Tag: beans

  • Cinderella Cassoulet

    Cinderella Cassoulet


    Shake and quiver, little tree,
    Throw gold and silver down to me.

    This cassoulet is “authentic” the same way Cinderella in various film adaptations is “French.” Which is to say not really, but I think it definitely captures the spirit. It’s hearty and simple, made with common ingredients so it suits our modern peasant lifestyle. That means no duck, although I eventually want to make this exact dish using duck fat as the cooking oil once I get my hands on some, and it’s fairly quick, so perfect for very busy girls who have to sleep by the fire and wait on their hideous step-families.

    A cooking vessel that travels from stovetop to oven is ideal, but you could certainly make this stovetop then transfer to a baking dish before you top with breadcrumbs.

    Cinderella Cassoulet

    • olive oil
    • salt & pepper
    • 1 pound bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
    • 1 pound chicken sausage, cut on the bias into large chunks
    • 1 onion, chopped
    • 4 cloves garlic, grated
    • 1 tablespoon paprika
    • 1 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes (or 3-4 fresh, chopped)
    • 2 15 ounce cans great northern beans, rinsed and drained
    • about 3 slices bread, thoroughly toasted, or about 1 cup breadcrumbs
    • herbs – I used a few sprigs fresh thyme and a pinch of dried oregano, but you can use what you have on hand

    Heat a small amount of olive oil on medium high in a heavy-bottomed pot. Sprinkle chicken thighs with salt and pepper (just a little salt or the dish will be way too salty by the end), and brown well on both sides. Remove to a plate, and pour off all but a tablespoon or two of the oil. Brown the sausages and remove them to the plate.

    Lower the heat to medium and saute the onion with just a sprinkle of salt, until golden brown. Add the garlic, and stir for a minute or two, then add the paprika and stir for a minute. Add the tomatoes with another small sprinkle of salt, and cook, stirring, until they are well broken down. Add the beans, the chicken, and the sausage, and mix well. Add enough water to almost cover the chicken, cover, and simmer for 20 minutes or so until the chicken is well cooked through (stir occasionally and lower heat if necessary to keep from burning). Remove the lid, taste and adjust seasoning. Cook for a few minutes uncovered to thicken the sauce up if necessary.

    While the chicken is cooking, in a food processor blitz the bread into breadcrumbs, and add herbs, a small pinch of salt, and a couple tablespoons olive oil.

    Heat broiler. Smooth the chicken and beans mixture evenly and sprinkle breadcrumbs over the top. Heat under the broiler just a few minutes, until breadcrumbs are nice and brown.

    Serve hot!

    I referenced a couple of great recipes on Serious Eats:

    Recipe for Fiction Kitchen Episode 11: CINDERELLA in which Diana and Carrie discuss Disney’s new 2015 movie, Cinderella, the original animated film, as well as Cinderella stories from all over the world! We talk pumpkins, kindness = vegetarianism, practical meanies vs. gentlehearted non-planners, talking fish, gifting trees, and comfortable footwear.

    Whimsically morbid illustration by Ester Coonfield.

    There are Cinderella stories from all over the world, but I do love the Grimm brother’s version with the magical birds, silvery dress shook down from a hazel tree, and the stepsisters, desperately willing to mangle their feet, who get their eyes pecked out by pigeons for their wickedness at the end.

    Cinderella

    A rich man’s wife became sick, and when she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, “Dear child, remain pious and good, and then our dear God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you.” With this she closed her eyes and died.

    The girl went out to her mother’s grave every day and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife.

    This wife brought two daughters into the house with her. They were beautiful, with fair faces, but evil and dark hearts. Times soon grew very bad for the poor stepchild.

    “Why should that stupid goose sit in the parlor with us?” they said. “If she wants to eat bread, then she will have to earn it. Out with this kitchen maid!”

    They took her beautiful clothes away from her, dressed her in an old gray smock, and gave her wooden shoes. “Just look at the proud princess! How decked out she is!” they shouted and laughed as they led her into the kitchen.

