Accidental Balabusta

May the force be with you

In my world, you can never have enough lamb. Or, to be more specific, lamb shanks. It used to be what I called “fancy food,” for which I splurged only on special occasions, like New Year’s Eve, or a birthday ending in zero. But since the pandemic started, up is down and right is left, and every day that you’re healthy is a day that’s meant to be celebrated. Goodness knows we could all use a little splurging. So, hubby Harvey sold a kidney and bought five pounds of lamb shanks. Lest you think we’re complete chazers, let me add that we had another couple over for dinner. For the first time in two-and-a-half years.

After two years of strict isolation and adherence to Dr. Bonnie Henry’s pandemic protocols, it was a wondrous event, to be sitting less than six feet away from two close friends, masks discarded, acting as though we did this every day. There wasn’t a shred of anxiety anywhere to be seen, and it just felt so normal. To say I felt ridiculously elated and grateful at the same time would not be an exaggeration. It was pure joy. I wondered why we hadn’t done it sooner. And then I remembered … that pesky pandemic. Oh, and my COVID anxiety, which can often be seen from space.

But back to the main event. The lamb. I’d sent Harvey to the butcher to pick up the lamb and, when he returned home, he handed me the bag-o-meat. Which weighed nearly as much as me. I asked him: “So did they throw in a ram for free?” To which he replied: “I told them I wanted the biggest lamb shanks they had.” Long story short, each shank was the size of a small country. Maybe slightly bigger. All of a sudden, my four hours of estimated cooking time was looking more like half a day. Luckily, I’m an early riser.

I hauled out my biggest roaster, proceeded to dirty every fry pan, pot and utensil in the apartment – we’re talking squeezers, mincers, graters, peelers, a multitude of various-sized knives, cutting boards and a healthy shot of Scotch (just kidding about the Scotch, but after it was all said and done, I sure could’ve used a glass) – and had at it.

The recipe, which Harvey found on the internet, is called Tom Valenti’s Lamb Shanks, and it’s spectacular! I won’t bore you with the details – Google it. Never mind that it calls for a bottle of wine, four cups of broth and a whole whack of other stuff. When it was all assembled, I couldn’t even lift the roaster, never mind take it in and out of the oven every 30 minutes for the next five hours. I happily handed over the reins to Harvey to do the heavy lifting. While I sat around and ate bonbons. Not.

All modesty aside, the lamb shanks were a huge hit. But, I was left with cups and cups of gorgeous, rich, winey braising liquid, flavoured with onions, carrots, celery, garlic and thyme, to name just a few of the players. I actually considered drinking it. Is that wrong? Of course, the thyme sprigs might get caught in my teeth.

So, I did what any self-respecting 21st-century cook with a few gallons of leftover braising liquid would do – I Googled it. Which is where I found an article by Mackenzie Stratton in The Spruce Eats, called “What to do with leftover braising liquid.” Imagine that. I learned many things, like the fact that chefs often refer to braising liquid as “liquid gold” because of its ability to transform whatever it touches into something fabulous.

I know some of you will wonder why I bothered keeping the seemingly useless flotsam and jetsam of a meal. It’s because I hate throwing stuff out that I could possibly use. Operative word here is “possibly.” My father, alav ha-shalom, always used to rib me about how thrifty I am. He’s right. I hate to waste food and, if I can repurpose it, why the heck not? When I told Harvey my plans for the braising liquid, he informed me that the army used to call that a “force multiplier.” May the force be with you, too.

If Mackenzie Stratton is to be believed, you can elevate just about any dish with leftover braising “gold.” But first you have to let the “gold” cool overnight in the fridge, then skim off the fat from the top. You’ll be left with a lovely (?) gelatinous bowl of the aforementioned “gold.” Next step requires you to sacrifice your ice cube trays. Fill each one with a big glob of “gold,” freeze them, and then put the nuggets in a Ziploc baggie or in small containers for future use. This is where the “gold” comes in, because at $16 to $18 a bottle for the wine and another $60 for the lamb and the rest of the ingredients, it’s not something you relish throwing down the sink once everyone’s had a good burp.

What all can you do with these little brown, gelatinous gems? You can incorporate them into other recipes, like soups, pasta or grain dishes; use them to poach chicken or tougher cuts of meat; or put them in stews. You can also use them as the supreme weapon of decadence: boil potatoes in the thawed braising liquid, then turn them into the ultimate side of mashed potatoes. I have no words. The drool is dribbling down my chin.

I usually like to include a photo of my culinary creations/discoveries and, well, not to be crass or anything, but Harvey says these “gold” blobs look like something people pick up with those little green baggies on their hand. Need I say more? Now just try and un-see that visual.

Like the thrifty Accidental Balabusta that I am, you might just be on the receiving end of my leftover braising “gold” next time you come for dinner. But you won’t know it. To paraphrase John F. Kennedy: ask not what your lamb shanks can do for you – ask what you can do for your lamb shanks.

Once again, you’re welcome. Bon appetit!

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

The joys of parchment paper

Greek sheet pan chicken, using a recipe from the website Downshiftology. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

I know it’s pretty laughable that I only discovered parchment paper a few years ago, but there’s always someone late to the party. Parchment paper is your friend, and it’s so ridiculously versatile and handy, I can’t believe I baked without it for all these years! (Although, having been single until I was 53, I must admit to not having baked much in those years.) I even turned my husband Harvey onto it. Now he uses parchment paper for everything. I caught him the other day trying to make a fruit salad on parchment paper. We buy the stuff by the truckload now. It saves on clean up, eliminates the possibility of burned pans, and withstands high heat. Plus, it contains some sort of magic that results in perfect meals every time. Seriously, I haven’t had a fail since I became a parchment paper convert. I know. Crazy, right?

My latest foray into culinary exploration using parchment paper was Greek sheet pan chicken. Harvey tried the recipe first, and it scored a 10/10. Weeks later, he asked me if I wanted to make it and, quite frankly, I couldn’t say no. After all, he’s been making me pancakes for breakfast three times a week, so I was hardly in a position to negotiate. I was just worried that I wouldn’t be able to replicate it. But I sucked it up, donned my Disclosure Diner apron and got on with it. Without a word of a lie, this recipe produces the most juicy, harmonious flavours I’ve had in eons. And there was virtually no clean up – winner, winner chicken dinner.

