Chilled Spinach and Green Onion Soup

Where are you on the gardening spectrum? I find myself drawn to spending time outdoors in my garden. I love watering and pruning, nibbling on cherry tomatoes or society garlic flowers. I have my successes--Meyer lemons, herbs, limes, cherry tomatoes, roses--but frustratingly frequent fails. And then there are those that fall somewhere in the middle--like the onions I harvested yesterday.

Now here's my problem. Clay soil. Clay soil that I work religiously with compost and gypsum until I'm ready to collapse. And as soon as I turn my back and put my shovel back in the garage, that damned soil smirks and tightens right back up. The dwarf fruit trees and rose bushes seem to defy it and thrive. But annual vegetables are suffocated by it--hence the fails.

The onion seedlings were gifted to me by my mom. I didn't look at the tag but assumed they were conventional onions. I duly went home and planted them in amended soil and waited. And waited. And waited. I planted them last summer and they grew, flowered, and when the tops finally started to turn brown I decided it was time to pull them. That was yesterday. They came out like green onions--no developed bulb. Was it the fault of the clay soil or were they destined never to fill out? I don't know. But, foolishly, I pulled them all.

So, yikes! Now I have tons of green onions. I gave some to my neighbor but still am overflowing. There's not even room in my fridge. Don't get me wrong. I love green onions--but I'm bursting at the stinky allium seams.

When you start poking around for inspiration on how to use them en masse, what you find is that green onions are pretty much limited to garnish or grilling material. That just doesn't do it under the circumstances.

Soup, I thought, would--and given the heat wave we're enduring right now, chilled soup. My inspiration came from Saveur and a soup they had made with spinach, chives, and yogurt. The green onions they included were grilled--and a garnish. But if chives, why not green onion? With that little start I came up with something my own I think you'll like.

I had spinach I was going to use for smoothies. I chopped up a bunch of the green onions. I added garlic. I was with my mom at her doctor's office and mentioned all this to her and she said, "Add dill." So, I went into my garden later that afternoon and cut off some dill. I also picked a Meyer lemon because I could tell this mixture, which had a base of yogurt and sour cream, needed some acid. The garnish would be panko crumbs browned in butter--and some more chopped green onion.

The soup is delightful--thick and creamy, and quite herbaceous. It's perfect for a steamy summer meal. Other than sautéing the panko, no heat is involved. Everything goes into the blender and poured into a bowl. If you want a more refined soup, puree all the greens first and then put the mixture through a sieve. Then add the yogurt and sour cream. I like a more peasant-style soup and on a hot day didn't have the patience for an extra step so I blended everything together.

The irony is, of course, it still didn't come close to using up the green onions. Any takers?

Chilled Spinach and Green Onion Soup
(printable recipe)
Serves 4

2 cups spinach, tightly packed
1 cup green onions, sliced (set aside a couple of tablespoons for garnish)
1/4 cup fresh dill, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
Juice of 1 Meyer lemon
1/2 cup ice cubes
1 cup cold water
1 1/2 cups plain Greek-style yogurt
3/4 cup low-fat or "light" sour cream
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1 tablespoon butter
4 ounces panko crumbs

1. Place all of the ingredients until the butter in a blender and puree until smooth. Taste and adjust seasonings.
2. Chill the soup for at least an hour.
3. In a skillet, melt the butter and then add the panko crumbs. Stir and cook for about 30 seconds until the crumbs become slightly brown and crisp. Drain on a paper towel.
4. To serve, divide the soup between bowls. Garnish with the set aside slices of green onions and a sprinkling of the panko crumbs.

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Lemony Spinach Soup with Chicken and Barley

Last week I was gifted with a large bag of baby spinach, already cleaned and prepped and looking for a recipe. I had just made spanakopita so that was out. There's only so much spinach salad one person can eat, so that wasn't going to do it. And San Diego was about to get hit with another storm so a cold salad didn't appeal to me anyway.

