My Weeknight Shortcut: Summer Cornbread Panzanella

It’s confession time. On this blog I’ve shown my love for baking from scratch, a love that’s been a lesson in making the best treats and experiencing joy when they dazzle my friends and family (and me). Nothing beats baking from scratch…right? And here we have the confession: my favorite way to make cornbread is with Jiffy mix.

The thing is, baking has also been a lesson in patience. Mostly it’s been a good lesson—I do not regret, for example, patiently rolling and folding dough and butter to create these amazing Danishes—but there are times, weeknights to be specific, when time is of the essence. No matter how much I love to cook, I do not want to spend hours on a weeknight meal. So, it’s a convenience thing, but (and this is probably the most confessional part) it’s also a taste thing. I haven’t tried many different cornbread recipes, but there’s just something about that Jiffy cornbread that gets me. I repent nothing.

So now that this is out in the open, I can happily discuss this amazing salad I recently made. It’s another summer salad, with corn, bell pepper, and tomatoes, but this time with yellow squash, green beans, basil, and jack cheese.  You slice the cornbread into cubes and toast them, creating a summer-y version of the classic panzanella salad with tomatoes and toasted baguette cubes. I love the use of cornbread cubes—see my aforementioned taste for Jiffy which, by the way, the recipe recommended using—and toasting the cornbread makes it even better.

Then there’s the vegetables, of so many different and enticing kinds. I love the crunch of green beans and bell pepper, and the classic summer mix of tomatoes and corn. The yellow squash was a spontaneous decision at the grocery store, when we couldn’t find the recommended second variety of beans. So I scanned the produce shelves and landed on yellow squash. I had no idea how to cook it, so thank goodness for Google. Turns out you can just slice and bake it, which is much simpler than any other squash (butternut, acorn) I’ve had in the past.  Turns out it goes brilliantly with basil, too.

If you want to use cornbread you made from scratch, I’m the last person to stop you. But I want everyone else to know there’s no shame in cooking shortcuts, even if they come in little blue boxes.

Summer Cornbread Panzanella
Adapted from Family Circle

A little butter
1 package Jiffy mix
1 egg
1/3 cup milk
A little olive oil
1 pound yellow squash (crookneck squash), sliced
1 ½ cups corn kernels
4 ounces green beans, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 large tomato, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
.66 ounces fresh basil leaves, coarsely chopped
1 ½ cups grated Monterey jack cheese

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Lightly butter the inside of an 8×8-inch baking dish. In a medium mixing bowl, combine the Jiffy mix, egg, and milk until well blended. Pour evenly into prepared dish and bake for 18 minutes or until golden brown on top. Let cornbread cool for about 15 minutes, then slice into cubes.
2. Lightly oil a baking sheet and arrange the squash slices in a single layer on it. Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes (you can bake the squash at the same time as the cornbread).
3. Arrange the cornbread cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet. Toast at 400 degrees for 4 minutes. Remove from oven and gently toss the cornbread cubes, then return them to the oven to toast for an additional 4 minutes.
4. In a large bowl, combine the corn, green beans, tomato, bell pepper, basil, cooked squash, and cheese. Gently stir in the toasted cornbread.

Complete, Without Crust: Potato, Basil, and Feta Crustless Quiche

Anyone who has ever heard me go on about how much I love the crusts of pies and quiches would be surprised to see me embracing a crustless quiche. At first, I I hardly knew myself. Fortunately, I’m not too pedantic to appreciate that this quiche tastes delicious, even without a crust.

But let’s set aside the technicalities for a minute, because this meal started out as something other than a quiche. In its original incarnation, it was a Spanish tortilla from My Paris Kitchen. A Spanish tortilla doesn’t actually contain any tortillas (to clear that up for anyone who is wondering), and it’s traditionally filled with potatoes and eggs. I don’t need much convincing to combine two of my favorite foods in one dish. But how to cook the potatoes—in a skillet like the recipe said to, or my own way?

I don’t love trying to make crispy potatoes in a skillet, so I went my own way.  I didn’t pre-cook the thinly sliced potatoes, but placed them in a circular pan with a removable bottom, poured eggs, basil, and feta on top, and figured the potatoes would cook through in the oven. Nearly an hour later, the potatoes still weren’t fully cooked. Plus, some raw egg had escaped through the tiniest of gaps where the bottom and edge of the pan meet, leading to a bright yellow mass on the baking sheet (which I’d fortunately put under the pan at the first sign of leakage).

