The Best Idea I’ve Ever Had. Get Ready to Be Grateful.

When your jar of salsa is running low, instead of shoving it in the back fridge until it becomes unpalatable, or worse, cramming a chip into the jar and getting your hand stuck and then spending the rest of your life with your hand all up in a salsa jar, just don’t do that.
Obviously, a common alternative is to pour the remaining salsa into a bowl.  A fine idea.  But there is always still some left in the jar, and I shudder to think of how much salsa has been wasted over the course of my salsa-consuming-adult-life.  At least three cups, to be sure. Tragedy.

The solution? Make a Mexican vinaigrette out of the remaining salsa by adding lime juice, shallot, salt, and olive oil to the jar and shaking it.  These quick additions change the salsa’s consistency into something appropriate for dressing greens, while the time-consuming labor required to attain certain Mexican flavors (toasting, soaking, puréeing and straining chiles + roasting tomatoes + mincing garlic), has already been done for you.

Yum yum yum and duh duh duh.  While I am mourning years of wasted salsa and could-have-been-vinaigrettes, I am ecstatic that I have discovered the technique at a relatively young age, so that I have plenty of years left to enjoy delicious Mexican salads.  I’ve served this salad as a refreshing accompaniment to heavier Mexican fare, but it tastes fantastic on its own or even with non-Mexican courses.  Last month I ate it with a curry chicken salad and there were absolutely no conflicts of interest in my mouth.

Warning: This technique might not be successful with every salsa. I imagine it might work better with the thinner, chile-based salsas than those that are chunkier and tomato-based.  I recommend the complex and slightly sweet guajillo salsa by Frontera , which is the only brand of store-bought salsa that crosses our threshold these days.

I suppose I should probably be taste-testing vinaigrettes made with different types of salsa before I go about posting this new-fangled discovery on the internet. But I am too satisfied with this particular concoction to try anything else for now. Please don’t be upset at me. Instead, channel your anger into gratitude at learning this life-changing technique.  And then, channel that angry gratitude into action: at lunch or dinner today, pilfer your fridge, find that mostly-empty jar of salsa, whatever brand it happens to be, make a vinaigrette out of it, and report back to me how it worked.

Salad, pre- and post-dressing.

Mexican Vinaigrette and Salad
~ a Fancy Toast original recipe

Vinaigrette:
2 teaspoons shallots or white onion, minced
2 teaspoons lime juice
1/4 cup olive oil
pinches of salt and pepper
1/3 cup salsa from the bottom of the jar (I recommend the guajillo style by Frontera)
Note: The first photo of the post has a second jar in it besides the salsa jar.  It is a jar of juice leftover from some spicy pickled carrots.  I didn't include it in the recipe because I don't often have that lying around, and the vinaigrette is just great without it. Just in case you were wondering....)


Salad:
1 head crisp lettuce, torn into bite-sized pieces (Boston Bibb is nice)
1 orange or grapefruit, peeled and segmented
2 beets, roasted and sliced
2 green onions, chopped
2 radishes, sliced thinly
1/2 cup queso (Mexican crumbling cheese)
small handful cilantro, chopped
Note: These are just suggestions for salad components.  Almost anything will taste delicious!

Directions:
Add first four ingredients of vinaigrette into the jar of salsa. Shake vigorously until ingredients emulsify.
Assemble salad and pour vinaigrette over. Toss and serve!

A Food Processor, a Moral Conundrum, and a Delicious Poor Man’s Pesto.

I need your advice. Please contemplate this scenario, and then get back to me.

Good Friend decides to move to Italy.
Good Friend gives away almost all of her earthly possessions to avoid hefty shipping costs, leaving you with her mint-condition Cuisinart food processor.
You give your old, crappy Hamilton Beach food processor to a friend.
That friend moves to California, taking Crappy Food Processor with her.
You fall madly and deeply in love with your new, Not-crappy Food Processor.  ‘Tis a bittersweet love, however, as your heart aches for your dear ex-pat friend each time you tenderly press the pulse button.
Several years later, Good Friend moves back from Italy, which she has deemed crappy.
Crappy, crap, crappy. Instead of those razor-edged blades puréeing your tomatoes, they purée your happiness. The elation brought on by your Good Friend’s return is destroyed by the all-consuming guilt you feel for still owning a kickass food processor while your friend has zero food processors.

What is the right thing to do?  Give her back her food processor? Perhaps, but then I would resent her for the rest of my life. Fly back to California to re-claim Crappy Food Processor? Dumb. Keep Not-crappy Food Processor, but feel guilty every time I use it? Silly. Buy Good Friend a crappy replacement? Mean.