But soup did.

I already had the remains (meaning the breast meat) of a rotisserie chicken I had bought at Costco. (Existential question: Does anyone really enjoy a market rotisserie chicken beyond the convenience factor?) I had feta cheese and a just wrinkling jalapeño pepper I needed to use, a huge head of garlic, a quart of vegetable stock and an onion, fresh herbs and Meyer lemons in my garden, and purple prairie barley in the pantry. As I scoured my kitchen and garden I figured I had the makings of a big pot of soup.

Now you can, of course, add other vegetables to this. Mushrooms, carrots, potatoes, or winter squash would all be nice. You could leave out the chicken for a vegetarian soup or add sausage or other proteins to make it even more hearty. Couscous or rice would work instead of barley. It's all up to you. But what you really want to keep in--besides the spinach, of course--is the lemon juice. It's the magical ingredient that makes this soup special. It turns a very nice conventional soup into something bright and interesting. And makes it the perfect go-to for a chilly cloudy weekend. In fact, my mom has already made a batch for herself and gave some containers to friends.

Lemony Spinach Soup with Chicken and Barley
Serves 4 to 6
(printable recipe)

Ingredients
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium onion, diced
1 jalapeño pepper, minced
1 pound baby spinach, thoroughly washed, dried, and chopped
1 quart vegetable or chicken stock
2 cups water
Juice of 1 lemon
8 ounces shredded chicken or other protein (optional)
6 ounces barley
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, minced
1 teaspoon fresh oregano, minced
crumbled feta for garnish

Directions
1. Heat a large Dutch oven and add olive oil. Add the garlic and onion. Sauté until golden. Add the pepper and sauté another 30 seconds.

2. Add the spinach in batches, stirring until it cooks down.
3. Add the stock and water, stirring to mix. Then add the chicken and barley. Bring to a boil, then reduced to a simmer. Cover and cook for about 40 minutes or until the barley is tender.
4. Add the herbs and lemon juice. Stir. Let cook another 5 to 10 minutes.
5. Serve with feta.

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Charred Meyer Lemon Chutney with Chef Pablo Ibarra

Virtually every talented chef has their version of a Dr. Watson, Sancho Panza, and Alice B. Toklas at their side. It's usually the chef de cuisine or sous chef. At San Diego's Terra, over in the College area, chef/owner Jeff Rossman mentors and has come to rely on 23-year-old sous chef Pablo Ibarra, who has worked at Terra for three years, starting out in the pantry.

Pablo Ibarra (l) and Jeff Rossman (r)

A native San Diegan, Ibarra comes honestly to professional cooking. His dad is a longtime corporate chef. And, he says, his mom is a very good home cook of traditional Mexican dishes. Ibarra was quick to then say that he isn't into cooking Mexican food, preferring a more global, gourmet approach in the kitchen. His ambition took him to National Culinary School, from which he graduated four years ago. And he was among a dozen young San Diego chefs awarded a scholarship in 2012 from the Chef Celebration Scholarship Foundation to go to the Culinary Institute of America's Greystone campus in Napa for a week to attend special intensive courses.

"It was an amazing experience," he recalls. "I visited farms, learned sous vide techniques, some molecular gastronomy techniques, and concentrated on sauces." Ibarra is now experimenting with gastriques, a syrupy reduction of caramelized sugar and vinegar to which he's bringing in other flavors like mango and honey.

The afternoon I visited with Ibarra at Terra, the lunch service was winding down and he was concentrating on writing the evening's specials menu. Ibarra is big on seafood, especially fish, which was apparent in his list of dishes: dill salmon mouse, coriander seared albacore, golden sea bass with a porcini crust, and white sea bass marinated in lemongrass. What caught my eye as he showed me his handwritten notes was the planned accompaniment to the albacore, charred Meyer lemon chutney. I'm a fool for Meyer lemons, and have two dwarf trees in my garden that are heavily producing right now. When Ibarra saw my eyes light up at the chutney, he said that we could make a batch together.