    There she had to do hard work from morning until evening, get up before daybreak, carry water, make the fires, cook, and wash. Besides this, the sisters did everything imaginable to hurt her. They made fun of her, scattered peas and lentils into the ashes for her, so that she had to sit and pick them out again. In the evening when she had worked herself weary, there was no bed for her. Instead she had to sleep by the hearth in the ashes. And because she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella.

    One day it happened that the father was going to the fair, and he asked his two stepdaughters what he should bring back for them.

    “Beautiful dresses,” said the one.

    “Pearls and jewels,” said the other.

    “And you, Cinderella,” he said, “what do you want?”

    “Father, break off for me the first twig that brushes against your hat on your way home.”

    So he bought beautiful dresses, pearls, and jewels for his two stepdaughters. On his way home, as he was riding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and knocked off his hat. Then he broke off the twig and took it with him. Arriving home, he gave his stepdaughters the things that they had asked for, and he gave Cinderella the twig from the hazel bush.

    Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother’s grave, and planted the branch on it, and she wept so much that her tears fell upon it and watered it. It grew and became a beautiful tree.

    Cinderella went to this tree three times every day, and beneath it she wept and prayed. A white bird came to the tree every time, and whenever she expressed a wish, the bird would throw down to her what she had wished for.

    Now it happened that the king proclaimed a festival that was to last three days. All the beautiful young girls in the land were invited, so that his son could select a bride for himself. When the two stepsisters heard that they too had been invited, they were in high spirits.

    They called Cinderella, saying, “Comb our hair for us. Brush our shoes and fasten our buckles. We are going to the festival at the king’s castle.”

    Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she too would have liked to go to the dance with them. She begged her stepmother to allow her to go.

    “You, Cinderella?” she said. “You, all covered with dust and dirt, and you want to go to the festival?. You have neither clothes nor shoes, and yet you want to dance!”

    However, because Cinderella kept asking, the stepmother finally said, “I have scattered a bowl of lentils into the ashes for you. If you can pick them out again in two hours, then you may go with us.”

    The girl went through the back door into the garden, and called out, “You tame pigeons, you turtledoves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to gather:

    The good ones go into the pot,
    The bad ones go into your crop.

    Two white pigeons came in through the kitchen window, and then the turtledoves, and finally all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and swarming in, and lit around the ashes. The pigeons nodded their heads and began to pick, pick, pick, pick. And the others also began to pick, pick, pick, pick. They gathered all the good grains into the bowl. Hardly one hour had passed before they were finished, and they all flew out again.

    The girl took the bowl to her stepmother, and was happy, thinking that now she would be allowed to go to the festival with them.

    But the stepmother said, “No, Cinderella, you have no clothes, and you don’t know how to dance. Everyone would only laugh at you.”

    Cinderella began to cry, and then the stepmother said, “You may go if you are able to pick two bowls of lentils out of the ashes for me in one hour,” thinking to herself, “She will never be able to do that.”

    The girl went through the back door into the garden, and called out, “You tame pigeons, you turtledoves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to gather:

    The good ones go into the pot,
    The bad ones go into your crop.

    Two white pigeons came in through the kitchen window, and then the turtledoves, and finally all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and swarming in, and lit around the ashes. The pigeons nodded their heads and began to pick, pick, pick, pick. And the others also began to pick, pick, pick, pick. They gathered all the good grains into the bowls. Before a half hour had passed they were finished, and they all flew out again.

    The girl took the bowls to her stepmother, and was happy, thinking that now she would be allowed to go to the festival with them.

    But the stepmother said, “It’s no use. You are not coming with us, for you have no clothes, and you don’t know how to dance. We would be ashamed of you.” With this she turned her back on Cinderella, and hurried away with her two proud daughters.

    Now that no one else was at home, Cinderella went to her mother’s grave beneath the hazel tree, and cried out:

    Shake and quiver, little tree,
    Throw gold and silver down to me.

    Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She quickly put on the dress and went to the festival.

    Her stepsisters and her stepmother did not recognize her. They thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress. They never once thought it was Cinderella, for they thought that she was sitting at home in the dirt, looking for lentils in the ashes.

