Braised Leek, Bacon & Parmesan Calzone

The flexibility of culinary methods and ingredients across recipes has always interested me.  For example, I made dough for pizza.  What else could I use it for?  Calzone, that's what!

As a kid growing up in New York City, I found calzone intimidating.  That yeasty, swollen envelope could encompass a whole world, and if I opened up one, well, then that world would end.  One day, my curiosity got the better of me, and I ate one.  Lo and behold, its world became a happy part of me!  I am a staunch advocate for finger food -- it's fun, it's convenient, less stuff to wash up, and you get to lick your fingers!

Ingredients
(makes 4 calzone, several breadsticks)

• Leeks, thoroughly washed, white & light green, tender parts, sliced, 417 grams/4 1/4 cups*
• Butter, sweet, 30 grams/2 T (if salted butter is used, you may need less additional salt)
• Bacon, 8 slices
• Red pepper flakes, 1/4 tsp
• Parmesan, fresh grated, 8 T
• Pizza Dough, preferably home-made or already prepared (enough for four, seven-inch pies or the equivalent)
• Olive oil, for glazing
• Salt, 1/4 tsp

*American measure, that is, 8 oz cups 

Why leeks you may ask?  The leeks I planted last spring will start to go to seed as they are biennials. When gone to seed, veggies often turn bitter so I harvested the remaining leeks.

Fry or broil the bacon.  Blot off the excess fat and when cool, crumble into small pieces. Gather the rest of the ingredients.

Melt the butter in a skillet, add the sliced leeks, red pepper flakes, and about 1/4 tsp of salt and simmer, while covered, for about 15 minutes until tender.  If necessary, add a tiny bit of water to keep them from browning.  You want the leeks to be succulent. 

Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees F.  Place the leeks in a strainer positioned over a bowl and using a spoon press out as much liquid as possible.

Mix the bacon pieces into the strained leeks.

Divide into four portions and reserve.

Roll out roughly an approximately six-inch circle of dough about 1/8th inch thick on a floured surface.

Using a plate approximately 6 inches wide as a template, cut out a neat circle.

Spread evenly one portion of the filling on one half of the dough circle, keeping one inch of the edge bare.  Sprinkle with two tablespoons of grated Parmesan.  With a finger, moisten with water the circumference, making sure you do not wet the exact edge as it will make the underside gummy, making transfer of the calzone to a baking sheet problematic.

Pull the empty half over the filled one, stretching the dough gently to make ends meet.  Seal completely the two edges, leaving a flattened inch of rim while pushing the filling together as much as possible to eliminate air pockets. Crimp as in making dumplings.  Lift it with a wide spatula and place on parchment-lined baking trays.  Repeat the entire process for the other three Calzone.

Gather scraps of dough into a ball and pull off two-inch lumps.  While splaying your fingers, roll out the lumps into breadsticks, making sure you work on a clean surface, free of any flour.  Also wash your hands to ensure they are not floury.  Or else you will get flattened sticks and not nice round ones.

Bake the calzone and breadsticks for about twenty minutes until nicely browned.  Place them on a wire rack and using a pastry brush, a piece of paper towel, or your fingers, coat each calzone with olive oil for a nice sheen and also for additional flavour.

The Calzone are sharing the wire-rack with a heap of freshly picked thyme

They are best warm.  However, they can be eaten cold with little loss of flavour.  They also can be frozen and reheated in a covered dish in a 350 degrees F oven for about 20 minutes or in a microwave.  The breadsticks are delicious eaten hot, but if not eaten immediately, cool them, and put them in an airtight container or else they get soggy.  They could be crisped in the oven.

In the garden, signs of spring are continuing.  Soon the first veggie of the season can be harvested, pea shoots!  They go well with pasta and omelettes.

Though tulips are lovely, most do not naturalise and need to be replaced regularly.  Therefore, I plant species tulips like the splendid Fosteriana ones with their varied, bright hues which do stick around and increase on their own.