The recipe is from the website Downshiftology, and it’s by Lisa Bryan. Thank you, Lisa. It’s a wee bit labour-intensive, with all the chopping, mincing, dicing and marinating, but what isn’t time-consuming these days? Caveat: the original recipe calls for feta cheese, but since I don’t mix meat and milk, I omit that. Believe me when I tell you that there’s plenty of salt in this recipe already. Feta compli! Just cook up a side of rice, orzo, quinoa or bowtie pasta and you’re set. Oh, and maybe whip up a salad if you’re feeling inspired.

Now, I know that lots of people prefer the leaner white chicken meat, but thighs are just more tender and moist. You can be the judge, but I can’t be responsible for the cooking time for chicken breasts, so you’re on your own there.

Give this recipe a go, and tell me if this isn’t Mediterranean cooking at its best. I generally have a rule to not use recipes that call for more than five or six ingredients, but I made an exception here, and it paid off in spades.

GREEK SHEET PAN CHICKEN

1/2 cup olive oil
juice of 1 1/2 lemons (about 3 tbsp)
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
6 chicken thighs, bone-in, skin-on
1 medium zucchini, halved lengthwise and sliced
1 yellow bell pepper, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 red bell pepper, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1/2 large red onion, thinly sliced
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes
1/2 cup kalamata olives, pitted (more, if you love olives)
1/4 cup feta cheese (optional)
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley

Preheat oven to 425°F. In a small bowl, whisk together the oil, lemon juice, garlic, oregano, thyme, Dijon mustard, salt and pepper.
Put chicken thighs in a bowl (or plastic bag) and pour two-thirds of the marinade on top. Then toss the chicken around in the marinade to make sure it’s well coated. Marinate the chicken for 15 minutes or more.
While the chicken is marinating, put a piece of parchment paper on a baking sheet. Spread the zucchini, bell peppers, red onion and tomatoes onto the sheet and drizzle the remaining marinade on top. Toss together to coat the vegetables.
Add the chicken thighs to the baking sheet and nestle the veggies around them. Bake for 30 minutes.
Remove the baking sheet from the oven, add the olives (and feta, if you’re using it) and then put it back in the oven for another 10 to 15 minutes, or until the vegetables are soft and the chicken is cooked through. You can always turn on the broiler for a minute or two at the end if you like the skin crispy.
Sprinkle the chicken and vegetables with finely chopped fresh parsley before serving.

Not only does this dish look gorgeous, but it’s got deep, rich flavour and the recipe is pretty easy to follow. Of course, if you’re serving it to company, it’ll take a bit of manoeuvring to transfer it to a platter because there are so many moving parts. But it’s a pandemic, so who’s having company over for dinner anyway?

Sometimes, I think to myself: do I really want to bother with all this dicing and chopping and slicing? Operative word: sometimes. This is a treat-yourself-to-a-sumptuous-dinner-and-stop-being-so-lazy kind of meal. Like my dad used to say: you’re the most important guest in your own home. Go nuts. Cook for looks. And taste. Like so many different meals, this one is just as good if not better the next day, since the flavours seem to marry overnight.

As for a pre-dinner treat, why not aim for easy but yummy. If you want to bump up the fanciness quotient a notch, make some toast points (crusts cut off), smear on some mayonnaise or egg mix, and top with caviar. I buy the inexpensive black lumpfish caviar for special occasions and it’s delish. It’ll impress the heck out of your partner, your guests, even yourself. And, you know what? You deserve it! Why should caviar be reserved just for New Year’s Eve or engagement parties? Those poor misunderstood fish roe – they deserve to be showcased all year round. If I weren’t afraid of all the judging that might accompany it, I’d eat caviar every day.

Another caveat: don’t eat this meal before you go for a blood test, because your sodium will be off the charts.

Comfort food for dark times

If the thought of cooking one more boring meal is just too daunting, Google your heart out – there are gazillions of cookbooks out there.

The days are short and dark and all I seem to want to do right now is stuff my face with comfort food. Some days that manifests as peanut butter and banana sandwiches, and some days it looks like pot roast and mashed potatoes. I rarely crave a salad or a stick of celery in this chilly, wet weather. Mind you, I have been tempted (and given into) a huge piece of pumpkin pie. That’s a daily serving of vegetables, right? I’m all about the carbs at the moment. Plus, peanut butter makes my coat nice and shiny. Or so says hubby Harvey.

Like a bear, I’m looking to bulk up for my winter hibernation. Although, when you think about it, we’ve been living through almost a two-year hibernation. It’s called COVID-19. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t found some comfort in over-indulging during this pandemic. Whether the target of our ill-placed attention is food, booze or online shopping, we’ve all been guilty of overdoing it in some way or other. Oh, I forgot to include Netflix, Prime Video and Crave. I do crave my Crave. I don’t know how many hours of my life I’ve given over to this pap. Not that I’m bragging. Actually, I’m kind of embarrassed by it, but, in a way, it’s keeping me sane because it lets me focus on something other than COVID. But enough about the C-word.

My guilty pleasure is doughy, savoury foods, packed with calories. That’s where the Perogy Toss comes in. I got this recipe decades ago from the catering company at Richmond City Hall’s cafeteria, where I often ate lunch during my working days. The recipe is still a winner. Add a salad and you’ve got dinner. Add a glass or two of wine and you’ve got a date.

PEROGY TOSS

1-kg package frozen potato perogies
4 tbsp sundried tomato oil (or olive oil)
3/4 cup minced onion
1 tbsp minced garlic
2 tbsp minced black olives
12 tbsp (3/4 cup) minced and drained sundried tomatoes
4 tbsp minced capers
1 1/2-oz (14-gram) package fresh basil, chopped
light sour cream

Boil salted water in a large pot. Add frozen perogies and boil for four to five minutes (or whatever the directions say). Drain well. Rinse with hot water and drain again. Return perogies to the pot.

In a frying pan, heat the sundried tomato oil (or olive oil) until hot. Add onion and garlic and sauté until onion is soft and golden. Add olives, sundried tomatoes and capers. Stir.

When heated through, add to the cooked perogies in the pot. Heat on low for about one minute, tossing to fully coat the perogies. Add the basil and serve at once. Put sour cream on top, if desired – and who wouldn’t desire that?