After spending hours and hours mulling over this dilemma, I came to the conclusion that  the only reasonable solution was to break my beloved machine. Then neither of us would have it, and all would be right with the world. My plan was to keep cramming it with food until it jammed up, and then I could say, “Oh sorry, Good Friend,  by the way, your food processor broke, now we both have to buy a new one.” And it would suck, but at least it would be fair.

Full to the limit!

So I made a super duper triple batch of Poor Man’s Pesto. I filled my baby up all the way to the top, sniffling as I stuffed in handful after handful of pesto ingredients.  I stifled full-blown sobs as the olive oil glugged in.  I pressed the switch, whispering sorrowful adieus to my cherished appliance.   At first, the blades caught and stuck, and I thought my plan was successful. But after a few gentle coaxes from the pulse button, the blades whirred to life, the spinach was sucked into the flurry, and pesto!, the pesto was finished.

The good news:I have 4 or 5 cups of delicious pesto that did not cost a fortune to make.
The bad news: I still have a working, not-crappy food processor, and my friend still has zero food processors.
But more good news: it turns out that I don’t care about the moral solution to this problem. I have decided to keep the food processor. I cannot be parted with my love.
And...more bad news: it turns out I am a Crappy Friend.
But wait! More good news: To appease my guilt at being a Crappy Friend who owns a Not-crappy Food Processor, I have decided to make anyone anything with pesto in it anytime they want. Like this pizza, with  pesto, mozzarella, sun-dried tomatoes, and garlic sausage. It is not crappy.

Put it in my mouth!

Poor Man’s Pesto
Replacing some of the basil with spinach, and some of the pine nuts with pecans, brings down the price of this pesto.  Added bonus:  you don’t have to wait for basil season.
Also, the pecans give the pesto a slighty nuttier taste, which is unexpected, yet pleasing.
Feel free to vary the proportions according to your taste or what you have available in your kitchen.

Makes about 4 cups of pesto.

Ingredients:
3/4 cup toasted pecans
1/4 cup toasted pine nuts
3 large handfuls of spinach leaves
1 large handful of basil leaves
6 large cloves of garlic (or more!)
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt







Directions:
Whir ingredients together in your food processor. Hopefully your food processor is not crappy and does not break.
(Note: I actually did this in a few batches because I made an even larger batch and could not physically fit everything into the processor, even if I was trying to break it.)





Eat some right away, and then portion the rest out into various sizes for freezing.  I like to do a few 1-cup sizes for pasta salads, and a few 1/4 cup sizes for sandwiches, pizzas, soup garnishes, and whatever else comes up.

Three-Cheese Quiche with Mushrooms and Caramelized Onions

Don’t act so grateful the next time a friend makes a quiche for you. The gesture may appear equal parts sincere and sophisticated, but between you and me, you should know that all your host is doing is cleaning out her fridge.

Confused? Here are some clues that will alert you to the fact that your friend is using you to keep house:

1. A "three-cheese" quiche. A dead give-away that there wasn’t enough of a certain cheese to grate into the quiche, and your friend had to make do with whatever old handfuls of cheese she could find in the back of her cheese drawer.

2. Caramelized onions. So what if they make everything taste better. Onions are cheap, always around, and your friend had probably made a huge batch of caramelized onions last week and just realized that now she needs the container in which they are currently residing, so into the quiche they go.

3. Sautéed mushrooms with sherry wine. Your friend drank the real wine before you arrived, so sherry wine from the pantry is all she had to liven up the mushrooms.

4. A homemade crust. Please. Your friend was obviously too busy cleaning out her fridge to go the store and buy a crust, so she just had to make one from ingredients at hand.

Three-Cheese Quiche with Mushrooms and Caramelized Onions

(made from ingredients on their way to the garbage pail)

(a very inexact recipe with which you should feel free to substitute and experiment. You could even use fresh ingredients and it might taste better - but it might not.)

Ingredients:

One batch of your favorite pie dough recipe (I used one from AllRecipes.com, and it was great, whatever, it’s a pie crust, they’re all tasty)

2 tablespoons butter

½ pound (ish) of mushrooms, sliced

2 tablespoons sherry wine (or whatever wine you have)

½ cup caramelized onions (made from 2 large onions)

1.5 cups of whatever cheese you can scrape together, grated into a big pile. (I think I used mozzarella, robusto, and cheddar, but they weren’t labeled in their little baggies so I couldn’t really tell you. You can’t go wrong, as long as you don’t use American Cheese or cream cheese.)