Until my nursery order with its asparagus crowns, onion sets, seed potatoes, and bare-root blueberries arrives--I needed to cancel my original order placed two months ago because of various problems and recently ordered from other nurseries--I will be focused on runcation (weeding!), transplanting, mowing/strimming, taking cuttings to generate more plants, and looking over our garden's wall at this splendid ornamental cherry tree shaking out its pink coverlet of blossoms.

The front garden:  Prunier d'Ente in the foreground

Dayo is staying out more and more so we need to be vigilant on maintaining his flea control program.  After all, his vet is fond of saying that cats are just restaurants for fleas.

I love how he aeroplanes his ears that way!

À la prochaine.

RELATED LINKS

Making Pizza
Sowing leeks and making twice-baked potatoes stuffed with leeks
Leek, apple, thyme rustic tart
Leek and potato soup

Golden Shrimp Chowder

During my childhood in New York City, my favourite soup was creamy New England Clam Chowder.  I know, I know, being a New Yorker I am supposed to be partial to a thinnish, tomato-based monstrosity called Manhattan Clam Chowder.  For me a chowder has to be thick, milky, salty, floury, and redolent with black pepper in order to be called a chowder.

I have yet to find large, succulent clams in France that I use for making a really good chowder, but it is easy to find fairly decent frozen, prepared shrimp.   Though substituting shrimp for clams, this recipe still retains many characteristics of my favourite chowder.  Lacking cream and butter, this soup isn't highly caloric as its richness and golden colour relies on some of the shrimp and carrots being blended.

Ingredients
(makes 5 servings or lunch/supper for two)

• Flour, white, 5 T
• Shrimp, frozen, and already prepared/cooked, 1 1/4 cups*/200 grams
• Water, 4 1/4 cups*/1 liter
• Shrimp liquid, 1/4 cup*/60 ml
• Carrots, small dice, 1 cup*/160 grams
• Potatoes, cubed, 2 cups*/260 grams
• Rosemary, fresh, 2 small sprigs (surplus can be dried) or dried, a large pinch
• Milk, about 2 cups*/475 ml (depending on desired thickness)
• Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

*American measure, that is 8 fluid oz cups.

Gather your ingredients.

Either thaw shrimp or gently heat frozen shrimp.

Heat shrimp gently for just a minute or two as not to make them rubbery.

Wring shrimp with your hands as dry as possible letting the liquid run into a small bowl.  Reserve shrimp. Pour the shrimp liquid into a medium-size pot and add the water.  While the soup base is being brought to a simmer, cube potatoes and dice carrots.  Carrots need to be in smaller pieces than the potatoes.  Simmer carrots for about five minutes till half tender.

Add potatoes and cook for another ten minutes or until the veggies are tender.  Remove one half of the veggies and add them to the reserved shrimp.

Add one half to two thirds of the shrimp to the pot and blend the contents till smooth.  You can add extra shrimp if you want a stronger presence of seafood.

Add some pot liquid to flour in a bowl and blend with a hand-held mixer till smooth. You can cream the flour with the hot liquid with a spoon, rubbing the mixture on the sides of the bowl until lump free but it is a laborious task.

Add more pot liquid to flour mixture until it is on the thinnish side.  Whisk well.

Add back to pot and cook while stirring for five minutes till thickened and raw taste of the flour is gone.  Add rosemary and milk.

Season to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper.  Simmer gently while stirring a few minutes more or until nicely thickened.  If desired, soup can be made thicker with more flour paste or thinner with more milk. The rosemary bits can be sieved out using a slotted spoon if desired though I leave them in because they add a pretty touch.

Add the remaining veggies and shrimp and heat gently for a minute or two. Though subtly flavoured, this soup is satisfying both visually and taste-wise with its warm colour, veggie chunks, and unctuous consistency.

