I'm sure there's some easily identifiable psychology behind this fact, but I find that when I eat out or opt for convenience foods, I'm attracted to routine: the same turkey sandwich meal after meal, the same cheese snacks or Mexican food. I don't know if there's comfort in that familiarity or if I just cannot ever get enough sandwiches, but I do know that the precise opposite is true when I'm cooking for myself.

Keeping my brain—and my stomach—engaged in the kitchen has a lot to do with trying something different. Of course I do have recipes that I return to again and again (ahem) because I am nothing if not a firm believer in the delicious, but I get stymied a lot just trying to answer the question, "What sounds good for dinner tonight?"

This is decidedly trickier when one also has to determine what sounds good for three ensuing meals. (Trying to learn to embrace leftovers here, people.)

 This was a dish that I first had at Bottega Café here in Birmingham, and I want to go on record as saying I in no way mean to insinuate that I re-created a meal worthy of that kitchen full of talented, professionally trained people.

What I did want was to approximate it, so that I could be reminded of that incredible salad in my own humble cocina. The fact that it's a salad in itself helps; the ingredients, independent of the dressing, are all identifiably in front of your face: arugula, farro (YAY FRESH MARKET SELLS FARRO), beets, ricotta salata.

These are not, in the effort of full disclosure, ingredients that I'm prone to be especially overjoyed by. But that's the genius of those talented, professionally trained people I mentioned earlier—the can introduce you to combinations that change the mind of your palate.

Or, you know, a metaphor less tortured than that one.

I don't know what Frank Stitt puts in his salad dressing. I used what I had on hand. All I knew is that it should be a light, slightly vinegary, brightly citrusy vinaigrette.

Farro might not be a grain that everyone is familiar with, but I loved it instantly. It has a wonderful, hearty chew. And it's terrific for leftovers, because even though this salad is undeniably healthy, it's also extraordinarily stick-to-your-ribs filling. The ricotta and the beets are terrific partners; the super salty cheese and the super sweet beets create a lovely balance with the peppery arugula.

I will admit that this was the first time I've actually dealt with cooking beets myself. I was well prepared for the stained fingers I knew were inevitable, but it was such a nonevent that I was a little surprised. I just dug in with my bare hands and decided to accept whatever red tint came my way, but by the time I was halfway through doing the dishes, it had all washed away.

A couple of notes of caution regarding leftovers: The arugula will wilt considerably. I'm not bothered by that, but if it's not your cup of tea, you can easily stir in some lively greens each time you plate up an individual serving as opposed to stirring it all in from the beginning. Also, I like the way these flavors work at sort of a cool room temperature, so I just pull it out of the refrigerator in the morning, and by lunchtime it's exactly right.

So try a little something different. And when you do, let me know what you think!

Enjoy!


Farro Salad with Arugula, Beets, and Ricotta Salata

1 cup farro
3 to 4 medium beets, peeled and chopped into about 1½-inch pieces
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
Kosher salt
Black pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 large lemon, seeded and juiced
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
4 cups baby arugula
4 ounces ricotta salata, chopped

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cook farro according to package directions. Set aside to cool.

2. Meanwhile, place beets on a baking sheet, and toss with 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roast 35 to 40 minutes or until beets are tender. Set aside to cool.

3. Mash garlic and a generous pinch of salt with the flat side of a chef's knife until a paste forms. Place crushed garlic, lemon juice, vinegar, and 2 tablespoons olive oil in a jar with a lid; shake until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

4. Toss cooled farro and beets with arugula, ricotta, and dressing. Makes 4 servings.

 

I posted a version of these photographs over on Instagram (look me up!) with the caption "trying to get my mojo back."

And it's true—while I could tell tall tales of action-packed holidays and busy work schedules and many too many meals out, the simple fact is that some time in November my wonderful sister and brother-in-law gave me a session with a house cleaner for my birthday, which led me to put my photo lights in the closet and ... well, that's pretty much all it takes to leave me thoroughly distracted.

