sun-dried tomato bread

This bread began, oddly enough, with a trip to the library. A certain 15 month-old has such a voracious appetite for books (much like her father) that we need to go once per week to gather fresh supplies for her. The library in our neighborhood isn’t the biggest or the best, but they have an excellent children’s section and are mild-mannered about my little hooligan running around like some sort of book-loving cave baby.

If, and I stress if, she has found a book that really piques her interest, I can sit her in a chair next to the cookbook section and peruse for a few moments. It’s a crapshoot as to what’s checked in at the moment, but I absolutely lucked out during this particular visit. The book is Marcus Samuelsson’s New American Table, and it was love at first sight.

Before you poo-poo me, I will acknowledge that yes, it’s that Marcus Samuelsson of Top Chef Master’s, the one who came off as sort of an ass. He owns a string of restaurants in NYC, he’s a James Beard Award-winning chef, the youngest ever to receive two three star ratings from the New York Times, blah blah blah. Looking beyond the hype and the attitude, I began to read his recipes. And read. And drooled. And read. An clapped with delight. And read. And became giddy with thoughts of the pancetta potato cakes, empanadas with peanut-mango sambal and coconut rice pudding that would soon be filling my kitchen with their aromas.

“New American” here simply means a collision of cultures, a fusion of flavors and ingredients and methods. The book is a mish-mash of recipes, and although I’m in love more with the photography of the recipes than the stories behind them, it’s a fun world of cooking to explore.

The first thing I had to try, simply because it’s the first thing I had all of the ingredients for, was his recipe for sun-dried tomato bread.

But reading through the recipe, I needed to alter a few things. Real sun-dried tomatoes? I only had the jarred variety, packed in oil. Fresh majoram sprigs? Ummm….I don’t grow that. Fresh yeast? I wouldn’t even know where to get the stuff.

And hold the flippin phone: kneading? By hand? That just isn’t going to work for me. From here on out let’s just call this the “cheater’s” version of sun-dried tomato bread. And even though you’ll be a mischievous, deceptive I-don’t-follow-the-rules kind of cook, the results will make it all worthwhile.

Once I resolved my ingredient issues (summer savories instead of majoram, drained and rinsed sun-dried tomatoes, active-dry yeast instead of fresh), I pushed full speed ahead.

Let the yeast hang out with the salt in some lukewarm water for a while. Once it bubbles and foams (as pictured), it’s ready. If it doesn’t bubble or foam after about 10 minutes, get some new yeast (expiration dates, as it turns out, matter when it comes to dry yeast) and start again.

Roast your garlic or saute a few cloves in a frying pan with a little olive oil for about 20 minutes. The cloves should be soft and easy to squeeze out of their little clove homes.

Chop your tomatoes and kalamata olives…

…and mash them together with the garlic and the fresh herbs to form a paste.

And the whole kneading-by-hand dilemma? Solved by a stand mixer. It’s my secret bread weapon.

On low speed using the dough hook attachment, combine your flours with the yeast mixture. When the dough has come together and all the dry ingredients are incorporated, increase the speed to medium and mix until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. If the dough remains sticky, add a bit more flour one tablespoon at a time until you get the right consistency.

Toss in the sun-dried tomato mixture and stir until evenly incorporated.

Halve the dough and place into two prepared loaf pans. Cover and let rest in a warm place until doubled in size, or about one hour.

On a cold day when my radiators have kicked on, I love to let my bread rise on top of them. It fills the whole house with that fresh bread smell.

Bake for about 50 minutes, sprinkling the tops of the loaves with a little kosher salt and covering with foil halfway through baking.

That’s one gorgeous loaf, my friends.

Serve up a warm slice with a little soft cheese and a few olives, and you’ve got the perfect afternoon snack.

I love the flavors in this bread: salty kalamata olives, tangy sun-dried tomatoes, and a touch of fresh, mild herbs to balance it all out. This is a savory bread for the recipe books, my friends.

New American Table is now long overdue, but I can’t part with it just yet. There are too many recipes I need to try, or should I say cheat. What can I say? I love new books just as much as my daughter. But just as she tosses aside the board book she’s read one too many times, so do I toss aside recipes I just can’t follow to the tee. I’m a much happier cook that way. And really, shouldn’t cooking be about following your own rules, not someone else’s?

