Rockin Ramen

Ok, raise your hand if you love ramen noodle soup. (You'll notice that my hand is held high, even waving frantically with enthusiasm.) That's right - the pre-packaged ramen soup - made up of a brick of dry noodles and a mystery spice packet (just add water), loaded with sodium and calories, and a staple of college students' diets everywhere - I am a fan.

It's such a guilty pleasure. In the last couple of weeks when I've been down with a nasty cold, it's pretty much all I've wanted to eat. Or slurp, as the case may be. It's an odd thing that I find myself loving ramen, but I know exactly from where this love stems. When I was a kid, before I was old enough to get a "real" job, I had the opportunity to seasonally work on my grandparents' ranch to make a little pocket money. The tasks were varied and mundane, but I distinctly remember the highlight of my day would be lunch. I would take a break with my cousin (who was my same age and also roped into ranch duty), and he and I would sit at grandma's kitchen table gleefully slurping up Top Ramen, making sure we each got our own full package. It was a real treat, since such packaged fare wasn't served at my house, presumably due to my siblings' allergies and hopefully thanks to my mom's healthier food sensibilities (it couldn't have been because it was too expensive - my single mom of three would have surely jumped all over it otherwise). But at grandma's house, boy oh boy, ramen was the shizz. (Let's just note that my grandma - who loved to eat and reveled in dining out - wasn't much of a day-to-day cook. Maybe that is obvious.) At any rate, it's a comfort food to me, and I crave it quite a bit.

And there's the dilemma. It's quick and comforting - but not exactly the type of whole and wholesome food I generally prefer to feed myself. So in these past weeks of nursing a cold, I did indulge once, but quickly wanted to come up with a better solution to satisfy my craving. So, I made my own.

I devised a simple but rich Asian-inspired broth and cooked a big batch that would last for days. At the same time, I steamed vegetables so that I could add them to the broth (again, enough to last several days - goodies like broccoli, shiitake mushrooms and carrots), and instead of using traditional ramen noodles (or any of my other favorite substitutes like soba or rice noodles), I used tofu noodles. Do you even know about tofu noodles? If not, learn now! You can get tofu noodles in the refrigerated tofu section of a good grocery store (like Whole Foods). They are extremely low in calories, contain zero carbs, and have ample protein. The caveat is that unless you can find fresh tofu noodles (my local Whole Foods has them - lucky me!), the packaged noodles come stored in a liquid that has a bit of an off-putting odor when you first open them. But no worries - simply rinse the noodles under some hot water, and voila - a perfect pasta substitute.

So, I've included my recipe for the broth below, and believe me, it's delicious. Way better than what comes of the mystery spice packet in the Top Ramen package. It's quick too - it honestly doesn't take much more effort to make homemade than to boil up the packaged brick of ramen. I know I've been a happy camper all week long, with just a little minimal effort at the start. Get slurping!

Ramen broth

• 1 tablespoon oil (I use sesame, but any cooking oil will do)
  
• 6 scallions, chopped (include the green tops)
  
• 4 cloves garlic, minced or crushed
  
• 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, chopped
• 1/4 cup soy sauce
• 1 teaspoon dried red-pepper flakes (optional)
• 2 cups water
• 2 cups low-sodium chicken broth or homemade stock
• Salt, to taste
• Zest of 1 lemon, grated
• 2 tablespoons lemon juice
• 2 teaspoons sesame oil
• 2 tablespoons fish sauce

In a large stock pot, heat the cooking oil over moderately low heat. Add the scallions, garlic and ginger and cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the chicken and cook until well-browned, about 5 minutes. Add the soy sauce, red-pepper flakes, water and broth and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and add in the lemon zest, lemon juice, sesame oil and fish sauce. Simmer for 5 minutes. Ladle over noodles and veggies.

The Secret is Out: Toasted Pasta

I learned a great new trick from an Italian friend of mine: toasting fresh pasta. It's a great little secret, and apologies to Glenn, but I'm gonna share it.

The premise is simple: take fresh pasta (he used big sheets of lasagna; I opted for linguine), pop it in a hot oven (425 degrees) and bake it until it's toasty brown. Then boil it.