So how have I fed myself the past couple of months? Mostly with spoonfuls of cottage cheese straight from the container for breakfast, brick-sized turkey sandwiches grabbed out of deli cases for lunch, and convenience foods for dinner. I dabbled in the kitchen here and there, but my efforts felt for the most part clumsy and disappointing and unsatisfying. 

And you know what? It started to really get me down. Granted, I know about the extent to which our heads are in the game when it comes to food more than most, but I realized I was feeling listless and off track. Putting mystery meat, other assorted blech, and much of the world's supply of potatoes into my body day after day was affecting my waistline and my psyche.

I knew that if I wanted to regain my footing, I was going to need an absolute bolt out of the blue.

And here she be:


Beautiful. Fresh. Colorful. "Taste the rainbow" doesn't have to mean Skittles, friends. These are all healthy, unadulterated ingredients, but they're also delicious and indulgent.

For this little jump start, I went to the fancy market and bought all organic ingredients. That's truly not necessary—I find I can't afford to eat that way all the time, in funds or in time—but it went a long way toward making this meal feel like a treat I was giving myself. In all, I spent about $35 on everything you see here (with potatoes and tomatoes and eggs and olives and onion and greens left over), and got four good-size portions out of the deal. That's better bang for your buck than I generally get from eating out.

In the end, this is a salad. Some people just can't get all that excited about a salad, and I totally understand that. Sometimes I am some people, too. But the beauty of this salad is that there are so many components that each bite can taste a little bit different than the last, which makes your taste buds ever so happy. Especially if you save the olives for last.

There are a few tips to making this work as a quick meal, as opposed to feeling like you're making seven different dishes:

1. Cook the potatoes first. Blanch the green beans during the last few minutes of the potato cooking time.

2. Slice the onion, halve the tomatoes, trim the beans, and make the dressing while the potatoes cook. Also set your eggs out on the counter to come to room temperature.

3. Once the green beans and potatoes come out of the boiling water, add the eggs—fewer pots to wash!

4. Grill the tuna first, and slice the cooked potatoes in half; then add the potatoes, cut-side down, to the grill to pick up a little of that charred flavor (OK and maybe also so they'll look pretty.)

5. Set aside some dressing, and toss the warm potatoes in it the minute they come off the grill. FYI this does nothing to make the process easier or more efficient, it's just delicious.

6. Remember to have some ice on hand if at all possible for shocking the eggs. This makes the water cold-cold, so that egg whites gasp in horror and shrink from the shells, which makes peeling ever so much easier. I did not have ice, and ... well, you'll see there are three eggs here instead of four. (RIP fourth egg.)

Enjoy!


Tuna Salad Niçoise

8 fingerling potatoes
10 ounces haricots vert or fresh green beans
½ 10-ounce package mixed baby lettuces
8 ounces grape tomatoes, halved
¼ large red onion, thinly sliced
16 pitted kalamata or niçoise olives
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
4 tablespoons red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
2 garlic cloves, minced and divided
1 (8-ounce) tuna steak
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4 large eggs, at room temperature

1. Cook potatoes in boiling water to cover 15 minutes or until just tender. Add haricots vert to boiling water during last 3 minutes of cooking time. Remove haricots vert and potatoes from boiling water with tongs; place haricots vert in a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process. Slice potatoes in half lengthwise. Set aside.

2. Whisk together mustard, vinegar, 2 tablespoons oil, and 1 garlic clove in a medium bowl. Set aside.

3. Season tuna on both sides with salt and pepper. Heat grill pan over medium-high heat, and brush lightly with olive oil. Cook tuna 3 minutes on one side; turn, and cook 1 to 2 minutes (for rare) or until desired degree of doneness. Set aside.

4. Place potatoes, cut sides down, on grill pan; cook 3 to 5 minutes or until potatoes are well marked. Remove to a bowl, and toss with about 2 tablespoons reserved dressing. Set aside.

5. Add eggs to boiling water; cook exactly 6 minutes, and remove to a bowl of ice water.

6. Heat remaining 1 garlic clove in remaining 1 tablespoon oil in a small skillet over medium heat about 1 minute or until fragrant. Add haricots vert, and toss until lightly heated through. Sprinkle with salt to taste. Cut tuna into thin slices. Carefully peel eggs, and gently cut in half crosswise.

