Simply Stunning Stuffed Shells

I think this is it, people. I think this is the end of the (really) cold weather. The ten-day forecast is hopeful, with highs mostly in the 40s, and one day with a predicted high of 50!! After a historically cold and snowy February, this forecast fills me with an embarrassing amount of joy.



Sometimes the idea of blogging about my faith, especially my Lenten practices feels strange to me - it feels against the spirit of Matthew 6:17 fasting, like if I bring this part of my life into a public arena, it will have less impact, make less of a difference in my life. But then as I read others' blogs, I remember why this kind of sharing is important. Bonnie wrote about her struggles through Lent, her struggle to challenge herself while also remaining realistic in the face of the everyday sacrifice of motherhood, and I felt encouraged, emboldened, and refreshed. I felt like I had a companion on the journey. Then Jenny shared a post challenging us to take a closer look at the media we consume, to really test whether it is strengthening or weakening our character, our conscience. I admire these women who are sharing their hearts, because they encourage me in my life, help me to be better, challenge me to look closer and dig deeper. I am grateful.



I guess the key is, as in all things, purity of motive. Why do I feel compelled to share? Do I want applause and accolades? To gain the admiration (and maybe even envy) of my peers? Or am I looking to pay it forward, in the hopes that something I share will encourage someone, help them to live their faith in the way so many bloggers have inspired me to live mine? The key is humility, which is so very hard to nail down, so difficult to live in reality.



I originally shared this recipe in 2011, and I've only made it a handful of times between then and now. I can't for the life of me figure out why, since it's so simple to make, and results in such a lovely, sparklingly special finished dish. Perfect for a Lenten Friday evening, or any other time when you'd rather avoid meat.



Simply Stunning Stuffed Shells
adapted from 101cookbooks

1 box jumbo dried pasta shells (you will end up with a few extra shells)
zest of 1 lemon

For the sauce:
1/3 cup olive oil
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon kosher salt
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil

For the filling:
1 15-ounce container whole-milk ricotta
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup grated mozzarella
1/4 cup grated parmesan
1 bunch chives, minced

Put a large pot of water on to boil.  Preheat oven to 350.  Coat bottom and sides of a 9x13-inch baking dish with olive oil, and sprinkle half of lemon zest over it.

For the sauce, combine olive oil, salt, pepper flakes and garlic in a saucepan, stirring over medium heat just until fragrant, being careful not to burn.  Add tomatoes and stir until hot.  Remove from heat, stir in basil, and taste for seasonings.

For the filling, combine ricotta, egg and salt in a bowl and mix well.  Stir in mozzarella, parmesan, remaining half of lemon zest, and 3/4 of chives.  Set aside.

Cook shells in boiling, salted water until just barely done - if you overcook them, they'll fall apart when you try to stuff them.  Drain and cool slightly.

Spread 1/3 of sauce over the bottom of the pan.  Fill each shell with ricotta filling, and nestle them closely together on top of the sauce.  Spoon remaining sauce over, and then sprinkle with chives and a little bit of extra mozzarella and parmesan.  Cover with foil and bake 15 minutes, uncover and bake another 15 minutes, until cheese is melted and sauce is bubbling.  Serve with garlic bread. Or garlic knots!

Doing the can-can!

In August, I took my first nervous, hesitating step into the wide world of canning.  It's been a lot of fun playing with different recipes, learning about acidity and pectin, and listening to the Coppertop Guy's half-joking concerns about botulism.  The first thing I canned was several pints and half-pints of Traverse City tart cherry jam, which turned out beautifully.  It gelled.  It tastes amazing.  All the jars cooperatively sealed, with their satisfying little *pop* that could be heard from the other room.  Since then, I have canned several other batches of yummy things:

• Peach-lavender jam
• Peach halves in simple syrup
• Lord Grey's Peach Preserves
• Mixed heirloom tomatoes
• San Marzano tomatoes
• Un-labeled red tomatoes from the market

This weekend, I'm going to can what's left of the half-bushel of Roma tomatoes that I picked last weekend, raspberry jam, and peach butter.  Doing all this canning has made me feel like I'm taking full advantage of the almost embarrassing bounty of the market this time of year, and is a giant step toward year-round local eating.  It feels like a solution to the problem of mid-winter scarcity, rather than a sad compromise.  If I don't put up the food that's so irresistible and amazing right now, come January I'll have to decide between food that traveled half the globe to get to me (and tastes like it), or hold out until spring to eat myself silly on fresh food again.  Not this year!  This winter, I will remember the fresh tomato sauce that was so delicious that I actually licked my plate, and instead of sighing and waiting until August to taste it again, I will just pop open one of my big jars of tomatoes!

Have you canned things before?  Does canning intimidate you?  Do you think it's worth it?  I've found so many resources online that have outlined the proper way to process the jars, and helped me to feel sure that I'm being safe.  Marisa of Food in Jars has put my mind at ease many a time this summer, when I wanted to know exactly how to properly acidify and de-bubble a jar of tomatoes, or when I took a batch of canned tomatoes out of the canner and wondered why the eff they were floating in an inch or two of liquid.  As my stock of jars grows, I just feel so satisfied, like I've bottled up a little bit of summer to savor later.