Sun-Dried Tomato Bread (based on the recipe from Marcus Samuelsson’s New American Table), makes 2 loaves

  • 1/2 cup chopped sun-dried tomatoes (rinsed and drained if jarred, soaked and drained if fresh)
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 4 large garlic cloves, unpeeled
  • 1/4 cup chopped kalamata olives (pitted)
  • 1 packet or 2 1/4 teaspoon active-dry yeast
  • 2 teaspoons table salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 2 cups lukewarm water
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour, plus a few tablespoons additional if needed
  • 2 cups whole wheat flour
  • 2 teaspoons chopped fresh herbs (I used summer savories, but you could use anything that would work well with the flavors)

Heat olive oil in a small saute pan over medium-low heat. Add garlic cloves and saute, stirring occationally, for about 20 minutes or until cloves are soft to the touch (alternately, you could roast a head of garlic and use the remaining cloves for something else). Let cloves cool on a paper towel.

Pour water into small bowl and add yeast and table salt, stirring to dissolve. Let rest in a warm place until the yeast begins to bubble and foam, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, squeeze garlic cloves from their skins and mash together with fresh herbs, sun-dried tomatoes and kalamata olives to form a paste. Set aside.

Add flours to bowl of stand mixer fitted with the dough hook. On low speed with the splash-guard in place, slowly pour in the yeast mixture. Continue mixing on low until all of the dry ingredients are incorporated, and then increase speed to medium. Mix until dough is smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. If dough remains sticky, add additional flour one tablespoon at a time until dough reaches desired consistency. Prepare two loaf pans with cooking spray. Divide dough in half, place in pans, cover with a kitchen towel and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, or about 1 hour.

Preheat oven to 375F. Bake for 25 minutes. Sprinkle tops of loaves with kosher salt, cover with foil, and continue baking an additional 25 minutes or until loaves sound hollow when tapped. Let cool in loaf pans for 5 minutes before transferring to wire racks to cool completely.

things you never thought you would do…until you became a parent

xo

-RDG

(Thank you Josh!)

rosemary scones with strawberry butter

RDG Note: This is a guest post from my friend Carli of Velveeta Ain’t Food. I love her wit, her lighthearted approach to cooking, and above all, her yummy, yummy recipe. Enjoy!

I hate baking. And I don’t like scones. So it came as a surpise to me when I suddenly and inexplicably proclaimed, “Rosemary scones! I’m going to make some rosemary scones.” I truly have no idea what made me think of scones or rosemary or strawberry butter, but it hit me like some kind of supernatural revelation and when divinely inspired baked goods occur to this sleep-deprived brain of mine, I take action.

This was a leap of faith, indeed. After a series of baking failures over the past month (seriously, I actually made FOUR cakes for my daughter’s birthday and had numerous other muffin disasters), I was ready to jump off a cliff. Well, almost. I at least considered starting a new blog in which I bad-mouthed baking. It was as if it were a person; an actual being that had somehow wronged me, and like a 12 year old girl, I wanted to spread the word that BAKING was a tramp. A back-stabbing, unreliable tramp.

But when the spirit moves you, it moves you. So here I was, baking scones; something I don’t like and have never made before in my life. I looked through a few recipes just to get an idea of what I was dealing with. Some had eggs, others had none. Some had very little sugar, others had more. Some had buttermilk, others heavy cream. So in rebellious, 12 year old fashion, I decided to venture out on my own. And why wouldn’t I? I have such a high success rate with baking. I could handle this.

I threw some stuff in the Kitchenaid, gave it a whirl, popped them in the oven and watched. The smell that started filling the house was nothing short of life-changing. I started thinking these things might actually be edible; maybe even more than that. Hope. Anticipation. The stakes were high. After realizing that old baking powder may have been the cause of alot of my recent troubles, I’d replaced it and was holding my breath for redemption. I had some strawberries in the freezer that we’d picked at Sequatchie Cove last Spring. I had just seen a recipe for Strawberry Butter at Joylicious and figured this might be perfect with the scones. This was serious business now. There was spread involved. Spread containing precious strawberries from a dwindling supply and expensive organic butter. I was fully expecting these scones to be worthy.