    The prince approached her, took her by the hand, and danced with her. Furthermore, he would dance with no one else. He never let go of her hand, and whenever anyone else came and asked her to dance, he would say, “She is my dance partner.”

    She danced until evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the prince said, “I will go along and escort you,” for he wanted to see to whom the beautiful girl belonged. However, she eluded him and jumped into the pigeon coop. The prince waited until her father came, and then he told him that the unknown girl had jumped into the pigeon coop.

    The old man thought, “Could it be Cinderella?”

    He had them bring him an ax and a pick so that he could break the pigeon coop apart, but no one was inside. When they got home Cinderella was lying in the ashes, dressed in her dirty clothes. A dim little oil-lamp was burning in the fireplace. Cinderella had quickly jumped down from the back of the pigeon coop and had run to the hazel tree. There she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again. Then, dressed in her gray smock, she had returned to the ashes in the kitchen.

    The next day when the festival began anew, and her parents and her stepsisters had gone again, Cinderella went to the hazel tree and said:

    Shake and quiver, little tree,
    Throw gold and silver down to me.

    Then the bird threw down an even more magnificent dress than on the preceding day. When Cinderella appeared at the festival in this dress, everyone was astonished at her beauty. The prince had waited until she came, then immediately took her by the hand, and danced only with her. When others came and asked her to dance with them, he said, “She is my dance partner.”

    When evening came she wanted to leave, and the prince followed her, wanting to see into which house she went. But she ran away from him and into the garden behind the house. A beautiful tall tree stood there, on which hung the most magnificent pears. She climbed as nimbly as a squirrel into the branches, and the prince did not know where she had gone. He waited until her father came, then said to him, “The unknown girl has eluded me, and I believe she has climbed up the pear tree.

    The father thought, “Could it be Cinderella?” He had an ax brought to him and cut down the tree, but no one was in it. When they came to the kitchen, Cinderella was lying there in the ashes as usual, for she had jumped down from the other side of the tree, had taken the beautiful dress back to the bird in the hazel tree, and had put on her gray smock.

    On the third day, when her parents and sisters had gone away, Cinderella went again to her mother’s grave and said to the tree:

    Shake and quiver, little tree,
    Throw gold and silver down to me.

    This time the bird threw down to her a dress that was more splendid and magnificent than any she had yet had, and the slippers were of pure gold. When she arrived at the festival in this dress, everyone was so astonished that they did not know what to say. The prince danced only with her, and whenever anyone else asked her to dance, he would say, “She is my dance partner.”

    When evening came Cinderella wanted to leave, and the prince tried to escort her, but she ran away from him so quickly that he could not follow her. The prince, however, had set a trap. He had had the entire stairway smeared with pitch. When she ran down the stairs, her left slipper stuck in the pitch. The prince picked it up. It was small and dainty, and of pure gold.

    The next morning, he went with it to the man, and said to him, “No one shall be my wife except for the one whose foot fits this golden shoe.”

    The two sisters were happy to hear this, for they had pretty feet. With her mother standing by, the older one took the shoe into her bedroom to try it on. She could not get her big toe into it, for the shoe was too small for her. Then her mother gave her a knife and said, “Cut off your toe. When you are queen you will no longer have to go on foot.”

    The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the prince. He took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. However, they had to ride past the grave, and there, on the hazel tree, sat the two pigeons, crying out:

    Rook di goo, rook di goo!
    There’s blood in the shoe.
    The shoe is too tight,
    This bride is not right!

    Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was running from it. He turned his horse around and took the false bride home again, saying that she was not the right one, and that the other sister should try on the shoe. She went into her bedroom, and got her toes into the shoe all right, but her heel was too large.
    Then her mother gave her a knife, and said, “Cut a piece off your heel. When you are queen you will no longer have to go on foot.”

    The girl cut a piece off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the prince. He took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. When they passed the hazel tree, the two pigeons were sitting in it, and they cried out:

    Rook di goo, rook di goo!
    There’s blood in the shoe.
    The shoe is too tight,
    This bride is not right!

    He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking all red. Then he turned his horse around and took the false bride home again.

    “This is not the right one, either,” he said. “Don’t you have another daughter?”