Lord Grey's Peach Preserves
adapted from Bon Appetit, August 2011

A couple of notes about this recipe: the yield BA gives is 2 pints.  Maybe I just didn't boil my preserves long enough, but I boiled for the prescribed amount of time, and the recipe yielded 4 pints.  Good thing I had extra jars on hand.  They're a little runny, but I think I like that.  A little runny makes them better for stirring into yogurt, oatmeal, and batters, and spooning over ice cream for dessert.  Also, I've been having spotty results with blanching peaches.  Sometimes the skins loosen, and sometimes they just stay stubbornly attached to the peach.  If anyone knows the secret to this, please do share.  I think it just has to do with the fact that some peaches are a little riper than others.

5 pounds ripe peaches (A quart container is usually about 2 pounds)
4 cups sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
5 Earl Grey tea bags, or 3 tablespoons loose Earl Grey tea

Bring a pot of water to a boil.  Cut a small x in the bottom of each peach, and drop them in the boiling water until the skins loosen, about 1 minute.  Plunge into an ice water bath, and then peel the skins off.  Halve each peach, and then slice into 1/4-inch pieces.  Combine with sugar and lemon juice in a large heavy pot, and set aside for 30 minutes.  Place 2 tablespoons of loose tea in a bouquet garni bag (or remove tags from individual tea bags) and add to the pot with the peaches.  Crumble the remaining tea slightly, and add it as well.  Bring mixture to a boil, and cook gently for 20-25 minutes. 

In the meantime, place lids in a small saucepan and heat over low heat until steaming, but not boiling.  Turn off heat and set aside for 10 minutes to allow the rubber seals to soften.  Bring a giant pot of water to a rolling boil, and boil your clean jars for 10 minutes. 

Ladle the hot preserves into the hot jars (use a funnel, it really helps with the mess), seal and process in boiling water for 10 minutes.  The processing time starts after the water is boiling, so if the water stops boiling when you add the jars, wait until it returns to a full boil before starting the timer.

Using tongs, remove jars to a cooling rack with a kitchen towel on top, and leave undisturbed until fully cool and sealed, up to 23 hours.  You may hear a little *pop* when the jars seal, but if not, just push the tops.  If they're solid, you're good to go.  If they give a little (you can press down on the lid), just put them in the refrigerator and use up within a week or two.



 

Hot Tomato Sunday Brunch Salad

At church on Sunday, we started the service with a hymn-sing.  People in the congregation request their favorites, and we sing a few verses!  It's pretty fun.  In the second service there was a little boy, maybe 3 or 4 years old, and he had his hand up to make a request even before anyone announced the hymn-sing.  He was the first to be called on, and he said in this loud, clear voice,

"SEVEN-ZEWO-THWEE!"

Which, in our hymnal, is Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.  Oh my gosh.  It was so cute.

When I got home I was starving, and I've been doing everything I can think of with tomatoes.  I will beseech you once again, please eat some tomatoes.  They're incredible.  Eat your fill of tomatoes now, and then IGNORE THEM IN THE WINTER!  They'll look at you, all fake-red and tasteless from the grocery aisle, and you'll be tempted, but if you remember what summer tomatoes taste like, you'll go sailing by!  So eat some tomatoes.

Here is another way to eat a tomato a day until they're gone.

Hot Tomato Sunday Brunch Salad

Chop one gigantic heirloom tomato into bite-size chunks.  Heat some oil in a skillet over medium-low heat, and then toss the tomatoes into the pan for a while with some salt and pepper.  Meanwhile, mix a few tablespoons of cream cheese with a few grates of lemon zest, a tablespoon of capers, and an assortment of fresh herbs: mint, parsley, basil, chives, whatever you've got.  Place the hot tomatoes into a bowl, and dot the top with the herbed cream cheese.  Slice some smoked salmon into thin slivers and lay them on top of the cheese.  Top with a fried egg and garnish with chopped chives.  Serve with a piece of buttered wheat toast.

Heat Wave Salad

I made a vow when summer started that I would not complain - not once! - about the heat.  I am still not complaining.  I will not break my vow, and I still remember how long and horrible last winter was.  I feel thankful.  But I would like to comment that it is so hot and humid outside this week that I actually have to walk more slowly.  And I don't really feel motivated to cook; my air conditioner is working hard enough as it is.

Persian cucumbers and baby heirloom tomatoes

I actually really like the heat.  I like most things about summer.  Like the fact that things are growing, and even vegetables sometimes taste like candy.  Like thunderstorms.  Like going to the beach, like u-pick farms, like baseball games and hot dogs and incredible sunsets.

So last night I breathed a prayer of thanks for the heat, and made hot dogs and salad for dinner. 

 

Heat Wave Salad

I wanted to put watermelon in this salad, but my watermelon had gone bad in the fridge.  Did you know that when watermelon goes bad, it ferments a little and starts to taste slightly like wine?  I mean, I don't recommend letting it go bad and then eating it, but I tasted it to make sure, and yup, kind of like wine!

1 Persian cucumber, halved and sliced in 1/4-in half-moons
1 cup baby heirloom (or cherry) tomatoes, halved or quartered
1 nectarine, cubed
1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
1 sprig each cilantro and mint, chopped
Juice of 1 lime
1 tablespoon avocado oil
salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and toss together until produce is covered with dressing.

Yield: One huge serving, or two normal servings.  You can take a wild guess what I did.