I'm back

Ahem. I apologize for the long delay between posts, but I was making some wonton soup and it took a long time.

I kid, of course. Well, not entirely. I did make wonton soup--that's what I'm here to tell you about on this sunny, mild Toulouse afternoon--and it did take a long time. But additionally, my less-than-a-year-old laptop decided to bite the dust several weeks ago, and after I sent it in to a repair center, I was left in the lurch, internet-less and unable to share my culinary creations. The cooking didn't stop--actually, I've been cooking more than ever lately--but I'll have to play some catch-up on the blog over the next few weeks.

So let's get right into that wonton soup, shall we? About 2 months ago, I posted about Paris Store, an Asian supermarket where I stocked up pantry essentials like fish sauce, sesame oil, sambal oelek and preserved vegetables. I also indulged in a few impulse purchases, such as Vietnamese nems, chewy sesame candies and a packet of wonton skins. When I got home that day, I threw the wontons into the freezer, not sure what I'd do with them, or when.

Inspiration struck about a week ago, when I was browsing the meat aisle at my local supermarket. As I've mentioned on the blog many a time, poverty frugality often guides me in my cooking. Though eating well is one of the most important pursuits in my life, I do not have a lot of money to spend on fancy ingredients, and so I seek out things that taste good but don't come at a high price. Rather than seeing this as some kind of hindrance, I actually enjoy the sport of bargain-hunting, and feel that it's a fun challenge. Spotting some random food item that has had its price slashed will often completely determine what I'll be making for dinner that night, as I scoop it into my shopping cart.

Such was the case when I decided to make these wontons. As I said, I was eying the meat offerings at the store when I noticed two items: first, a two-pound assortment of pork bones, labeled "Bones for animals," and priced at 55 cents; and second, a package of ground pork, on sale for 50% off, making its final price a whopping 2 euros. First a big pot of rich pork stock flashed into my mind (I love making stock, and do so often during the winter), followed by a vision of plump little pork dumplings floating in it. Later that afternoon, at the open-air market, I picked up the rest of the ingredients I would need--a knob of fresh ginger, a bunch of scallions and a small head of Napa cabbage--and I got to work.

First, I trimmed the pork bones of excess fat, then chucked them into a deep soup pot that I filled with cold water, brought to a boil, and dropped to a simmer. Then, I mixed up my wonton filling, seasoning the ground pork with salt, grated ginger, and sesame oil, and mixing in finely chopped scallions and cabbage. Then, I laid out my (defrosted) wonton skins on a clean, cornstarch-dusted work surface, 9 at a time, keeping the rest soft and supple under a damp paper towel. I filled each dumpling with one teaspoon of pork filling, no more, no less. You want a plump, juicy end result, but it's essential not to over-stuff your wontons, or you'll risk them bursting apart in your soup:

















Next, I dipped my forefinger in a little bowl of water, ran it over two sides of the wonton squares, then pinched the dumplings into a triangle shape, making sure to press out any air and to verify that the edges were well bound together. I attempted to make a pretty pleated dumpling but failed, so I sort of folded the dumplings into little envelopes, sealing with a bit more water once they were folded. You can make any shape you like, as long as everything is well sealed:

















With my dumplings done, it was time to finish my pork stock. I skimmed off any foam and fat that had risen to the top, then dropped in a knob of ginger, a halved onion, a chopped carrot and some peppercorns, and continued to simmer for another hour. I skimmed again, then strained the stock and returned it to the heat, adding dashes of soy sauce, fish sauce and rice vinegar. When it came to a gentle boil, I slipped the wontons in in batches, stirring gently and flipping them to ensure even cooking. When they were cooked through, about 8 minutes later, I scooped them out with a slotted spoon and tossed them with a little vegetable oil to prevent any sticking. I like to keep the wontons separate from the broth until I heat myself up a bowl of soup, so that they don't get soggy.

To serve, I heat the broth and dumplings up with a bit more shredded cabbage just until it's wilted, then stir in additional sesame oil and sambal oelek. Yes, it's a long process, but it results in a filling, delicious soup best tackled with a deep spoon and a pair of chopsticks:


















Pork and Cabbage Wonton Soup
Serves 8 - 10

Ingredients:

- 8 - 10 cups Asian pork broth (see recipe below)
- 1 package wonton skins
- 1 1/2 lbs. ground pork
- 1 scallion, thinly sliced, white and green parts
- 1 small head Napa cabbage, finely shredded and chopped
- 1 tsp. grated ginger
- 1 tsp. toasted sesame oil
- 1/2 tsp. salt
- Water
- Vegetable oil
- Additional sesame oil, for serving
- Sambal oelek, for serving

Preparation:

