My husband loves Vietnamese food. The balance of flavors speaks to him; he loves the textures and the forward tastes; and he likes lemongrass more than anyone I know. He asked me to make more Vietnamese food recently. (Reader, I lovingly cater his meals.) I decided to buy a cookbook, and chose Vietnamese Vegetarian, by Uyen Luu, because we do not eat much meat. This quick purchase was an excellent one, which I now recommend to you.
Vietnamese Vegetarian is an incredible book for three reasons: its approach, its flexibility, and of course, the recipes.
First – this book is a perfect example of what an accessible showcase of a cuisine can be. The recipes are rooted in what Vietnamese people eat in Vietnam and the diaspora, of course. Many common favorites are in this book – pho, sour soups, noodle salads, and summer rolls among them. However, Luu does not insist that you always find the exact ingredient someone might use in Vietnam, and offers options and substitutions, especially aimed for someone not near Vietnamese or other Southeast Asian stores. For example, she offers quite a number of potential substitutions in her noodle recipes – and explains how you may need to adjust the recipe.
Secondly – this book accounts for flexibility in recipes in a way that I will seek to emulate more on this blog, now. Many of her recipes come with a dizzying array of options: be it to bake or fry the spring rolls, which herbs to include in your banh xeocrepes, or the multiple seasoning options for simple stir-fried greens. After reading this book, I will now include more “choose your own adventure” posts here.
Basil (rau húng quế), which frequently appears in the book’s recipes. (Photo VanGenius via CC/Flickr)
And, of course, the recipes are delicious. Many of these recipes are a bit complex – especially the ones involving rice flour (which is very easy to mess up!) – but well worth the time. On the simpler side, I have really enjoyed the tofu with tomato and Thai basil (called rau húng quế in Vietnamese) and the lemongrass tofu, and the cold noodle dishes are all really tasty. I also recommend the many-recipes-in-one garlicky greens close to the beginning of the book. Even with my experience in cooking, that recipe gave me many new ideas.
Vietnamese food culture is a wonderful world, and Luu’s book is a great place to start. I recommend the book and hope you enjoy it. Be sure to also explore Vietnamese eateries in your area if you are so able: this cookbook has heightened the joy of going to these businesses for me as well. I now deeply appreciate, even more, the creativity and human endeavor of this cuisine.
I laughed – of course I like Jews. My interlocutor, who was from Spain, seemed confused. She was talking about green beans.
Never mind that I was more accustomed to the deeply Mexican word, ejotes, or the less common poroto and vainita. (Every Spanish-speaking country has their own word.)What I found interesting was that in Spain, and several other countries, the word for “green bean” is literally “Jews” or “green Jews.” (PDF in Spanish) Well, “green Jewish women.”
Green beans and carrots (photo David Ouziel/March 2025)
Many fantastic green bean dishes exist across the Jewish world – especially stewed with another New World star, the tomato. That recipe, fasolyas or fasolakes, has hundreds of variations. Jewish and non-Jewish Iranians cook lubia polo, a rich dish of rice, green beans, and often, meat. Egyptian Jewish stew lamb or beef with green beans – and sometimes, tomatoes too. Indian Jews sauté green beans with mustard and cumin. They are all delicious.
I took inspiration from three sources for this dish. One is a green bean dish perfected by my husband’s late grandmother, who was from the venerable Jewish community of Thessaloniki (Salonica). She cooked her green beans in a tomato-based stew – a different recipe, but the seasoning is inspired by her. When my father-in-law makes the dish, I usually consume four helpings. The dry stew and the addition of carrots are inspired both by a recipe from Tuscany and Italian Jewish communities and the Ethiopian fasolia, in which green beans and carrots are sauteed such that the green beans’ juices become part of the stew.
Eat this dish with bread, rice, or any carbohydrate you like.
Green Beans and Carrots
Serves 4-5 as a side
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon white wine or rice wine vinegar
1 pound/450g green beans, chopped into 1.5”/4cm pieces
3 medium carrots, peeled and chopped into 1.5”/4cm matchsticks (roughly 1/4”/1/2cm wide)
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon bouillon base (or 2 bouillon cubes)
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 cup water
Heat the oil in a large skillet on medium-high heat, then add the onions and garlic.