Just in case this recipe doesn’t give you your year’s allotment of salt, here’s another one that will not only satisfy your craving for savoury, but holds its own as an appetizer served with pita or crackers. Some of you might be put off by the weird orange shade of this dip, but I’m sure you’ll get past that. If you’re a lazy cook like me, you’ll be happy to know that the only kitchen appliance you’ll need is a food processor.

RED PEPPER & FETA DIP

3 red bell peppers
6 oz feta cheese
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp pine nuts

Cut in half and seed three red bell peppers. Place on a broiling pan, skin side up, and broil until skin is charred and blistered, turning over several times. This is what creates that smoky flavour.

Remove the skin from the peppers – some say sealing them in a brown paper bag while they’re cooling for five to 10 minutes creates steam and makes them easier to peel.

Once peeled, put the peppers in a food processor and add the feta cheese, olive oil and pine nuts. Blend till it’s nice and smooth.

Chill before serving. (I mean the dip, but you could also chill yourself with a glass or two of your favourite alcoholic beverage and a bag of chips.)

Serve with pita wedges or crackers. And don’t even think of substituting a different kind of nut. It’s just wrong. It’s got to be pine nuts.

I’ve made this dip for company loads of times and everyone likes it. It’s one of those go-to, quick-as-can-be appies that’s pretty much foolproof. Of course, your guests have to have a taste for feta cheese and pine nuts, but don’t most of us? (Maybe have an EpiPen ready just in case.) It’s definitely got a bit of an unusual flavour, but in a good way. It’s worth a try, if only to expand your repertoire … says the woman who ate the same California roll and agedashi tofu three or four times a week when she was single. However, I’ve since seen the error of my ways.

As you can tell, I’m all about the easy. And, if it tastes good too, score a win. I’ve never been one to fuss about food because it all gets eaten in a matter of minutes anyway, so why bother? I know, I know. What kind of an attitude is that for an accidental balabusta? But, like Popeye said, “I yam what I yam.”

As time wears on with this pandemic, I’m going to need to get more creative with my culinary adventures. I’ve fallen into the chicken, fish, meat, repeat, habit, and it’s getting old. I sure miss going out to restaurants on a regular basis. With the majority of us Canadians being doubly vaccinated, I think we’re moving in the right direction with this pandemic and, hopefully, it won’t be long before we embark on our “new normal.” G-d-willing, it will be an even better, more beautiful “normal.”

In the meantime, if the thought of cooking one more boring meal is just too daunting, get out your mother’s 1970s National Council of Jewish Women cookbook, Google your heart out or visit a bookstore near you, and tackle some new recipes. You might just discover your new favourites. Or maybe try a recipe swap with your close friends. You never know what tricks they might have up their sleeves. Caveat: choose friends whose culinary realm most resembles yours; otherwise, you may find yourself spending hours in the kitchen making some exotic breakfast, when all you really wanted was a new recipe for French toast.

Wishing you well in your hibernation. Don’t forget to turn the heat down, suspend newspaper delivery and stock up on toilet paper. I know, I know – newspaper? (Present company excepted, of course, and the JI is taking the month off, as well.)

Shelley Civkin aka the Accidental Balabusta is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Savoury, sweet and simple

Cottage cheese muffins à la Accidental Balabusta, but double the size. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

Looking for a couple of easy recipes to add to your repertoire? But you’re not quite sure what to try? Because sometimes you want savoury. Sometimes you want sweet. But what if you want both? I’ve got just the answer – but it doesn’t come in the form of one recipe. It comes in two. One’s a side dish and one’s a snack or breakfast food. Both punch above their weight, that’s for sure.

With very few exceptions I have neither the focus nor the patience to embark on complicated recipes that call for exotic ingredients and specialty cookware. If I can’t pronounce it and it’s not available at my local Safeway or Superstore, it ain’t happening. (Except for those lamb shanks that I made for Rosh Hashanah, which did call for loads of ingredients and which were, to use my hubby’s words: “The best lamb I’ve ever eaten!” Sorry … I just had a modesty bypass.)

Maybe I’m not the most adventurous eater/cook in the world but I never go hungry. My father, alav hashalom, used to say that I’d eat out of a puddle if push came to shove. I prefer to describe it as having simple tastes.

Good thing my husband didn’t marry me for my cooking. Although it has improved significantly since we got married 12 years ago. When we first met, my idea of dinner was a California roll and Agedashi tofu takeout. We used to eat out at restaurants maybe three or four times a week during the honeymoon phase, i.e. the first four years of our marriage. I kept telling him I knew how to cook; I just chose not to activate that skill. And what do you know. He believed me.

But I digress. Back to the savoury recipe I was going to tell you about. It’s an eggplant side dish or chunky dip and is a perfect accompaniment to just about any meal, be it meat, chicken, vegetarian or fish. It’s a bit time-consuming, but what eggplant recipe isn’t, with all that peeling, slicing and dicing? I’m not a big fan of spicy food so you can up the garlic content as you see fit. I find it’s got just that right combination of salty, spicy, sweet and tart, without being heavy or overpowering. I call it Merle’s Eggplant, after my sister’s friend who gave us the recipe decades ago. Thank you, Merle.

MERLE’S EGGPLANT

1 diced onion
1 large or 2 medium-size eggplants, peeled and cubed
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
14 oz (398 ml) can tomato sauce
a squeeze or two of lemon juice
1-2 tbsp brown sugar

Peel and cube eggplant and set aside.
Fry diced onion in olive oil until lightly browned.
Add eggplant to onions and fry, alternating covered and uncovered, until eggplant is opaque.
Add minced garlic, tomato sauce, lemon juice and brown sugar. Cook on low heat for about one hour, covered.
Refrigerate then serve. Some people like to serve it hot, but I prefer it cold, because I find that the flavours meld even more when it’s been refrigerated. But that’s your call. Try it both ways.

* * *

As for the sweet recipe – cottage cheese muffins – well, it’s a favourite in our home. It’s one of those comfort foods that soothe just about any ailment, from fatigue to sore feet. Aside from being healthy (think protein), they’re filling and super-fast to make, plus it’s one of those recipes that you can make blindfolded with both hands tied behind your back. Eat them hot, eat them cold, eat them with jam, eat them plain.

The only people that won’t like these muffins are the lactose-intolerant. And that can be remedied. I recently found lactose-free cottage cheese at the local supermarket. It’s slightly more expensive, but worth it if you like dairy but not the side effects that can go with it. Knock yourself out with these fluffy, light, healthy muffins. I’ve seen all sorts of variations on this recipe, using cheddar cheese, whole wheat flour, sour cream, etc., but none of them quite matches the simplicity and yumminess of this one.