One caveat--Ibarra had already made the chutney for the evening using Meyer lemons Rossman had brought in from his garden; and he had used them all. But there were still conventional Eureka lemons in the pantry. So, he tossed me a white apron, took me into the large, bustling kitchen where cooks were prepping for the evening service, and we got started.

The recipe calls for just half a dozen or so ingredients. Ibarra pulled out minced shallots, sliced green onions, some sugar and salt. He neatly cut a couple of Eureka lemons into quarter-inch slices, held each slice up to the light to track down seeds, then used fork tines to pop them out.

With that task done we headed over to the burners, passing a massive bubbling stockpot brimming with large red lobster shells and dill before we found a couple of free burners. Ibarra pulled out two beat up sauté pans, one for charring the lemons, the other for sautéing the shallots, and poured a bit of canola oil into each before firing up the burners. Once the pans got good and hot I tossed the lemon slices into one and flames shot up. Cool! Ibarra had me tossing the lemons around to get both sides blackened and sizzling while he worked the shallots, and then added the now beautifully caramelized little pieces to the charred lemons.

Then came the sugar and salt--and because we were working with Eureka's, he added a little extra lemon juice and sugar that the sweet juicy Meyers would have provided. (I can also imagine adding some chopped, sautéed chiles for heat.)

Just before removing the mixture from the heat, he tossed in the green onions. The chutney was almost done, but there was one task left: chopping up the rings of lemons. Here, you can see they're still fairly firm, but Meyer lemons would collapse. In this case you might choose leave them alone. At the restaurant, for presentation's sake, Ibarra told me even those peels get chopped.

Both versions of the chutney are terrific, yet as you'd expect, quite different. The Meyer lemon version is sweet and tart and a bit mellow, reflecting the lemon variety's thin skin and sweet juice. The Eureka lemon version has a surprisingly marvelous bitterness to it--not unlike marmalade--thanks to its thick harsh-tasting skin. I'd make either and serve it with fish--sea bass, halibut, grouper, or other meaty white fish--or pork tenderloin, or chicken. In fact, I did take some home and enjoyed it with biscotti-crusted grouper on a bed of brown basmati rice with lentils.

So, here's the recipe:

Pablo Ibarra's Charred Meyer Lemon Chutney
(printable recipe)

2 Meyer lemons, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds, seeded
2 shallots, minced
2 tablespoons green onions, sliced
1 tablespoon sugar
salt to taste
(whole grain mustard)
Canola oil

1. Add oil to sauté pan (not nonstick) and heat to high temperature. Carefully add lemon slices and cook on both sides until browned.
2. Sauté shallots in a second pan until caramelized. Add to lemons, along with sugar and salt. Once the mixture begins to turn soft, add the green onions.
3. Remove from heat and chop the lemon peels. If you want to add a little spice or boldness, you can add a teaspoon or so of whole grain mustard.

Serve with tuna, any kind of firm white fish, pork tenderloin, or chicken (or spread on toast).


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Artichokes with Summer Garlic and Tarragon Dipping Sauce

Those who know me know I'm in weight shedding mode. More on that some other time, but it's been, well, an adventure for someone who adores good food, is around it all the time, and writes about it.

And I mean that in a good way for the most part. There's so much delicious food out there--not all made up of lots of carbs and fat--that it's not terribly difficult to find combinations that are both a treat to eat and even, dare I say it, healthy.

It gets even easier as we head into the warm weather months, when gorgeous produce is plentiful. I'm not a vegetarian, but on a sultry evening I appreciate a light, meat-free meal that doesn't require much or any laboring over a stove. And steaming an artichoke only requires work from the stove, not me, so that's just fine. The challenge has been what to dip the leaves in. Melted butter with garlic salt--what I grew up on--is out. Plain yogurt doesn't do it for me. Ah, but yogurt mixed with other flavorful ingredients can be transformed into a rich, velvety dip that doesn't feel at all virtuous.