Sauté the onions and garlic for a 4-5 minutes or until the onions are quite soft and translucent.
Add the vinegar and sauté for another minute.
Add the green beans and carrots and mix in, then sauté for 30 seconds.
Add the tomato paste, bouillon base, and black pepper and mix in thoroughly. Then, add the water.
Bring to a simmer, then reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 10-15 minutes, stirring regularly. Allow the vegetables to become soft and the sauce to reduce. If the sauce is very reduced, add a splash more water.
Once the green beans and carrots are tender and the sauce is reduced, turn off the heat.
Serve hot or warm. Keep leftovers in a sealed container in the fridge for up to five days.
Thank you to David for conducting User Acceptance Testing on this recipe!
I want to kick off 2025 with this simple tomato soup. I have made a variety of freehand tomato soups now and again over the years – this one is perhaps a bit more elaborate than usual. It goes well with sandwiches, latkes, or anything particularly “carby.”
Fresh heirloom tomatoes, before cooking or canning, at a farmer’s market in Charleston, SC. (Photo mine/September 2017)
Tomato soup mine, not Reese’s. (Photo mine/January 2025)
I add the luxuries of some fresh tomatoes and basil to my soup, but these can easily be swapped for dried basil and more canned tomatoes. This is a soup that does well as leftovers, and feel free to make in large quantities and freeze for later.
Tomato Soup
Makes 4 big or 8 small servings
3 tablespoons butter or vegetable oil
1 small Vidalia onion, roughly chopped
1 large carrot, roughly chopped
4 stalks celery, roughly chopped
5 cloves garlic, smashed
2 15 oz/425g cans diced tomatoes, unsalted
A handful of fresh basil, roughly chopped, or 2 teaspoons dried basil
1 tablespoon bouillon base or two bouillon cubes, crushed
4 cups water
3 small Roma tomatoes, roughly chopped (see note above)
1 teaspoon table salt
¾ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
In a medium-sized Dutch oven on medium-high heat, melt the butter or heat the oil.
Add the onion, carrot, celery, and garlic, and sweat for a few minutes, stirring regularly, until the onion is noticeably softer and smaller.
Add the diced tomatoes and mix in.
When the tomatoes start bubbling, add the basil and bouillon and mix in thoroughly.
Add the water and bring to a boil.
When boiling, add the tomatoes, salt, and pepper.
Simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until the peel is coming off the tomato pieces. Stir often.
Turn off the heat.
Blend the soup with a stick blender or in batches in a food processor.
Serve hot. The soup keeps for up to six days in the refrigerator or four months in the freezer.
Thanks to David Ouziel, Thomas Hamed, Dan Reed, Maryam Sabbaghi, and Douglas Graebner for participating in User Acceptance Testing for this recipe.
As regular readers know, I do a lot of vegetarian cooking – though I do enjoy some meat and fish. Nowadays, it is not very hard to find excellent, vegetable-centric cookbooks. Today, though, I want to discuss one of my favorites – Deborah Madison’s classic Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. The book has been a cult classic since it was first published in 1997. It is widely lauded, too. And with good reason: there are 1,400 delicious recipes for a full range of vegetarian dishes, all straightforward to cook. Madison’s book is as much a reference on what to do while centering plants as of ways to do so.
The recipes are good, both for simple dinners and entertaining. There are many “classic” recipes for common American favorites like pasta sauces and pancakes – but also food from all six continents and featuring many delicious vegetables. There are ten-minute recipes, and day-long project recipes. Pretty much every recipe I have tried so far from it has been easy to follow and has turned out well. Many of the recipes are modular and build on one another too – and they lend themselves to easy experimentation, which Madison encourages.
I appreciate that Madison generally does not try to imitate meat or fish foods. Doing so was especially in vogue when vegetarianism was still considered a “fad” – and remains so in many quarters. As a meat eater, I can verify that sometimes the vegetarian version is better (burgers, anyone?) – but generally, it is not. And vegetarian ingredients often sing best when they are treated on their own terms rather than as a substitute. Madison understands this instinctively – and while there are a few imitation recipes, the hundreds of recipes in the book treat their main ingredients as the star of the show. As they should be!
