water and stir it into the soup until it’s thick enough. If you have arrowroot, it is actually a better thickener for this application since it stands up to acid and heat better than cornstarch, but it’s less common, so I’ve called for cornstarch instead.

Once you have your mis-en-place in place (ha) fry the pork in about a teaspoon of oil in a wok or pot over medium high heat until it begins to brown. Lower the heat and add in the mushrooms, lily buds, tofu, bamboo shoots, and vinegar mixture. Stir in the chicken broth and bring everything to a simmer. Stir in the water and cornstarch mixture; as the soup returns to a simmer, the cornstarch will thicken it. Now is the time to decide if you want to thicken the soup a little more. If so, add the cornstarch slurry a teaspoon at a time, simmering between additions until it’s thick enough. Once you’re happy with the consistency, mix in the pungent white pepper.

With the soup at a low simmer, pour the egg in a thin stream into the soup while stirring everything in a circle. The egg will cook instantly, making white ribbons throughout the liquid (this is the same way you make an egg drop soup). Turn the heat off right away.

Ladle into big bowls and sprinkle thin slivers of scallions over the top.

Soba Sriracha Salad

 I used to eat “dirt pancakes” when I was a kid. My mom cooked and baked with whole grains, so whether it was biscuits or sandwich bread or cake or pancakes, they would be hearty, honey-sweetened, and bran laden. And in the same spirit that draws children to gummy worms, “ants on a log” and to think that anything gross is hilarious,  we  named a humus-colored Saturday breakfast  “dirt” buckwheat pancakes. We ate them hot off the griddle and smeared with honey or molasses. I loved the earthy, nutty, mineral flavor, especially with the sweet iron tang of molasses. And bonus, they kind of looked like mud pies.

 I don’t remember using buckwheat for anything besides pancakes until I was introduced to soba noodles as an adult. Soba is a Japanese noodle made with buckwheat and wheat flour (I look for buckwheat as the first ingredient when I buy it) and is not only hearty and flavorful both hot and cold, but does it in about half the calories in white wheat pasta. I don’t think of myself as a “health food” cook, but the palate that I developed as a child makes me crave bright, fresh flavors that also happen to be nutritionally rich, un-messed-with foods,  fruits, vegetables, and grains that are colorful and  intensely flavored. I think that’s why I love that identifying fragrance and flavor that buckwheat has, unique and rich; that it happens to also be good for me is a bonus.

This is a one of my favorite ways to eat buckwheat – slightly chilled, slippery with toasted sesame and spicy with Sriracha hot sauce and crunchy with jewel-like strands of beautiful vegetables. It needs nothing and can stand alone as a perfectly satisfying lunch, but if you want to gild the lily, it is outstanding when accompanying broiled salmon or mackerel.

Soba Sriracha Salad

serves 4 generously

- 3 sleeves (about 10 ounces) soba noodles

- 1 medium cucumber

- 1/2 red bell pepper

- 4 green onions

- 1 small wedge of red cabbage (about 1/4 head)

- 1 medium carrot, peeled

Optional additions

- snow peas

- toasted peanuts, cashews or sesame seeds

- radish or daikon

- firm tofu

- hot chile, minced

Prepare the cucumbers, pepper, and carrots by slicing them all into fairly uniform match sticks. I cut the cucumber on a sharp diagonal and then stack the slices, slicing them again into slivers. If your carrots are nice and fat you can cut them up the same way; for skinny carrots, cut them into 2 inch-long pieces, then into thirds lengthwise before cutting them into crisp match sticks. Cut the wedge of cabbage across the middle and then shave into thin ribbons. Chop the green onions into thin discs. I cut the vegetables this way not aiming for perfect uniformity, but so that they tangle through the noodles, giving a nice mix of slippery noodle and crunchy vegetables with each fork-full.

Cook the soba noodles in boiling salted water according to the package direction, which is usually about 6 minutes. Drain into a colender and rinse with cold water until the noodles are cool.

In a large bowl, whisk the dressing together, then toss the noodles and vegetables into the dressing a handful at a time, mixing by hand after each addition. It’s a lot easier to mix as you go rather than trying to mix everything at once and it gives everything an even soaking of dressing.

Serve at room temperature of slightly cool.

Sriracha Sesame Dressing

- 2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

- 1 tablespoon olive oil

- 3 tablespoons seasoned rice vinegar

- 2 teaspoons sriracha chili sauce (or to taste, I like it slightly spicy)

- 1 clove garlic

- 1 inch-long piece fresh ginger

Optional

For a creamier dressing, add

- 1 tablespoon tahini

Whisk the oil, vinegar, and sriracha together in a large mixing bowl. Using a microplane grater, grate the garlic and ginger into the dressing and stir to mix. Let the flavors mix while you prepare the vegetables and soba noodles.