I would strongly suggest doubling the recipe, since this recipe only makes 12 small muffins. Or just eat several at one go, and explain to shocked onlookers that they’re mini-muffins. Which they’re not, but, never mind. Just look at it as muffin-envy.

COTTAGE CHEESE MUFFINS

1 1/2 cups cottage cheese
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 cup melted butter or margarine
2 tsp baking powder
2 eggs
a pinch of salt
1 cup flour

Preheat oven to 400°F.
Mix all ingredients by hand. Don’t be surprised if the batter is quite thick.
Grease muffin tins or use paper muffin liners. Distribute batter evenly between the 12 muffin cups.
Bake for about 20 minutes or until golden brown on top. They’re ready when a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean.
Eat plain or topped with yogurt, sour cream, berries, jam or whatever. They reheat well in the microwave. But, if there are more than two people living in your home, the muffins probably won’t make it till the next day. They may sound too good and too easy to be true, but I’m here to tell you, they’re the real deal. Sometimes, the most basic recipes are the star of the show. Or at least the crowd-pleasers.

* * *

It’s not the number of ingredients or the sophistication of technique that make a recipe sing. It’s the flavour, plain and simple. So, do yourself a favour and try out these two recipes. Tell them the Accidental Balabusta sent you.

Lamb shanks a savoury dish

Lamb is a rich meal, so count on one shank per person. (photo by Arild Finne Nybø)

This year, I plan to stray from my plebian Rosh Hashanah chicken and salmon, and go all in with lamb shanks. Even as I write this column, I don’t know whether or not we’ll be able to gather with family this year for the High Holidays. But, I’m hopeful. And, after spending a year-and-a-half’s worth of Jewish holidays celebrating via Zoom (or on our own), it’s left me remarkably unfazed. We have to eat, after all. It may as well be yummy. As my father always reminded me, “I am the most important guest in my own home!” So, lamb it is.

Being a shockingly bad liar, I feel compelled to come clean right at the get-go. I have never cooked this dish before. My husband Harvey is the lamb expert at our home. But it’s high (chai) time I stretched my culinary balabusta skills. For the record, I am breaking all my own rules, by making a dish that has more than five ingredients, and which looks like it’ll take a good hour or more to prepare. But we’re worth it. The end result will be a smooth, savoury dish with extrastellar depth and gastronomic nuance. Ha! And if you believe those hyperbolic words, I have a bridge to sell you. But, in all seriousness, it’s one of my favourite meals, rich though it may be.

As you know, if you’re a hardcore carnivore like me, lamb is a very fatty meat. As well, it has a distinctive flavour that you either love or hate. There don’t seem to be many fence-sitters when it comes to lamb. Harvey and I position ourselves squarely in the love-it camp. While we don’t eat it often, we consider lamb fancy food, and usually only have it on special occasions. Like Tuesdays. It plays well with rice, couscous, noodles or potatoes, which makes it an equal opportunity meat. And that’s something I admire in my food.

MOROCCAN LAMB SHANKS

6 lamb shanks
coarse salt and pepper to taste
3 tbsp plus 1/4 cup olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
6 large garlic cloves, minced
4 carrots, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
4 celery ribs, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
2 tbsp packed brown sugar
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp cayenne, or to taste
1 1/2 cup dry red wine
3 cups beef broth

Preheat oven to 325°F. Season the lamb with salt and pepper.
Heat three tablespoons oil in a heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add the celery, carrots and onion and cook until very soft, eight to 10 minutes.
Add the thyme, cumin, paprika, cinnamon, cloves, cayenne, brown sugar and garlic and cook for three minutes.
Add the wine, then raise heat to high and bring to a boil. Lower heat to medium and add the beef broth. Leave on medium heat while you brown the lamb shanks.
Pour the remaining 1/4 cup of olive oil into a sauté pan. Over medium-high heat, brown the lamb shanks well on all sides.
Transfer the lamb shanks to the roasting pan (or Dutch oven) and pour the braising liquid on top. Cover with a lid or aluminum foil and cook for one hour. Remove the lid/foil and cook two-and-a-half to three hours more, turning the shanks over every half hour until the meat is very soft.
Remove the shanks from the braising liquid and strain the liquid. Skim any fat that rises to the surface, then use the liquid as a sauce.
Serve over rice, couscous or noodles, or with potatoes.

I can say with a fair degree of certainty that this is one of the tastiest lamb dishes I’ve ever had the pleasure of devouring. It’s not exactly summer food, but it’s perfect for fall or winter. If you served it for Rosh Hashanah dinner, you would undoubtedly impress the heck out of your guests. Or whomever you plan to eat with. It’s a labour-intensive recipe, no question about that. But you’ll thank me once the smell comes wafting out of your kitchen and you begin to food swoon.

Like I said, it’s a rich meal, so count on one shank per person. If you’re Israeli, you’ll probably opt to lay it gently on a mountain of rice or couscous, but maybe you’ll go rogue and settle it lovingly on a bed of noodles. We Ashkenazim like our meat and potatoes (a little too much, I’m afraid), so I’ll probably make a side of roasted baby new potatoes. If you go the traditional Ashkenazi route and start with gefilte fish and matzah ball soup, I guarantee you’ll be stuffed to the gills by the time you get halfway through the lamb. But will you stop? I think not. It’s kind of like a marathon … you don’t get halfway through only to say, “I think I’ve had enough.” Oh no, you’ll throw yourself into this Moroccan lamb like it’s a cold lake on a hot day.

As for Rosh Hashanah dessert, if you think anyone will have even a millimetre of space left in their stomach for a little something sweet, think again. I’d say there might even be a vomitorium involved, but we’re not Roman, so … no. Maybe put out some fruit for those who are really feeling gluttonous and want to ring in the New Year with a Gaviscon chaser. It’ll only be a token gesture (the fruit, not the Gaviscon), but you can always have it the next day for breakfast. Mind you, I’m usually so stuffed the following day that I can barely face food until maybe 9 a.m. Decide for yourself. Those little fruit jellies are always a nice touch, and barely take up any room.

