Sasa Recipe

When Im invited to a potluck, my culinary inclination goes in one of two directions. Sometimes I want to go all-out in my kitchen, due to either adoration for my fellow potluckers, a latent competitive desire to impress, or just excitement at having an excuse to try out extravagant recipes. And other times I feel the pinch of my budget, and a slight surly resentment at feeding strangers better than I feed myself, and the motivating principle is producing a respectable potluck contribution for about $5. Luckily, there are dishes like this roasted cherry tomato tart, which can satisfy both of these impulses. This tart is crazy elegant, and also ridiculously cheap (especially if you, like us, have tomatoes of all sorts spilling out of your front yard).

This tart takes lovely late-summer tomatoes, and concentrates their flavor with a roast in a slow oven (which also has the added benefit of reducing their moisture content, so your tart wont be soggy). You can skip the slow-roasting step, if you like, and your tomatoes will be a bit prettier and less shriveled, but not nearly so rich. The roasted tomatoes are set on a bed of goat cheese that has been lightened with a bit of egg and half-and-half -- the liquid isnt enough to create a quiche-like custard, but gives the goat cheese a bit of mousse-like softness. The tangy goat cheese perfectly complements the rich tomatoes, and a wee bit of mustard on the base and fresh thyme leaves over the top provide a nice accent without distracting from the summer flavors. Its sure to please any sorts of crowds.

And speaking of group meals (potluck and otherwise), I return to the subject of my all-zucchini dinner party. I know that some of you thought sure, its nice to read about. But what did it sound like? Well, wonder no more. You can hear an audio dispatch over at The Splendid Table, and see a slide show full of zucchinitastic photos.


Roasted Cherry Tomato Tart

1 9" tart crust, par-baked
~ 1 1/2-2 cups cherry tomatoes (the exact amount may vary, depending upon the size and shape of your tomatoes - if you roast too many, thats not a bad thing at all)
olive oil
1 Tbsp dijon mustard
8 oz soft goat cheese, such as chevre
2 eggs
1/2 cup half-and-half or milk
2 tsp chopped fresh thyme (or other herb of your choice), divided
salt

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees. Halve the cherry tomatoes along their equators, and place them cut-side up in a baking dish. Drizzle with a bit of olive oil, and place them in the oven for 3 hours. They should shrink up somewhat, to maybe 2/3 their size, but still be juicy. Set aside.

Raise the oven temperature to 375 degrees. Spread the mustard along the bottom of the tart shell, leaving a very thin layer. In a mixer (or using a whisk or fork and a lot of patience), blend together the goat cheese, eggs, half-and-half, and half the fresh herbs. Pour this mixture into the tart shell. Gently place the tomatoes on top, cut-side up, in an arrangement that strikes you.

Gently transfer the tart to the oven, and bake ~45 minutes, until the filling has puffed and begun to brown, and the tomatoes are caramelized a touch on top. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly. Sprinkle the remaining fresh herb and a light sprinkling of salt across the top, and serve.

Oregons beloved Hood strawberries are in, and they are lovely. But, as much as Id love to get all puffy with regional pride, there are probably lovely strawberries coming in all over the country. Tinier than the supermarket behemoths, red and juicy throughout, begging to be eaten out of hand (or, if we must, with shortcake).

But even in the height of this ruby-red season, we get some not-so-great berries. Maybe theyve gotten so waterlogged as to become flavorless (last weeks rainstorms, Im looking at you), or theyre a bit dulled and shriveled after you, say, forgot that last pint in the back of the fridge (umm... no comment). But in times like these, weve always got roasted strawberries.

Roasting concentrates strawberries juices, turning even lackluster berries into flavor punches. And it also dries them out a bit, so they dont sog up your baked goods. I gave a recent watery batch of berries a good turn in the oven, then decided to fold them into some muffins (and yes, I do still have leftover sour cream — this is what happens when things are on sale). A little sprinkle of fresh basil gave them a bright herbal edge, keeping them from one-dimensional sweetness (I imagine many other herbs — mint, tarragon — could do a similar job). Its like springtime, but intensified a bit. And served up for breakfast.

Roasted Strawberry Basil Muffins

1 1/2 pints strawberries
1 tablespoon sugar

1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon coarse salt
1/2 stick butter, melted and slightly cooled (if you fancy, brown the butter in a small saucepan, melting it until it takes on a toasty color, for an even more delicious depth of flavor)
1/2 cup sugar, plus additional for topping
1 egg
3/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
a few sprigs fresh basil leaves, cut into strips

Preheat your oven to 375° Fahrenheit. Wash the strawberries, and halve any large ones (or quarter them if theyre truly mammoth). Toss with the tablespoon of sugar, transfer to a rimmed baking sheet or casserole dish, and roast until the berries shrink and the juices come out and thicken, ~45 minutes (you can use a large sheet tray, or a smaller square baking dish, which will take a bit longer). Set aside and let cool slightly, but leave the oven on. Grease 10 muffin cups, and set aside.

Sift together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, mix together the melted butter, sugar, egg, sour cream, milk, and vanilla until well combined. Add the wet ingredients to the dries, give a turn or two, until  just barely combined (better to under- than over-mix), then sprinkle in the strawberries and basil leaves, and give an additional turn or two until barely combined.

