Chickpea Salad for Maria – Insalata di Ceci Maria

With my daughter Maria and her family coming over this evening for a Mediterranean dinner, I had to come up with one more dish to complement the others I had. Those other dishes included marinated roasted chicken kebabs, of Turkish origin, Ratatouille, the Provençal medley of summer vegetables, and rice. Still having fresh herbs in my garden, I opened a can of chickpeas and highlighted them, salad style, with olive oil, wine vinegar, fresh parsley and basil, black olives, tomato, garlic and sea salt.

Bowl by Maria Dondero, Southern Star Studio

All of those ingredients are common in Italy, where Maria often teaches ceramics both through the University of Georgia art program in Cortona, in Tuscany, and as part of a women’s cooperative clay studio in the same city. Chickpeas as a major food item go back to at least Etruscan times in central Italy, well before the Romans took over. Chickpea salads are made in various parts of the Mediterranean, including Italy. So this convenient, easy to make, dish seemed to fit geographically and historically, as well as culinarily, into what I needed to balance tonight’s meal. I’ll serve it from a ceramic bowl Maria made.

The recipe serves four to six as a side dish.

1 (14-ounce) can chickpeas, drained and rinsed twice

1 small tomato, cored and cut in narrow wedges

12 pitted black olives (such as Kalamata), halved crosswise

1 medium large clove garlic, finely minced

3 sprigs fresh parsley, leaves coarsely chopped

8 medium-large leaves fresh basil, coarsely chopped (or 1/2 tsp dry oregano)

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons wine vinegar, white or red

1/2 teaspoon sea salt, plus more to taste

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

In a mixing bowl, combine the chickpeas with the remaining ingredients. Stir well. Allow the mixture to sit for at least half an hour, mixing it occasionally. Taste and add salt and/or a little more vinegar to your taste.

Serve in a shallow bowl.

Deviled Ham Spread

I fondly remember Underwood Deviled Ham from my childhood, from the small round can with the iconic perky little red devil on the label. It’s still available, but the Underwood Company, founded as an innovative food canning company by William Underwood in Boston in 1822, was bought by a series of other big food companies beginning in 1982. Underwood’s Deviled Ham was created in 1868 as a mixture of ground ham, mustard powder, and various other spices. The culinary term “deviled” typically connotes seasoned with mustard, hot and black pepper.

I’ve made my own deviled ham spread occasionally as a buffet appetizer, but most recently at a family gathering where my daughter Anna and I prepared a number of spreadable salads – chicken, tuna, egg, as well as deviled ham – for a luncheon served with artisanal breads and crackers. It reminded me of how easy this version of deviled ham is to make from ingredients available at the supermarket.

Here’s my recipe. It will serve six to eight or more people as part of a buffet meal, or can be made into sandwiches with or without lettuce. The recipe is easily multiplied to serve more people at a gathering. The spread should be made ahead, maybe the day before serving, and allowed to mellow and blend its flavors.

1/2 pound smoked ham  thinly sliced at the deli counter

4 teaspoons Dijon or spicy brown mustard (not yellow hot dog style)

3 teaspoons mayonnaise

1/4 teaspoon vinegar

1/4 teaspoon sugar

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

1/8 teaspoon cayenne

Finely mince the sliced ham, either on a cutting board with a chef’s knife or in a food processor (keep it a little coarse, not turned into a paste).

Combine the minced ham with the remaining ingredients in a bowl, mixing well. Cover and store the mixture in the refrigerator for a few hours, or preferably overnight. Mix well before serving in a shallow bowl.

Serve with interesting bread or low-salt crackers.

Basil-braised Baby Potatoes

I was sort of aware of baby golden potatoes, but hadn’t really cooked with them. That is, until one of our daughters this summer gave us half bag of them, along with other perishable loose ends, to use up as she and her family headed off on vacation. Now I’m trying to figure which preparation with them is my favorite.

While Italian-type basil still flourishes in my garden, braised baby potatoes with basil is my new go-to easy side dish. It nicely accompanies grilled meat or salmon and doesn’t need any gravy or sauce. Maybe in winter some other version will emerge, since these potatoes are so simple to prepare and so delightful.

The recipe serves 4-6 as part of a dinner meal. The potatoes can be cooked fresh before dinner or prepared ahead and quickly re-fried to serve.

3/4 pound (12 ounces) baby golden potatoes

1 small shallot or 1/4 of an onion

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons water

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Small pinch nutmeg

Small pinch cayenne

10 medium-sized fresh basil leaves, sliced

Rinse but do not peel potatoes, rubbing the outsides well. Cut potatoes into halves then each halt across into half. Peel and finely chop the shallot or onion. Have the other ingredients ready.

Heat to medium hot a heavy frying pan or sauce pan that has a lid. Add the olive oil and potatoes. Stirring very frequently and scraping the bottom of the pan with metal spatula, fry for 2 minutes.