The following weekend, it was time for round two. I thought about thinly slicing the potatoes again and baking them as I’ve done for other recipes, but decided that cubing and baking the potatoes until crisp was the way to go (it’s my favorite method for the best crispy potatoes). Instead of adding the paprika in the egg mixture, I tossed the potatoes in the spice to give them a bit more flavor. The potatoes went into an oiled pie dish, and I poured the egg/cheese/basil mixture on top. It baked for 30 minutes, unburdened by worries of uncooked tubers.

When I ate this quiche, I didn’t miss the crust, and although I think it would taste good with one, it feels complete without it. I may never be a no-crust convert, but it’s fun to dabble.

Potato, Basil, and Feta Crustless Quiche
Adapted from My Paris Kitchen

1 pound potatoes, cut into approximate 1-inch cubes
½ teaspoon paprika
1 tablespoon olive oil, plus a little extra for the pie dish
9 eggs
0.6 ounces basil leaves, coarsely chopped
1 cup feta cheese

1. Heat oven to 450 degrees. On a large baking sheet, toss the cubed potatoes with the paprika, then 1 tablespoon olive oil, until well coated. Bake potatoes 20-25 minutes or until crisp and brown on the undersides (do not toss them during baking).
2. Use a little olive oil to grease the inside of a 9-inch pie dish. In a medium-sized mixing bowl, beat the eggs. Stir the basil and feta cheese in with the eggs.
3. When the potatoes are done, spread them evenly in the prepared pie dish. Pour the egg mixture on top.
4. Reduce the oven heat to 400 degrees. Bake the crustless quiche for 30 minutes or until the eggs are set and it’s looking a little browned in spots. Let stand for 5 minutes. Run a sharp knife around the edge of the crustless quiche to loosen it from the pan, then cut it into slices and serve.

Cook to Feel Better: Chicken and Bread Salad with Tomatoes and Basil

Oftentimes, cooking is one way I express my joy in my life. But there are other times when cooking lifts me up out of a sad mood or a tough time, even if just for a little while, by giving me focus and purpose. It was with this latter mentality that I went into making this salad.

I won’t go into all the details—this is not a tell-all blog, and there isn’t much at all to tell. You know it: there’s just days when you don’t feel so great. So I took some time to lie down, talk to Thomas, and look at cute pictures on Instagram. It was my turn to cook dinner, but Thomas offered to order some Thai food instead (side note: he’s the best) and I was tempted to take him up on his offer. But something made me reconsider. “I want to cook,” I said.

I went into the kitchen and started slicing chicken, which I put in a skillet sizzling with olive oil. I cut half a baguette into cube-like pieces (it’s not as if any were perfect squares—let’s be realistic, people), tossed them with olive oil, and put them in the oven to toast. Just the smell of fresh bread and olive oil brought some peace—it reminded me of downtown Seattle restaurants where they serve good bread with olive oil and balsamic for dipping. What a revelation that was, the first time that simple delicacy was placed in front of me.

I mixed together a basic olive oil, garlic, and red wine vinegar dressing. Then I sliced basil, breathing in the familiar, delicious scent. I sliced little grape tomatoes in half, and alongside the basil, they looked like the jewels of summer. This combination goes beautifully with the toasted bread, crunchy and crisp (and now you have a recipe for homemade croutons!). The chicken makes this salad a dinner rather than a side, but it could easily be replaced by (or supplemented with) pieces of fresh mozzarella, to complete the caprese trio.

Once we sat down to dinner, I felt a sense of relief—not that my mood had changed completely, but I’d engaged my mind in something positive and, as a result, was reminded of one of the many good things in my life now. Being myself means being sad when I’m sad, but also enjoying everything that makes it great to be me.

Chicken and Bread Salad with Tomatoes and Basil
Adapted from Canal House Cooks Every Day

8 tablespoons olive oil
2 chicken breasts (about 1.5 pounds total), cut into bite-size pieces
Salt and pepper, to taste
4 cups bite-size baguette pieces (or other artisan bread)
1 large garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
0.6 ounces basil leaves, sliced thin
10 ounces grape or cherry tomatoes, halved

1. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium heat in a medium skillet. Add the chicken and cook, stirring occasionally, until cooked through. Season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat.
2. While the chicken cooks, toast the bread: Heat oven to 400 degrees. Toss the bread pieces in a large bowl with 5 tablespoons olive oil. Spread in one layer on a baking sheet. Bake for 10 minutes or until golden.
3. To make the dressing, combine the garlic, red wine vinegar, lemon juice, and 2 tablespoons olive oil in a small bowl. Whisk well to combine.
4. In the same bowl you tossed the bread in, combine the chicken, toasted bread pieces, basil, and cherry tomatoes. Pour the dressing over and toss well to coat.