In the potager, the last bits of pruning are being done and transplanting is getting under way.  The grapes vines were one of the last candidates for pruning.  There are two common ways of vine pruning, cane and spur--I prefer the latter method.  Grapes are produced on the previous season's growth, therefore, it is necessary to cut back that growth to several buds.  If it is cut back completely, no grapes will form this late summer/early fall.

Before pruning

After pruning

The buds should be spaced several inches apart on the vine's scaffolding.

One of ten vines, a make-shift birdbath, and a blackberry bush in the right background.

I had already transplanted two rhubarb, but kept procrastinating about doing the third and last one.  Dayo graciously reminded me of this pressing task--which needs to get done before the plant fully leafs out--by skirting around the end of the bed that still was home to unproductive, four-year-old strawberry plants requiring removal as to allow room for the remaining rhubarb transplant.

Since rhubarb needs to be kept moist, I made watering wells around each plant.  As mulch is so precious in my garden, I will wait for this entire bed to be filled in fairly rapidly with their large, exuberant leaves.  The huge leaves will act as a living mulch.  Before that happens, I will scratch in an organic, balanced fertilizer (NPK of 10-10-10) around each plant and water well.

That scattering of white flowers in the upper left are wild English daisies.

Relieved that I finally gotten around to finishing the rhubarb transplanting, Dayo was able to relax in the sun, rolling about and joyously rubbing himself against the patio.

Being no slacker, Dayo soon returned to active duty, on alert for any unfinished chores.

À la prochaine!

RELATED POSTS

Transplanting rhubarb
General pruning instructions
Strawberry general care
Rhubarb Crumble

The Goodness of Garlic: Linguine with Roasted Garlic, Parlsey, Capers & Parmesan

As I always wanted to roast heads of garlic in their skins to make a spread for bread and to use in other dishes, the surplus of last year's garlic crop is finally allowing me to fulfil my desire.  A favourite quick and easy dish of mine is linguine tossed in a buttery, garlic/caper/parsley sauce topped with freshly grated Parmesan.  This time I substituted mashed, roasted garlic for sauteed, chopped garlic.

Garlic is the only produce I presently grow enough for not only a year's supply for two but also for sowing next season's crop.  I love adding it along with chopped, fresh ginger and red pepper flakes to shrimp fried rice (watch out for the recipe!);  I adore throwing in several fat, smashed, unpeeled cloves in braised dishes like Pot-Roast of Leg of Lamb;  I delight in sprinkling chopped, fresh garlic over salads like Raw Tomatoes stuffed with Tuna.

Reserve the number of garlic heads you want to roast.  With the rest, separate into individual cloves.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F/205 degrees C.  Peel the outer skins off the heads, leaving the individual cloves' skins on.  Slice about an 1/2 inch off the tops and dribble some drops of olive over each head, rubbing the oil with your finger to make sure the exposed surfaces are fully coated.

Either wrap each head in foil and place in an individual well of a muffin tin or my preference, tightly packed in a covered casserole dish. 

Non-sprouted garlic, that is, garlic without any green bits, is the best for achieving roasted succulence

Bake about 40 to 60 minutes depending on size of the heads until browned and the cloves can be easily pierced with a fork.  Be careful not to overdo it or the garlic will dry out and harden.

My elation began as the kitchen was filled with the alluring earthiness of roasting garlic.  It continued when taking out the garlic, I could see topaz-coloured drops oozing from the cloves.  It only increased when I popped out the warm--let them cool a bit, no singed fingers please--semi-liquid innards which I then spread eagerly on a slice of home-made French bread.

There was then an interruption in my elated state as I was disappointed with my first taste.  Perhaps my expectations were just too high for something I have been waiting so long to experience.  And then, wow, the elation returned with a vengeance, the deliciousness hitting me with a wallop!  All I could think was, squeeze out some more, spread some more, put in mouth.  Repeat. 

