Amicable Alimentations: Garden-fresh Sauteed Broccoli Rabe

The Rabe: Highly Bolted.

Amicable Alimentations: A series of posts with no predictable order or timing dedicated to a delicious food and the friend who most reminds me of it or inspired me to love it.  Here's the link to post number one, number two, number three, and this, of course, is post number four in the series.

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We are getting ready to head NE for Matt's brother's wedding, and so I find myself nostalgic for many things I associate with Matt's family and New England summers: verdent forests, running on Dunkin' for a week straight, family time on the boat, early nights slurping oysters and clams at the local raw bar, and late-night drives on the causeway.  I've been a part of Matt's life in Connecticut for the better part of 10 years now, and I have a lot of fondness for his hometown and his family's traditions.

One of the first times I met Matt's family, we ate what I didn't realize was a staple of their diet: sauteed broccoli rabe.  A self-professed lover of broccoli, I was dumbfounded that I'd never even heard of it.  (Italian thing, for the record.)  Anyway, they told a story about some lady who used to say "I never liked broccoli rabe until I met the Ciardiellos."   Well, that lady is me now.  And this post is dedicated to Matt's family for having introduced me to what is now one of my favorite veggies.  (Which, also for the record, is a lot to say.)

The years in London were like a metaphorical culinary desert, for many reasons.  I never saw much in terms of unique or local "greens" in the grocery stores, despite, ironically, the English countryside being covered in fields of broccoli rabe, its yellow flowers in bloom, harvested for rapeseed oil only.  There is no culture of eating greens in the UK - not like in Italy and Greece.  Anyway, I was very pleased when we moved to Portland and discovered that every local grocery store carried broccoli rabe.  In withdrawal, we feasted for months, and, temporarily, the beast was sated.   Now, in Colorado, we're back to the famine: no broccoli rabe to be found!  I saw it once at King Soopers for a few days and then it was gone, never to be seen again.

lovely, bitter, and leafy

When spring hit, I resolved to grow my own, knowing nothing about how or when to do so.  The only picture I had in my head was that of a little garden in South England where Matt's great uncle had grown his own as well.  I figured if he could do it so could I.  One purchase of heirloom broccoli rabe seeds later, I was on my way.  These are the results.  a few precious stalks (and admittedly I waited too long to cut a few and they bolted and got a little woody, but I ate them anyway :)) sauteed in olive oil with fresh garlic and crushed red pepper.   Pretty close to a perfect summer lunch, in my book.

I was proud of the small but beautiful little crop I reaped.  And I'll be trying my hand at growing some more in the next few weeks as the climate here in Denver starts to cool.

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Sauteed Broccoli Rabe with Garlic

Serves 4, as a side-dish

 

Broccoli Rabe is a bitter green that grows best in cooler temps and partial shade.  It's not the best crop for hot Denver summers but might be good for Denver Springs and early Falls. :)

Ingredients
1 lb broccoli rabe, washed
2-3 cloves garlic, lightly crushed or sliced
crushed red pepper (pepperoncino)
olive oil
salt & pepper

Method

1. Bring salted water to boil.  Add the broccoli rabe and cook for about 5 minutes (this step tones down the extreme natural bitterness), until tender and bright green.  Drain and shock in an ice bath or by pouring cold water over the colander until the broccoli is cooled and has stopped cooking.

2. In a sautee pan, add 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil and heat on medium high.  Add the garlic and crushed red pepper (to taste and optional).  Swirl the oil around so it gets flavored by the garlic and pepper flakes.  Do not allow the garlic to burn.   

3. Add the broccoli rabe to the hot pan and toss to coat in the olive oil, adding more oil if necessary.  Sautee for a few minutes, then salt and pepper.

Serve with a wedge of lemon.  Can be eaten hot or at room temperature.

Colorado Beauties: Summer Peach Pie with Vanilla & Cardamom

Summer Peach Pie - Oh my.

I started to write this post almost exactly a year ago.  A colleague of Matt's from London happens to own a house in the amazingly beautiful mountains of Western Colorado - in  Telluride to be exact - and he invited us for a weekend trip at the last minute.  Despite the long drive (6-7 hours), and the fact that we hadn't even finished unpacking our house completely, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see friends again and to also explore the other side of this beautiful Rocky Mountain state we had just moved to a month before.

I racked my brain for what I could bring with us as a gift to the hosts.  My eyes and hands had been wandering to the piles of Colorado peaches available at this time of year in the grocery stores, and so when I found a recipe for summer peach pie out of Bon Appetit - something I'd never tried - I was sold on the idea.  Luckily, I happened to also know that these particular friends of ours are as big of fans of dessert and pies as we are.  The recipe I found included cardamom which I felt was a nice shout-out to the Middle Eastern experiences we had all shared while Matt and co. worked at a Bahrain-based bank in London.  Perfect.

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View for the weekend.

The drive through Colorado was a sort of unexpected initiation into life in "the west": plains, mountains, forests, rivers and streams.  We saw much of the best of what Colorado has to offer in terms of scenery and ambiance, and felt ourselves thinking - hoping - that maybe, just maybe, this really could be our forever home.  Not just out of convenience and circumstance, but because we could see ourselves truly falling in love with it.

We wound our way up mountain roads, following the slightly-less-than-precise directions ("take a left at the third cattle crossing and then drive for a mile until you see the small wind turbine...") and getting lost in beautiful, verdent and whispery Aspen groves.  We passed an abandoned ranch where John Wayne's True Grit was filmed back in the day, listening to John Denver and snapping pictures of all the seemingly untouched, natural beauty.

The peach pie was a hit; and it turns out our friend is particularly fond of both peach pie and cardamom (which was quite a good thing, the latter being, admittedly, quite an acquired taste for Americans). 

Here's the recipe.  Take advantage of those August peaches.  They are a fleeting pleasure, but the sweetness does stay with you the rest of the year - much like that trip last summer has stayed with us.

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Summer Peach Pie with Vanilla & Cardamom

From Bon Appetit; found at Epicurious.com
Serves 6-8

Colorado Peaches

Ingredients 

2/3 cup plus 2 teaspoons sugar
1/2 vanilla bean, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
3 tablespoons unbleached all purpose flour
1/3-1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
3 3/4 pounds firm but ripe unpeeled peaches, halved, pitted, each half cut into 4 slices (about 10 cups)
2 Best-Ever Pie Crust dough disks
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Whipping cream (for glaze)
Vanilla ice cream (optional; to serve with it)

Method

Position rack in bottom third of oven and preheat to 400°F. 

Combine 2/3 cup sugar and vanilla bean in processor; blend until vanilla bean is very finely minced. Sift vanilla sugar through strainer into large bowl; discard any large bits in strainer. Mix flour and cardamom into vanilla sugar. Add peaches to flour-sugar mixture and toss gently to coat.

Roll out 1 pie crust disk on floured surface to 12-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Trim dough overhang to 1/2 inch. Spoon peach mixture into crust; dot with butter. Roll out second pie crust disk on lightly floured surface to 12-inch round. Drape dough over peach filling; trim overhang to 1 1/2 inches. Fold top and bottom edges under, pressing together to seal. Crimp edges decoratively. Using small sharp knife, cut 2-inch-long X in center of top crust to allow steam to escape. Brush crust lightly with whipping cream; sprinkle with remaining 2 teaspoons sugar.

Place pie on rimmed baking sheet. Bake until crust is golden, peaches are tender, and juices bubble thickly through cut in top crust, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Transfer pie to rack and cool until lukewarm, about 2 hours.

Serve pie warm or at room temperature with vanilla ice cream.