I’m always the weather skeptic: when friends and coworkers are going on and on about a looming storm, it’s always me that assures them the weather channel is sensational, and people have nothing else to talk about. Just grab your raincoat and call it a day. But this week we had some legitimately major weather in the Bay Area. When I saw businesses putting out sandbags and the commute slowing to a crawl, I gave in and held my tongue. Now generally people turn to comfort foods like soups, stews, or cheesy casseroles when the weather forces you indoors, but lately I’ve been craving simple salads–a little color amongst the gray, gloomy days.
There’s this wonderful Mediterranean restaurant back in Marin called Insalata’s and they serve the best fattoush I’ve ever had. After trying it a few times, I set out to duplicate it, and have come pretty darn close with the recipe I’ll share with you here in a minute. The nice thing about fattoush is, regardless of the season, you can find most of the ingredients in your local market. And I love that, with the addition of baked pita chips and garbanzo beans, it’s a nice meal in and of itself. Oh, and most importantly: the fresh, citrusy dressing brightens up even the gloomiest of days.
Fattoush is a Middle Eastern salad and there are numerous variations out there. It’s one of those salads that people tend to get protective over–evaluating how authentic it is from any given restaurant. Traditionally, fattoush is made with parsley, mint, purslane, and sumac. Purslane is still a bit tough to find in the store here (although you can sometimes score at the farmer’s market), so my version uses arugula instead. Feel free to use any bitter, earthy greens that you like. And instead of sumac, I use fresh lemon.
I’m curious: do you have a favorite Middle Eastern recipe? I love hummus, baba ghanoush, and tabbouleh but would love to hear some of your favorites. So here’s to fresh, crisp salads and a not-too-gray workday ahead.
Dress right before serving, so the pita chips don’t become soggy. And as with any salad, add the dressing slowly and taste as you go.
For the Dressing:
Make the dressing: In a small bowl, combine the juice from two fresh lemons with 1/3 cup olive oil. Whisk and add salt and pepper to taste.
Heat the oven to 325 F, and place the pita bread on a baking sheet. Bake about 15 minutes until dry and slightly crisp. When cool, break into pieces.
In a large salad bowl, combine all of the ingredients except the pita chips. Slowly add the dressing and the pita chips at the very end. Toss and serve.
The Thanksgiving Table
Today is a different kind of day. Usually posts on this blog come about with the narrative and I manage to squeeze in a recipe. But sometimes when you really stumble upon a winning recipe, it speaks for itself. We'll likely make these beans for Thanksgiving this year. They're one of those simple stunners that you initially think couldn't be much of a thing. And then they come out of the oven all sweet and withered and flecked with herbs. You try one and you realize they are, in fact, a pretty big thing.
I always force myself to wait until after Halloween to start thinking much about holiday pies or, really, future holidays in general. But this year I cheated a bit, tempted heavily by the lure of a warmly-spiced sweet potato pie that I used to make back when I baked pies for a living in the Bay Area (way back when). We seem to always have sweet potatoes around as they're one of Oliver's favorite foods, and when I roast them for his lunch I've been wishing I could turn them into a silky pie instead. So the other day I reserved part of the sweet potatoes for me. For a pie that I've made hundreds of times in the past, this time reimagined with fragrant brown butter, sweetened solely with maple syrup, and baked into a flaky kamut crust. We haven't started talking about the Thanksgiving menu yet this year, but I know one thing for sure: this sweet potato pie will make an appearance.
It has begun. Talk of who is bringing what, where we'll buy the turkey, what kind of pies I'll make, early morning texts concerning brussels sprouts. There's no getting around it: Thanksgiving is on its way. And with it comes the inevitable reflecting back and thinking about what we're thankful for. And about traditions. The funny thing about traditions is that they exist because they've been around for a long time. Year after year after year. But then, one Thanksgiving maybe there's something new at the table.
I didn't expect green beans to bring up such a great discussion on traditions, sharing of poems and how a piece of writing can linger with you. So thank you for that. Your comments pointed out how important people and place are and how food takes the back seat when it comes right down to it. Even if you feel quite warm towards Thanksgiving and are looking forward to next week, reading about recipe suggestions and meal planning online and in magazines can start to feel tiresome right about now. Why? Because I suppose when it all comes down to it, in the big picture it doesn't matter what we all serve anyway. Next year, you likely won't remember one year's vegetable side dish from another. What you'll remember are the markers that dotted the year for you: whom you sat next to at the table, a toast or grace, and the sense of gratitude you felt for something -- large or small.
I got a text from my mom the other day that read: demerara sugar? I responded back with a question mark, not sure what she was referencing. It turns out she was experimenting with a new pie recipe that called for the natural sugar and wasn't sure why she couldn't just use white sugar as that's what she's always done in the past. A few days later we talked on the phone and she mentioned she'd let me take charge of the salad for Thanksgiving this year as long as there was no kale. No kale! And I wanted to do the mashed potatoes? Would they still be made with butter and milk? In short, we're always willing to mix things up in the Gordon household. Whether it's inspiration from a food magazine, friend or coworker, either my mom or one of my sisters will often have an idea for something new to try at the holiday table. But what I've slowly learned is that it can't really be that different: there must be pumpkin pie, the can of cranberry sauce is necessary even though not many people actually eat it, the onion casserole is non-negotiable, the salad can't be too out there, and the potatoes must be made with ample butter and milk. And while I was really scheming up an epic kale salad to make this year, there's a big part of me that gets it, too: if we change things too much we won't recognize the part of the day that comes to mean so much: the pure recognition. We take comfort in traditions because we recognize them -- because they're always there, year after year. And so today I present to you (mom, are you reading?): this year's Gordon family Thanksgiving salad.