Recipe: Kale Galette with Yogurt Crust (Χορτόπιτα με Φύλλο Γιαουρτιού)

A few days ago we left Athens on a sunny 80°F day, warm enough to welcome airport air-conditioning. Thirty-six hours later, back in Anchorage, the sun still shone, but the temperature was only 40°F. A chill north wind cut through the lightweight clothing I’d donned on another continent.

When we arrived home, the first order of business was inspecting the garden. We’d heard there’d been a killing frost in Anchorage, so expected the worst. Zucchini, peas, Swiss chard, and most lettuce had been taken out by the cold. Broccoli and cauliflower had gone to seed. Cabbages were perfect and ready to harvest, as were arugula, garlic, onion, herbs, and a small second planting of Lau’s pointed leaf lettuce that inexplicably was unaffected by frost.

The garden’s best producer this year was Tuscan/Lacinato/dinosaur kale. The blue-green strappy kale leaves are lush and healthy despite nighttime temperatures well below freezing. Its perfect condition is remarkable; nearly every other garden plant was plagued by a horde of slugs brought forth by this year’s record-breaking rainy summer.

Having a kale glut seemed like the perfect opportunity to try Ayse Gilbert’s sour cream crust recipe. I used Greek yogurt, an ingredient I always have on hand, rather than sour cream. The dough mixed up easily and was a pleasure to roll out. This is a good crust recipe for beginners; it’s much easier to work with than standard pie crust dough.

With the tangy crust, I wanted a little sweetness to complement kale’s earthy flavor, so included dried currants and lightly sautéed onions in the filling mix. Feta always goes well with greens and I’d just brought some back from Greece that’d been mauled by a customs agent (don’t get me started) and needed to be used right away. So feta went in the mix, along with some garlic and Aleppo pepper.

The filling was well-balanced and its flavors worked well with the deliciously crunchy, flaky crust. Best of all, my friends liked it, the true measure of a recipe’s success.

Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska has moved as of March 2011. To read this post please go to


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Please click on over and visit my new site. Thank you!

Bhutanese Refugees in Anchorage, Alaska with Recipe for Lamb's Quarters & Tomatoes with Eggs (Χόρτα και Ντομάτες με Αυγά)

Lush baskets of greens lined the table: crumpled dark Lacinato kale, sweet golden-stalked Swiss chard, deep maroon piles of earthy red orach. The sign read, “Fresh International Gardens.”

“Good morning! Where’s your farm?” The answer to my standard market question was a surprise: “Mountain View.”

Mountain View, a densely populated neighborhood within Anchorage’s urban core, is an unlikely spot for a market garden. “How much land do you have?” “8000 square feet.”

A commercially viable garden in Alaska on less than 1/5 of an acre? I looked again at the people staffing the booth. Of diverse ages and ethnicities, they didn’t fit the typical farm family image.

“Is Fresh International Gardens a farm? Or a group?” I hesitated. “Or what?”

The answer: “Or what.” Fresh International Gardens is part of the Refugee Farmers’ Market Program. This program helps refugees, newly arrived in Anchorage, adjust to uprooted lives in a new country. In addition to gardening, the program teaches entrepreneurial and life skills essential to succeeding in Alaska.

The thriving program grew from a seed planted by Julie Riley, longtime Anchorage Cooperative Extension Service Horticulture Agent. In 2004, Riley successfully helped Hmong refugees from Southeast Asia adapt their gardening skills to Alaska’s cold climate. This success inspired Catholic Social Services to work with Riley and others to create the Refugee Farmers’ Market Program. Using municipal land next to Mountain View’s McPhee Park, the program is now in its fourth year.

Most refugees working on the 2010 garden are originally from Bhutan. Over the last 10 months, a group of nearly 100 Bhutanese refugees began the challenging process of creating lives in Alaska after many difficult homeless, stateless years.

Bhutan is a land-locked country the size of Switzerland. It lies between China and India on the Himalayas’ eastern edge; Nepal is to the west. In the late 19th century, the Lhotsampa (meaning southerner in Bhutanese) began emigrating to Bhutan from Nepal, largely to work as laborers for the Bhutanese.

The Lhotsampa settled, built homes, and grew families in Bhutan. Life continued uneventfully until the late 1980s. At that time, the ethnic majority ruling Bhutan became worried about its ethnic group being outnumbered by Lhotsampas. To prevent this, the rulers began a program of ethnic cleansing, forcibly expelling many Lhotsampas from the country.

The forcible expulsions left over 100,000 Lhotsampas, including Anchorage’s new residents, stranded for nearly two decades in Nepalese refugee camps. It wasn’t until 2008 that various countries, including the US, began admitting Bhutanese refugees for permanent resettlement.

Last Thursday I went to the Fresh International Garden site on McPhee and talked with gardener and market entrepreneur Bishnu Subedi.