1.5 cups of dairy (this could be any combination of milk, half & half, cream, etc.,)

3 eggs (2 would be fine, too, if that’s what you have)

½ teaspoon dried thyme

salt & pepper

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

2. Roll out the pie crust to fit your pie dish. Do that squishee thing with the crust that looks cool if you get it right and looks like crap if you don’t (my squishee attempts fall into the crap category).

3. Melt butter in a pan over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms. Sautée until they’ve released their liquid and the liquid has evaporated. Add sherry wine and cook until mushrooms have soaked up the alcohol. Salt to taste.

4. In a large bowl, mix together the dairy, eggs, cheese, and thyme. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

5. Spread the mushrooms and caramelized onions evenly across the bottom of the pie dish. Pour the egg mixture over the onions and mushrooms.

6. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the crust is golden-brown and the filling is puffy. If you have time, allow the quiche cool a bit before slicing and serving.

See? I told you my squishee pie crust skills were horrible.

Fortunately, crappy pie crust fluting tastes the same as pretty pie crust fluting. NOT to say that crappy pie crust fluting is better than pretty pie crust fluting, because that's not true. Pretty pie crust fluting is definitely better than crappy pie crust fluting. In fact, I would love it if someone would direct me towards an online pie crust fluting tutorial. My life would be so much better if my pie crusts were prettier.

And yes, ALL of this is the caption to the above photograph, which is basically the same photograph as the first photograph, just cropped and flipped, but I'm hoping you won't notice. Hey, at least I didn't add googly eyes.

An Epicurean Opportunity Presented by a Giggling Box of Offspring

Why is this box wiggling?

Because my offspring are in it.

So what would YOU do if 100% of your children were happily contained in a cardboard box, and you suddenly had an undetermined length of time during which you could do WHATEVER YOU WANTED?

Granted, your options are limited when you don’t know if your freedom is going to last 30 seconds or two hours. I imagine that the most popular decision among parents in this same exact situation would be to tear maniacally into the kitchen to see what they could consume without the children seeing. A scoop of Rocky Road. The last slice of a child’s birthday cake. A shot of tequila. A head of cauliflower.

Right, because cauliflower is so delicious.

Really? No. You know how cauliflower is just fine, and will never be any thing more than just fine?

Listen close, and I’ll tell you a secret I learned from a friend. If you put your children in a box - no wait, that’s not a secret - that’s a crib. Here’s the real secret: if you slow-roast cauliflower for a long time at a low temperature, it becomes so much better than just fine, and even better than sooooooooooo yummmmmmmmmmy, and almost as good as the best vegetable you’ve ever eaten, whatever that is. The little pieces of cauliflower become crispy and caramelized, while the bigger morsels melt into sweet, velvety chunks. It is a magical transformation…one that has enabled my four year-old daughter to raze half of a head of cauliflower in one sitting. You’d think that would make me happy, right? Offspring eating vegetables? Yes! No! Because when she is finished with the batch, there is not enough left for me. And that's a problem.

Slow-Roasted Cauliflower with Pine Nuts and Golden Raisins

Ingredients:

Two heads of caulifower (This seems like a lot, but the florets REALLY shrink when they’re roasted. And you WILL want to pig out on this. And you WILL want leftovers.)

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Handful of pine nuts, toasted

Golden Raisins

Directions:

Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

Cut up a head of cauliflower into bite-sized chunks. I like a variety of sizes, so that some pieces get crispy and some get soft. Sprinkle the cauliflower florets with plenty of olive oil and kosher salt. Roast on a baking sheet for about an hour, stirring two or three times. There should be plenty of caramelized dark spots. Those are the yummiest ones!
When they're done, dump the florets in a bowl with a handful of toasted pine nuts and golden raisins.
Yum!

Not burnt. Caramelized!

OH AND ALSO DID YOU NOTICE THAT I JUST POSTED A VEGETABLE RECIPE ON FANCY TOAST THAT ALMOST NEVER HAPPENS YOU KNOW.

Homemade Marshmallows, Peanut Butter Filled and Chocolate Dipped SHUT UP

No matter how badly you might want one of these marshmallows, you could never, ever, possibly, in your life, want one as badly as this small person:

"Do you see my tears, Mommy? Just look at how big they are.

They are as big as my love for you if you just

please give me one more marshmallow."