This book is very much of its time. Many of the things reflect food trends of the 1990’s – particularly quite a bit of higher-fat cooking and many Mediterranean recipes. That said, many of the recipes are timeless – as are the techniques and lateral tricks Madison includes throughout the book. In addition, the compendium is so wide that there is always inspiration in this book’s pages.
Inspiring vegetables (photo mine, October 2022)
To finish, here are a few of my favorite recipes from this book. Page numbers are in the second printing of the 1997 edition, and may vary for more recent versions.
Chickpeas and Greens with Moroccan Spices, page 309
First: two things for which I need to say “sorry.” I apologize for not posting much and still not posting about the situation in the Middle East – beyond busy-ness, others have said things more eloquently than I can. Forgive me, too, for posting a recipe for something that is obviously kitniyot and may contain chametz about a week before Passover. You can always save this recipe for later.
Now, to business: I realize I have not posted a tofu recipe of my own on this blog, which is ironic, because I love tofu and I eat a lot of it. (My social distancing matrix recipe from 2020 only half counts.) As in, I buy tofu pretty much every time I shop for groceries. I am not vegetarian – but I do not eat much meat, and I really adore tofu. The texture is so pleasing, and one can do so many things with it. It is also a food with a fascinating history; I recommend listening to this Gastropod episode to learn more.
This is a simple recipe based on Korean dubu buchim that I have made often recently. It has become a frequent favorite in recent months. It is an amalgam of several different recipes from various authors and bloggers I like – with a particular focus on the books and blogs I use for Korean recipes. The firm but yielding texture of the tofu meshes nicely with the savoriness of soy, and the ginger adds a nice zing. It also comes together quite quickly – which is nice for weeknights.
I hope you enjoy this recipe. It is very versatile and goes with many things. I enjoy this especially with cooked greens and some nice rice.
2-3 tablespoons sunflower seed oil (or any other high-smoke point neutral oil)
4 scallions, finely chopped
1 inch/2.5 cm fresh ginger, crushed
5 cloves garlic, crushed
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
1 teaspoon chili flakes (optional)
Sesame seeds, for garnish (optional, any color)
Cilantro for garnish (optional)
Pat the tofu with a paper towel or other towel until dry. (You do not need to “press” the tofu, but can choose to do so.) Cut into half-inch/1 centimeter-thick slabs. I usually make the slabs about 2 inches long and 1 inch wide (5cmx2.5cm).
Heat a large frying pan or skillet on high heat and add some of the oil, then immediately turn the heat to low. Add a batch of the tofu, laying the pieces face-down on the pan.
Cover and let cook for 5-6 minutes, or until brown on the pan side. Flip the pieces, put the cover back on, and cook for another 4-5 minutes, or until brown. Remove and plate. You will likely need to fry the pieces in batches. The oil can splatter, so be careful.
While the tofu is cooking, mix together the scallions, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil, rice wine vinegar, and chili flakes to make the sauce.
When the tofu is done cooking, turn off the heat for the pan. Plate the tofu and pour the sauce over the tofu. Garnish with the cilantro and sesame seeds, as you wish.
You can eat this dish at any temperature you like. Store leftovers in a covered container in the refrigerator for up to five days.
Thank you to David Ouziel and Timmy Woitas for participating in User Acceptance Testing for this recipe. Thank you to Adam Sperber for requesting the recipe after seeing it on my Instagram.
A few months before he passed, the late Jon Henner wrote a tweet that immediately made sense to me:
Working theory. The Moosewood Cookbook by @MollieKatzen is one of the most important mid to late 20th century Ashkenazi diaspora cookbooks. My grandma cooked Moosewood and not really cholents and stuff.
The Moosewood Cookbook stems from the namesake restaurant which Katzen co-founded in Ithaca, NY – which still operates today. (If you are in the Finger Lakes, I recommend a visit.) Moosewood was very much a product of its time – a vegetarian, plants- and ethics-forward restaurant with a very global focus – perfect for the “People’s Republic of Ithaca.” The cookbook – and several of the following books – are hand-lettered and -illustrated by Katzen herself, and compile many of the “hit recipes” from the restaurant’s early years.