Subedi said he was forced from his home by the Bhutanese government in 1992. He lived in Nepalese refugee camps until Alaska welcomed him last year. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years, no home. Now, in Alaska, apartment. A home.” Subedi smiled, hesitantly.

While we talked, Subedi and a fellow refugee cleaned and turned a new garden bed, planting it with spinach seed. The men were neatly dressed; their shirts freshly ironed. They deftly and swiftly worked shovel and hoe with bare feet.

Subedi is just now learning English, and spoke it haltingly. He described his plans: work hard, feed his family, get a green card, become a citizen. He laughed, shrugged, and said, “For now, have apartment. But is home. Home.” He smiled again, this time broadly.

I walked further into the garden where three Bhutanese women were weeding beds of thickly planted greens. They heaped all but one kind of weed in piles for disposal. The women treated lamb’s quarters (Chenopodium album) differently. This plant was separated out and added to plastic grocery bags that were already full when I arrived.

Though weeds, lamb’s quarters are delicious edible greens. Since none of the women spoke English, I couldn’t ask if they planned on eating lamb’s quarters. Kelly Ingram, a Vista volunteer working for the Refugee Farmers’ Market Program, had an answer: the women used lamb’s quarters as an ingredient in curry.

Wild lamb’s quarters are gathered for food all around the globe. Uniquely, the Himalayan region, where Lhotsampas survived in Nepalese refugee camps, is the one area in the world where lamb’s quarters are domesticated. It is grown there for its leafy greens and as a grain crop. Lamb’s quarters is a quinoa relative; up to 70,000 poppy-sized seeds grow on every plant. The seeds are ground into flour, cooked as porridge, made into alcoholic beverages, and used as livestock feed.

Unlike countries with subsistence economies, wild foraging is a rarity in modern America. Lamb’s quarters and other wild greens are usually seen only as noxious weeds that pop up in home gardens and interfere with efficient commercial crop production. As a result, few Alaskans have tried tasty lamb’s quarters.

Lamb’s quarters are related to spinach and Swiss chard, and can be substituted for those greens in any recipe. Its flavor is milder, and its leaves slightly firmer, than spinach. Although young lamb’s quarters leaves may be eaten raw, I prefer them cooked. Then again, I also prefer spinach cooked.

Of the wild greens that grow in Alaska, lamb’s quarters is one of the easiest to harvest. (First time foragers may want to review my Rules for Gathering Wild Plants.) Cut off the top 6-8” of each plant, remove any damaged or diseased leaves (look carefully, lamb’s quarters are susceptible to leaf miner damage), and strip the leaves and soft seed heads from the stem. These are ready to use in your favorite greens recipe; the stem may be discarded.

Lamb’s quarters freeze well. Harvest the greens before seeds form, blanch in boiling salted water for 30-45 seconds, drain, cool, squeeze out excess water, package in freezer bags, and freeze.

Lamb’s quarters thrive on land that’s been previously cultivated, or any place they can get an easy foothold. In my yard, they're particularly fond of the topsoil pile, where loose dirt and ready nutrients attract a nice patch of lamb’s quarters every year.

Returning from my trip to the Fresh International Gardens, I had a powerful hankering for lamb’s quarters. Lacking a Bhutanese curry recipe, but being rich in farm fresh eggs, I lunched on a Greek village favorite: eggs cooked on a bed of wild greens and tomatoes.
Lamb's Quarters and Tomatoes with Eggs takes less than 30 minutes to make, including the time to harvest the lamb’s quarters (assuming you're behind on your weeding so have lamb's quarters readily available). Despite its simplicity and humble ingredients, the flavors are luxuriant: runny yolks combine with vegetable juices to form an enthrallingly rich sauce.

Lamb's Quarters and Tomatoes with Eggs (Χόρτα και Ντομάτες με Αυγά)
Serves 2
Any wild or domesticated greens may be used in this recipe. Milder greens, such as lamb’s quarters, nettles, spinach, and Swiss chard, taste best. Feta cheese, bread, and Kalamata olives typically are served with this dish.

6 cups greens, cleaned of stems and damaged leaves
1/2 cup diced onion, 1/4” dice
1 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup diced fresh tomato, 1/4” dice
2 Tbsp. minced fresh mint or basil
4 eggs

Blanch greens in boiling salted water for 30-45 seconds. Drain, rinse with cold water, and squeeze out as much water as you can from greens (do this in batches using your hands or all at once using a clean dish towel). Roughly chop the blanched greens.

Sauté onion, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in olive oil. When onions begin to turn golden, add chopped greens and tomato. Mix well. When greens are hot, taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper as needed. Stir in mint or basil.

Spread greens evenly over bottom of the pan and make an indentation for each egg in greens. Break one egg into each hole, lightly season with salt, turn heat down to low, and cover pan. Cook until egg whites just solidify and yolks are still liquid. Serve immediately.

