A Good Food Day: Reboot Your Health with Food That Tastes Great (19 page)

Chickpea and White Anchovy Salad

CHICKPEA AND WHITE ANCHOVY SALAD
SERVES 6
Here’s one for your next party. This easy, inexpensive bean salad looks awesome piled onto a platter and served family-style with a few whole white anchovy fillets on top. The bright flavors, creamy-crunchy texture, and heartiness fully deliver on its visual promise. This is a large amount, so if you’re after a simple lunch to have around for a few days, you can halve the recipe with no issues. Look for marinated white anchovies in the refrigerated cases, often near the cheese and olives. White anchovies are cured in vinegar and taste less intense than the salty oil-packed brown anchovies in a tin. There’s no substituting one for the other.

The celery heart is the group of pale green, tender, mildly flavored stalks at the center of the bunch. The leaves on these stalks have a ton of great flavor, so think of them as an herb to chop up and add to salads and soups.
½ red onion, thinly sliced
Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Red wine vinegar
3 cups
cooked chickpeas
or 2 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained
¼ pound marinated white anchovy fillets, drained and cut into ¼-inch chunks (about ½ cup)
1 cup sliced celery heart stalks and leaves
½ cup packed chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
½ cup thinly sliced radishes (about 5 medium)
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
1
To pickle the onion, add the slices to a small bowl with a sprinkle of salt and just enough red wine vinegar to cover (about 3 tablespoons). Set aside to pickle for at least 15 minutes.
2
In a large bowl, combine the chickpeas, anchovies, celery, parsley, radishes, and a couple of big pinches of salt and pepper. Add the olive oil and the pickled onions along with their pickling liquid. Toss everything together. Taste and adjust the salt and pepper, if necessary.

Warm Lentil Salad

WARM LENTIL
SALAD
SERVES 8
This is an ideal make-ahead salad, and probably the one I make the most. It has no seasonal boundaries and comes together with little effort, and its rich, earthy flavor is satisfying on every level. I always make a big portion because it holds well in the fridge, but you can easily halve it if you’re cooking for one or two. Puy lentils, a small, green French variety, are the most salad-friendly because they retain their shape and firm texture through the cooking process. Brown lentils also work, but yellow and red lentils aren’t durable enough and tend to get mushy. This salad is plenty substantial on its own, but that shouldn’t stop you from occasionally tossing in a cup of bocconcini, small balls of mozzarella cheese. I also like a bowl of this topped with a piece of seared salmon or draped with a fried egg.

Unlike dried beans, lentils don’t need presoaking, and they cook quickly—ideal for quick weeknight meals. You can certainly skip the salad ingredients here and keep the simple pot of lentils around for tossing in soups and green salads.
1 pound French green lentils, rinsed
½ white onion, peeled but core intact
3 bay leaves
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 carrot, peeled and quartered lengthwise
1 tablespoon fine sea salt
2 bunches scallions, white and pale green parts only, thinly sliced
½ cup packed chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
¼ cup red wine vinegar
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
1
In a large pot, combine the lentils, onion, bay leaves, garlic, carrot, and salt. Cover by 2 inches with cold water and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the lentils are tender, but not falling apart, 17 to 20 minutes. Set the pot aside until the lentils are cool enough to handle.
2
Drain the lentils, allowing them to sit in the strainer for a couple of minutes. Remove and toss out the bay leaves, garlic, and onion. Remove the pieces of carrot, slice them, and add to a large bowl along with the scallions, parsley, and drained lentils. Dress with the vinegar and olive oil and toss to combine. Add salt and pepper to taste.
BLACK BEAN DIP
MAKES 4 CUPS
Bean dips are creamy by nature, but adding olive oil and avocado results in supreme smoothness and full-bodied flavor. They also lighten the consistency of the dip, making it less grainy and more pliable—no breaking your corn chips in thick, sludgy bean dip. I’m not wild about spicy food, but if you like in-your-face heat, by all means add half a chopped jalapeño, or a few dashes of hot sauce or cayenne pepper. For a little texture contrast, you could garnish this with minced red onion or sliced scallions. Serve with corn chips or sliced radishes, carrots, and celery sticks.