Farfalle primavera at Moosewood Restaurant itself! (Photo mine)
The recipes themselves are great – and very rich and hearty! Among other hits, I can highly recommend the soups and many of the casseroles in the book, as well as the pies. The Brazilian Black Bean soup is a particular favorite. Katzen writes accessibly and in a very intuitive way – the recipes are organized in a way that makes chronological sense for the recipe. Many of the portion sizes are generous.
The book is also deeply Jewish. Katzen herself credits her kosher upbringing with her interest in vegetarianism, and she included many Ashkenazi classics – such as noodle kugel, cabbage borscht and other soups like solyanka, blintzes, stuffed cabbage, and cholent-like casseroles in the book and on Moosewood’s menu. These vegetarian, well-flavored, rich renditions are exemplars of their recipes. And it is not hard to find Jewish influences elsewhere too – the pie made with a grated potato crust akin to yapchik, the zucchini pancakes akin to latkes, or the spices that pair with the many wonderful mushroom dishes.
Katzen was part of a trend, of course: many Jewish people were involved in the vegetarian, environmental, and “hippie” food movements of the 1970s and 1980s. Other non-Jewish chefs active in this time include Jewish recipes in their works too – for example, the women behind Bloodroot Restaurant in Bridgeport, CT, and Deborah Madison, the author of several authoritative cookbooks on vegetarian and plant-forward cooking. Other Moosewood co-founders – and members of the staff who took collective ownership in 1978 – were Jewish too, including Katzen’s brother.
A handlettered recipe from the Moosewood Cookbook (copyright Mollie Katzen via Glamour magazine)
Yet Katzen’s influence went back to the Jewish community in a way unparalleled by these other books. By the time I grew up in the 1990’s, many of Katzen’s recipes were in my and others’ experience frequent guests on the tables of synagogue events and Shabbat dinners. Though my own family did not cook Moosewood, many others’ did. Others have written about this experience, too. As an experiment, I asked my heavily-Jewish friends circle what they like to cook from Moosewood. Many of the recipes I mentioned appeared – alongside the pasta al cavalfiore, no-boil lasagna, and the Ukrainian poppy seed cake. I was not surprised to hear so many entries – after all, many others have been in communities heavily influenced by the cookbook too.
Pasta al cavalfiore from The Moosewood Cookbook (Photo Margaret Wessel Walker, February 2024)
I have many times made a recipe from The Moosewood Cookbook or Katzen’s subsequent The Enchanted Broccoli Forest to find that I had recreated something I had eaten before, at a Jewish community event – especially in the left-leaning communities I have frequented as an adult. I think this has happened for many reasons: Katzen’s own continued links to Jewish life, the strong Jewish presence at Cornell University and in Ithaca, and in particular, the way Moosewood reflects how American Jews actually eat. The recipes were not preserved jelly-like in nostalgia, but rather in a mix alongside Indonesian salads, Brazilian soups, and an array of pastas.
And so this is why Jon’s tweet resonated with me so much. It was not just his grandmother who cooked from Moosewood – many of the people I knew in my communities, across generations, vegetarian or carnivore, left-wing or conservative, did. I do too, now – and I am grateful to this book for very much enriching Jewish tables across the country.
This post is dedicated to Dr. Jonathan Henner, z”l, who passed away in August. I knew him through this blog and our shared Jewish networks – he suggested that someday I write a post on Moosewood. In the wider world, he was known as a proud Deaf advocate and an achieved linguist who studied American Sign Language and children’s education. His work and activism have had a profound effect on many people, especially Deaf children. You can read more about him here; he will be missed.
The Moosewood Cookbook, by Mollie Katzen, is available from many wonderful independent bookstores across the world.
Thank you to my friends for contributions and particularly Margaret Wessel Walker for the photo!
Here is a nice, fun recipe that I have made often recently. I enjoy this recipe because while the gnocchi, tiny Brussels sprouts, and beans all are of similar sizes, the textures and tastes vary in a pleasant and joyous way.
I now often use the pressure cooker – which I discussed in my modernism and climate change cooking post – to cook beans for later use in other recipes. I like doing so because then I get to use beans that are not too frequently canned – for example, scarlet runner beans or Royal Corona beans. These beans are delicious – and many of them have been part of Jewish kitchens for centuries or millennia. Canned beans, however, work well too for this and, honestly, most recipes. I used large Lima beans in the rendition pictured, but this recipe works with scarlet runner beans, great Northern beans, or any other big bean. The Lima beans add a starchy sauciness that I enjoy.