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Fresh International Gardens sells produce every Wednesday at the Northway Mall Farmers’ Market and alternating Saturdays at the University Center Farmers’ Market and the Spenard Farmers’ Market. Volunteers are needed to help with the Refugee Farmers’ Market Program; for more information about volunteer opportunities, contact Kelly Ingram at 786-6331.
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This post is included in Weekend Herb Blogging compiled by Susan at The Well-Seasoned Cook.

Recipes for Swiss Chard Braised with Olives and Feta (Σέσκουλο με Ελιές και Φέτα) & Pancakes with Leftover Greens, Olives and Feta

Greens season is here. Gardens and farmers’ markets in Anchorage are filled with every type of cool weather green. Swiss chard, spinach, and kale are in their prime.


It’s also the season during which many Alaskans are doing hard duty out on the salmon grounds, making sure freezers are filled with fish for the upcoming winter.


The best reason to eat greens and salmon is they just plain taste good. Luckily, both are good for your health: greens because they’re high in vitamins, minerals, and fiber and salmon because it’s loaded with omega-3 fatty acids


Freshly caught salmon has so much flavor it doesn’t need anything more than salt, pepper, and a little time on the grill or cast-iron pan.  Swiss Chard Braised with Olives and Feta is a good accompaniment. The greens’ earthiness, when paired with salty olives and feta, balances fresh salmon’s richness.

Swiss Chard Braised with Olives and Feta (Σέσκουλο με Ελιές και Φέτα)
Serves 4
Any greens, wild or domesticated or, better yet, a mixture of greens, can be substituted for Swiss chard.  This is delicious made with plain Kalamata olives, but I prefer using Roasted Kalamata Olives. Dry-cured or salt-cured olives (such as those from Thassos) may be substituted, but be sure to taste them and use less than 1/2 cup if they’re strong flavored. Most Greeks squeeze a lemon wedge over braised greens; I like them better plain. Serve lemon wedges on the side so each eater can choose their own amount of lemon. Swiss Chard Braised with Olives and Feta goes well with grilled or pan-fried salmon and other simply cooked seafood.


2 large or 3 medium bunches Swiss chard (about 10-12 cups cleaned, chopped leaves)

2 Tbsp. olive oil

2 Tbsp. minced garlic

1/2 cup pitted Kalamata olives, roughly chopped

Freshly ground black pepper

Salt

1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled

Lemon wedges


Strip Swiss chard leaves from stems; reserve stems for another use.  Wash and roughly chop the leaves (don’t dry leaves; the clinging water helps cook them).

In a Dutch oven or deep sauté pan, sauté garlic in olive oil over medium heat for 30 seconds, being very careful not to burn the garlic. Stir in Swiss chard, olives, a liberal seasoning of black pepper, and a light seasoning of salt (olives and feta also add salt). Cover, turn heat down to low, and cook until chard is tender, but not falling apart. (The dish may be made ahead to this point and reheated just before serving.)

Remove chard and olives from pan with slotted spoon. Put in serving bowl along with the feta. Toss well.  Serve with lemon wedges on the side.

Bonus Recipe

Pancakes with Leftover Greens, Olives and Feta
Makes 4-6 pancakes
Too lazy to make crepes, I mixed leftover Swiss Chard Braised with Olives and Feta into a simple batter and cooked it into pancakes. These cakes contain the same flavors as crepes, but can be mixed and cooked in less than 1/2 hour with a lot less hassle.  I served the savory pancakes with soft goat cheese, basil shreds, and thinly sliced prosciutto; they made a lovely lunch.


3/4 - 1 cup leftover greens, olives, and feta

3/4 – 1 cup milk

3/4 cup flour

1 egg

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Oil for griddle


Put leftover greens in a strainer set over a bowl, press down to squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Measure the liquid and add enough milk to make one cup.  Whisk egg and half the milk mixture into flour. Whisk in remaining milk mixture. Whisk in greens and season with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Heat small amount of oil in a griddle or cast iron frying pan over medium heat.  When pan is hot, ladle in 1/2 cup batter, spreading it out to form a 7” circle. Cook it on one side until it’s dry around the edges and the underside is nicely browned when lifted. Flip and cook on the second side.  Repeat until all the batter is used.

Serve plain, with cheese, or with thinly sliced prosciutto or salami.

A 2 Part Tale of 2 Plants in 2 Countries with 2 Recipes: Purslane-Tomato Salad (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με Γλιστρίδα) and Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad/Salsa (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με «Άγριο Σέλινο»)

Introduction

In Greece, friends and relatives are endlessly curious about Alaska. We’re quizzed about daylight, animal life, cost of living, how many thousand miles we live from family. Every exotic Alaskan detail is examined and catalogued.