I've been playing with different ingredients--and different yogurts--and came up with something I keep returning to that has the texture I crave with a garlicky anise-like flavor that feels decadent: Fage 2% Greek Yogurt (very light and almost fluffy; you can go with the nonfat version but for one serving the difference in fat isn't great and the difference in texture and flavor is), light mayonnaise, Majestic Garlic (a local company's paste of organic garlic, safflower oil, organic flax seed oil, omega 3, lemon juice, and sea salt), Meyer lemon juice, chopped tarragon, and a little salt and pepper. If you can't find Majestic Garlic, raw minced garlic and a little olive oil will do fine.

To prepare the artichoke, just slice off the first half inch or so of the top and trim both the tips of the leaves and the stem (be sure to peel and cook the stem; it's as tender and sweet as the heart). Place the artichoke in a large pot and fill with cold water to cover. Cover and bring the water to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about 30 minutes, depending on the size of the artichoke. It's fully cooked when you can easily slide a fork into the bottom of the choke. Drain and serve with the dip and some crusty sourdough bread.

Summer Garlic and Tarragon Dipping Sauce
2 servings (if you're generous)

2 tablespoons light mayonnaise
1/3 cup low-fat yogurt
1 teaspoon Majestic Garlic (found at San Diego farmers markets)
1 teaspoon Meyer lemon juice
2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon
Salt and pepper to taste

Mix together ingredients and chill for an hour before serving.

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Gremolata-Style Roasted Turnips

There are reasons why some recipes are classic. The ingredient combinations are so natural that you automatically turn to them, even when you aren't consciously creating a dish with a "name."

That happened to me last weekend. Here I was with several lovely turnips I bought at the Vang's Farm stall a couple of weeks ago at the Little Italy Mercato. I'd completely forgotten about them but being root vegetables in the refrigerator, they were very forgiving and ready to be used. I knew I wanted to roast them but I didn't really have a plan for how to flavor them.

So, I went into my little garden for inspiration. There was some tarragon I'd just planted, so I took several stems of that. There was a bush of Italian parsley, absolutely thriving due to the alternating rains and sunshine, and I clipped a bit of that. Ah, my Meyer lemon tree had a lovely lemon newly ripened. Perfect. And all that hard-neck garlic I'm growing have beautiful flowing greens. They wouldn't mind a little nip in a few places. Back in the house I pulled out some butter and olio nuovo from California Olive Ranch. Ah, a few cloves of garlic. And a bag of panko came out of the freezer.

I minced. I grated. I squeezed. I ran it all in my little mini prep blender and had what looked like Green Goddess dressing but was actually a variation on traditional gremolata--lemon, parsley, and garlic. True gremolata wouldn't have the fats I added, but I needed them in the roasting process.

The turnips got a bath in the mixture, and were then topped with the panko before going into a 425-degree oven to roast alongside a whole chicken leg rubbed earlier in the day with equal amounts of salt and baking powder for a crispy skin and then topped with minced fresh thyme and garlic butter from Bonelli Fine Food. After about half an hour the turnips were sweet and tender on the inside but had a wonderfully crispy exterior thanks to the panko crumbs. (The chicken was terrific, too!) Next time, I'll probably add either anchovies or capers to add a bit of a salty edge to complement the sweet root. 

 

Gremolata-Style Roasted Turnips
Serves 3 to 4

3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons garlic greens, minced (optional)
2 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley, minced
1 tablespoon fresh tarragon leaves, minced
1 teaspoon Meyer lemon zest
2 tablespoons butter, at room temperature
6 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons Meyer lemon juice
Salt and pepper to taste
1 to 1 1/2 pounds medium-sized turnips
1/2 cup Panko crumbs

1. Pre-heat oven to 425 degrees.
2. In a mini food processor, combine all the ingredients except the Panko crumbs and turnips. Blend until smooth. Taste and adjust seasonings.
3. Combine the gremolata-style mixture with the turnips until they're thoroughly coated and place in a single layer in a roasting pan or baking dish. Sprinkle the turnips with the Panko.
4. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes until brown and a knife inserted into the turnips goes in smoothly.