Holy smokes - the result is subtle and yet profound: the pasta takes on a deep, nutty flavor and requires almost zilch to dress it up. I tossed my toasted-then-boiled linguine with a mixture of equal parts lemon juice and olive oil, fresh thyme from my garden, lemon zest, and shreds of asiago cheese. Topped it all with some grilled patty pan squash from the farmer's market, and boy - what a meal.

So if you're looking for a twist on the same old same old, this will do the trick. It's a fantastic light summer meal. Toasted pasta - who knew?

Whole Wheat Spaghetti Carbonara, When Only Pasta Will Do

When I get home from a long day, making dinner is usually the last thing on my mind. Food, yes. But cooking? Fuhgettaboutit. But if I haven't been diligent over the weekend and planned ahead (I try to pre-plan and even prep or pre-cook our meals for the week), I have generally two options: flirt with my husband until he is under my spell, therefore tricking him into cooking; or, forage. Neither are exactly ideal. Don't get me wrong - I love it when Randall cooks for me, but if you've seen some of his Hubby Helpings on this blog, you know I could wind up with something not exactly from the health food aisle. As for foraging, apple slices smeared with peanut butter is often as good as it gets.

It's times like these when a comfort food of my youth comes to the rescue. A simple spaghetti carbonara is a breeze to prepare, comforting after one of "those days," and perfectly satisfying. It's a dish my single mom would make for us three kids after her own long, harried days (job 1/job 2/job 3) - let alone ours (school/sports/ballet/music/homework/chores/horseplay). The fact that she could get dinner on the table at all astounds me now that I look back on it, but it was the one thing we did with scheduled regularity as a family. So this dish makes sense to me in that context - it's quick, filling, and an economical way to feed a crowd.

Of course, I've given it my own spin over the years. I don't eat pasta too much, but sometimes, you just gotta have it. I've gotten in the habit of using whole wheat pasta for starters, and tend to load up the dish with herbs as well as steamed or sauteed vegetables (great way to sneak in the veggie servings!). So I guess my version is a cross between a carbonara and a primavera. But call it what you want - I just call it good.

Whole Wheat Spaghetti Carbonara

• 1/2 pound of whole wheat spaghetti
• 1/4 pound of pancetta or bacon, diced
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup Parmesan cheese, grated
  
• Olive oil - be your own judge on the quantity
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• Optional: fresh herbs (I like basil), fresh tomatoes, sauteed or steamed veggies (use what's in season, and load it up! My favorites to toss in with the pasta are asparagus, peas, zucchini, yellow squash, peppers, artichoke hearts and mushrooms).
  

Cook the pasta according to package directions, making sure to properly salt the cooking water. As the pasta is cooking, brown the pancetta or bacon in a saute pan to the crispiness of your preference. In a separate bowl, whisk two eggs. When the pasta is done, drain and quickly return to the still-warm cooking pot (the heat can be turned off or keep on very low). Immediately toss the pasta with olive oil - enough to coat it lightly. Add the pancetta, eggs and Parmesan; toss to thoroughly coat the noodles. The residual heat will cook the eggs. Add any optional herbs or vegetables. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.

Oh the Pasta-Bilities: Croxetti with Walnut Cream Pesto

Leave it to my mom to spot the obscure pasta from across the room. During her recent trip to visit me in Napa, we were wandering the aisles of one of the many gourmet specialty shops in town, when she spied the plain brown paper packaging of a Genovese import. Called croxetti, the pasta is stunning: beautiful little coins about the size of a silver dollar, lightly embossed with a floral insignia. The package stated that the pasta was "ideal with pesto," but listed a recipe for a Walnut Sauce. Feeling adventurous - and hungry - we decided that we'd go home and make the walnut sauce, and if disaster ensued, we could top it with one of the many pestos that line the shelves of my fridge.

We didn't have to resort to Plan B, but almost. After assembling and prepping the ingredients as listed for the walnut sauce on the package, it became pretty clear that the recipe had been originally written in Italian... and was not very well translated. There was nothing resembling a sauce coming together in the kitchen. Not even close. Needless to say, we improvised.

The result is a walnut cream pesto. We figured that since the package claimed the croxetti's affinity for pesto, we couldn't go wrong. And it was good, especially when we added some fresh Italian Oregano to give the pesto a little color and depth of flavor. And if you can't find croxetti, just use it on your favorite pesto-friendly pasta (fettucini, for example).