    “No,” said the man. “There is only a deformed little Cinderella from my first wife, but she cannot possibly be the bride.”

    The prince told him to send her to him, but the mother answered, “Oh, no, she is much too dirty. She cannot be seen.”

    But the prince insisted on it, and they had to call Cinderella. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the prince, who gave her the golden shoe. She sat down on a stool, pulled her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, and it fitted her perfectly.

    When she stood up the prince looked into her face, and he recognized the beautiful girl who had danced with him. He cried out, “She is my true bride.”

    The stepmother and the two sisters were horrified and turned pale with anger. The prince, however, took Cinderella onto his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel tree, the two white pigeons cried out:

    Rook di goo, rook di goo!
    No blood’s in the shoe.
    The shoe’s not too tight,
    This bride is right!

    After they had cried this out, they both flew down and lit on Cinderella’s shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and remained sitting there.

    When the wedding with the prince was to be held, the two false sisters came, wanting to gain favor with Cinderella and to share her good fortune. When the bridal couple walked into the church, the older sister walked on their right side and the younger on their left side, and the pigeons pecked out one eye from each of them. Afterwards, as they came out of the church, the older one was on the left side, and the younger one on the right side, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each of them. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived.

  • Cazuela Blanca

    Cazuela Blanca

    The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende is a poignant and whimsical story of a family, told in beautiful rolling prose. The story unfolds across generations and across Chile, from Santiago to the countryside at the family’s estate, the Trés Marias, where they spend their summers and the daughter, Blanca, feels most at home.

    Their traditional first night dinner is cazuela de ave, consequently the national dish of Chile. It’s a soupy stew, very unfussy with the chicken still on the bone and the corn still on the cob. It’s lightly seasoned and intensely homey and comforting. This version is vegetarian, using cannellini beans in place of chicken. With the white beans, white sweet corn, and potatoes, it’s light and bright, and named for the character that loves it most. Cazuela feels as warm and familiar as curling up with the book.

    Cazuela Blanca

    • olive oil
    • 1 white onion, sliced (halve first, then cut the halves into thirds so the slices aren’t crazy long)
    • salt and white pepper (black pepper is fine)
    • 3 cloves garlic, grated
    • 8 cups vegetable broth (optional, I create more umami by simmering a piece of kombu with the broth and removing at the end)
    • 2 cans cannellini beans, rinsed
    • 4 ears white corn, peeled, cleaned, and cut into thirds
    • 1 pound potatoes, peeled and cubed
    • 1 pound butternut squash, peeled and cubed
    • garnish: hot sauce, cilantro, parsley

    Heat a couple tablespoons olive oil, and cook onion with a generous sprinkle of salt and pepper until translucent and just starting to color. Add garlic and cook for a minute or so, then add vegetable broth, stirring to make sure nothing is stuck to the bottom. Add beans and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer for 5-10 minutes. Add corn, potatoes and butternut squash and check seasoning, adding more salt if necessary. Simmer until potatoes and butternut squash are very soft but not falling apart.

    Serve hot over rice or with crusty bread, sprinkled with herbs and with a dash of hot sauce.

    Recipe for Fiction Kitchen Episode 59: THE HOUSE OF THE SPIRITS & MARY AND THE WITCH’S FLOWER in which Carrie and Diana discuss pastries, country food, bland translations, pretty edible flowers, and elaborate picnics!

  • Spring Ribollita

    Spring Ribollita

    I have a well documented love of peasant food (see Castilian garlic soup, and over on our Fiction Kitchen podcast site, Cinderella cassoulet), so of course I adore ribollita which is essentially bean and bread soup. I love foods that are humble and rustic (not to mention cheap), yet with something so elegant in their simplicity.

    spring-ribollita

    Although ribollita is typical winter comfort food, this version is completely appropriate for cool and sometimes rainy spring days. It makes use of spring produce like leeks and sweet peas and is just a little brothier and greener than it’s hearty winter counterpart.