7. Line a platter with baby lettuces; top with tomatoes, onion, olives, haricots vert, tuna, eggs, and potatoes. Serve with remaining dressing. Makes 4 servings.

 

I have a particular talent for unsalading a salad, the sweet gift of turning something that is supposed to be healthfully holier-than-thou into a lovely mess of delicious calories. The Cobb salad is an ideal starting point for this sort of bastardization, in part because it doesn't do a very good job of masquerading as a salad in the first place. It's basically a deconstructed fatty sandwich. (I don't think I need to reiterate my love for the fatty sandwich.)

I have a soft spot for Cobb salad, too, standing out there yelling, "I'm a salad, I swear!" when it's really something you might make when you're in tears. Anyone who has ever thought that chicken and hard-boiled eggs are not enough without avocado and cheese and bacon on top is a) someone who has had some emotional wreckage and b) my kind of people.



Alas, my local market (once again) failed me, neglecting to stock half of the ingredients for a decent Cobb salad, and I was left trying to steer things in my favorite direction: south ... west ... ish?

I decided that if this salad was not—tragedy!—going to have the benefit of avocado, I'd replace it with a black bean/corn salsa. Having determined that beans + chicken + eggs + cheese was probably enough protein for my lithe form, I forwent the bacon.

(Or possibly, because I can't tolerate anything other than the apparently FANCY center-cut style, I'm just way too cheap to spend six bucks on bacon. True story. BaconIloveyou.)

After that, it was just a matter of gathering all my favorite South of the border flavors, or what I imagine them to be—red onion, cilantro, jalapeño—and after that ... well, things got a little crazy.

Because I was intoxicated by hunger while I was at the grocery store, I was too under the influence of my weaker brain cells to pass by the Snyder's buttermilk ranch pretzel pieces. But no matter; I'm confidently reassured that calories don't stick when you're suffering the effects of rabid starvation.

But as I was staring at the little nuggets of yum in the bowl I'd poured half the bag into (portion control, people), I got a wild hair to crush some of them up with a mortar and pestle and crust the chicken in the crumbs.

I am nothing if not resourceful, and also determined to cover everything in my life with ranch. (Those of you who look REALLY REALLY closely will note that I had less than zero patience and/or attention span for the crushing, and mostly just slapped some gigantic pieces of pretzel all over the chicken.)

To be honest, I wasn't as thrilled with the results as I'd hoped. Yes, the pretzels gave the chicken a pleasantly crispety crunchy crust, but most of the salty buttermilky ranchy potential got lost in the cooking. I see absolutely no reason why you shouldn't have pretzel-crusted chicken on your path of salad destruction, but it's probably not ultimately worth the effort.

My advice? Just pour some ranch on top before eating. NO ONE HAS TO KNOW.



Composed Southwestern Cobb Salad with Pretzel-crusted Chicken
½ cup low-fat sour cream
1 jalapeño, seeded and diced
Salt, to taste
Pinch of granulated sugar
Hot sauce, to taste
½ cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro leaves, divided
1 lime, divided
¼ (15-ounce) can low-sodium black beans, drained and rinsed
¼ cup frozen corn kernels, thawed
¼ cup diced red onion
Pinch of ground cumin
1 teaspoon garlic powder
½ chicken breast, pounded to an even thickness
½ cup Snyder's buttermilk ranch pretzel pieces, crushed
2 tablespoons olive oil
¼ head iceberg lettuce, chopped
¼ pint grape tomatoes, halved
1 ounce Monterey Jack cheese, grated
1 hard-boiled egg, sliced
Garnish: lime wedges

1. Combine first 5 ingredients, ¼ cup cilantro, and juice of ½ lime in a small bowl. Set aside.

2. Combine black beans, corn, onion, cumin, garlic powder, and juice of remaining ½ lime in a medium bowl. Set aside.

3. Dredge chicken breast in pretzel pieces. Heat oil in skillet over medium heat; cook chicken about 4 minutes on each side or until browned and cooked through.