Walnut Cream Pesto

• 2 1/2 cups shelled walnuts
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for garnish.
  
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/4-1/2 cup olive oil
• Fresh Italian Oregano leaves, to taste
• Salt and pepper, to taste

In a bowl, pour boiling water over the walnuts (enough to cover them); let soak for 3 minutes and then drain. Add the softened nuts and Parmesan cheese to the mixing bowl of a food processor. Pulse several times to chop and combine. Add the heavy cream and 1/4 cup of olive oil; blend to a paste. Add more olive oil if the pesto is too dry. Add oregano and seasonings to taste; toss with croxetti or your favorite pasta. Top with additional shavings of Parmesan.

Morel Mania (Yes, I have it!): Lemon/Pepper Pappardelle with Morels, Broccolini and Sage Browned Butter

I'm just going to let this picture speak for itself. Hungry yet?

Morel mushrooms - although not exactly purty - are one of the mushroom kingdom's greatest gifts to the world. And if you're as big a fan of morels as I am, meaning you covet them, and stalk them for the few weeks of the year when they are available fresh, and are willing to pay out the nose for them if you don't hunt them yourself ($50 a pound is not uncommon)... well then - the photo and recipe for this pasta dish should set you drooling. And I can assure you, it is as good as it looks and sounds. (Truth be told - this dish can be made with any meaty mushrooms: portobellos, shiitakes, crimini or even plain old white buttons. Good to know for the other 11 months of the year when you can't get morels!)

Credit goes to my friend Pauline for the suggestion of adding sage to the browned butter (I'm usually just a purist - butter, mushrooms and a dash of salt please!) - but the herb just livens up the earthy, woodsiness of the mushrooms even more. You really can taste the forest from whence they come - and if you're lucky, the smoke from the fires that coaxed the spores to life. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.

So get theyself to a good Farmers Market in the coming weeks and gorge on these goodies while you can. Mother Nature giveth, and she taketh away - so don't let Spring pass you by without making a meal out of some morels!

Lemon/Pepper Pappardelle with Morels, Broccolini and Sage Browned Butter

• 8 ounces pappardelle pasta (I used the DELICIOUS lemon/pepper variety from Trader Joe's)
• 1/2 pound of fresh morel mushrooms (To clean morels: soak in really cold water to remove dirt; rinse/repeat until water runs clear. You can also gently rub them between your fingers to loosen dirt from the grooves. Air dry thoroughly.)
• 1/4 pound broccolini, trimmed (broccoli rabe will also work)
  
• 1/4 cup butter
• 6-8 large sage leaves, chopped

Cook the pasta according to package directions; drain. If sticky, coat with a touch of olive oil and toss to separate the pasta ribbons. In a saute pan, melt the butter over medium-low heat. When the butter starts to foam and the edges have browned (stir to avoid burning - and keep the heat low!), add the sage and mushrooms. Saute until tender, about five minutes. Add the tiny broccolini at the very end, saute until al dente. Top individual servings of the pasta with generous heapings of the mushroom mixture.

Mo's Manicotti: Quick! Hide the Vegetables!

Whenever I can find a way to increase the vegetable intake in my diet, I do it. You'll find me tucking all manner of veggies into various dishes in all sorts of ways. It's sneaky, and it works! My husband inevitably devours the vegetable goodness long before I reveal just how veggie-packed his meal was. The secret is in the packaging. This recipe masquerades as a pasta dish, potentially oozing with cheese and calories. Not so. The pasta shells simply hold together a virtual garden of delights, with only a dab of fat-free ricotta cheese to lend it some creaminess. And the sauce is a scrumptious departure from a traditional manicotti marinara: it's made with fire-roasted red bell peppers, which kicks up the flavor quotient considerably - and the bright orange color can't be beat.

