Armed with farm-fresh leeks and a powerful hunger, I ventured into the kitchen to throw together something rich and creamy for these cold fall days. This satisfies that need, and its rich enough to provide leftovers for a few days.

With this basic recipe, you can have a lot of fun. Try substituting different vegetables , substituting Marsala wine, beef broth and mushrooms (delicious and hearty), or making it without vegetables and adding saffron and white pepper for an elegant side dish.

Lemony Leek Risotto

1/2 Stick Butter or 4 Tablespoons Olive Oil + 1 Tablespoon Butter
1.5 Cups Arborio Rice
About 3-4 Cups Chicken Stock (Good to have extra on hand)
2 Nice Sized Leeks
1/3 Cup Dry White Wine

Place a saucepan on the back burner with the chicken stock inside. Add salt and pepper, and bring to a slow boil, then turn down to simmer.

Meanwhile, in a deep frypan or other pan with a wide bottom, saute the leeks in the butter or olive oil until they begin to soften. This is also the time to add any herbs you want to include.

I like this recipe pretty basic, and add only salt and pepper near the end before serving. Saffron is also an option, but it is the most expensive spice you can buy, and the strong flavors of the lemon and leek here overpower the risotto. If you really want to use it, finely chop about a half teaspoon of the fibers and dissolve in 1/2 cup of the broth. Add about mid-way through the broth adding process (below)

At this point, styles diverge. Many cookbooks will recommend removing the leeks and putting aside at this point, while you sauté the rice. I, however, do not find that the leeks will become burnt or bitter if you keep the heat moderate and simply sauté the rice for about 10 minutes in the pan with the leeks. So do that. Screw it, I’m the boss here.

Add the wine to the mixture, and continue to stir with the rice mixture until evaporated. If you’ve removed your leeks, now is the time to put them back in. Now, begin to to add the broth one ladel-full at a time, stirring until absorbed before adding another ladel. Continue until kernels are soft in texture, but firm to the bite. (you may have broth left over. If you run out of broth and still feel the rice isn’t cooked, no worries, you can heat more, or if you are out, you can add bullion to boiling water in a pinch, or in the worst case, use water)

Add one more tablespoon of butter, salt and pepper to taste, the juice of one lemon, and 1/3 cup parmesan cheese. Serve immediately. For a special presentation, risotto can be packed into a small bowl or measuring cup and molded into a little dome on the plate, and accented with fresh parsley or thyme.

Peter Rabbit “ate some lettuce and some broad beans, then some radishes, and then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley.”

—Beatrix Potter

Parsley is an object of pity for many cooks; I’ve heard it referred to as “always a bridesmaid never a bride” and “at best a supporting actor.” It’s easy to see why. At the Herb family reunion, Parsley has to work hard to wrestle for attention in the face of Basil, the outgoing Italian cousin, or even Cilantro, the zesty Latina party animal. Compared to some of these bold green leaves, parsley is pretty tame. It sits on the side of the plate at a weather-worn steakhouse, hoping to freshen someone’s breath. Or it’s dried and scattered atop a dish just before serving, an afterthought employed only to bring a dusting of green to to a drab, oily plate.

A Time-Honored Weed

But our friend Parsley has a proud history. For years, people have extolled the virtues of parsley. (Ok, I’m going to stop capitalizing it now since my personification family reunion bit is over) The Ancient Greeks were wild about it. We get the name parsley from them, literally “rock celery” — I’m thinking if parsley really wants respect it should be called rock celery all the time. Nothing says badass like a rock fist full of rock celery. The Greeks used it for medicine, they adorned athletes with it, they would also make funeral wreaths and drape them on the tombs of the dead. They believed that it sprouted from the blood of the hero Archemorus after he was slain. As a result, they didn’t actually eat the stuff. That’s right: it was considered kind of bad taste to use it to cook with. I guess it would be like telling a college student that you wanted to use beer for cooking. An article from Horticulture Magazine relates this story:

According to Plutarch, a Roman historian who lived during the first century AD (ca. 46-119), an ancient Celtic ruler with a pitifully underequipped militia exploited the Greeks’ fear of parsley by sending hundreds of asses blanketed with parsley to greet the advancing Greek troops. At the sight of the parsley, the superstitious Greeks turned and fled, and the Celtic kingdom was spared an invasion.