3 cups
cooked black beans
or 2 (15-ounce) cans black beans, rinsed and drained
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
½ cup loosely packed cilantro leaves
½ avocado, peeled
Fine sea salt
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
In a food processor, combine the beans, garlic, lime juice, cilantro, avocado, and a big pinch of salt. With the processor running, add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream until the dip is smooth. Taste and add more salt, if needed.
SUNFLOWER SEED HUMMUS
MAKES 4 CUPS
This will hang out in the fridge all week long, ready for spreading on sandwiches, vegetable dipping, or—my favorite use—slathering on toasted rye bread for breakfast. Swapping a portion of chickpeas for sunflower seeds gives this hummus a nuttier flavor and airy texture. To boost the creaminess of your hummus, always use warm beans (and seeds, in this case). They’re softer and break down to a velvety consistency. If you’re using leftover or canned chickpeas, heat them through with their cooking liquid (or water—don’t use the liquid in the can) before adding to the food processor. Mashing the minced garlic with a knife first will help it distribute evenly throughout the hummus. Serve on a piece of toasted
Amanda’s Bread
or with sliced raw vegetables.

If setting this out as a dip for guests, sprinkle cumin, paprika, and a few sunflower seeds on top, and give it a drizzle of olive oil.
1 cup unsalted raw sunflower seeds
3 cups warm,
cooked chickpeas
or 2 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained
2 tablespoons bean cooking liquid or water
1 teaspoon minced garlic, mashed with a knife
¼ cup fresh lemon juice
½ cup loosely packed flat-leaf parsley leaves
Fine sea salt
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
1
In a small saucepan, combine the sunflower seeds and 1 cup water. Bring to a boil, then remove the pan from the heat. Drain the sunflower seeds.
2
In a food processor, combine the softened sunflower seeds, chickpeas, bean liquid (or water, if using canned beans), garlic, lemon juice, parsley, and a generous pinch of salt. With the processor running, add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream until the dip is smooth. Taste and add more salt or lemon juice, if needed.
GREAT GRAINS
IN MY YEARS AS A COOK AT
Gramercy Tavern in New York City, if someone told me I’d later dedicate an entire chapter of a cookbook to the virtues of whole grains, I would have laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion. Grains were in no way compelling to me—it would have seemed as likely as me writing a book on cake decorating.
But even back then, Gramercy Tavern had a strange dish on the menu with a tiny grain called amaranth. Part of what made it strange was my unfamiliarity with amaranth, which seemed like nothing more than birdseed to me. In the category of frumpy, uninspiring health food, I generally considered most whole grains to rank only marginally higher than cottage cheese. I grew up having pasta two or three nights a week, so the extent of my exposure to grains was farro (still one of my favorites) and rice, either in risotto or as a bowl of regular Carolina white rice with butter.
But building a new healthy diet meant embracing grains. They’re stellar sources of fiber and complex carbohydrates, the type of carbs that take longer to digest. Getting into whole grains held practical appeal, and the cook in me was psyched because I could geek out experimenting with the massive variety
out there, from the mildness of millet to nutty barley and smoky freekeh.
Now, I’m hooked. My current obsession is brown sweet rice: As it cooks, it lets out some stickiness and develops a creamy texture unlike any other brown rice I’ve tried. I have it along with a mountain of roasted vegetables, or I treat it like Arborio rice and make risotto out of it. Another grain I practically face-dive into is red quinoa—I find red quinoa has more structure and a nuttier taste than the white quinoa, though they’re equally nutritious. Less buzzed-about but just as good is that famous amaranth, one of the grains that started my whole birdseed nonsense. I was surprised to learn that when cooked, it’s similar to polenta in the way it releases a lot of starch and becomes insanely creamy. There’s a decadent vibe to it.
I find grains fascinating. I love how they add texture, chew, and complexity to dishes. Every type acts and tastes differently, giving you endless options to explore in your cooking. And there are a slew of approaches to making grains exciting, if you cook them properly and throw in the right companions.

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