No Flipping Required: Caprese Frittata

More than five years ago, I posted a recipe for a pesto-potato frittata that requires you to flip it onto a plate and then return it to the skillet, a moment I would call a nail-biter if my hands weren’t so busy trying not to mess up the flip. It’s a delicious frittata, but it’s something you might not want to attempt alone. A spotter is always good when attempting such feats.

This frittata is a welcome opposite, in terms of effort required, for the times you want something simpler but no less delicious. It takes that classic combo—basil, mozzarella, and tomatoes—and adds it to my other favorite ingredient, eggs. I’m crazy about fresh basil (as I mentioned here) and when combined with the scent of a freshly sliced tomato (alas, not from any nearby garden, but shipped to Seattle from Canada—we use what we can get, not having time to stop by a farmer’s market), the kitchen smelled heavenly.

I took an already simple recipe and simplified it further by chopping all of the tomatoes, instead of cutting one of them into thin slices (I believe chopping all of the tomatoes allows for a more uniform texture, and less work for you and me). I scattered the mozzarella on top of the frittata before baking instead of adding it near the end. These little fixes streamline the hands-on time, while still producing a quality frittata.

The frittata bakes for a mere 12 minutes, with no flipping required. Sautéing the shallot and tomatoes beforehand means they’re cooked before you even add the eggs, and the frittata is thin enough to cook through on all sides and the middle. The tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella work their expected magic, mingling with eggs perfectly browned on the bottom and encasing bits of chewy mozzarella. A scattering of browned shallots adds a subtle flavor, something anyone who’s caramelized an onion knows well.

This is one of those any-time-of-day meals that has a home at the brunch table, the lunchbox, and the breakfast-for-dinner I love so well. It’s easy enough to make by yourself, and I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether to share or keep this frittata for solo meals only. No judgment.

Caprese Frittata
Adapted from Modern Jewish Cooking

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 shallot, peeled and diced
3 tomatoes, cored and chopped
8 eggs
Pinch of dried thyme (optional)
Salt and pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons sliced basil leaves (slice leaves into thin ribbons)
4 ounces mozzarella, cut into small pieces

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Heat the olive oil in a large, oven-safe skillet (no plastic). Add the diced shallot and cook, stirring occasionally, until just turning golden, about 3 minutes. Add the chopped tomatoes and cook an additional 3 minutes.
2. In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the eggs, thyme, salt, pepper, and basil. Pour this mixture over the tomatoes/shallots when ready, gently stirring to combine. Scatter the mozzarella on top.
3. Bake frittata for 12 minutes. Let stand for 5 minutes before serving. Run a knife around the edge of the frittata, then cut into slices and remove from the pan with a spatula.

Beyond Caprese: Basil and Lemon Chickpea Salad

While I’ve made it clear here that I love chickpeas, it was the basil in this dish that got me. The moment I started slicing the leaves, its fragrance danced in the air, tempting visions of tomatoes and mozzarella, basil’s best friends. But this time, the basil was branching out into a new crowd.

First, there’s the other green thing in the mix: leeks. Their season is, according to Serious Eats, from October to May, so now is a good time to use them before they take off for the summer (I’ve always associated leeks with winter, so that new information is a bit of a revelation for me). In non-leek season, I would use spinach, kale, chard, or another green. Some bell peppers, sautéed until crisp-tender, could get the job done.

Next there’s the artichoke hearts and lemon juice, two bold flavors working their individual magic without competing with each other. I halved the canned artichoke hearts, so they’re well-distributed throughout the salad. There’s just enough lemon juice to be interesting, the flavor just barely on this side of perceptible. You can add more, of course, but I like how in this salad lemon is used with a light hand. It keeps me interested in the next bite, satisfying in its own way.

Finally, there are the beloved chickpeas and grated parmesan. The amount of chickpeas relative to everything else is high; I used two cans the second time I made this (pro tip: more chickpeas will stretch your salad further, meaning more delicious leftovers for you). If you’re not that into chickpeas (I guess we can still be friends), use one can and add uncooked spinach leaves or other greens for a substantial salad. You could use other cheeses, too, but I like how the bits of parmesan weave their way through the salad, with a little cheese in every bite. That’s definitely something I can get behind.