Before you start feeling full just reading this, remember that you don’t have to eat every course that’s served during Rosh Hashanah dinner. You’re allowed to beg off the first three and save yourself for the main event. No one will be offended. In fact, probably no one will even notice. Whatever you end up doing for the High Holidays, be healthy, be safe and here’s to a sweet new year full of positive and inspiring adventures. Shana tova u’metuka.

Shelley Civkin aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Sweet summer dessert treats

(photo from twopeasandtheirpod.com)

They don’t make ’em like they used to. And, almost without exception, recipes from yesteryear are tastier, precisely because they’re reminiscent of gentler times. When I think Rice Krispie squares, I recall sitting on our old brown couch in the den, watching Ed Sullivan with the whole family. And I longingly remember eating Mom’s cheesy broccoli soufflé during Rosh Hashanah. Or, I’m back in 1966, enjoying a mountain of fried onions with my mother’s world-class chicken livers. And those salmon patties! And how about that creamed tuna in patty shells? Does anybody even eat this stuff anymore? If not, it’s a crying shame.

Maybe it’s a longing for those days when you could send your children out into the neighbourhood armed with only roller skates, in the certainty that they would be back, safe and unharmed, for lunch (or dinner, depending). A time when TV dinners were acceptable and ubiquitous. (I especially liked the one with fried chicken, corn, peas and tiny, unnaturally square carrots, mashed potatoes and canned pears/peaches.) I remember when an hourglass figure was desirable, and women actually ate to their fill. Of course, most of them smoked, too, but that’s a whole other column. I’m talking food right now. Uncomplicated, unapologetic, unfussy food. Anybody remember chip steaks? How about fondue? Sloppy Joes? Pineapple upside down cake? Aspic (now that’s one heinous creation)?

What’s old can always be new again. Especially if you’re willing to look the other way when it comes to nutrition, calories and cholesterol. Some of my favourite desserts are classic 1950s and ’60s numbers. In other words, any recipes that call for Jello or Dream Whip. And, preferably, have fewer than five ingredients.

My dad, alav hashalom, loved one particular dessert I made. Not that my repertoire was so enormous back then, but, still, it was always a winner with Dad. He’d take one bite and look at me like I’d just discovered fire. It was an easy (understatement of the millennium) recipe given to me by a woman I used to work with when I was a librarian at West Kildonan Library, in the North End of Winnipeg. Naturally, I just call it Liz Westlake’s Jello Dessert. I don’t make it very often, because I’m afraid of being shamed by my fancy foodie friends. But, occasionally, I break down and splurge. Let it be known, however, that no one – I repeat, no one – ever turns down a second piece of this dessert. It’s quaint, refreshing and … old-fashioned.

LIZ WESTLAKE’S JELLO DESSERT

1 can (398 ml or 14 oz) fruit cocktail (drained)
1 1/3 cup Graham cracker crumbs
1/3 cup melted butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 box cherry Jello

Preheat oven to 375°F. Mix the Graham cracker crumbs together with the melted butter and brown sugar and pat it into the bottom of a springform pan. Bake for five to seven minutes.

Make the Jello according to the instructions on the box and, when half congealed, but still smooth enough to stir (approximately 1 1/4 hours), add the drained fruit cocktail to the Jello and mix it together. Pour this on top of the Graham cracker crust and refrigerate until completely firm. (If you want to get really fancy shmancy, you can put whipped cream on top. I don’t – I’m a purist.)

Even the most kitchen-challenged soul can make this dessert. And I guarantee it’s a winner, especially on a hot day. Once again, you’re welcome.

Now to a sturdier sweet – the ubiquitous chocolate chip zucchini brownie. Anyone who grows zucchini knows that it can take over your entire garden. If you let it. This is all hearsay, of course, since I’m known far and wide to have a black thumb. But I read a lot. And I’ve heard of people whose gardens produce so much zucchini that they sneak out in the dead of night and drop bags of zucchini on neighbours’ doorsteps, then flee into the darkness, nary a trace of their identity to be found. Personally, I just buy mine at Safeway. But I’m getting off track. This dessert is easy, healthy (OK, let’s just say it’s in the general vicinity of health) and satisfying for those with a hankering for chocolate.

CHOCOLATE CHIP ZUCCHINI BROWNIES

1 1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup canola oil or vegetable oil
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups shredded zucchini (but don’t squeeze out the liquid)
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp salt (or a little less)
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9”x13” baking pan and set it aside.

In an electric stand mixer, or using a hand mixer, combine the sugar, oil and flour. It will look dry, but that’s OK. While mixing on low speed, add the cocoa, shredded zucchini, vanilla, salt and baking soda. Mix until well combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.

Pour the batter into the greased pan and bake for 28 to 32 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean. The brownies should look set, not mushy. Cool completely on a wire rack. Cut into squares and serve.

Don’t even consider asking me how many calories there are in one square. Think of it as a serving of vegetables. I mean, there is something green in there. Beigey-green? For goodness sake, just enjoy, and stop with the guilt. They’re a nice, moist alternative to regular brownies and you get to feel all high and mighty because they’re [semi] healthy.

If neither of these desserts float your boat, try making your own popsicles. Nothing spells old-school quite like those plastic popsicle molds with the multi-coloured tops. You can over-spend and get the molds at one of those highfalutin, hoity-toity kitchen stores, or you can rock it like it’s 1964 and buy them at your local dollar store. I chose Door #2, and it works just fine. (There’s also the ice-cube tray option, with toothpicks as the popsicle sticks.) There are a gazillion recipes for popsicles on the internet, most of them calling for Greek yogurt, frozen fruit, juice and honey. Check ’em out and keep cool.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Spinach’s versatility, power

With spinach cheese pie, there likely won’t be leftovers. (photo from Shelley Civkin)

What’s chock-a-block full of healthy vitamins and minerals, packed with fibre and gives you humongous muscles, if Popeye, the muscle-bound, pipe-smoking sailor is to be believed? You got it – spinach! According to the internet (and who doesn’t believe everything there), the comic strip hero Popeye helped increase American consumption of the once-much-maligned spinach by around 30%. All because of his eating habits. Popeye’s famous line – “I’m strong to the finish ’cause I eats me spinach” – while grammatically heinous, does have a whiff of truth to it. Apparently, spinach, which contains lots of iron, can boost muscle strength. So, listen to pumped-up Popeye and eat your spinach! You might even want to try it with a little Olive Oyl.