Add water, shallot or onion, salt, spices and sliced basil leaves. Stir then fry 2 minutes, covered, then stir and scrape again. Cover and fry another 2 minutes. Continue the alternating frying and stirring until the potato is tender when tested with a toothpick. If potatoes are drying add a tablespoon of water as needed. Taste and if needed add a little salt.

Keep warm if to be eaten soon, or cool, refrigerate, then re-fry to heat for serving.

Gourmet (“Best Damn”) Sloppy Joes, to Feed a Crowd on the Cheap

With prices on beef rapidly rising, maybe it’s time to crank back out the casual dish that used to feed a lot of people for limited money. Its a fun dish I always liked, whether at the high school cafeteria or at home feeding a crowd.

“Sloppy Joes” emerged, obscurely, from Depression-era America as a way to season and stretch ground beef. It’s a sort of cheeseburger with all the fixings thrown together while cooking. Spooned onto a bun, the savory mixture is irregular and can drip a little as you eat it. Thus, I guess, the “sloppy.”

Decades ago, when my wife graduated from college and we had little money, Christina’s rich relation, the substantial Aunt Babby, came to the graduation and to our celebratory picnic after it. I served Sloppy Joes. Having grown up with Old Money in New York City, fed sumptuously by family servants and at classy restaurants, Babby announced gamely, “Well, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a Sloppy Joe before!” Returning vigorously for seconds, she declared, “Well, that’s the best damn Sloppy Joe I ever ate!”

Sloppy Joes combine hamburger (or ground turkey nowadays) with onions, ketchup, mustard, cheese and seasonings. I stretch it even further with bulgar wheat. They’re are served on hamburger buns or Kaiser rolls. Pickles, coleslaw or salad accompany the dish well. Sloppy Joes cry out for beer, especially at a picnic or tailgaiting. But hearty, not too pricey, red wines also do fine.

The recipe serves 6 people. Leftovers keep and reheat well.

1/3 cup bulgur wheat (available at whole food and health food stores)

1 pound ground beef (80 % lean or more) or ground turkey

1 large onion, finely chopped

1 small or 1/2 large carrot, grated

1 large bay leaf

1 medium-large clove garlic, minced or put through garlic press

5 teaspoons chili powder

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon oregano

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

1 tablespoon tomato paste or 2 tablespoons ketchup

1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

1 1/4 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

5 teaspoons sugar

7 teaspoons cider vinegar

3 ounces cheddar cheese, cut in small cubes or grated

Soak the bulgur wheat in about 3 cups of hot water for 30 minutes. Drain in a sieve. Meanwhile, fry the meat in a heavy, non corrosive pot, breaking up the meat and stirring frequently. When the juices start to dry down, set the pot off the heat, make a cavity in the meat, and spoon out and discard the majority of grease. Return the meat to the heat and add the chopped onions. Stir frequently, cook until the onions are translucent. Add the grated carrot, bay leaf, and garlic. Cook over medium heat, covered, stirring from time to time, until the carrot bits are tender. Lower the heat, add the dry seasonings, and cook, stirring, for a minute. Add the tomato paste (or ketchup) and mustard. Simmer, stirring occasionally, for several minutes. Add the drained bulgur, and cook, stirring occasionally (the bulgur makes the mixture stick to the bottom a little), for 5-10 minutes, until the bulgur is tender when you bite it. Do not add water unless the mixture is very dry. Stir in the salt toward the end of this cooking. 

Add the sugar and vinegar, and let simmer, stirring occasionally, for several minutes. Taste and add salt if needed. Stir in the cheese, and heat, stirring frequently, until the cheese is melted and no longer is stringy. Remove the bay leaf. Taste a final time and add salt if necessary. You can also add a little sugar or vinegar, to taste.

It’s best to make the Sloppy Joes a few hours or up to several days ahead of time, refrigerate, then reheat to serve. Check the salt before serving.

Serve on Kaiser rolls or burger buns, A little grated cheese can be served on top of the mixture, if desired. Accompany by coleslaw (or salad) and/or pickles.

Chopped Pork braised with Peaches, for Georgia

Prices are getting higher as we appear headed into inflation at the grocery store. It’s feeling once again like the recession we experienced in the early 2000s. That’s when I started my first recipe blog. I named it “Gourmetfauche,” which is French slang for the broke, or impoverished, gourmet. In it I used virtually no nice cuts of beef or lamb and no shrimp or salmon, except around St. Patrick’s Day (despite my Italian surname, I’m mostly Irish). There was plenty of ground meat and chicken thigh.

Right now I’m feeling like I did back then. And I created an inexpensive dinner dish with my adopted home state of Georgia in mind: braised chopped pork with peaches. It goes well with seasoned (“dinner”) grits and a green vegetable. It’s a little reminiscent of “Breakfast for Dinner,” since the pork is flavored like breakfast sausage.

I initially tried a barbecue-flavored pork with the peaches, but without the long moist smoking it wasn’t very successful or convincing with the chopped pork. So I switched the seasonings to resemble breakfast sausage. With grits, such as dinner grits (described elsewhere in this blog, July 30, 2023) or simply white breakfast grits, and a green vegetable, it makes an economical but tasty evening dinner. And it suggests, if not celebrates, Georgia.