Gnocchi with (very saucy) Lima beans and Brussels sprouts, and a generous amount of Parmesan. (Photo mine, August 2023)
Longtime readers may remember that I have posted other gnocchi recipes on the blog as well. For the rendition pictured, I used purple sweet potato gnocchi that I found in the frozen aisle at my local supermarket. Feel free to use any color you want – it adds to the pop of the dish.
Gnocchi, Brussels Sprouts, and Beans
Makes 3 servings
2 ½ cups petite Brussel sprouts
Water
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil (more for roasting method)
4 cloves garlic, minced or crushed
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
½ teaspoon oregano
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
2 cups cooked large beans, such as Lima beans, scarlet runner beans or great northern beans (1 15.5oz/428g can) – see note below for cooking the beans from scratch in a pressure cooker
1 pound/454g gnocchi
Parmesan cheese, grated, for serving
Prepare the Brussel sprouts. There are two ways you can do this, and both work equally well:
Roasting – coat the whole petite sprouts in oil and bake for 20 minutes at 400F/200C on a lined cookie sheet.
Steaming – cook on a steam rack over boiling water for 8 minutes. (Learn how to steam here.)
Set a pot of water on high to boil.
While the pot of water is heating, put the olive oil, garlic, salt, red pepper, and oregano in a large skillet and set on medium heat. When the garlic begins to bubble or you can smell the aroma, add the vinegar. Immediately add the cooked sprouts and the beans, and mix thoroughly. Turn off the heat, and set aside.
When the pot is at a rolling boil, add the gnocchi and cook according to package or recipe directions. Generally speaking, gnocchi take about 2 minutes to cook and float when they’re ready.
Drain the gnocchi and add to the skillet with the sprouts and beans. Mix until everything is thoroughly combined. Serve immediately, with Parmesan cheese to taste.
Leftovers keep in a sealed container for 3-4 days. Note that the textures will change slightly.
Ever since my visit to Owamni last June, I have dreamt of one dish in particular: cedar-braised teparies. That dish is woody, sweet, and savory at the same time – and thus almost magical. Since then, I have come to very much appreciate not just that recipe, but all of the wonderful things one can do with tepary beans.
Tepary beans are an indigenous type of bean from Arizona, New Mexico, and Sonora – in the traditional lands of the Tohono O’odham. This area is one of the driest in the world, and the tepary bean has been bred to withstand some extreme drought conditions. It grows in many climates and is water resistant – and is absolutely delicious. The beans are nutty but savory, and have a toothsome bite even when fully cooked and soft. I briefly mentioned teparies in my piece about climate mitigation – and now am providing a recipe here. Most teparies come from native producers on traditional lands – I recommend Ramona Farms as one, O’odham-owned and -run source.
Teparies take a long time to cook – and this is where culinary modernism and a pressure cooker come in handy. Over a typical heat, teparies can take several hours to cook – which is great for the weekend, but can sometimes be quite difficult to fit into the normal week. And though tradition matters, we should also remember that these kinds of cooking times historically ate into the lives of those who cooked (mostly women) in ways they did not exactly choose. With a pressure cooker, the cooking time reduces to just an hour of largely hands-off cooking time. In addition, with refrigeration, we can now cook beans in advance – and keep them, knowing that they will be safe to eat, for the next day or day after. Between technology and their climate potential, teparies have a lot to offer.
Maple teparies (photo mine, February 2023)
For this recipe, I melded two other recipes for teparies: one by Owamni’s chef and cookbook author Sean Sherman, and the other by Kusuma Rao – a food blogger with some truly excellent work. I decided to add some of my other favorite flavors, including red onion and the very much not-indigenous butter. I’m quite happy with the result, which is reminiscent of both Sherman’s dish and an old-time, but less soupy, Boston baked beans. You can serve this dish with many things – but I recommend also trying Sherman’s sweet potatoes with maple chili crisp with these beans, or a nice short pasta. I also recommend trying both Sherman and Rao’s recipes too – they’re excellent.