And were they ever! Mamma Mia! (Please note: I am not Italian, nor do I have any type of connection which would explain my use of the phrase “Mamma mia”. It simply was what came out and I am choosing to let it be because this poured out of me in such a way that it must express something so pure, so righteous, that not saying it would be deceptive). Back to the point…these scones were awesome! Not dry and crumbly like so many are. A little bit sweet (maybe too much so for a scone connoisseur, but just right to me); crispy on the outside and soft on the inside (but not doughy like some biscuits that stick to the roof of your mouth), and just lightly scented with rosemary.

And…they are incredibly easy! I didn’t mess around with rolling them out and cutting; just mix ‘em up and drop ‘em on a baking sheet. If you make these, you MUST abide by the rules; it would be a crime not to eat one of these hot out of the oven with a big ol’ spread of strawberry butter. Let it melt all into the soft, hot scone, take a mid-afternoon break, and prepare to die from deliciousness.

As it turns out, I don’t hate baking. I just hate sucking at something. Yes, that’s what I learned. When you try something over and over and fail miserably time and time again, it will cause you to think that you hate that thing. But you don’t really. In actuality, you really just hate being a pathetic, inadequate disappointment. Who knew?

I am happy to report on this 1st day of June in the two thousand and tenth year of our Lord, that I have experienced deliverance from the imprisonment that has plagued me for so long. No longer will I be a slave to boxed cake mixes and futile muffin-making attempts. Freedom tastes so sweet.

Rosemary Scones with Strawberry Butter

  • 2 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 2 tsp. baking powder
  • scant 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
  • 2 tsp. fresh rosemary, finely chopped
  • 6 tbsp. cold unsalted butter, diced
  • 1/2 cup light sour cream (50% less fat)
  • 1/2 cup fat-free milk

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In the bowl of an stand mixer, stir together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and rosemary. Add cold butter, cover mixer with a towel (so it won’t explode everywhere) and mix on low/medium speed until it is crumbly. Then add sour cream and milk, and mix just until dough comes together. Spoon onto two sprayed baking sheets (6 scones per sheet, each a little bit larger than a golf ball). Bake for 27-28 minutes, or until lightly golden.

Strawberry Butter

  • 6 tbsp. room temperature salted butter
  • 1/2 cup strawberries (can be fresh or frozen, but make sure they’re also room temp)
  • 2-3 tsp. agave nectar (depending on sweetness of berries)- can sub honey if needed

Make sure everything is at room temperature! Mix together and serve. (If you use unsalted butter, you may need to add a pinch of salt).

grilled chicken burgers with brie and rosemary rhubarb

Throughout most of high school, college, graduate school and the years in-between, I worked in a restaurant that serves gourmet burgers. I spent days roasting peppers, months breading onion rings, years frying bacon and a lifetime flipping burgers, to use the ubiquitous phrase. I loved every moment of it. When I would work the morning shift it would be just me, a co-worker or two, the Stones blaring on the stereo and a kitchen full of prep cooking to be done. It was hard work but it was also a peaceful: nothing mattered but the pressing of the lemons, the trimming of the chicken and the whisking of the batter.

For some people, running or yoga gives them clarity. My clearest thinking, on the other hand, happens at the grill. It’s the only culinary endeavor in which I don’t have to think about what I’m doing: the years I spent turning chicken and salting patties have made it second nature. As I result, while I’m grilling I think of…nothing. My mind goes blank. My hands do all the work and my head goes zen. I know, I know—I’m weird.

I can make the perfect burger with my eyes closed, but I also like to mix it up and experiment with ingredients and flavors. I could write a novel about cooking beef patties, and I’m sure I will before the grilling season is out. But today let’s talk about chicken.