Mo's Manicotti

• 1/2 package +/- manicotti shells (this recipe makes approximately 7-9 shells)
  
• 1/4 cup(+/-) olive oil
  
• 1 cup onion, diced fine
• 2 cups button or crimini mushrooms, chopped
• 2 cups zucchini squash, diced fine
• 2 cups fire-roasted eggplant, diced fine (I had some grilled eggplant leftover from the day before - but found that the grilling makes for a much better flavor! It's worth the extra step.)
• 1 pound frozen spinach, thawed and well-drained
• 1/2 cup ricotta
• 1/2 cup fresh basil, chopped
• 1/2 cup fresh parsley, chopped
• Kosher salt, to taste
• 1/2 cup mozzerrella cheese, shredded

Sauce

• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1-2 cups skim milk, room temperature
  
• 1 12-ounce jar or can of fire-roasted red bell peppers, juice included (equivalent to 4+ peppers if you roast them yourself)
• 1 15-ounce can of tomato sauce
• Kosher salt, to taste
  

Prepare manicotti shells according to package directions. Drain and set aside to cool. In a large pan, heat the olive oil. Add the onion, mushrooms, zucchini and eggplant; saute until onions are clear and other ingredients are soft. Drain excess liquid and transfer to a large mixing bowl. Add the spinach, ricotta and fresh herbs to the bowl; combine well. As you are mixing the filling ingredients, salt to taste. Stuff each manicotti shell with the filling mixture (there is no pretty way to do this - just use your hands and get dirty!). Set stuffed shells aside.

To prepare the sauce, start by combining roasted red peppers and tomato sauce in a blender. Puree until smooth; set aside. On the stovetop, make a basic roux: melt the butter over low heat in a suacepan; when melted and foamy, add the flour and whisk to combine. Slowly add the milk and continue whisking to create a creamy white sauce. When the white sauce is at the desired consistency, add the pureed pepper/tomato sauce; stir to combine.

Pour enough sauce to cover the bottom of a 9x12 casserole dish. Place the stuffed manicotti shells in the dish side by side. Pour the remainder of the sauce over the top, covering the shells thoroughly. Sprinkle with shredded mozzerrella, if desired. Bake in a preheated 350-degree oven for 20-30 minnutes, or until sauce is bubbly and the cheese has melted (don't overcook, or the pasta shells can get dried out).

Variation: Add chopped Italian-style chicken sausage to the filling mixture to add some protein.

Lobster Macaroni and Cheese: Decadence Defined

If you know me well, you will probably be astonished to even see this recipe on my blog. It is just so completely the opposite of how I normally eat or prepare food, that you may question my motives and/or my sanity. But rest assured - my healthy eating habits haven't given up the ghost, but sometimes you just have to give in to the temptation of something so completely decadent that you're willing to pay the price (lots of extra time at the gym!). I fell in love with the concept of lobster mac-n-cheese at a wine industry event Randall and I attended some years ago in Lake Tahoe. One of the chefs at the event had prepared his version of this dish - I was hooked at the first bite. So, I came home and recreated it, and dust it off every now again when the occasion dictates.

Lobster Macaroni and Cheese

• 3 cups uncooked elbow macaroni pasta
  
• 12 ounces lobster tail pieces, fully cooked
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/4 cup flour
• 2 cups milk, room temperature
• 4+ cups white cheese, shredded (For this recipe, I like to use a combination of white cheeses. I use 1 heaping cup each of New Zealand sharp white cheddar, French Comte, a Swiss Emmental from France, and a Swiss Gruyere. I like the combination of sharpness/nuttiness/creaminess of the various cheeses, but if you just want to pick one white cheese and stick with it, that would work ok too. I'd recommend a gruyere.)
• 1/4 cup white truffle oil (optional - but why the hell not?)
• 1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Cook the macaroni according to package directions; drain. Start the cheese sauce by making a roux: Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-low heat. When melted and foamy, add the flour and whisk together to form a paste. Add 1 cup of milk; continue to whisk until mixture is blended and creamy. Start adding the cheese 1 cup at a time, stirring constantly. As the cheese melts, continue to add remaining milk and cheese in 1-cup increments. If the cheese sauce seems too thick for your liking, you can add in more milk as desired - just use small increments and keep stirring. Add the white truffle oil once all the cheese and milk have been incorporated. Once the cheese sauce is fully melted and blended, add the pasta and the lobster; stir well to coat. Pour mixture into a casserole dish (or in individually-sized ramekins - a great way to manage portion size... as if it matters!). Top with bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese. Bake in a 400-degree oven until topping is browned and the mac-and-cheese is bubbling, approximately 30 minutes.