raw lasagna stacks

About three years ago, I became intrigued by the raw food movement when I found Raw Food Real World, the companion cookbook to the Gramercy Park restaurant here in New York, Pure Food and Wine. In addition to being a manifesto on how to live raw, the book was also the culinary love story of the restaurant's proprietors and former lovers, Sarma Melngailis and Matthew Kenney. Much like the ephemerality of the raw food movement (which retained popularity for about a year or two, due in large part to Sex and the City), Sarma and Matthew's romance came to a violent and turbulent end, leaving Sarma with the restaurant and a raw food empire to manage on her own.

The recipes in the cookbook are extremely complicated and expensive, but the one to which I have remained faithful is the recipe for Raw Lasagna. There is nothing as delicious as a slice of this raw lasagna on a hot summer evening with a glass of cold, mineral, white wine. Last night I found my roommate's copy of Raw Food Real World, which inspired me to re-create a fast, easy version of Pure Food and Wine's raw lasagna, which I will call a "Raw Lasagna Stack". For the original recipe, take a look at the cookbook, or better yet, go to the restaurant (or takeaway bar around the corner).

What makes this recipe so delicious is the pesto. There are two pestos in my recipe, based off of RFRW's pestos. The basil pesto is a traditional pesto, and the sundried tomato pesto-caponata is simply divine. The pestos are extremely versatile, which make the extra expense for specialty ingredients worth every penny. Be sure to make lots of both pestos and eat them with anything, even just a spoon.


RAW LASAGNA STACKS

Serves 2 as an appetizer or main course

1 large beefsteak (or heirloom) tomato
1 yellow pepper
1 green zucchini

For the Sundried Tomato Pesto-Caponata:

2 cups Sundried Tomatoes
3/4 cup Fresh tomato
1/2 cup Olive Oil
Juice of 1 small Lemon
1 Tbsp Honey or Agave Syrup*
Salt and Pepper

For the Basil Pesto:

1 cup packed fresh Basil, rinsed and dried
1/4 cup pignoli (pine) nuts*
1/2 cup Olive Oil
Splash of White Wine
Salt and Pepper

*Walnuts can work too if you prefer a creamier pesto


Sundried Tomato Pesto-Caponata: Bring three cups of water to a boil. Place sundried tomatoes in large bowl, pour water over, and let soak while you prepare the other components of the meal, about 20-30mins. Combine all ingredients in a small food processor until mixture is chunky, adding additional oil or lemon juice as necessary.

Basil Pesto: Combine all ingredients in a small food processor until smooth. Add additional oil as necessary for desired consistency.

Cut tomato in 1/2cm- 1cm slices horizontally across the tomato to create large, round pieces. Set aside. Cut large, thin "shavings" from the pepper, from top to bottom. Try to make shavings as flat as possible. Set aside. Cut the zucchini on the bias (on an angle) to make thin, oval slices that are about the same length as the tomato circumference. Set aside.

To assemble layers, place one tomato slice on a plate, spread pesto on top. Arrange zucchini in a layer on top of pesto. Spread a layer of sundried tomato pesto-caponota. Arrange pepper in a layer on top of sundried tomatoes, and spread a layer of pesto. Repeat, keeping or changing order as desired.

Serve with unorthodox, un-raw shavings of parmesan cheese, as well as basil leaves for garnish. Stacks can be kept overnight or for a few days in refrigerator. Enjoy all summer long.

fava bean salad with mesculin greens

I have a particular aversion to leftovers. After putting so much effort and love into the original dish, I feel as though there is no way that leftovers can compete with taste memory. I'd rather let leftovers wilt into a nutrition-less mess in the trash can than re-heat and re-eat.

But honestly -- can I really afford to throw out food? No. Moreover, I feel ethically responsible to eat all of the food I purchase, not only for economic reasons, but for environmental reasons as well. After reading an article in New York Magazine about subsistence farming in Brooklyn, I became extremely conscious of the incredible amount of effort and resources it takes to grow, say, one pod of fava beans. Throwing away food is more of a waste than you may realize.

So to discard leftovers is, for me, a truly ethical dilemma. On one hand, I loathe the idea of eating food that has lost its nutritional value and taste from both the elapse of time and re-heating. Yet on the other hand, I lack the peace of conscience to throw away perfectly good food. The solution? One can begin by making smaller quantities from the outset. Otherwise, you can follow Darren Darlin's advice on saving money and make enough of a meal to take as a brown-bag lunch the next day. Not only will your conscience feel great about saving money and the future of food, but you will also become the envy of the office.

The trick is that you need to refresh your leftovers with new ingredients. Here's a simple example of how to do turn last night's side dish into this afternoon's lunch.