1 cup tepary beans, soaked in 2 inches water for at least 4 hours or overnight
3 ½ cups water
1 red onion, peeled and cut in half
5 bay leaves
2 tbsp neutral flavored oil (I use sunflower or canola)
½ cup maple syrup, divided in two ¼ cup portions
2 tsp salt, divided into two 1 tsp portions
1 tsp dried sage, divided into two ½ tsp portions
3 tablespoons butter or neutral-flavored vegetable oil*
3 scallions, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, crushed
¾ teaspoon paprika
1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
Drain the beans, then place into a pressure cooker with the water, red onion, bay leaves, neutral oil, ¼ cup of the maple syrup, 1 tsp of salt, and ½ tsp dried sage.
Seal the pressure cooker. Place the pressure cooker on the heat as per the manufacturer’s directions. When the pressure cooker begins hissing or whistling, turn the heat to medium-low and cook for one hour. (Follow a similar pattern for an Instant Pot or other electric pressure cooker.)
Remove the pressure cooker from the heat. Let the pot depressurize, then remove the cover. Take out and discard the onion and bay leaf.
Drain the beans. You can save the liquid if you like to use in a soup or stew. You can go up to this step in advance, and then cook the beans within the following three days.
Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and then add the oil or butter.
Add the scallions and garlic and sauté for 30 seconds to 1 minute, or until the garlic begins to change in texture, smell, and color.
Add the remaining salt and sage, along with the paprika, and stir in.
Add the beans and mix thoroughly with the other ingredients in the pan.
Add the remaining maple syrup and the vinegar and mix thoroughly with the beans.
Cook, stirring frequently, until any liquid in the pan is mostly reduced, about 5-10 minutes.
Remove from the heat and serve.
Store leftovers in a sealed container for up to five days in the refrigerator.
*Variation: you can also use coconut oil, but if you do so, add another ¼ tsp paprika and an extra teaspoon of maple syrup when you sauté the beans to balance the flavors.
Everyone has a favorite legume, and for me in recent months, that bean has been the black-eyed pea. I love the meaty, nutty flavor of the bean, its toothsome texture, and their subtle, starchy smell. Not to mention that, among beans, the black-eyed pea is particularly beautiful.
Black-eyed peas, which are a type of cowpea, have a long history in many Jewish cuisines. The peas were common on Jewish tables in the Talmudic era, and continue to be popular today among Jewish communities from Turkey, Syria, Iraq, the Balkans, and India – as well as Jews across the Southern United States and in African countries. Egyptian Jews are especially fond of black-eyed peas, both fresh and dried. For many, the food is a tradition on Rosh Hashanah, because the Arabic and Ladino name for the pea – lubya – sounds similar to various words meaning “plenty” and “prosperity” in Aramaic and Hebrew. This tradition parallels the Black American tradition of black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day. That said, black-eyed peas are delicious enough – and, in dry form, hardy enough – for year-round consumption.
Here, I adjust a recipe from a favorite, newish cookbook, In Bibi’s Kitchen, by Hawa Hassan and Julia Turshen. The book is a collection of recipes by women from eight African countries that border the Indian Ocean. One of my favorites is a simple and absolutely elegant white bean recipe by a woman in Madagascar, Jeanne Razanamaria. That recipe blends the tang of red onion with the hearty goodness of white beans. That recipe has become a frequent star on my dinner table – and, even though it is from a country with a completely different culinary history, very reminiscent of Jewish white bean recipes. (Perhaps not surprising in the Indian Ocean context.) I decided to try this recipe with other legumes, and found that some beans with a stronger flavor – like black eyed peas – also needed other strong flavors to pair with it and the relative lightness of the red onion. Hence my addition of garlic, which does feature in many recipes from around the Indian Ocean. My suggestion is to not just make my recipe, but also Razanamaria’s original recipe. Both are delicious.
If you want another excellent black-eyed pea recipe by a far more achieved Jewish chef and writer, I highly recommend this recipe for black-eyed pea soup by Michael Twitty – whose book, The Cooking Gene, is one of the Great Books I’ve recommended on this blog.