After a few slices, I got a glow as if I was exercising, and I then realised I was indeed doing aerobics--it was a demanding schedule to keep!  Warm, mashed, roasted garlic spread on French bread is out-of-this-world good! Most likely it will keep in the fridge for several days and can be frozen.  I say most likely because there was none left to test that possibility!

The lusty cloud of garlic fragrance permeating the kitchen got to Dayo also.  Before I started roasting the garlic he looked like this: calmly observing his realm.

Once the odoriferous brume reached his end of the food-preparation table, this is what Dayo looked like: enthusiastically playing with a paper towel.

The surplus garlic cloves can be frozen easily by peeling and then chopping finely or coarsely per preference.  A food processor comes in handy here, but a good knife and some patience does the job also.  Remember to freeze the garlic as soon as possible after chopping as the high sulphur content makes it susceptible to stinking to high heavens besides encouraging spoiling.  Per Margaret Roach's clever approach to making frozen logs of herbs, put the chopped garlic into the bottom of a freezer bag.

Squeeze the air out of the bag, making a log of chopped garlic at the bottom.  Then roll up, secure with string or small clips, and put in the freezer.  When needed, remove log and slice off what you need.

Onto the linguine!  Put a good sized pot on the boil.  Meanwhile, for an ample, one-sized serving gather one and a half-inch diameter of linguine, 1 or 2 teaspoon(s) of mashed, roasted garlic with extra for garnishing, one tablespoon of capers, one tablespoon of fresh, finely minced flat-leaf parsley with extra for garnishing, four tablespoons of Parmesan, one teaspoon of sweet butter, and one teaspoon of extra-virgin olive oil, a pepper mill, and some salt.

Toss the linguine into the boiling water, stirring carefully--some swear by salting the water, but I refrain since I focus on coating pasta with well seasoned sauces.  Boil till slightly undercooked, that is, about a minute less than the recommended time.

Pour the pasta and most of the water into a strainer over the sink, reserving around 1/4 cup of the pasta water.  I fit the strainer over a bowl to catch the remaining water.  Reserve only briefly because the pasta will stick together if left for more a few minutes.  In that case, you could add a little olive oil to keep the strands separate from each other.

Put the butter, olive oil, and the pasta water into the now empty pot and turn the heat on medium low, making sure the mixture is hot.  Then add chopped parsley, mashed, roasted garlic, capers, and the pasta.  Stir gently until the water is mostly evaporated and the mashed garlic is 'dissolved', not more than a minute as not to overcook the pasta.  If necessary the heat can be raised a bit to ease along the thickening of the sauce.  Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Unceremoniously dump the pasta on a plate and sprinkle with Parmesan.  Put some more Parmesan in the centre, cradle some mashed, roasted garlic on it, and place a few parsley sprigs on top.  How did I handle that creamy dollop of mashed, roasted garlic nested in cheese?  As an appetiser!

What's for dessert you may ask?  More French bread spread with mashed, roasted garlic of course!  Have I mentioned that mashed, roasted garlic is, well, quite delicious?

In the garden, sowing continues as the rain permits.  The peas are now in and safely covered with horticultural fleece to keep them snug and protect them from hungry birds.  With our short springs and long summers, mid-march is the time cut-off for sowing a cool-weather crop like peas.  Thankfully the rain let up a bit as to allow my honouring this deadline.

The garlic planted last autumn is doing very well and will be eventually harvested late June when the recently frozen supply should be gone.

Young garlic plants in the background, nursery bed of 2-year-old laurels in the foreground

The blue of bearded irises is beginning to join the already established blue of sweet violets and periwinkle, awaiting for even more blue from lilacs, bluebells, and blue flowering herbs like rosemary and thyme.  For many, spring is a time for cheer, but in my garden it is the time for the lovely Blues.

À la prochaine!

RELATED LINKS

Planting garlic cloves
Harvesting and dry storage of garlic
Sowing peas