The recipe serves four to six people. Accompany with seasoned grits plus a green vegetable. Salad would also accompany it well.

1 pound ground pork, not too fatty

1 large peach, peeled and stoned, finely chopped

1/4 small onion or a small shallot, finely chopped

1 hot pepper, finely chopped or 3/4 teaspoon crushed dry pepper

1 teaspoon paprika

3/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon dry thyme

1/2 teaspoon dry marjoram or savory

1 teaspoon salt

Parsley for garnish, minced or in small pieces

In a heavy pan, place pork, peach, onion or shallot, and all seasonings except salt. Heat and stir very frequently until the pork’s color fully changes. Add salt, and cook over low heat for 15 minutes or until tender. If the meat dries, add a little water. Taste and add salt if needed.

The dish can be served now, or refrigerated and reheated (microwave or stove top). Either sprinkle with minced parsley or place a few small pieces of parsley on top. Accompany with grits (fancier dinner grits or simpler breakfast grits) plus a green vegetable.

Figs with Prosciutto – Prosciutto e Fichi

At peak season right now in northeast Georgia, figs are luscious. We have two very productive trees at the restaurant. Most of the harvest (that survives eating right off the tree) is destined for fig chutney, which stores well and is used in some of our baked goods and appetizers. But for several weeks fresh figs lend themselves to a special treat from northeastern Italy, served cut into halves (quarters if larger than ours) and topped with a small curl of dry-cured Italian Prosciutto ham. 

Figs are one of the earliest fruits domesticated by humans, dating back about 6500 years in the Near East. Prosciutto is pretty ancient too, dating back to at least early Roman times, with several written descriptions from that era. The city of Parma was noted in 200 BC to be a center of the production. Prosciutto di Parma, is still one of the most valued of the dry-cured hams from Italy.

Making prosciutto is simple in concept, though complex in practice. Hind legs from specially reared pigs are skinned and deboned then cured in salt for one to two months to extract all liquid and to prevent spoilage or harmful organisms. The hams are then rinsed off and hung to dry for many months, up to three years..

Prosciutto is typically sliced and sold paper-thin. It’s fairly expensive, given the long curing process. But it is used in small quantities as charcuterie and to highlight pasta dishes, fresh mozzarella and other cheeses, and fruits like melon, peaches and figs.

Other than finding fresh tasty figs, and the sometimes painful price on prosciutto, making Prosciutto e Fichi is simple. The dish serves as a starter course or an antipasto.

For each person:

4-5 small figs or 2-3 larger ones

1 thin slice prosciutto

Cut stems off figs. If using smaller figs, split them in half lengthwise. For larger ones cut them lengthwise into quarters. Lay them out on an attractive plate or platter.

Cut 1 slice of prosciutto per person crosswise into the number of pieces needed to cover the fig pieces for 1 person. Either drape a piece of prosciutto over fig piece, or roll or fold the prosciutto piece and place on top of the piece of fig, whichever method looks better for the figs used.

Allow to sit at least ten minutes for flavors to blend a little. Serve at room temperature.

French Cucumber Salad with Sour Cream and Dill

I first had this dish many years ago in Lyons, France. It was prepared by an excellent cook who was also a medical researcher I was visiting. The salad was the cooling starter course for dinner on a warm summer evening. It’s easy to make, particularly if you use a vegetable slicer for slicing the cucumber. Although the salad was originally finished with crème fraiche (French cultured heavy cream), American sour cream or plain Greek-style yogurt do almost as well.

The recipe serves six as an appetizer course or side dish for dinner.

2 large regular cucumbers or one long (plastic sleeved) cucumber

8 ice cubes

1/2 teaspoon salt for preparing cucumber plus 3/4 teaspoon for seasoning the salad

1 small shallot or 1 large scallion (green onion)

1 tablespoon white vinegar (wine or distilled)

1 teaspoon sugar

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

2 tablespoons freshly minced dill (reserving 1 teaspoon of it for garnish)

1/4 cup crème fraiche, sour cream, or Greek yogurt

Peel cucumbers thinly, leaving some green color. Quarter them lengthwise. If the seeds are large, cut off and discard seed section. Slice cucumbers very thinly (a vegetable slicer makes this easier). 20 minutes before serving time, mix sliced cucumbers with ice cubes, enough water to reach the surface of the cucumbers, plus 1/2 teaspoon salt. Mix together gently and allow the mixture to sit for 5 minutes. Drain well.

Slice shallot or scallion (green part also) very thinly and add to the cucumber. Add vinegar, sugar, pepper, most of the dill, and 3/4 teaspoon salt. Stir well. Allow to sit at least 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste for salt and add a little if necessary.

Just before serving, drain away the juices. Add crème fraiche, sour cream or yogurt and mix in well. Taste and adjust salt, if necessary. Spoon into a shallow, attractive dish and dust with the reserved dill.