Back in Alaska, a vast land peopled largely by recent transplants, we describe life on a Greek island in a small village filled with relatives (family roots on the island go beyond reach of transmitted memory). We divert Alaskans with stories of family intrigues, open-handed generosity, and island bureaucratic snafus.

Greece and Alaska could not be more different. Yet, in both places, I shop for groceries, forage for wild edibles, and cook with abandon.

A friend of mine recently asked whether a dish cooked in a Greek kitchen tastes the same when made in Alaska. The simple answer: no.  The same recipe tastes different in Greece and Alaska because the ingredients aren’t the same in the two places.

For example: Greek tomatoes have more flavor, as do Alaska spinach and lettuce. Wild greens available in Greece don’t grow in Alaska and vice versa. American and Greek flour, butter, and eggs all bake up differently. Similar differences are found with virtually every ingredient. In both countries, I use the same basic recipes, but the results always vary, sometimes slightly, sometimes significantly.

No matter where one cooks, the key to a good result is tasting what you are making as you are make it. No one should ever blindly follow a recipe (even mine), no matter how trusted the source. The flavors of vegetables, herbs, spices, meats, cheese, fruits, you name it, all change subtly from purchase to purchase and day to day. The only way to compensate for these changes, and to generally adjust a recipe to please your palate, is to taste.

Two articles with recipes follow that illustrate this point. Part One was written in Greece last summer. It’s about purslane, Portulaca oleracea, a weed growing rampant in much of the world (including North America, but not Alaska). I combined the purslane with tomato to make a cooling salad.

Part Two is about a recent gathering expedition for beach lovage, Ligusticum scoticum, in Alaska. Using the Greek Purslane-Tomato Salad as the starting point, I tweaked the flavors to accommodate my Alaskan ingredients.  I served Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad with grilled king salmon; loaves’ herby freshness and the salad’s tart dressing nicely complimented king salmon’s richness.

Part One: Purslane-Tomato Salad in Greece

For years, our yard in Greece was a wasteland of weeds.  Every year on arrival we whacked down the tangle and borrowed a truck to haul away several loads of debris.

Our messy yard contrasted sharply with the carefully tended gardens of family, friends, and neighbors. Cousin Effie has an especially green thumb.  Most of her yard is paved over, but her narrow strip garden holds an impressive collection of flowering plants.

A couple years ago, Effie was sighing over her lack of a vegetable garden.  Since she lives only a few blocks away, and we are in Alaska for most of the year, we suggested she use our yard.

Now, when we arrive in Greece, we open the gate to a healthy, green garden, both decorative and edible, instead of a jungle. We planted roses and a bottle brush tree.  Effie and cousin Tzani have surrounded them with smaller, flowering plants. Blue jasmine from Tzani and a sweet-smelling white-flowered vine climbs the neighbor’s wall. What were tiny rosemary starts are now bushes.

This year the vegetable garden includes eggplant, okra, green beans, summer squash, tomatoes, mint, and celery.  The eggplants are heavily laden with fruit.  We pick them only when it’s time to cook (or gift eggplants); their texture and flavor are dramatically better than any supermarket eggplant available in Alaska.

While in the village, we take over weeding and watering the garden.  This year, purslane and crab grass were the most dominant weeds. While crab grass is purely an annoyance, purslane makes a tasty edible green.

Purslane has been used in Greece throughout recorded history.  Hippocrates, Galenus, and Dioscurides documented its many medicinal uses.  In the kitchen, it’s used raw in salads, mixed with yogurt, added to soups, served with meat or fish, and pickled for winter salad.

In Greece, purslane is best harvested by June or July, at which time both stem and leaves can be used. In September, stems are too tough to eat, but leaves still taste great.

This year, our first day back on the island, we drove to the main town to shop for basics. The day was a scorcher; we returned home hot and tired.  I wasn’t in the mood to cook and, after a day spent under the relentless Greek sun (at least to an Alaskan), didn’t want to eat more than a salad.

While I cut vegetables, Steve collected a colander full of purslane from the garden. Its succulent, slightly sour leaves, combined with sweet tomatoes and tart lemon juice, made a refreshing salad, perfect for a hot day.

Purslane-Tomato Salad (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με Γλιστρίδα)

Serves 2 – 4

If you don’t have fresh purslane, see the recipe below for Beach Lovage Salad and follow the recommended substitutions there for a fresh, cooling summer salad.

Dressing:

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Salad:

1 1/2 cups diced tomatoes, 1/2” dice

1 1/2 cups cleaned purslane leaves

3/4 cup diced cucumbers, 1/2” dice

3/4 cup diced red onions, 1/2” dice

1/4 cup minced fresh parsley

1 Tbsp. minced fresh mint

Make the dressing: Whisk the olive oil into the lemon juice. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Make the salad: Toss all the ingredients together. Drizzle with the dressing and toss again. (You may not need all the dressing.) Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed.