Personally, I don’t see what all the fuss and resistance is about. It’s such a versatile vegetable – you can sauté it, make a salad out of it, use it in lasagna, mix it together with orzo, feta and sundried tomatoes. The sky’s the limit. Spinach is the quintessential blank canvas, but adds the health factor and colour element that every bona fide foodie seeks.

One of my favourite ways to use spinach is in a dish that can serve as a main or a side. Even spinach haters adore my famous spinach cheese pie. The recipe is straightforward, relatively healthy (unless you’re lactose intolerant or fat-phobic) and never fails to elicit endless oohs and aahs. For those people who can’t tolerate milk products, you can always substitute soy cheese and lactose-free milk. You can barely tell the difference. You can thank me later.

SPINACH CHEESE PIE

2 tbsp butter
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
1 cup milk
2 10-ounce packages frozen spinach (cooked)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 lb Monterrey Jack cheese, grated

Preheat oven to 325ºF. Melt butter in a 9-by-13-inch glass pan. Make sure the melted butter coats the bottom and sides of the pan.

Cook and drain spinach. Be sure to squeeze out all the water, then chop it finely in a food processor.

In a large bowl, beat the eggs. Add dry ingredients (flour, salt, baking powder) and milk, alternately. Mix well by hand.

Add grated cheese and spinach, and mix well by hand. Pour into the prepared pan.

Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until slightly brown on top. Cool at least 30 minutes, then cut into squares and serve. I’m usually too hungry and skip this last step of waiting. Cooling it down, however, does make it easier to cut. And, well, patience is a virtue.

This spinach pie freezes really well and reheats perfectly in the microwave, but, believe me, there usually isn’t anything left to freeze or reheat. On one or two occasions, I’ve been known to eat it cold, right out of the fridge. Late at night. With a certain clandestine aura about me. Right … busted.

While your family – or, in non-COVID times, your guests … remember what those are? – relaxes before dinner, waiting with bated breath for your spinach cheese pie, you can serve them my popular olive dip. Caveat: I don’t have a particular recipe for it and I don’t use specific measurements – I just taste it as I go along. For someone who’s a hardcore Type A personality, this is highly unusual behaviour. But, somehow, I’m able to operate on simple faith when it comes to this. Truth to tell, it’s pretty hard to screw up.

Another caveat: even in non-COVID times, or inside your COVID bubble, be sure not to breathe on strangers or prospective love interests after eating this dip, because the garlic is flavour-forward. Depending on your love/tolerance for garlic, add as little or as much as you want. I start with one clove, but I’ve been known to up the ante for a large batch. This olive dip is decidedly non-dietetic, unfriendly for hypertensives and verboten for those watching their cholesterol. Otherwise, it’s the perfect pre-dinner dip. It makes a great tapas dish, and plays well with other Middle Eastern appies like hummus and baba ghanoush.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I never met an olive I didn’t like. My recipe calls for the plebian green olives stuffed with pimento, but, if you’re a risk-taker, you could try using other kinds. Just be sure not to use ones with an overpowering flavour. The mayonnaise in my recipe tends to smooth out the flavour and make it less sharp, so consider that when choosing your olives.

I never get sick of this recipe and it’s one of those dips you just can’t get enough of. It’s cheap and easy. Pre-COVID, I used to serve this a lot to friends, who would stuff themselves on the dip, then wonder why they were too full to eat dinner. Of course, the pita I serve with it makes it a much more filling appie. People will think you went to all sorts of trouble making it, so, if you want to maintain your kitchen cred, pretend that it’s an old family recipe and politely decline when they ask you to share it. Or … be a sport and let the world know what a lazy cook you really are.

OLIVE DIP

green olives with pimento (also called Manzanilla olives)
mayonnaise
fresh garlic
a squeeze of lemon juice (optional)

Throw all the ingredients into a food processor and blend away! It’s a dish best served cold (as is revenge), but really any temperature will do.

Pita or pita chips are a filling way to stretch this appetizer, but it also works nicely with crackers or thick potato chips. If you want to zhuzh it up a notch, add a couple of black Moroccan olives to it. And make lots of it because, mark my words, it’ll go fast. I’ve been caught dipping my toast into it for breakfast more than once. And, yes, I’m aware that garlic breakfast breath is not overly appealing, but I always floss and brush extra exuberantly after doing this. And, I usually do it when no one’s around. But be sure to turn off the nanny cam first.

The home comfort of soup

Cookie + Kate’s creamy roasted carrot soup, as made by the Accidental Balabusta. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

Nothing screams for comfort food quite like a COVID-19 pandemic. And nothing spells comfort food quite like soup. So, while the spirit of sharing is upon me, I present to you: roasted carrot soup. I’d love to say I made the recipe up, but you know I’d be lying. Credit where credit is due, and all that. It’s a recipe by blogger Kate, who, along with her canine sidekick, Cookie, make up the duo Cookie + Kate. (Why the dog gets top billing, I don’t know. Maybe he’s the taste-tester?)

I suppose it was one of these endless pandemic days where I was stumped for dinner ideas and thought – soup. It’s filling, especially if you add a nice sourdough or baguette, and you don’t need to make a bunch of other stuff, really. A salad, maybe? Perfect for lazy cooks.

The Cookie + Kate recipe is easy, if time-consuming, but you won’t regret it, I promise. And it’s creamy and dreamy, with no dairy in it at all. Prosaic as it sounds, this soup is like hitting the culinary lottery. Don’t be put off by the multitude of instructions; it’s worth every single one. Being a lover of platitudes, you know what they say – the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

CREAMY ROASTED CARROT SOUP

2 pounds carrots
3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, divided
3/4 tsp fine sea salt, divided
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 cloves minced garlic
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/4 tsp ground cumin
4 cups chicken broth or vegetable broth
2 cups water
1 to 2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 to 1 1/2 tsp lemon juice, to taste
freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 400ºF. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
Peel carrots then cut them on the diagonal so each piece is about a half-inch thick at the widest part.
Place carrots in a plastic bag with two tablespoons olive oil and half teaspoon salt. Massage them so all carrots are coated in oil. Arrange on the baking sheet in a single layer.
Roast carrots until they’re caramelized on the edges and easily pierced with a fork, 35 to 40 minutes, flipping halfway.
Once the carrots are almost done, warm the remaining one tablespoon olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat until shimmering. Add the onion and quarter teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is soft and turning translucent, five to seven minutes.
Add the garlic, coriander and cumin. Cook until fragrant while stirring constantly, about 30 seconds to one minute. Pour in the vegetable broth and water, while scraping up any browned bits on the bottom with a wooden spoon.
Add the roasted carrots to the pot once they’re cooked. Add the butter, lemon juice and pepper. Bring the mixture to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook for 15 minutes.
Once the soup is done cooking, remove the pot from the heat and let it cool for a few minutes. Then, carefully transfer the hot soup to a blender, working in batches if necessary. (Don’t fill past the maximum fill line.)
Blend until completely smooth. Add additional salt and pepper if necessary. It’s ready to serve.
Keeps well in the refrigerator, covered, for about four days, or for several months in the freezer. But, believe me, it won’t make it to the freezer.