But like I said, it was the basil that got me. The smell is transporting; it takes me somewhere else. Somewhere sunny. I have a new salad to love and make many times over, but come summer I’m sure I’ll have some basil meet up with mozzarella and tomato. Make new friends and keep the old, right?

Lemony Chickpea Salad
Adapted from Bon Appetit

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 leek, rinsed well and diced
2 15-ounce cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
0.6 ounces fresh basil, leaves chopped, stems discarded
1 13.75-ounce can artichoke hearts, drained and halved
½ cup grated parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons lemon juice

1. In a medium skillet, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium heat. Add the diced leek and sauté for 5 minutes or until softened.
2. While the leeks cook, combine the chickpeas, basil, artichokes, and parmesan in a large bowl. When the leeks are done, add them in too. Stir in lemon juice.

A visit to Portland(ia)

While the highlight of visiting Portland was certainly seeing my friends Noe and Lucien (and shopping at Powell’s Books), the culinary appeal of the city cannot be denied. During the trip, I found the food truck of my dreams, ate delightful brewery food, and tried something totally new.

I cannot resist a grilled cheese truck, and the Grilled Cheese Grill goes above and beyond the expected. For anyone raised on American cheese wedged between two slices of white bread, I present the hot brie: decadent melted brie with roasted red peppers and tomato, slathered with spicy brown mustard, between toasted just-so sourdough.  First, brie: the most luxurious of cheeses, in a sandwich? Yep, they went there. Second, spicy mustard: unexpected, maybe, but I’m so glad they thought of it. The spicy condiment balances the indulgent brie.

Portland is home to a lot of breweries, and after perusing the list we chose Hopworks. I passed on the beer but had a delicious black bean burger, a meal I’ve have not had success in making at home. I’m not sure I absorbed any special tricks or tips to try next time, but I did leave the brewery feeling satisfied, and glad that a vegetarian burger doesn’t automatically mean a sad soy patty. I suppose Portland is a good place for finding such things.

The next day, it was back to the food trucks, and this time I got a meal that was unexpected, but interesting. I ordered the “sassy Thai omelet”—doesn’t that name get your attention?—from the Krua Bangkok truck. A Thai omelet, it turns out, is basically deep-fried scrambled eggs, served over white rice, and in this iteration, with bell pepper, tomato, mushrooms, scallions, and Thai basil. I was expecting something akin to those fillings rolled inside cooked egg, but a Google search shows that a Thai omelet is indeed the same fried eggs I got from the truck. It wasn’t bad, just heavy. At least the rice and vegetables evened things out a little. And now I have had a Thai omelet.

Lastly, Noe and I made a simple meal of caprese pita sandwiches, using awesome heirloom tomatoes and basil from the Saturday farmer’s market. That market is one of those where you could do all your produce shopping, and purchase several other foodstuffs as well. A summertime tomato, along with soft mozzarella and basil so fresh its smell nearly knocks you over (with joy), is bliss on a plate.

For the brief time I was there, Portland’s culinary scene offered delicious, intriguing food worth many good memories. Should you make your way there, you’ll probably find, as I did, that with all the food trucks and breweries, your only problem will be deciding where to eat.

Even better than kale: Quinoa and lentil salad

You’ve heard it before: After the holidays, no one wants a heavy meal. After two months of cookies, carbs, and comfort food, a salad starts looking good. Suddenly the cheery, sugar-coated landscape of the holiday season becomes cold, bland January, as people endure week after week of kale leaves. Okay, that’s the extreme, but I bet you have also heard this before: That healthy, post-holiday meals don’t have to be boring. Well, consider this your friendly reminder after months of the rich stuff.

This salad is based on another salad recipe I came across in the early days of cooking on my own, back in college when I was still living on campus (but had access to a stove!). Truthfully, I don’t remember making the salad, or what it tasted like, which is probably a good enough reason to revise it into something more memorable. So I kept the quinoa, lentils, bell pepper, and tomatoes, added chickpeas, basil, and feta, and left out walnuts, almonds, and green beans, which are always welcome but here just didn’t fit my sort of Mediterranean, sort of Middle Eastern salad.

My reason for adding chickpeas is that I will work chickpeas into whatever I can, whether it’s a curry, a salad, or a soup. I enjoy them more than any other bean, but I’m not sure why; it must be something about the texture, because they have very little flavor. It’s probably the way they feel so at home in everything I add them to. Chickpeas are the accommodating social butterflies of food, fitting comfortably into any party they find themselves in.