Beach Lovage and Chocolate Lilies

Part Two: Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad in Alaska

Nearing the spring equinox, by June’s second week Anchorage was enjoying almost 20 hours of daylight. Winter doldrums were a distant memory; the whole town was in a good mood.

Sunday we woke early. Sun streamed in the window, warming our faces. The sky was clear bright blue. Staying in bed wasn’t possible. We headed out to find a beach where we could harvest wild plants.

After making the circuit of possible foraging sites, we finally came across a field of beach lovage (Ligusticum scoticum).  Also known as Scotch lovage, sea lovage, wild celery, and petrushki, beach lovage grows on sandy beaches along the coasts of Alaska, Canada, and the Northeastern United States.

Beach lovage is easy to identify with its three-lobed leaflets and smooth, reddish-purple stem.  It’s best harvested before flowering.

One caution: Beach lovage is in the Umbelliferae family and its flowers are similar to those of relatives like carrots, parsley, and dill. However, water hemlock, a poisonous plant is also in the Umbelliferae family, and has similar flowers but very different leaves. As with all wild foraging, be certain you know what you’re gathering and be sure to follow the forager’s primary rule: “when in doubt, throw it out.”

The flavor of fresh beach lovage is unique and wonderful. The closest approximation would be to mix celery, parsley, and a little lemon zest, but there is still a missing flavor, the hint of wild bitterness that makes beach lovage special.

Although the flavors of purslane and beach lovage are not at all the same, both have a tart freshness that can't be purchased in a supermarket. As I tossed about ideas for using the beach lovage, I kept thinking about the Purslane-Tomato Salad we'd had last summer. With that in mind, I started mixing and tasting, adding cucumbers, then more mint, then more lemon juice, a little of each at a time, until the balance of flavors was correct for beach lovage - and for our palates.

In the last two weeks, I’ve used beach lovage in a risotto that was devoured by guests, a lovely topping for pan-fried halibut, and delicious halibut cakes.  The best way I served beach lovage was in the modified version of my Greek Purslane-Tomato Salad.

Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad/Salsa (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με «Άγριο Σέλινο»)

Serves 4 as a salad, or 8 as salsa for serving with fish

If you don’t have beach lovage, substitute 1/4 cup minced parsley, 1/4 cup minced celery leaves, and 1/2 tsp. finely grated lemon zest (or 3 Tbsp. minced parsley, 1 Tbsp. minced lovage, and 1/2 tsp. finely grated lemon zest).

Dressing:

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

3 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Salad:

1 1/2 cups diced tomatoes, 1/2” dice

1 1/2 cups diced cucumbers, 1/2” dice

3/4 cup diced red onions, 1/2” dice

1/2 cup minced fresh beach lovage leaves

3 Tbsp. minced fresh mint

Make the dressing: Whisk the olive oil into the lemon juice. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Make the salad: Toss all the ingredients together. Drizzle with the dressing and toss again. (You may not need all the dressing.) Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed. 

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This post is included in Weekend Herb Blogging compiled by Chris from Mele Cotte.

Recipe: Spinach Saganaki (Σπανάκι Σαγανάκι)

Fresh garden greens started trickling into Anchorage farmers’ markets this morning. In two weeks, the trickle will turn into a flood. Greens of all kinds thrive in our cool maritime climate.

Though cultivated greens are only now appearing, we’ve been eating wild greens for the past month. As soon as the snow melted, dandelion greens insistently pushed their way through the saturated earth and were ready to be harvested.  Fireweed shoots, devil’s club, and nettles; chickweed, dock, lamb’s quarters, and shepherd’s purse; all end up in the pot. (For tips on harvesting wild plants, go here.)

Until my husband and I first lived in Greece (1987), eating wild plants never once crossed my mind. I grew up in a family where picky eating was an art form. My father didn’t eat cheese, yogurt, or sour cream. My mother didn’t eat lamb, broccoli, cauliflower, cucumbers, squash, green pepper, and so many other foods I could never keep track.  If my parents didn’t eat it, neither did we.  Plus I had my own food quirks; raw tomatoes didn’t pass my lips until I was 24.

So wild greens? Not likely. It wasn’t just my family; the concept of eating wild greens didn’t remotely exist in the small Pacific Northwest town in which we were raised.  In our world, food came from the grocery store. Food could also come from the garden, but only from seeds that were planted and carefully tended. For wild food, we only knew berries, seafood, and dead animals. 

When  the first rains came the autumn of our arrival in Greece, there was a palpable sense of excitement in the village.  Once the rain stopped, half the village took to the fields, quickly gathering the emerging flush of snails. Over the next week, the dirt roads surrounding the village became peppered with the bent-over backsides of black-clad women, systematically working their way through the fields, gathering an abundance of fresh wild greens.

Though my Greek was limited in those days, I learned by example which greens were tastiest, how to harvest them, and how to clean them. I learned a mixture of different greens cooked together tastes better than a single variety cooked on its own.  I learned to love and crave greens of all kinds, wild and domesticated.  Most importantly, foraging became a permanent, enriching part of our lives.