You might be thinking about what a heartless person I must be to deny my sad child just one more marshmallow. But don’t feel bad for him. Feel bad for me. Because I’m crying like that right now, too. For my marshmallows are gone. Devoured. Engulfed . It doesn’t matter who ate them, let’s just say they are gone forever.

You also might be thinking that instead of you feeling bad for me, I should be feeling bad for you, since you didn't get any marshmallows and I did. But in this case, it is better not to have loved at all than it is to have loved and lost, for my entire family loved and then lost and now we are miserable and our life just sucks without our chocolate covered marshmallows.

I can’t even look at this picture without enormous tears of anguish welling in my eyes. No, not the picture above, the picture below:

And look at these. They’re stuffed with peanut butter. I hope you are crying now, too.

Let me tell you about this marshmallow experience. It was a gooey mess. Goopy, goopy globs stuck to my knife and cutting board and fingers and elbows and hair and iphone and every other single surface in the entire universe. Well, at least one person enjoyed working with the batter:

I almost trashed the batch! The first few marshmallows I cut were globby, pathetic mounds that did not merit consumption by even the most wretched and miserable creatures on our planet. But I was in it too far to quit. I allowed the massive patty of uncut marshmallows to dry out a for 6 more hours until they were hard enough to maintain the approximate shape of a cube. Then I dipped them in chocolate and even salvaged the globby-glob ones by stuffing them with peanut butter and then dipping those in chocolate, too. I am happy to say that the hard work was worth it!

These are special. Sweet, soft, melty in your mouthy, everything you could want a marshmallow to be. They are a pain in the ass to make, though, so only attempt them if you are patient person whom stuff doesn't tend to stick to, and even then, only if you know will be able to graciously tolerate their absence once your supply is depleted.

Couldn't resist.

Homemade Marshmallows, Peanut Butter Filled and Chocolate Dipped

~Basic marshmallow recipe adapted from the Barefoot Contessa. Next time, I’ll be trying Martha Stewart’s recipe, which looks quicker and easier.

Ingredients

• 3 packages unflavored gelatin
• 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
• 1 cup light corn syrup*
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract*
• Confectioners' sugar, for dusting

*Fancy Toast Notes:

• Do not use dark corn syrup (like I did) or it will take at least 24 hours for the marshmallows to set.
• Use the best quality vanilla extract you can find, since the vanilla flavor is so prominent in these marshmallows. I’ve been using vanilla bean paste, which is loaded with flecks of vanilla bean.
  
• Instead of one tablespoon vanilla extract, I did two teaspoons of vanilla paste and one teaspoon of almond extract. I highly recommend this combination, especially if you’re not planning on adding the peanut butter component.

Directions

Basic Marshmallows

Combine the gelatin and 1/2 cup of cold water in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment and allow to sit while you make the syrup.

Meanwhile, combine the sugar, corn syrup, salt, and 1/2 cup water in a small saucepan and cook over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Raise the heat to high and cook until the syrup reaches 240 degrees on a candy thermometer. Remove from the heat.

(If you don't have a candy thermometer, let the mixture come to a boil and remove from heat after it has boiled for one minute.)

With the mixer on low speed, slowly pour the sugar syrup into the dissolved gelatin. Put the mixer on high speed and whip until the mixture is very thick, about 15 minutes. Add the vanilla and mix thoroughly. (Do not mix for too long, or the batter will become too thick and difficult to work with.)

With a sieve, generously dust an 8 by 12-inch nonmetal baking dish with confectioners' sugar. Pour the marshmallow mixture into the pan, smooth the top, and dust with more confectioners' sugar. Allow to stand uncovered overnight until it dries out.

Turn the marshmallows onto a board and cut them into squares. Dust them with more confectioners' sugar.

Makes 20-40 marshmallows, depending on the size.

Chocolate-Dipped Marshmallows

Melt 2 cups of good quality chocolate (I use Ghiradelli 60% cacao) at 30 second intervals, stirring between each one, until chocolate is melted. Using fingers or toothpicks, dip the marshmallows halfway in the chocolate. Allow to cool completely before serving.

Peanut Butter Stuffed AND Chocolate-Dipped

Cut a marshmallow almost in half and spread the inside with creamy peanut butter. Close up the marshmallow and dip the whole thing in the melted chocolate. Repeat with remaining marshmallows.

