lasagna and autumnal musings

Fall continues to assert itself, with a profusion of colors, wildly fluctuating temperatures, and a certain distinctive quality to the air. As I step through crinkly leaves, I think of the song "This Time of Year" by Better than Ezra, evoking languorous Friday afternoons and football games. And when I think of football, I think of the Auburn Tigers: war damn eagle. Six years of graduate school, often tortuous, lonely, and hot, are now fading into blissful, social, and temperate as reality melts into memory...

Now that I live back in the upper Midwest, fall comes on a little stronger, a feisty coquette. And, though it's blasphemy, I don't follow Big Ten teams OR the Packers.

Instead, I measure seasons in my kitchen. Simple sautes and salads with fresh nearly raw ingredients give way to slow cooked soups and hearty pasta dishes. And so, tonight, inspired by fresh ricotta from Il Ritrovo and fresh mozzarella from Nala's Fromagerie, as well as abundant spinach and red bell peppers, I make lasagna. I bake enough to tuck away in the freezer for the even colder nights to come.

butternut squash soup + bittman's biscuits

Today was a gorgeous autumn day--warm-ish temperatures, lilting breeze, multi-colored leaves lining the sidewalk, and nearly imperceptible waves washing up on the shore. After a long walk, during which I listened to a podcast of The Splendid Table and counted political signs (18 to 3), I set about transforming a ginormous butternut squash into soup. The first winter squash of the season...

I sauteed onion and garlic in olive oil and then added cubed raw squash, salt, pepper, fresh sage, and water to cover. Bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble dissolved along with the squash as it veritably melted in the pot. I made a salad with roasted chick peas, shaved carrots, and red bibb lettuce, topped with Wisconsin Parm and balsamic vinaigrette. And, I mixed up a batch of Mark Bittman's yogurt biscuits.

Before dipping into the soup, I drizzled it with honey, walnut oil, and a few chopped walnuts. Quick, simple, and tasty. A crisp, minerally sauvignon blanc would've been a most lovely accompaniment, but, alas, I only have a bottle of L. Mawby Wet, which begs for company...won't you join me?

soup primavera

from dharmagirl's kitchen:

Today I finally cooked a small package of flageolets that my mom purchased for me at Dean and Deluca. Flageolets, according to Mark Bittman, are very young kidney beans. Uncooked, they're pale green, narrow, with only a hint at a kidney shape. They have a light, delicate flavor. I followed Bittman's directions for soaked, quick-cooked beans which worked beautifully. I covered the beans with 2 inches of cold water; boiled for 2 minutes; let stand, covered, off the heat for two hours; then brought to a boil again; and finally, simmered until tender-ish, and only then added salt and pepper. I've recently learned that adding salt to beans too early in the cooking process makes for a tough bean.

Then, I had a giant pot of beans and I wasn't sure what to do. I decided to make a farmer's market soup. I heated olive oil in the bottom of my soup pot, added thin slices of garlic, chopped spring onion, and small rounds of asparagus, which I sauteed briefly. I then added water and brought the mixture to a boil. I threw in a handful of amish egg noodles and set the timer for 8 minutes. When the timer binged, I added a generous ladleful of flageolets, a splash of whole milk, salt, and copious amounts of black pepper. Just before I served the soup I added spinach and a dusting of parmesan. The soup was surprisingly good, and would've only been better with some herbal infusion or a splash of lemon juice, which I easily could've done, but didn't.

I toasted up my last cheddar scallion biscuit, made a simple green salad, and enjoyed my very GREEN, my very Spring soup, and my delicious, slow food meal.

Incidentally, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, a flageolet is also "small wind instrument, having a mouthpiece at one end, six principal holes, and sometimes keys."