These days, we eat greens several times a week, and I regularly post recipes using them.

For the past year, my favorite greens recipe has been Spinach Saganaki, based on a dish we had at Tzitzikas and Mermigas (Τζίτζικας και Μέρμηγκας), a restaurant on Mitropoleos Street, just off Syntagma Square, in downtown Athens. (A tasty place to eat on a shady street, particularly if you’re carrying a heavy load of way too many cookbooks; but that’s another story.) I’ve made the dish with a wide range of different greens, alone and combined, including spinach, Swiss chard, kale, amaranth, nettles, and dandelions; every version has been a success.

Two notes about the name:

1) I like calling it Spinach Saganaki only because it translates in Greek to the perfectly alliterative “Spanaki Saganaki.” Ignore the name and don’t limit yourself to making it with spinach; the dish is delicious with all kinds of greens. 

2) I recently described this dish to someone who asked why it had “saganaki” in the name since it didn’t include flaming cheese.  In Greek, “saganaki” is a small two-handled frying-pan, and gives its name to a range of dishes that are traditionally served in the pan, including shrimp saganaki, mussels saganaki, and cheese saganaki. As for setting cheese saganaki on fire, I’ve seen it done in Greece rarely, though it’s common in the US. I can’t explain the difference.

Spinach Saganaki (Σπανάκι Σαγανάκι)

Serves 4 as vegetable or 8 as part of appetizer spread (mezedes/μεζέδες)

Inspired by Βλητοκορφές Σαγανάκι at Tzitzikas and Mermigas/Τζίτζικας και Μέρμηγκας in Athens, Greece

Any wild or domesticated greens, alone or in combination, may be used for Saganaki. Because they cook fastest, it's easiest with greens like spinach, Swiss chard, domesticated dandelions, nettles, vlita (amaranth greens), or poppies. The recipe may be assembled hours in advance and refrigerated; bring to room temperature before baking.)

1/4 cup chopped fresh dill

1/4 cup chopped Italian parsley

3/4 cup chopped green onions, both white and green parts

3/4 cup diced fresh tomatoes, 3/4” dice

1/2 - 3/4 cup roughly crumbled feta cheese

3 -4 Tbsp. olive oil

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1/2 pound spinach, or any roughly chopped, cleaned greens (6 packed cups raw, 1 1/2 cups cooked)

Preheat the oven to 400°F.

Mix together all the ingredients except the spinach.

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil. Add the spinach and cook just until it wilts (NOTE: The length of cooking time depends on the greens used. Spinach is done after 10 seconds; tougher greens will take longer.) Drain the spinach, quickly squeeze out any excess liquid, and mix it with the other ingredients. (The recipe may be made ahead to this point.)

Put the greens mixture in a 9” glass pie pan or other shallow baking dish.  Bake for 10 minutes.  Serve immediately with crusty bread and olives.

Variation: Substitute Peppadew peppers, or roasted red peppers, for the tomatoes. I’ve done this when I’ve been out of tomatoes and it changes the dish entirely, but in a very delicious way.  With tomatoes, the flavor of the dish is lighter and fresher; with peppers the flavor is deeper and heartier.

Variation: Substitute wild sea lovage or purslane for the parsley. (I’ll write about wild sea lovage and purslane tomorrow or the next day.)

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This post is included in Weekend Herb Blogging hosted by Rachel from The Crispy Cook.

Recipe for Kale Puttanesca (Μακαρονάδα Πουτανέσκα με Κατσαρό Λάχανο)

Kale added to spicy puttanesca sauce makes a surprisingly delicious topping for chewy pasta. We recently enjoyed Kale Puttanesca for dinner and spent the whole meal alternating sounds of satisfaction with “this is really good” and “mmmmm -- I want this again.”

My recipe calls for more capers, garlic, and anchovies than are often used in puttanesca recipes; kale and chewy pasta balance the strong flavors.  Even so, Kale Puttanesca is best served to those, like us, who like assertively seasoned food.

To complement Kale Puttanesca sauce, I used Maccheroni al Ferratto, rustic artisanal pasta, originally from Calabria, that was traditionally shaped around iron umbrella spokes.

Lately, I’ve been comparing regular dried pasta from the supermarket with more expensive “artisanal” pastas found in specialty stores and upscale markets.  All dried pasta is made using extrusion dies, metal patterns that create unique pasta shapes.  However, the dies used to make regular and artisanal pastas differ: regular pasta is made using dies with a Teflon insert and artisanal pasta is made with bronze dies.