Even a post-holiday healthy meal needs some luxury. Feta cheese adds plenty: it’s soft, crumbly, and has a strong flavor that goes well with every single other ingredient. Artichoke hearts liven up simple lentils and quinoa; a little fresh basil, too, goes a long way toward making a vibrant salad with pleasing contrasts, one that isn’t just a sad pile of kale—although kale, chard, or some handfuls of spinach would be welcome additions.

I would guess that very few people’s enthusiasm for dessert and so forth completely diminishes in early January. But I would also guess that whether you celebrated the holiday season for two months, two weeks, or not at all, a fresh salad, made at home, is something you’ll want to hear about.

Lentil and Quinoa Salad

1 cup lentils, rinsed and drained
1 cup quinoa, rinsed and drained
1 tablespoon olive oil
½ onion, diced
1 bell pepper, diced
1 14 ounce can diced tomatoes, drained
One handful roughly chopped basil
1 15 ounce can chickpeas
6 ounces feta
1 small jar artichoke hearts, sliced

1. In a medium-sized pot, combine lentils and 2 cups water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium. Cook, uncovered, for 20 to 30 minutes, or until lentils are tender, adding water as needed.
2. In a separate pot, combine quinoa and 2 cups water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and let cook 15 minutes, or until quinoa is soft and fluffy. Let stand for 5 minutes (remove from heat, but keep the lid on).
3. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a medium-sized skillet. Add onion and bell pepper, and sauté until tender, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a large mixing bowl. Stir in tomatoes, basil, chickpeas, feta, and artichoke hearts. Add quinoa and lentils, and mix well.

Peach salad and words to live by, part one

We forgot the almonds. I didn’t realize it until much later, still thinking fondly of that salad, with its peaches and mozzarella and a sprinkle of balsamic and olive oil. When we gathered up the ingredients for this salad, an idea I’ve been carrying in my head for a while, we decided sliced almonds should go on top. Then, in the process of slicing cheese and avocado, of tearing basil leaves fresh from Thomas’ parents’ garden, we forgot. Which maybe doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but I don’t usually forget an ingredient. Sure, I decide not to put some things in at all. (I’ve never found a recipe I couldn’t modify, even just a little bit). And why would I forget almonds? I love them.

Something else was afoot, and it turned out to be a valuable thing, especially in cooking. Restraint, or knowing when enough is enough, when a dish needs nothing else. I should have known. We gathered up fresh basil, lettuce, and chard—I gently twisted their red stems, while Thomas plucked the lettuce from the ground. Inside, we sliced an avocado and mozzarella; I figured a cheese with a quieter flavor would be better, so nothing would compete with the peaches. I love fruit and I love salad, but say “fruit salad” and I think of canned fruit cocktail and Jell-O (never a pleasant experience). But fruit, in a salad? I’m there.

With all this going on—fresh greens, cheese, peaches that were a perfect blend of sweet and tart—it’s no wonder I forgot the almonds, sitting in a plastic bag in a drawer. But when we actually got to eating the salad, with crusty bread on the side, I didn’t think it was missing anything. The leaves provided enough crunch to contrast with the soft peaches and avocado; the cheese, in half-moon slices, paired well with everything else on the plate.

Salads can be a messy conglomeration of ingredients—whatever’s in the fridge—but for something elegant and more dinner party fare than weeknight meal, there’s more to it than throwing everything together. There’s a certain grace to, even subconsciously, holding back an ingredient or two. It’s like that old adage about removing a piece of jewelry before leaving the house (but probably a lot more applicable to your real life). I forgot the almonds because I realized, without realizing it at the time, that it didn’t need them. These are the moments when I feel like my cooking strays into more chef-like areas, rather than recent college grad with some talent and lots of ideas.

Of course, you can add the almonds if you want. You can add chicken, too. If you want to toss myriad ingredients into this salad, go for it. If you’d rather keep it simple, you’ll still have a satisfying and nourishing meal. More important than strict restraint is making the dish all your own (you can also wear tons of jewelry, if you like. Who set that rule, anyway?). That, I won’t forget.

Peaches and Greens Salad

4-5 large Swiss chard leaves, rinsed and torn
Lettuce, rinsed and torn
1 ½ peaches, sliced
Sliced mozzarella
Small handful of fresh basil
½ avocado, sliced
Olive oil
Balsamic vinegar

1. In a large bowl, toss the chard and lettuce. Layer the peach and avocado slices, cheese, and basil on top of the greens. Gently toss to combine. Drizzle each serving with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Serve with crusty bread or pita.