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Stealing from the Garden: Easy Herb Rub Gifts

You know the tired old saying, "When life gives you lemons..." Well, life has given me several lemons this year which has meant that holiday gifts will be handmade for most of my friends and loved ones. Fortunately, lemonade isn't the only option; the lemons can also be turned into zest, accompanied by fresh thyme leaves, garlic and sea salt to make one delicious and even beautiful rub.

I learned this trick from a Twitter exchange with Judy Witts Francini, the Divina Cucina, and she directed me to David Lebovitz's post about it. Their rub is a fabulous mixture of rosemary, sage, garlic and coarse salt. I made a batch earlier this past fall and it's extraordinary as a rub on chicken or pork, added to soup or roasted vegetables or added to olive oil to enhance it for dipping.


Judy, of course, pointed out that any good combination of herbs and salts will work so I've been scavenging my garden, which has oregano, rosemary, thyme, parsley and other herbs growing madly. Since my rosemary has gone especially crazy this year, it was the perfect way to get some pruning done and have something edible as well.

So, I next made a big batch of rosemary, garlic and sea salt rub. I took big bunches of clipped rosemary and stripped the green leaves from the stems. To this I added about eight large cloves of fresh garlic and about 2 tablespoons of coarse sea salt.


At first, I did the mincing by hand with a knife, then using my mezzaluna. But I finally yielded to practicality and put it all in my food processor. If there's a difference in outcome I can't tell but it saved me at least half an hour. Then I spread the mixture onto a cookie sheet for it to air dry for about three days. Don't dry it at low heat in the oven. You'll lose the oils that make this so aromatic. Plus, air drying makes your house smell outrageously wonderful!



Every day, mix it around a little with your fingers so that any remaining clumps can get exposed to the air and pull apart. When the ingredients feel dry, then store the rub in a tin or glass jar out of the light. This batch made just over two cups of rub -- enough for three gift jars. Oh and a tin for me.


Use the same technique for the thyme, lemon, garlic, sea salt rub. The ingredients are slightly different.


You'll need to zest the lemons and strip the thyme sprigs of the leaves. The first batch I made last week was large--I clipped big bunches of thyme, zested two bags of lemons from Trader Joe's, used about eight large cloves of garlic and about two tablespoons of coarse sea salt. This morning I made another batch. I only had three Meyer lemons from my mom's garden, so I used a smaller amount of thyme than before.


The bunch I clipped weighed 1 3/4 ounces before I stripped the leaves, ultimately yielding 3/4 of an ounce. The zest weighed 1/4 of an ounce. I used five cloves of garlic (I do love garlic; use less if you're not as fanatical) and 1/2 tablespoon of salt. Everything went into the Cuisinart. Here's the very moist result just after being placed on the baking sheet:


As it dries, the colors will actually become more vibrant. I've been putting the ones I've been gifting in lovely little clear jars with stoppers from CostPlus. This batch, though, will be for me and go in a tin, also from CostPlus. These rubs do make great little gifts, but just remember that you'll need a lot of herbs to get a good yield for the rub. That big batch of the thyme, lemon, garlic, salt rub I made last week? It made about one and 1/4 cups, enough for two jars about four inches high (holding just over 1/2 cup) and a bit left over for me to use on one chicken meal.

Now I'm eying the unruly oregano bush and mulling what to combine with it for a rub. Perhaps parsley, hot pepper flakes, garlic and sea salt.

Next up? Bottles of rosemary-infused olive oil, done the safe way. Stay tuned. I'm just waiting for the washed bottles to thoroughly dry inside.



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