Regular pasta has a hard, slick finish, while artisan pasta is rough and uneven: “Traditional dies made entirely of bronze make the pasta surface rough [and more porous], which helps to capture the sauce, whereas the Teflon insert gives the product an even surface and a smoother texture,” according to food scientists. On the other hand, makers of Teflon-die pasta claim “the rougher surface [of bronze-die pasta] allows cooking water to penetrate too quickly, making for less-than-ideal quality.”

The two types of pasta also differ in how they’re dried. Regular pasta is dried in ovens “the size of a football field” for 2-4 hours over high heat.  Artisanal pasta is dried for 24 to 50-plus hours “in very warm (but never hot), humid environments in which moisture can be reduced slowly, without damaging the texture of the finished product.”

I prefer artisanal pasta with very simple pasta sauces, such as oil and garlic, where the texture of the pasta makes a significant difference. I also prefer artisanal pasta in dishes, like Kale Puttanesca, that call for thicker, chewier pastas.  For all other purposes (and when I don’t want to spend the money on artisanal pasta) I happily use regular dried pasta from the supermarket.

No matter what type of pasta you use, be sure to cook it al dente; soft, overdone pasta is the bane of even the best pasta sauce.

Kale Puttanesca  (Μακαρονάδα Πουτανέσκα με Κατσαρό Λάχανο)

Serves 4

Any sturdy green, wild or domesticated, can be substituted for kale. The amount of crushed red pepper depends on how spicy you like your food.

Sauce:

1 bunch kale

3 Tbsp. capers, preferably salt-cured

3 Tbsp. olive oil

2 Tbsp. minced garlic

10 anchovy fillets, minced

1/2-1 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes

2 14.5 ounce cans diced tomatoes, with juice

1/2 cup oil-cured black olives or throumbes, pitted and roughly chopped

Freshly ground black pepper

12-16 ounces Machheroni al Ferratto or other chewy-style pasta

Wash the kale to remove any dirt.  Strip the greens from the tough center kale stems. Shred the kale greens and discard the stems (or save them for another use).

Rinse the capers well. If using salt-cured capers, soak them in a bowl of cold water for at least 10 minutes.

Fill a large pot with enough water to cook the pasta, salt it well, and put on a burner over high heat.

Heat the olive oil until it's just warmed though, using a pan large enough to hold all the ingredients. (If oil is too hot, garlic will burn; it’s best to warm the oil over medium heat.) Stir in the garlic, anchovies, and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Stir in the tomatoes, olives, freshly ground black pepper, shredded kale, and drained capers. Bring to a boil, cover, turn down the heat, and simmer for 20-30 minutes, or until the kale is tender.

While the sauce is cooking, and when the salted water reaches a full boil, cook the pasta until it’s al dente (exact cooking time depends on the type of pasta).  Reserve 1 cup of pasta cooking water. Drain the pasta.

When the kale is tender, stir in the cooked pasta, making sure all of it is coated with sauce. Taste and add freshly ground black pepper, as needed. If the sauce is too thick for your taste, thin it with a little pasta cooking water. 

Serve immediately with plenty of crusty bread and a crisp green salad.
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This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, sponsored by Haalo and hosted this week by Winnie from Healthy Green Kitchen.

Garden Treasure with 4 Recipes for Arugula: with Eggs, in Salads, and in Pasta Sauce (4 Συνταγές για Ρόκα)

Arugula (also known as Roka, Roquette, and Rocket) wins my garden’s miracle plant of the year award.

We’ve grown arugula often over the years. We usually get a salad or two before it bolts; a common problem in Alaska. With our long days, nearly 20 hours of daylight at the solstice, many herbs and green vegetables go to seed prematurely.

Despite its tendency to bolt, we grow arugula because we enjoy its bite in salads. Last year, the arugula followed its typical pattern: two salads at the beginning of summer and it bolted. I assumed that was it. I was wrong.

This spring, after the snow melted, we noticed radicchio we’d harvested last year, but hadn’t pulled up, coming back. In the same bed, mystery plants were emerging; they had tiny green leaves growing around slender dead stalks.

We had no idea what they were (I guessed domesticated Italian dandelions we grew last year in the same bed), but let them grow so we could find out. As the plants grew larger, I realized last year’s arugula had wintered over.

I was initially confused, as I’d thought arugula was an annual (Eruca vesicaria subspecies sativa). Although I'd only grown annual arugula, it turns out “arugula,” actually refers to three separate plants: E. vesicaria ssp. sativa, Diplotaxis tenuifolia, and Diplotaxis muralis.

Last year we planted arugula seeds brought back from Greece. When I dug out the seed packet, I discovered it was Diplotaxis tenuifola, also known as wild arugula or Selvetica, an extremely cold hardy perennial (as plants must be to survive Alaskan winters). I’m thrilled to have stumbled upon it, and will give it a permanent place in my garden.

Most commonly I use arugula in mixed green salads, or on its own with blue cheese and best quality balsamic vinegar. This year the arugula was so prolific I branched out. Arugula, briefly sautéed with shallots, adds a nice bite to omelets and frittatas. Mixed with tomatoes and anchovies, it makes a delicious pasta sauce.