FAVA BEAN SALAD WITH MESCULIN GREENS

Serves one very happy employee

Leftover Fava Bean Salad
Half a dozen fresh grape tomatoes, cut in half
Fresh parsley leaves

Mesculin greens

Feta cheese, optional


Re-using the storage container in which you have refrigerated your fava bean salad, toss in grape tomatoes and some more fresh parsley leaves to the leftovers. Re-seal container and plop in your lunch box.

In a separate container large enough to serve the salad bowl from which you will eat, add a handful of mesculin greens. Seal container and add to lunch box.

Cut off a portion of feta cheese, and put it in yet another container or plastic bag to go in the lunch box.

At the office, remove containers. Top mesculin greens with leftover refreshed fava bean salad. Crumble feta cheese on top. Bring to conference room, kitchen, or your cubicle. Revel in your co-workers' compliments -- and don't forget to tell them about that it came from the gourmet dinner you had last night.

poor man's rice and beans fit for a raj

There's a place on Lafayette Street called La Conquita that serves up the cheapest food that money can buy: rice and beans. There's always a line around the block and into the door of this little shack where, for just $4, you can get a heaping pile of white rice or yellow rice with black beans or red beans garnished with sweet fried plantains and vineagared onions. And if that isn't enough to feed you for the next three days, for $2 more you can top it off with roast pork, barbeque chicken or goat stew.

Rice and beans is widely considered the perennial poor man's food. Rice is cheap, beans are cheap, and you can make them in large enough quantities to provide sustenance and complete protein nutrition for lots of people. It is, next to ramen noodles, the standard meal for those trying to make ends meet. What better what to kick off this blog than with a recipe for my version of rice and beans?

With a little bit of spice from the spice rack and some fudging on the traditional ingredients, I turned rice and beans into a nouveau-Indian gourmet meal. The basic ingredients are very inexpensive; the only things that will cost you are the spices and the wine. A good spice rack, however, is an essential investment for any kitchen, and if you have old wine left in your fridge, it's good enough to use here.


POOR MAN'S RICE AND BEANS FIT FOR A RAJ:
INDIAN CHICK PEAS AND COUSCOUS WITH WINE-SOAKED RAISINS

Serves 2 as a main course, 4 as a an appetizer


For the "Beans":

1/4 cup Spanish or Vidalia Onion, chopped
2 cloves Garlic, crushed
1/4 cup Tomato, chopped
1/2 tsp Cumin
1/2 tsp Curry
1/4 tsp Garam Masala
2 medium Bay Leaves
1/4 tsp Red Chili Powder (optional)
1 can Chick Peas
1/2 cup Water
1/2 cup Chicken Stock
Splash of leftover Wine, red or white
Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper, to taste


For the "rice":

1/4 Raisins or Currants
1/8 cup leftover Wine
1/2 cup Chicken Stock
1/2 cup Water
1 cup Cous Cous
Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper, to taste

One handful of Arugula per plate


*Cook's Note: Anytime you cook with beans from a can, you must rinse them well in a colander under fresh, running water. You will notice that bubbles will appear; rinse until bubbles are gone. These bubbles are the gas bubbles in the beans that -- if not rinsed out -- become gas bubbles in your body.


Heat a small pot. Add olive oil at room temperature on medium heat. Add onions, and cook until just transparent. Add crushed garlic and tomatoes, sauté until tomatoes are soft. Add spices and stir. Add chick peas and mix to coat in oil and spices. When chick peas start to sizzle, add a splash of wine. Once wine has let off its liquor, about a minute, add water and chicken stock. Cover partially with a lid and turn down to a simmer. Add salt and pepper to taste. Stir occasionally until chick peas reach desired softness, with enough liquid remaining to constitute a sauce. Additional stock and water may need to be added throughout the simmering process.

In another pot, heat a small swirl of olive oil on high heat. Add raisins and cook about thirty seconds to one minute, until raisins start to lose their wrinkle. Add wine, turn heat down to low, and reduce to allow wine to become absorbed into the now bloated raisins. Once the wine has evaporated completely, add water and chicken stock. Bring liquid to a boil, add couscous and stir. Turn down heat to low and allow couscous to absorb liquid, fluffing occasionally with a fork, about one minute. Turn off heat, fluff couscous, and allow it to absorb remaining liquid. Add salt and pepper to taste.

To arrange on a plate, take a serving of couscous (about 1/2 to 1 cup) and pack tightly into a measuring cup or a similarly round, flat-bottomed vessel. Quickly turn over cup onto a plate, and tap the bottom to release a molded mound of couscous. Arrange a small handful of arugula in a bunch on top of the couscous. Delicately spoon a helping of chick peas on top, dressing with a spoonful of sauce from pot on top and around the dish. Garnish with mint, if desired.