Tag Archives: easy

Baba Ghanoush

I love pretty much all of Ree’s recipes, and this one is no exception. Add to that the fact that it’s both vegan and (when served with corn chips) gluten free, and it’s also a great appetizer to keep in mind for anyone with dietary restrictions. Of course, all of that means nothing unless it’s delicious.

And this is delicious.

Ingredients

(Serves 6-8)

3 medium eggplants
4 TBS tahini
4 cloves garlic, finely minced
1/4 cup lemon juice
3 TBS good quality olive oil
1/3 cup parsley, minced
Salt, to taste
Chips, crackers or bread, to serve

Prick each eggplant with a fork until the surface is covered with holes.

‘Bout like so.

Place the eggplants under a broiler (or on a grill) and cook for 30-40 minutes, until blackened, turning occasionally.

Ree says that when you think they’re blacked enough, blacken them some more.

I trust Ree. After drinking her wine and bathing in her bathtub, I kind of have no choice.

Once the eggplants are very schmooshy, let them cool. When they’re cool enough to handle, scoop the eggplant flesh into a bowl with a spoon, discarding the skins.

This part is gross and messy. The term ‘eviscerating’ comes to mind, and you will strongly consider becoming a vegetarian.

Oh wait–this is a vegetable.

Discard the skins . . . and discard your memories of handling those slimy innards too, while you’re at it.

It’s going to be delicious once it’s all over–I promise.

Using a fork, mash the eggplant.

If you think the texture is going to wig you out, you can give it a few pulses in a food processor for a smoother consistency. Personally, I like a little texture in my dip.

Whack the cloves of garlic and remove the skins.

Then, mince it or squeeze it directly into the eggplant with your handy-dandy garlique press.

Measure out that delectable, nutty tahini (essentially a sesame seed puree) . . .

. . . and add that into the eggplant.

Squeeze in the lemon juice . . .

. . . drizzle in the olive oil . . .

 . . . give the parsley a quick wash-and-chop . . .

. . . and add that in, too.

Stir in a good amount of salt, tasting as you go so that it’s perfectly seasoned (you don’t want to undersalt this!).

Mix ‘er all up, and serve with chips, pita bread, a baguette, crackers, or whatever bread-type product strikes your palate’s fancy that day.

Mmm. Let’s load up a chip, shall we?

If you must know, I feasted on this while watching ‘My So-Called Life,’ which by the way is an amazing series and I can’t believe it only ran for one season!

My husband was out of town, and the dose of Baba Ghanoush + Claire Danes hit exactly the right spot. I mean, if I have to be lonely and comfort myself with Netflix instant play, I can think of no better accompaniment than a bowl of dip . . . followed by a bowl of mush . . . followed by a bowl of popcorn. Bowls, bowls, bowls.

I know. It’s so cliché to comfort oneself with food. But this is a pretty healthy way to do it. And see how creamy it is?

This is one of those appetizers that’s there one minute . . . *chomp!*

. . . and gone the next.

So fresh. So garlicky. I sweated garlic for the next 2 days.

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Divine Red Wine Poached Pears

Doesn’t the phrase ‘poached pears’ sound so elegant? To me, it sounds like a dessert that might be served at a fancy party . . . in England. Definitely in England. There would be a table with cut crystal on it, freshly polished sterling silver flatware, wallpaper covered in roses on the wall, and a gracefully aging hostess with a ramrod straight back, who would say “Would you care for a poached pear, my dear?”

“Why yes, I believe I do,” I would assure her, tucking a curl behind one of my ears. Yes, in this vision my hair is a shining waterfall of curls, pinned up in loose poofs, with clusters of perfect corkscrews around my ears and above my alabaster brow.

But back to reality (with my brown hair which won’t hold a curl to save its life and my non-alabaster, quite freckled brow). I do have good news for all of us: besides being delicious, these pears (recipe adapted from this blogger) are a cinch to make. You toss them into a pot with a couple ingredients and they just kind of hang out there for a little over half an hour. After that, slap ’em in the fridge and you can feast off of them all week long. At least that’s what I did.

This is my idea of a perfect summer dessert–flavorful while still light, cool and satisfying on a hot evening, sweet but not cloyingly so, and they’re great either by themselves or with ice cream.

Ingredients

(Serves 6)

6 pears
1 cup red wine
1 cup water
1/2 cup + 2 TBS sugar
1 cinnamon stick OR 1 tsp ground cinnamon
2 cloves
Zest and juice of 1 orange

Peel the pears, leaving the stems intact.

In a large pot, combine the red wine . . .

. . . water . . .

. . . sugar . . .

. . . orange zest (man-hand + microplane = I love my life) . . .

. . . orange juice . . .

. . . cloves and cinnamon.

In other words, all the ingredients except for the pears.

Behold our poaching liquid! Heat the pot over medium, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves. Don’t sweat it if some globs of orange flesh got in there, too. Whatever, say I. It’s bound to add nutritional value, right? Right. That’s what my Mom used to say about bugs. “Oh, you ate a bug? More protein for you.”

Place the pears upright into the pot, fitting them together snugly.

Bring the poaching liquid to a boil . . .

. . . then cover the pot, turn down the heat to low, and cook for 35-40 minutes.

From time to time, lift the lid and spoon the liquid over the pears.

When the lid finally comes off, you will see a thing of beauty–the red wine has soaked into the pears, making them a lovely shade of mauve.

Test the pears for doneness by turning one over and inserting a sharp knife into its–hrngh hrngh–rounded bottom.

If the knife slides in easily with just a little resistance, the pears are done.

Discard the cloves and cinnamon stick, and let the pears and syrup chill in the refrigerator overnight.

Serve the pears cut or whole, alone or with ice cream, with the syrup drizzled on top.

A little French Vanilla is a great accompaniment.

And I say ‘syrup,’ however the liquid is rather thin, as you can see here.

But perfectly flavored! If you’re looking for a thick syrup though, you can continue to reduce the liquid once the pears are cooked. I leave it in your capable hands.

Even though these pictures show the pears whole, I found them much easier and more pleasurable to eat when cut. I made slices along the core and fanned the pieces out on a plate. It was beautiful, and the arrangement looked like a flower–but my camera was far, far away . . . in the other room.

Anyway, toss some pears in a pot and serve these at your next dinner party! Or furtively hide them in the back of the fridge in a place that only you know about and eat them for your midnight snack. Either way, these will hit the spot!

Click here for printer-friendly version: Divine Red Wine Poached Pears