My mother, upon hearing of my arugula glut, recommended the wonderful Arugula and Tomato Salad from Carol Field’s In Nonna’s Kitchen: Recipes and Traditions from Italy’s Grandmothers. Mother was right; arugula goes really well with tomatoes.

Anchovies are the secret ingredient that makes both the salad and pasta sauce special. When minced and incorporated into other ingredients, anchovies add flavor without overwhelming the taste buds.

More Arugula Recipes:
Grilled Radicchio and Arugula Salad with Parmesan Shavings
Watermelon, Feta, and Arugula Salad

Arugula and Eggs
Serves 2 – 4

4 large eggs
1 cup diced shallots, 1/4” dice
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 Tbsp. olive oil
4 packed cups cleaned arugula
3/4 grated kasseri or fontina cheese
1/4 cup minced chives

Crack the eggs in a bowl, season lightly with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and whisk to combine.

Sauté the shallots, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in olive oil until they soften and start to turn golden. Add the arugula, in batches if necessary, and cook just until all the arugula has wilted.

Evenly distribute the arugula in the pan and pour the eggs over. Cover and turn the heat down to low. Keep checking the eggs and when they’re almost-but-not-quite set, sprinkle the cheese and minced chives over, cover, and cook until the cheese melts.

Sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper, cut into wedges, and serve.

Arugula and Tomato Salad
Serves 4
Adapted from In Nonna’s Kitchen: Recipes and Traditions from Italy’s Grandmothers by Carol Field (HarperCollins 1997)
Lightly salting the tomatoes helps bring out their flavor, but be careful not to overdo as anchovies can be quite salty. I made this with the smaller amount of anchovies, but we both thought it would benefit from more; next time I’ll use the larger amount. I originally made this with whole anchovies, as shown in the picture, but we prefer the salad when the anchovies are minced in the dressing. Either way, it's tasty.

8 medium tomatoes, sliced 1/2” thick
Salt
1/4 cup olive oil
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
Freshly ground black pepper
8 - 16 anchovy fillets (1 - 2 ounces)
2 cups thinly cut shreds of arugula

Divide the tomato slices between 4 salad plates and salt lightly. Whisk the olive oil into the red wine vinegar and season with freshly ground black pepper. Mince the anchovy fillets and mix them into the dressing. Taste and add freshly ground black pepper or salt as needed. Toss the dressing and arugula (there may be leftover dressing), and mound on the tomatoes. Serve immediately.

Arugula, Blue Cheese, and Balsamic Salad
Serves 4
I never tire of this tasty salad. Because there are so few ingredients, it’s important to use best quality balsamic vinegar.

4 packed cups arugula
1/2 cup thinly sliced red onion
1/4 crumbled Roquefort or other blue cheese
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp. best quality balsamic vinegar
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Wash and dry the arugula and tear large leaves into pieces. Add the arugula, red onion, and half the blue cheese to a salad bowl. Whisk together the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, and freshly ground black pepper. Toss the dressing with the salad ingredients. Taste and add more balsamic vinegar, if needed. Sprinkle with the remaining blue cheese, grate freshly ground black pepper over the salad, and serve.

Arugula, Anchovy, and Tomato Sauce with Orecchiette
Serves 4
This recipe calls for a large quantity of arugula, which I measured after it had been cleaned and roughly chopped. If you don’t have arugula, dandelions or other wild greens are the best substitute; the dish may also be made with radicchio, Swiss chard or spinach. Toast the pine nuts in a 350°F oven or dry frying pan. In either case, pine nuts burn easily and must be watched carefully as they cook. Onions cook more evenly when lightly salted before sautéing, however, anchovies are salty so be sure not to over-salt the onions.

1/2 pound dried orecchiette or any other pasta
2 cups diced onion, 1/2” dice
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
16 anchovy fillets (2 ounces)
1 Tbsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. Aleppo pepper or 1/2 tsp. red pepper flakes
1/2 pound cleaned and roughly chopped arugula or other strong-flavored greens
2 cups diced fresh tomato, 3/4” dice
1/3 cup water
1 cup chopped green onions
3/4 - 1 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
1/4 cup toasted pine nuts

Cook the pasta in boiling, salted water and cook until it is al dente. Drain the pasta and toss with a little olive oil.

Sauté the onions, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in olive oil until they soften and start to turn golden. Add the anchovies, garlic, and Aleppo pepper and cook for one minute. Stir in the arugula, tomatoes, and water, and cook for 3 minutes. Add the cooked pasta and green onions, and cook just until the pasta is warmed through. Toss with 1/2 cup cheese and half the pine nuts. Sprinkle with the remaining cheese and pine nuts and serve immediately.
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This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, hosted this week by Kelly from Sounding My Barbaric Gulp.