Grilled chicken breasts can go one of two ways: they can be the most amazing piece of poultry you’ve ever eaten in your life, or they can be dry as paper and hard as a rock. To prevent this catastrophe and maintain moisture, I like to take a few precautions:

  1. Pound your chicken breasts thin or slice in half (as I did with the ones pictured above). This will reduce the total cooking time needed and lessen the chance that you’ll overcook while trying to get rid of that pesky pink middle.
  2. Marinate. Use your favorite recipe, or simply toss ‘em in a Ziploc with a little vinaigrette. Any mixture containing an acid (citrus, vinegar, etc.) will work to tenderize the meat. An overnight marinade with generally produce the most tender, flavorful chicken, but if you’ve run out of time, just rinse your chicken breasts, pat dry, and let them sit refrigerated in the marinade for as long as you can (even 30 minutes will help).
  3. Prep the grill. Turn the heat to medium-high, close the lid, and let it warm up for 10 minutes. Then give it a good scrub with your grill brush, wipe down (carefully and quickly) with a damp towel you don’t mind ruining, and brush with oil or spray with cooking spray (VERY carefully: oil usually creates flames). Turn down heat to medium and give it a few minutes to cool before laying on the chicken.
  4. Lay the chicken breasts on the grill and don’t close the lid. Closing the lid will add indirect heat that can dry out the chicken.
  5. Flip not by timing but by appearance. Once all of the edges are evenly white and the pink is beginning to disappear from the tops, it’s time to flip (in the photo above, the breast pieces are ready to be turned).
  6. Check by actually cutting into the chicken. Thermometers are not always reliable. Cut into the thickest part of the breast to make sure all of the pink has turned white. The moment that happens, pull that sucker off the grill.

Whew. Turns out I needed to write a novel on grilling chicken as well.

Stepping off my soapbox now. Let’s move onto the good stuff.

For my first chicken burgers of the season, I decided to go with some fresh summer flavors. Remember that decadent rhubarb shortcake I made the other day? It was the inspiration for this dish. I used the same basic recipe for the rhubarb compote, but this time adding a little rosemary to give it more balance of flavor for this savory dish.

Once you’ve grilled your marinated chicken breasts (or breast halves, if you’ve cut them for grilling), top with a few slices of brie while they’re still on the grill. If you’ve cooking halved breasts, you can overlap them so that they fit nicely on the bun.

While you’re at it, toast your buns on the grill. One minute per side should be plenty.

Once the brie is slightly melted (not too melted—brie can get really runny), pull those babies off and dress your buns. Spread on a little mayo (an herbed aioli would work nicely, too), some lettuce or spinach, and a dollop of the rhubarb compote on top.

I always love the pairing of brie with sweet spreads, and I loved it even more on this burger. It was unexpected and yet the flavors blended together really well. Sweet and savory combos always win me over.

They also make me perform interpretive dances. But I won’t show you those.

Fresh, easy, summery meal, pretty enough to serve for company.

My zen is gone and the long weekend is over. But grilling season is upon us, and I can’t wait to stand over the propane flames, the smell of summer seeping into my apron, and think of…nothing.

-RDG

Grilled Chicken Burgers with Brie and Rosemary Rhubarb

  • 4 marinated chicken breasts, halved or pounded thin (see suggestions above)
  • 8 slices brie cheese
  • Rhubarb compote with rosemary (see recipe below)
  • 4 potato rolls or your favorite hamburger buns
  • Aioli or mayo, for dressing buns
  • Lettuce or spinach, for dressing buns

Place chicken breasts on clean, greased pre-heated gas grill on set to medium-high. Flip once edges of breasts turn white and continue grilling until no longer pink in the center. Top each breast (if halved, overlap the two halves) with two slices brie and let melt slightly. Toast buns if desired.

Spread buns with aioli or mayo and top with lettuce. Place each chicken breast on top of lettuce and finish with a dollop of the rhubarb compote. Serves 4.

Rosemary Rhubarb Compote

  • 4 stalks rhubarb, trimmed of leaves and chopped into 1/4? pieces
  • 1/2 plus 1/8 cups water, divided
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1/2 packet gelatin
  • 1 teaspoon fresh minced rosemary

Bring 1/2 cup water to a simmer in a medium saucepan. Add the sugar and stir until dissolved. Add the rhubarb, stir and simmer for 10-12 minutes or until rhubarb has softened and mixture has thickened. Remove from heat. Pour the remaining 1/8 cup water into a shallow dish and sprinkle in gelatin. Let sit for 5 minutes. Once rhubarb mixture has cooled slightly, stir in activated gelatin and rosemary. Transfer to an airtight container and refrigerate overnight or until set.