The Romans wised up a little, although they still had some somewhat mystical beliefs about the green stuff. From most reports I’ve read, they didn’t consider it so much an herb as a magical cure-all, like a swiffer or a magic eraser. They would put a sprig of parsley on the side of their plate to prevent their food from becoming contaminated, or tuck it into their toga for good luck. At huge feasts, guests wore parsley garlands to absorb the foul smells of garlic and onions, and in some cases alcohol. It was believed that the absorption of the wine fumes would prevent inebriation.

In Medieval Europe, popular thought was that by plucking a spring of parsley while invoking someone’s name, you could bring death to them. Seriously? There is a reason these were called dark ages. What fantastic coincidence had to happen for someone to draw that causation? Oh, right, about 40% of people died from the black death, so I guess it’s pretty easy to correlate that with anything. I’m surprised they didn’t think blinking would cause the death of a loved one.

Eventually, after they all stopped dying, the Europeans realized that it wasn’t pulling parsley sticks that had been killing them all along, and they started really using it in cuisine. According to the book “Eating Right in the Renaissance,” it was encouraged as an ingredient to improve sexual prowess. The herb came along with a wave of white immigrants to the New World in the 1700s, and has been a fixture in American herb gardens since.

Since we’re so influenced by the immigrants that make up this country, its awfully hard to really credit much of anything to our continent exclusively. When searching for “American cuisine” the best thing to do is to look at the native foods that the earliest inhabitants of this landmass survived on.

One such food native to the Americas is the squash family. Known as marrow in some other cultures, squashes belong to the genus Cucurbita, under which four species, maxima, mixta, pepo, and moschata comprise the squashes, pumpkins and gourds that you are used to seeing in your supermarket. Squashes are actually a special sort of berry, one that forms an outer rind.

Squashes were first domesticated in South and Central America, and made their way northward, eventually gaining a spot in the Native American’s coveted “Three Sisters” group with beans and corn, replacing the sassy, hard to work with diva, waxed beans (okay, I made that wax bean thing up). The Three Sisters were actually the three major crops of the Native Americans, each complimenting the other by providing shade, nutrients, or a place to climb. This is called companion planting, and is still practiced as a in organic gardening.

Squash can be divided into two major groups (some say three, but let’s not get too complicated). The classification is essentially dependent on when they are harvested, and subsequently what level of maturity they are consumed at. Those groups are the tender summer squashes, and the hearty winter squashes.

Next: Summer Squash.

Sheep as a food animal is of limited popularity in this country. We eat it primarily as a specialty item, when we brave a street meat cart, or drunkenly order gyros at a diner in Astoria at 3 AM. The sheep that we eat in this country is typically lamb between 1 month and 1 year of age. In places where sheep is more popular as a food, older animals, known as mutton, are eaten.

There are actually many reasons lamb remains a food staple around the world, especially in countries where food production is not overly mechanized as it is in this one:

One is economic. Sheep, like cows, are ruminants (grass eaters), but you can raise six sheep on the land that it would take to raise a single cow. On a family farm, grass is essentially free, and that makes a big difference. Sheep, due to their wooly coats, are also able to live outside without the shelters that some other animals require. Plus, this wool can provide an additional economic benefit, traded or sold to make woolen clothing. Even when it is time to slaughter the sheep for food, like the proverbial buffalo, many parts of the sheep have economic value.

Geography also comes into play. Sheep can graze on more hilly terrain and do not impact the environment as much as a 900 pound cow trudging around. Try and picture cows being led to pasture in the mountains of Afghanistan.