APPLE RUM NOODLE KUGEL
(Since it is mere weeks until Pesach, now is the time to get your kugel on. This one is a boozy take on the traditional apple noodle kugel. It’s sweet, slightly alcoholic and scrumptious.)

2 tbsp unsalted butter
3 large apples, peeled, cored and diced into 1/4” to 1/2” pieces
12 oz curly broad egg noodles
4 eggs
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp rum
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease a 9”-by-13” baking dish.
Begin heating a large pot of water.
Melt one tablespoon butter over medium-high heat in a large skillet and add the apples. Cook, tossing in the pan, until they begin to colour and are slightly tender, about five minutes. Remove from heat.
When the water comes to a boil, add the noodles. Cook as per the package instructions, then drain through a colander and add them to the pan with the apples. Add the remaining tablespoon butter and toss together until the butter melts. Set aside to cool.
Beat the eggs in a large bowl. Add the sugar and beat together. Beat in the vanilla, rum and cinnamon.
Add the noodles and apples and fold everything together. Pour into the prepared baking dish.
Bake covered with foil, for approximately 20 minutes, then uncovered for the remaining 20-25 minutes, until the kugel is set and the sides are browned. If you like the noodles crispier on top, remove the foil a bit earlier. Allow to sit for at least 10 minutes before serving.

The rum makes it just a little naughty, and exceedingly rich-tasting. Definitely company-worthy. Not that we can have people over during a pandemic, but still. Like my father Sidney, alav hashalom, used to say: “I’m the most important company in my own home!” That, by the way, was his standard response whenever anyone asked him why he always used a linen napkin (even at breakfast). The fact was, the paper ones slipped off his lap, but never mind. He deserved the best.

When everything you need to know about 2020 (and 2021, so far) can be summed up by Velcro, Spandex, Zoom and facemasks, it’s nice to kick it up a notch just for, well, no good reason at all, except that you can. So, treat yourself to a little mid-week decadence and throw in that kugel rum. You might even want to indulge in a little shot glass of the stuff before dinner, just to round out the meal. Or not.

Cookin’ old school meatloaf

As if the pandemic weren’t enough, I’m supposed to think of something tantalizing and healthy to cook every night? Right. Roger that. My motto is: go with the tried and true. Or, given the times we’re in: go with the tired and true. Translation: something my mom used to make in the 1960s and ’70s. Something delicious but notoriously unhealthy.

Let’s face it, back then, the general public didn’t know bupkas about heart-healthy diets, Keto or low cholesterol. Not even doctors’ families. Nobody measured their BMI (body mass index) at the gym, because no one went to the gym. No one had their goal weight etched in their brain. It was a kinder, gentler time. Albeit with lots more spontaneous and fatal heart attacks and strokes. But still.

Back to the task at hand. It was a dark and stormy afternoon. I was tired. Really tired. Of cooking. But we have to eat. So, I did what any self-respecting accidental balabusta would do: I pulled out my mother’s old National Council of Jewish Women Cookbook. It’s a miracle that it isn’t falling apart after all these decades doing yeoman service. As I was searching for something simple and doable within 30 minutes, I happened upon a dog-eared page. One my mother had probably marked for good reason. Which is ironic, since the standing joke in my family was this – as soon as my mom cooked anything that my dad loved, she never made it again. We’ve speculated on the rationale for years. Was it intentional? Happenstance? Payback for something? Maybe it had to do with the electric can opener my dad gave mom for her birthday one year; or was it their anniversary?

The dog-eared recipe, thankfully, was – drum roll, please – Meatloaf. Yes, Virginia, you heard correctly, Meatloaf. I capitalize it because, well, it deserves the recognition. There is no problem in this world that can’t be solved by a good meatloaf. (Alright, maybe athlete’s foot and world wars, but, otherwise….)

In sync with the majority of the recipes in that cookbook, it called for an envelope of onion soup mix, undoubtedly a staple in those days. Chip dip – sour cream and onion soup mix. Spinach delight – onion soup mix. Apricot chicken – onion soup mix. Being a culinary rebel (ha!), I decided to go rogue and omit the onion soup mix. I had to draw my own line in the sand. And I swapped Panko for breadcrumbs. This recipe makes a moist, dream-of-a-1960s dinner. Once again, you’re welcome. You may be excused from the table.

MEATLOAF

2 lbs ground beef (extra lean)
1 1/2 cup soft breadcrumbs (or Panko)
2 eggs
1/2 to 3/4 cup water
1/3 cup ketchup (or, as they called it in the ’60s, catsup)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients and place the mix into a greased loaf pan. (I covered the top with more ketchup – I know, very radical). Bake for approximately one hour.

It doesn’t get much easier than this. Seriously. Both Harvey and I kept cutting little pieces off, to even out the end. We were insatiable! We easily ate half of this two-pound loaf in one sitting, and polished off the rest the next day in sandwiches. What can I say? We’re dyed-in-the-wool carnivores.

To switch it up a little, and marry old school to multicultural, I also made Greek lemon potatoes. While I could eat meat and potatoes every night of the week, I don’t. And don’t go getting all judgy on me, either – there was broccoli in attendance.

The Greek lemon potatoes were a new thing for me (the making part), and I only made the Greek kind because I had a bunch of fresh rosemary leftover from baking focaccia the day before. (It was delicious!) Plus, we had a truckload of lemons in the fridge getting overripe from neglect (scurvy in our future?). I have to say, the potatoes were simple and simply delicious. Again, Harvey declared them “guest-worthy.”