(I welcome any suggestions for making it easier to work with marshmallow batter. Some people suggest using cooking spray on a piece of plastic wrap, the knife, and your fingers, but I fear that the delicate flavor of the marshmallow would suffer when one's tongue detected traces of cooking spray. Some sites recommend confectioner's sugar sifted over everything, but that wasn't enough for me. Goodness gracious that was sticky stuff.)

Ugly Scones with Brie and Caramelized Onions

Well, they’re ugly little things, perhaps the ugliest food I’ve ever made in my entire life. But it’s not like I’m going to be decorating my walls with them…

Do you like my new scones?

When I first read the technique for stuffing the scones with caramelized onion and Brie, I was skeptical that the Brie would stay inside the scones and not melt out. But I was so enamored with the concept that I followed the recipe anyway, and as you can see, there was a significant amount of leakage. But perhaps the leakage was the author’s intention, because it was delightful. The melting Brie, avalanching from the scones and taking the caramelized onions with it, formed ugly little brown puddles all around the scones, and then crisped up quite marvelously and became my favorite part.

This crunchy spill-off was so fantastic that I used the surplus filling to make a batch of ugly little brown puddles without the scone dough.

Delicious? Yes. Pretty? No. But there certainly is an advantage to serving ugly food. Think about how much more attractive you, as a host, will seem to your guests, if you set down a plate of unsightly fare. If you serve a good-looking meal, you run the risk of your guests gazing adoringly at their plate of beautiful food, immediately casting their eyes upon you to praise you, but then noticing flaws of which they were previously unaware. Then, disappointed in your face, they might get up and leave during the middle of dinner, and then you will cry, and then you will be even less attractive than before.

An option with a happier ending: consider serving these only to your ugly friends.

That was mean. Sorry. How cruel of me to exclude beautiful people from the pleasures of these ugly little puddles. I should try to be a nicer person. Perhaps a more inclusive alternative would be to garnish a salad with them, allowing the beauty of the salad to overwhelm the ugly little crunchers, and then even your pretty friends will eat them. A no-tears solution!

Ugly Little Delicious Little Crisp Little Puddles of Caramelized Onion and Brie (Scroll down for the scone recipe if you would like that instead.)

Directions:

Caramelize some onions, season with salt and pepper. Mix with Brie. Dollop little puddles of the mixture on a baking sheet lined with a silicone sheet (or parchment paper). Bake at 400 degrees. I'm not going to give you a time amount because you just have to keep your eye on them. The Brie will melt, bubble, and then start crisping up, and that's when you remove them from the oven. Allow to cool completely for maximum crunchiness. Eat as is, or use them as garnishes for salad, soup, or fancy toasts.

Scones Stuffed With Caramelized Red Onions and Brie

~from Savory Baking: Warm and Inspiring Recipes for Crisp, Crumbly, Flaky Pastries

Onion Filling

2 medium red onions, peeled, cut in half, and cut into ¼ - inch slices

4 tablespoons olive oil

3 tablespoons sherry wine vinegar

salt and pepper

Scones

3 ½ cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

2 cups plus 3 tablespoons heavy cream

8 ounces Brie, cut into ½-inch pieces

Directions:

To prepare filling, sauté onions in the oil in a large, wide-bottomed skillet over high heat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cook onions for 10 minutes, stirring once or twice for even cooking; they will start to turn translucent and soften. Decrease heat to medium, add sherry wine vinegar and continue cooking for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until onions are golden brown and very soft, 20-25 minutes. Transfer caramelized onions to plate to cool.

To prepare scones, preheat oven to 375°F and line baking sheet with parchment paper or nonstick baking mat. Stir flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt together in medium bowl. Pour 2 cups of heavy cream over flour mixture. Mix flour and cream with your fingers, forming a soft, slightly sticky dough. Mix dough gently and briefly. Don’t worry if you see a few dry flour patches.

Turn moist dough out onto a floured work surface and divide into two equal pieces. Gently knead each piece several times, then flatten each into a ½-inch thick disc, about 9 inches in diameter. Dot one disc of dough with the Brie and spread the caramelized onions evenly over the top. Place the other disc of dough on top of the onions and gently press down the edges, sealing the two discs together. Lift the sandwiched disc onto a cutting board. With a long sharp knife, cut the round disc into 12 pie-shaped wedges (see note below).

Evenly space scones on the prepared baking sheet, leaving about 1 inch between each one to allow for slight spreading. Brush tops with remaining 3 tablespoons of cream. Bake until lightly browned, 15 to 20 minutes. Remove baking sheet from oven and place on cooling rack. Serve scones warm. Makes 12.

Delicious with soup!