As for this recipe – it only has six ingredients! The flavor comes not from spices – as much as I love them – but from judicious application of each of the ingredients. The beans, onions, garlic, and tomatoes each shine in their own way, supported by the oil and salt. Finally, a note: I have not tried this recipe with canned beans, only dried. If you successfully adapt it for canned beans, let me know!
The black-eyed peas on the bottom right, served with – going clockwise from the bottom – rice, greens sauteed with a peanut sauce base, and a corn, squash, and pepper saute. (photo mine, February 2022)
Black-Eyed Peas with Red Onion and Garlic
Based partly on a white bean recipe by Jeanne Razanamaria in In Bibi’s Kitchen
½ pound/250g dried black-eyed peas*, soaked overnight or for at least six hours
Water
Salt
¼ cup vegetable oil
1 large red onion, diced
3 slicer tomatoes, roughly chopped, with seeds removed
6 cloves garlic, crushed
In a medium pot, cover the soaked black-eyed peas with enough fresh water to cover the beans by 2 inches/4 centimeters. Bring to a boil, then simmer for an hour, or until soft. Stir now and again.
Set aside ¾ cup of the beans’ cooking liquid. Drain the beans and add a generous dash of salt. Set aside.
Wipe down the same pot, then place on medium-high heat. Add the oil, then sauté the red onion for about 3-4 minutes, or until softer and beginning to caramelize slightly.
Add the tomatoes and sauté for 3 more minutes, or until the tomato skin begins to separate from the flesh.
Add the beans and the garlic and mix thoroughly, then add the reserved cooking liquid.
Bring to a boil, then simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from heat, and then add a second generous dash of salt to taste.
Serve with rice and any other fixings. Leftovers keep in a sealed container for five days in the refrigerator, or in the freezer for several months.
Thank you to Jennifer Szlasa and David Ouziel for participating in User Acceptance Testing. Thank you to Mikaela Brown for finally getting me to write about black eyed peas.
A simple recipe this time, for something that I’ve made for dinner quite frequently over the past few months. Olive oil is a prominent ingredient, so I guess it is Hanukkah appropriate? I have not found any specifically Jewish history for this dish, which has variations that come from across Southern Italy – I based this one on the version from Calabria. While this dish is often made with broccoli rabe, which I love, I wanted to master a version with simple broccoli as well – broccoli rabe is a chore to find out of season.
One thing that I do find interesting is that most traditional variations on this dish involve cooking the vegetables and pasta together – something that felt counterintuitive to me, since cookbooks so often direct one to cook the pasta separately! Many recipes mention this as some sort of flavor bomb, but I think the true, and simpler, origin is that this trick makes it quicker to cook and clean up. Unglamorous convenience, but delicious results.
This recipe, with gemelli. (Photo David Ouziel, November 2021)
CalabrianPasta with Broccoli
Based on recipes by Micol Negrin and Lidia Bastianich
Variants listed at the end.
10.5 ounces/300 g short pasta (orecchiette, gemelli, and casarecce work best here – penne works in a pinch)
1 pound/450 g fresh chopped broccoli florets*
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 cloves garlic, crushed
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
¾ teaspoon dried rosemary
¾ teaspoon table salt
Grated Parmesan cheese, for serving
Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil. Then, add the pasta and broccoli together. Bring to a boil again, then cook for as long as you need to cook the pasta to be al dente. Check the package.
Meanwhile, combine the oil, garlic, red pepper flakes, and rosemary in a small pan. Place on medium heat until you begin to smell the garlic, which should be changing color, and the oil begins to bubble. Stir over heat for 45 seconds, then turn off the heat.
Two minutes before the pasta is done, ladle out two ladle-fuls of the cooking water and set aside.
When the pasta and broccoli are done, drain them out. Then, return the pasta and broccoli to the pot.
Pour over the oil mixture and add the salt, and mix in together. Add a few splashes of pasta water to ensure the oil gets evenly distributed.
Serve hot. Add grated Parmesan on top of each serving. Leftovers should stay good for about three days.
*For a more traditional dish, use broccoli rabe and cut the rosemary. Cauliflower also works well in this dish. I also recommend chopped green beans – for which you may want to cut the rosemary, and add 1-2 tablespoons lemon juice to the oil mixture.
Thank you to my partner, David Ouziel, for conducting repeat User Acceptance Testing and taking photos for this post.