    Spring Ribollita

    • 3 tablespoons olive oil + more for garnish
    • 2 medium leeks (white parts only), sliced into half moons
    • 2 stalks celery, sliced into half moons
    • 4 cloves garlic, grated
    • salt and pepper
    • pinch red chili flakes
    • 2 teaspoons paprika
    • 1 1/2 tablespoons tomato paste
    • 2 cans cannelini beans, drained and rinsed
    • 1 large or 2 small carrots, peeled and sliced into half moons
    • handful fresh or frozen sweet peas
    • 1 tablespoon Herbs de Provence (or just use a mixture of what you have on hand, herbs like thyme, rosemary, oregano, etc.)
    • 3-4 slices stale bread torn into chunks (or if it’s fresh, you can just toast it)
    • olive oil, chopped fresh basil, and freshly grated parmesan cheese for garnish

    Heat oil in a soup pot on medium, and saute leeks, celery, and garlic with a good sprinkle of salt and pepper until the leeks are very soft and translucent. Add red chili flakes, paprika, and tomato paste and cook for another minute or two. Add beans, carrots, peas, Herbs de Provence, and 4 cups of water.

    Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer. Simmer, covered, for 20 minutes or so until the carrots are soft. Stir torn bread into the soup, and serve hot, garnished with a good drizzle of olive oil, chopped basil, and lots of fresh grated parm.

  • Beetroot Chili

    Beetroot Chili

    I’ve been giving this a lot of thought as I’m planning what I want to cook this October, and I have determined that there are 4 categories of October/Halloween food:

    1. Harvesty
    2. Spooky
    3. Cutesy
    4. Gross

    I (obviously) love harvesty and spooky Halloween food, and I don’t generally make but will surely eat your cutesy little witches’ hats and Satan’s eggs with little baby horns and goatees, but the category I can’t abide is the last one. I cannot take slimy, disgusting, creepy Halloween food. It’s just too unsettling to eat something that looks so revolting. I do not care how delicious the bloody fingers or veiny eyeballs or slimy sluggy worms are, am not interested. Gross.

    I do however, like the technically spooky and harvesty foods that toe the line – like doesn’t any soup or stew with beets look a little like….blood?

    I love beets so much, sanguineous or not. I often roast a bunch on the weekend (it’s easy, just coat with a little olive oil and wrap in foil, then roast until tender – the skin will peel right off) and eat them throughout the week in salads and soups. The kiddies love them too.

    Beets are a striking addition to this chili, which is not sophisticated enough for a vampire, as they would likely be slurping up a velvety velouté, but may be the perfect thing for werepeople who crave red meat (and root vegetables?). Chili has also become my Halloween night tradition, as it’s easy to throw together when I come home from work, then leave on the turned-off stove as we take the kids trick-or-treating and crank it back up when we return. It also feeds a crowd; we always invite company, our friends and family – or ghosties and ghoulies – that want to share.

    Beetroot Chili

    • 2 tbsp olive oil
    • 1 onion, chopped
    • salt & pepper
    • 4 cloves garlic, chopped
    • 1 lb ground beef
    • 2 tsp paprika
    • 2 tsp cumin
    • 1 tsp garam masala (if you don’t have this it’s fine, maybe just a pinch of cinnamon or omit)
    • 1 can fire-roasted tomatoes (or just diced is fine)
    • 2 cans beans (black, kidney, or a mix), drained and rinsed
    • 2 beets, roasted, peeled and chopped
    • chipotles in adobo to taste – tsp of just sauce up to 2 chopped chilis. I usually just add the adobo because then it’s not too spicy for the kids, and serve the chopped chilis on the side for everyone else.
    • Sour cream, pumpkin seeds, limes, and chopped green onions for garnish

    Heat olive oil medium high in a heavy bottomed pan, and sauté onion with a good pinch of salt and pepper until translucent. Add garlic and sauté for a few minutes, then slide them to the side and crank heat up to high. Brown the meat with another sprinkle of salt, then add the paprika, cumin, and garam masala and stir for a minute or two. Add tomatoes, beans, beets, chipotles and a cup of water and mix well, making sure to scrape up anything on the bottom of the pan.

    Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer, and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes or so, stirring occasionally. Adjust liquid (whether you like it thick or soupy) and salt if necessary.

    Serve with garnishes.