GREEK LEMON POTATOES
(from recipetineats.com)

2.5 lbs potatoes (about 4 large russets)
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup olive oil
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
5 cloves garlic, minced (I used 4)
2 tsp salt (I used 1 tsp)
dash of pepper
1 tbsp dried oregano (I used 2 tbsp fresh rosemary instead)

Preheat oven to 400°F. Peel the potatoes and cut into semi-thick wedges. Place in a roasting pan with all the other ingredients; toss well. Roast covered with foil for 40 minutes. Remove foil and turn the potatoes. Roast for another 25 to 30 minutes until the liquid is mostly absorbed by the potatoes. If you like your potatoes a bit crispy, leave them in for another five minutes or so.

They end up super-moist, soft, lemony and fabulous. Oh yeah, and garlicky. Harvey said they were even better than the ones at Apollonia, our favourite Greek restaurant. It was hard to refrain from eating the whole darn batch, but we showed the teensiest bit of restraint. After all, we wanted some left over for the next day. They’re like potato candy, if you will. Except better.

Sometimes, the most obvious recipes are the best. I often consult that Council cookbook. Who better to advise on such Jewish delicacies as honey-glazed cocktail franks, deviled tongue canapes and fruited rice salad? I rest my case.

There’s no question that the NCJW of Canada does many admirable things to enhance the community through education, social action, furthering human welfare and more. Far be it from me to make it sound like all they did was produce a cookbook. But, thank you, NCJWC for having done so – the meatloaf alone is worth the price of admission. And, of course, kol hakavod for all the great work you do.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Daring to make tofu, quinoa

It started out as a culinary experiment. A desire to try something completely out of my wheelhouse. Something I knew my husband Harvey would not eat. It involved tofu. And peanut sauce. I was sure he’d like the second part. As for eating tofu, he’d rather have his wisdom teeth pulled out through his ears. But I like tofu, so the dish was for me. And, lest you think I’m a selfish cook, let me be clear: this was a lunch experiment. And I knew that Harvey was already taken care of for lunch.

Since I know that online cooks (and their reviewers) never lie (ha!) I took the word of someone who claimed to have the easiest, tastiest recipe for crispy baked tofu with peanut sauce. Optimum word being “easiest.” I have a rule: if a recipe has more than seven ingredients or more than 10 steps, fuggedaboudit. It’s not like I have a day job and a pack of children vying for my attention. But I’ve always questioned the sanity of preparing and cooking for several hours only to have the eating of the meal take 12 minutes. Just doesn’t seem right. So it’s easy or it’s takeout.

PEANUT SAUCE
(six servings)

1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
1 cup full fat coconut milk
2 tbsp low-sodium soy sauce
2 tbsp maple syrup
2 tsp fresh grated ginger
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp fresh lime juice (about 1 large lime)
chopped cilantro and chopped peanuts (optional, for serving)

Add all the ingredients to a medium saucepan, turn the heat to medium and stir constantly until smooth and creamy, about five to 10 minutes.

It doesn’t get much simpler than that. You’ll notice I’m not giving you the recipe for the crispy baked tofu. Why? Because it sucked. The recipe I tried called for extra firm tofu and, according to reviews, it was supposed to come out “crispy on the outside and pillowy soft on the inside.” More like tough, rubbery and tasteless. It could have been my bad. I may have cubed it too small and overcooked it. But I’ll never know. Because tofu is not going to be making an appearance in my home again any time soon. Which is not a problem because, as it turns out, the peanut sauce is spectacular on steak, chicken, broccoli and pretty much every other foodstuff. One sauce fits all, so to speak. A sauce for all seasons. Stop me anytime.

On a happier note, I discovered a different Asian recipe that was a big hit with hubby – Asian Quinoa Meatballs. Like tofu, Harvey would rather stick a fork through his hand than eat quinoa, so I had to improvise and use rice instead. But the result was proclaimed “guest-worthy.” I did break my own rule of no more than seven ingredients, but it was worth it.

ASIAN QUINOA MEATBALLS

1 lb ground turkey (we like dark meat since white is too lean)
3/4 cup cooked quinoa (or rice)
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 green onions, thinly sliced
1 large egg
1 tbsp soy sauce
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp Sriracha, or more, to taste (optional)
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1/2 tsp sesame seeds

sauce
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tbsp freshly grated ginger
1 tbsp brown sugar, packed
1 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp Sriracha, or more, to taste (optional)
1/2 cup water, plus 1 tbsp
2 tsp cornstarch

Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, combine ground turkey, quinoa (or rice), garlic, onions, egg, soy sauce, sesame oil, Sriracha (optional), salt and pepper. Using a wooden spoon, stir until well combined. Roll the mixture into 1.25” to 1.5” meatballs, forming about 18-20 meatballs.
Place meatballs onto the lined cookie sheet and bake for 18-20 minutes, or until all sides are browned and meatballs are cooked through. Turn once during baking.
To make the sauce, whisk together soy sauce, rice vinegar, ginger, sugar, sesame oil, Sriracha (optional) and the half cup of water in a small saucepan over medium high heat.
In a small bowl, whisk together cornstarch and one tablespoon water. Stir into soy sauce mixture until thickened, about two minutes.
Serve meatballs immediately with sauce, garnished with green onion and sesame seeds.

The taste is very gingery, so consider yourself forewarned. And, if you have hypertension, know that this recipe probably contains your week’s allotment of sodium. That said, it makes a great dinner over rice. Or even rice vermicelli noodles. Actually, it would be perfect for appetizers – when we get to hold dinner parties again, post-COVID. Plus, it’s just as good the next day. Keep in mind ground turkey is very lean, so be careful not to overcook the meatballs. I always buy dark meat to ensure more moistness. The recipe is a bit more patchkerai (fiddly and complicated) than I normally go for, but when I get a reaction like I did from my husband, that tells me all I need to know.

If all this pandemic stuff is making you a little stir-crazy, put your spare energy to good use and try out some new recipes. Your loved ones will thank you. Or not. Depending on whether there’s tofu or quinoa involved. I once tried to sneak a little quinoa into a salad and Harvey sniffed it out like a bloodhound. That was the last time I tried to deceive him culinarily. Clearly, his “just-put-it-in-my-bowl-and-I’ll-eat-it” claim is a touch weak. But I can’t blame him. Quinoa is an acquired taste (and smell). Maybe if I put some peanut sauce on it?