Quickly divide the mixture into muffin cups, coming just a bit below the lip of the cup. Sprinkle a dusting of sugar over the batter (you should need just a few spoonfuls for the whole tray). Bake until lightly golden and a tester comes out clean, ~15-20 minutes. Let cool slightly, then pop out of the muffin tin, and enjoy.

Rhubarb! Rhubarb! Rhubarb! After singing the praises of seasonal produce and asparagus last week, talking about rhubarb seems a natural next step. Rhubarbs ruby stalks stick around a bit longer than asparagus, but when they first break through the sad, fruit-free depths of winter, its no less a spring awakening. In my first-fruits rapture, I bake it into a custard tart, simmer it down into a syrup, or wait patiently (well, somewhat patiently) as it infuses into liqueur. But last week I had a rare extra carton of creme fraiche, which made me think how lovely rhubarbs tartness complements a sweet and creamy dessert. Thus the semifreddo.

For those who havent been so lucky as to taste their creamy deliciousness, semifreddos are Italian desserts, sort of like a frozen mousse. Most recipes start with a saboyan, whipping (and sometimes heating) together a shockingly large number of egg yolks and some sugar, then lightening the whole mixture with some whipped cream and freezing it in a mold (a loaf pan is fine, which lets you cut dramatic slices). The beaten-in air lightens the mixture, giving you all of the luscious creamy lightness of ice cream without an ice cream-maker. Win!

This recipe is inspired by Suzanne Goins Sunday Suppers at Lucques, which pairs a rhubarb compote with a vanilla semifreddo. Goins version is a little less yolky than most, featuring only three eggs, and folds in beaten egg whites as well for an even more light-as-air result. Its ridiculously simple for such a sophisticated dessert, doing away with the stovetop custard bases and fancy machinery, and requiring no more than a bunch of beating and folding. I cut down the cream a bit in Goins recipe, replacing it with a small amount of cultured creme fraiche instead. Its a small enough amount that it doesnt overwhelm, adding just the merest hint of tang to offset the creamy vanilla. And then theres the rhubarb.

In Goins original recipe, she pairs the semifreddo with a rhubarb compote, cooked down to a deliciously tangy slump. Ive made compotes (both hers and others) and loved them. But since Im still in the Holy Crap Its Spring! mindset, I wanted to show rhubarb off a little more. Instead of the jammy compote, I went with Canal Houses recommendation of roasting the stalks. This recipe still features the rhubarb+sugar+vanilla+wine combination Goin favors (Canal House called for red, but I replaced it with the lighter white that Goin used -- it is Spring, after all), but bakes everything in the oven instead of stewing it on the stovetop. If youre careful enough with your gentle turning, the chunks of rhubarb soften but hold their shape, yielding a tart accompaniment to the creamy semifreddo thats beautiful as well as delicious. And if you serve it promptly (instead of waiting for it to melt, as I did in my picture below), it makes for an elegant plate. Spring dinner party, anyone?

And speaking of Spring, heres a gift for Mothers Day I wrote up for The Oregonian, on how to show love to the new moms in your life (with food, of course).


Roasted Rhubarb with Creme Fraiche Semifreddo

semifreddo adapted from Suzanne Goins Sunday Suppers at Lucques, roasted rhubarb adapted from Canal House Cooking, Volume 3

serves ~6

Semifreddo:
3 large eggs, separated
2/3 cup sugar, separated
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 vanilla bean
1/4 cup creme fraiche (can be omitted if you dont have, or increased for a more pronounced flavor, but this small amount works quite well)

Roasted Rhubarb:
1 lb rhubarb, cut in 2" lengths
1/4 cup white wine
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 vanilla bean (from making semifreddo)

Line a 9" loaf pan with plastic wrap or parchment (if using plastic wrap, you can try to smooth out any wrinkles that will imprint themselves on the finished semifreddo, but I usually fail at that task). Set aside.

Place the egg whites in the bowl of a large mixer, and beat, gradually increasing the speed to high and sprinkling in 1/3 cup of the sugar. Beat until stiff peaks form, then transfer to another bowl (it can be a small one) and set aside.

Add the cream to the mixing bowl, and beat on medium until stiff peaks form. Transfer to a large bowl and set aside.

Place the reserved egg yolks in the mixing bowl, and add the seeds scraped from the vanilla bean (reserve the pod for the roasted rhubarb), vanilla extract, and reserved sugar. Beat until the mixture has lightened in color and thickened and doubled in volume, ~3 minutes. Whisk in the creme fraiche until it is just combined.

Take the yolk mixture, and gently fold it into the bowl of whipped cream. Add the beaten egg whites, and fold in in a few additions, until there are no streaks left, taking care not to deflate the mixture. Pour it into the prepared loaf pan, and place in the freezer. Freeze until solid, at least 4 hours.

When the semifreddo is ready, prepare the roasted rhubarb.

Preheat the oven to 350. Place the rhubarb, wine, sugar, and left-over half of the vanilla bean in an oven-proof pan (I used an 8" square casserole dish, which worked perfectly). Stir to evenly distribute ingredients. Place the pan in the oven and bake for about half an hour, turning the rhubarb once (gently!), until the rhubarb is totally tender but hasnt lost its shape. Remove from the oven, and let cool slightly (or fully, depending upon your taste). Discard the vanilla bean.

To serve, cut thick slices of the semifreddo, and serve topped with the roasted rhubarb and its syrupy juices.