4. Combine lettuce and remaining ¼ cup cilantro on a plate; top with reserved sour cream mixture. Arrange black bean mixture, tomatoes, cheese, egg, and chicken alongside lettuce. Garnish, if desired. Makes 1 serving.

Every time I watch Giada de Laurentiis make something on her show that requires pizza dough, she says (Food Network chefs are notoriously repetitive), "Use your favorite pizza dough recipe, or do what I do—go down to your favorite local pizzeria and just ask for some dough."

Is that strange? It seems more than a little odd to me. I'm not going to go to my local hamburger joint and ask if they can just give me a few patties for tonight's dinner.

The problem with pizza dough, though, is that it requires all the chemistry and grace of baking, PLUS yeast, which, of course is my nemesis. I don't know how it's supposed to work, because it never has for me. And then there's all that proofing, the put-it-in-a-warm-place-to-rise business that's far too demanding yet inexact for me. The Woodside heat is set firmly at 60, there is no warm place to be found.

What I have discovered, much to my intense delight, is that my Publix bakery makes kick-ass pizza dough. They sell it in bags, in the bakery section, with only the directive to let it sit out for an hour before you do anything with it.

Now THAT I can do. I have been an expert sitter for my whole life.

I created this recipe as an homage to the tostada pizza at California Pizza Kitchen (TwinFin, amirite?), where I first discovered that pizza didn't know what it was until it met salad. The CPK version is vegetarian, but because I'm often feeding devout carnivores, I add rotisserie chicken. All of the ingredients here are incredibly flexible; this is pizza, after all. I know a certain someone who'd go nuts for a version with Italian meats, provolone cheese, banana peppers, and a salad with red wine vinaigrette. A Cobb salad pizza has promise, too, or a Caesar version. Go nuts!

If there's Mexican food in the house, or anything with a Spanish accent, there's probably going to be K's Trashy Queso, too. I am fully, passionately devoted to Queso-Melt brand, after many years of research. (Most other brands, when combined with anything else, tend to separate. Shudder.) The fact that it's made from prepared melted cheese is what makes this trashy, but what makes it mine is the ratio—40% cheese to 60% everything else. That means lots and lots and lots of tomato and red onion and fresh jalapeño. You can stir in anything else you love, too, chorizo or beans or ground beef, but this is the trio I love. I use the jalapeño-flavored queso, because I always think hotter is better, but the regular variety works just as well for a milder flavor. Hot buckets of deliciousness, people.



K's Trashy Queso
1 (10-ounce) container Queso-Melt jalapeño-flavored cheese dip
2 tomatoes, chopped
1 fresh jalapeño, minced
1 red onion, diced
Tortilla chips

Stir together first 4 ingredients over medium heat until melted and bubbling. Serve with tortilla chips. Makes 1 serving. (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Nope, not sharing.) OK, Makes 5 servings.



Mexican Salad Pizza
1 portion prepared pizza dough, at room temperature
1 (15-ounce) can reduced-sodium black beans
½ cup jarred salsa
1 avocado
¼ cup reduced-fat sour cream
1 romaine heart, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
Lite ranch dressing, to taste
8 ounces Monterey Jack cheese, grated
2 chicken breasts from prepared rotisserie chicken, chopped
½ cup frozen whole-kernel corn
Lime-flavored tortilla chips (optional)
Lime wedges

1. Preheat oven to 400. Stretch or roll out pizza dough onto a lightly greased baking sheet or pizza pan; bake 10 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, mash beans and salsa in a medium bowl. Mash avocado in a small bowl, and stir in sour cream. Stir together romaine, tomatoes, and ranch dressing in a large bowl. Set aside.

3. Top baked pizza dough with cheese, and bake 5 more minutes. Spread with black bean mixture, top with chicken and corn, and bake 5 more minutes.

4. Spread avocado mixture over pizza, and top with reserved salad. Sprinkle with crushed tortilla chips and additional ranch dressing, if desired. Serve with lime wedges. Makes 6 to 8 servings.