Another determining factor, in some cases, is religion. Under the rules of Halal, Muslim people are forbidden to eat some animals, ruling out other affordable livestock such as swine. For those animals that are permitted, the butchering process is strictly monitored. Under these rules, for one, animals must be hung upside-down and bled after slaughter. With a smaller animal properly observing these laws is easier.

All said, Lamb has a distinct, robust flavor due to some of the fatty acids in the meat. It is excellent roasted, grilled, stewed or cooked by a guy on the side of the street. While lamb can be high in saturated fat, today’s lamb served in the US is very lean, and lamb is also a great source of Zinc, B-vitamins, and tryptophan (which despite its reputation as a sleep-inducing substance is actually an essential amino acid).

Now you try it!

I was going to post a recipe for a Tagine, a traditional oven-baked stew, but elected to go with something a little bit simpler. This is inspired by Moroccan cuisine, though the spice profile is definitely simpler. If you’d like to experiment, popular Moroccan spices include cinnamon, cumin, paprika, saffron (too expensive to experiment with), tumeric and coriander. We’ll use some of those when we tackle a Tagine.

I use shoulder chops, which can be a little tougher to navigate with a knife and are a little more mutton-y, but if you are making this for company or want a more delicate flavor, rib chops work great too.

You need:

½ Cup Honey
½ cup Balsamic vinegar
Some olive oil
Some Thyme (and some time wouldn’t hurt)
5 or 6 lamb chops
2 or 3 sliced apples or pears
Raisins (optional)

Rub the chops with the olive oil, and sprinkle them with salt, pepper and thyme.

In a large skillet, brown the chops over medium-high heat in the olive oil, about 6 minutes per side, depending on thickness. A good indication of when they are ready to be turned is when the blood comes to the surface.

As those cook, take another skillet and add the honey and balsamic vinegar, heat on medium high until this mixture begins to boil. When it boils, add the fruit, and reduce heat to simmer. Continue boiling, and stir to soften and glaze the fruit. When the fruit is soft (about 7 minutes), add in the cooked lamb chops. Continue to turn these frequently, to glaze them with the sauce. Cook in this manner until you are satisfied with the texture and glaze.

Serve with room-temperature couscous, and arrange on the plate with fruit and a drizzle of the sauce. This meal is also great with mashed chick peas mixed with lemon juice and roasted garlic. Pour a red wine like a Syrah.  

So, I’m not a big fan of kraft mac and cheese as a meal, and ramen, while delicious, doesn’t cut it in the making me feel like I’ve eaten something category. Still, when you are a bachelor working hard and living alone (or with two roommates who certainly aren’t going to cook for you), sometimes you need easy meals to make. Last night, I adapted a few rice and bean recipes to give me something easy and delicious. I’ll try and put It in recipe format.

1 sliced jalapeño pepper, seeds removed
1 large onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, shallot, green onion or whatever else you might have around
1 can black beans (red kidneys would work here too)
1-2 slices raw bacon
Spices (I used cumin, chili powder, adobo and others)
1 tsp white vinegar
Salt to taste
1 and 3/4 cups water
1 cup rice

Cook the bacon over high heat, but don’t burn the grease. Remove from pan to cool. In the bacon grease, cook the onions garlic and jalapenos (careful not to inhale) until the onions are kind of soft and browning a little. Season this mixture with whichever spices you choose. When you are satisfied with how the “veggies” look, open the beans and add with liquid and all. Move these around and get then nice and hot for a few minutes, then add the water and vinegar, and a good dash of salt (around a teaspoon). Bring this all to a boil on medium high and let it cook down for about 5 minutes, or until you notice it start to thicken a bit. Add the rice and the now cooked bacon (cut up) and throw a lid on it.

Cook for 20 minutes on simmer, and voila—stir it up and you have a hearty, easy meal. If you get carried away on the jalapenos and need to cool it down, a dash of creamy salad dressing as a topping is delicious.