1. Prepare the wonton filling: in a medium bowl, combine the pork, scallion, 1 cup shredded cabbage, ginger, sesame oil and salt. Knead to combine. Set aside.
2. Make the dumplings: dust a clean work surface (counter, table or kitchen towel) with cornstarch. Lay out the wonton skins 9 at a time, keeping the remainder under a damp paper towel. Place one teaspoon of pork filling in the center of each wonton. Dip your forefinger in a bowl of water and run water over 2 edges of dumpling wrapper. Pinch the dumplings together into a triangle shape. Press out any air pockets and ensure edges are well sealed, then pinch or fold into desired dumpling shape. Place finished dumplings on a dish and sprinkle cornstarch over to prevent sticking.
3. Bring the pork broth to a simmer and drop in the dumplings, working in batches to prevent crowding. Stir the soup gently and flip the dumplings around so they cook evenly. When cooked through, about 8 minutes, remove to a dish with a slotted spoon. Toss dumplings with a small amount of vegetable oil, to prevent sticking.
4. To serve soup, heat desired amount of broth with dumplings and a handful of shredded cabbage per person. Divide soup among bowls and serve with additional sesame oil and sambal oelek.


Asian Pork Broth
Makes 8 - 10 cups

Ingredients:

- 2 lbs. assorted pork bones, trimmed of excess fat
- 12 cups cold water
- 1 onion, peeled and cut in half
- 1 carrot, scrubbed and cut into pieces
- 1 small knob of ginger
- 1 tbsp. whole peppercorns
- 1 bay leaf
- Light soy sauce
- Fish sauce
- Rice wine vinegar
- Salt

Preparation:

1. Combine bones and water in a large, deep stock pot. Bring to a boil, then drop to a simmer. Cook, uncovered, for about 3 hours, skimming foam and fat as it rises to the top.
2. After 3 hours, add the onion, carrot, ginger, peppercorns and bay leaf. Continue to simmer for one hour.
3. Skim any remaining foam and fat and strain stock to remove bones and aromatics. Return broth to pot and season to taste with dashes of soy sauce, fish sauce, rice wine and salt.

The humble cabbage

One of the best things about travel, for me personally, is the culinary inspiration it brings. Over the past few months, I've been documenting my French-influenced cooking; and recently, on a trip through central Europe, I became quite enamored of the hearty, soulful, simple but tasty cuisine I encountered there. In my last post, I described how my wanderings left me with a hankerin' for lentils, but there was one other traditional ingredient I found myself craving consistently even after I returned to France, and that was cabbage.

I ate a lot of cabbage during my recent trip: stuffed, pickled, fermented, shredded raw into salad or baked inside a savory strudel, I couldn't get enough. You see, I really love cabbage. I know it has a reputation for being bland, mushy, and otherwise dull, but I've simply never found that to be the case. You might be wondering how I typically prepare cabbage. That's easy: in the summertime, I slip it into all manner of coleslaws. When cooking Asian soups and stirfrys, I often shred in some delicate, rippled Napa cabbage. And one of my favorite winter side dishes is a simple braise of red cabbage, apples and onions, seasoned with mustard, caraway or fennel seeds, and pretty darn irresistible alongside a mustardy sausage or tender pork chop. When I got back to Toulouse it felt like all I wanted to cook was cabbage, so you can imagine my delight at discovering this New York Times article, published shortly after my return. And the recipe that really caught my eye was this cabbage soup: full of hardy, widely-available green cabbage, tangy tomatoes and a sweet-and-sour flavor profile accented by lemon juice, brown sugar and golden raisins, it was almost as if the Times had me in mind when publishing the recipe. These were the exact flavors that I found in central Europe and that I so wanted to be able to recreate at home.

And the soup definitely didn't disappoint. I could tell just from its aroma while cooking that it was going to be good. In fact, the smells brought me right back to my childhood: my paternal grandmother, Laura, an excellent cook, made a rice-and-beef-stuffed cabbage, and my maternal grandmother, Georgia, still makes sweet-and-sour beef meatballs stewed in a zippy tomato sauce that are the highlight of every Thanksgiving. Standing over the stove and stirring this soup was like being in some magical, corners-of-my-memory kitchen that somehow channeled the formidable cooking prowess of both of these women into one steaming pot. And if that doesn't make you want to pick up a head of cabbage the next time you go to the store, I don't know what would.


















Sweet-and-Sour Cabbage Soup
Adapted from the New York Times
Serves 8 - 10

Ingredients:

- 2 tbsp. olive oil
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 large onion, diced
- 2 carrots, peeled and sliced thinly
- 1 28-oz. can whole peeled plum tomatoes
- 1 c. tomato paste
- 1/2 c. ketchup
- 1/2 c. dark brown sugar
- 1 bay leaf
- 1/2 c. lemon juice
- 3 lbs. green cabbage, tough outer leaves, ribs and core removed, sliced into ribbons
- 1/2 c. golden or black raisins
- Salt
- Pepper
- Sour cream, for serving
- Chopped fresh dill or parsley, for serving

Preparation:

1. In a large, heavy-bottomed soup pot set over medium heat, sauté olive oil, garlic and onions along with a pinch of salt. When onions are soft and translucent, add 3 cups water, carrots, canned tomatoes, tomato paste, ketchup, brown sugar, bay leaf and another pinch of salt. Bring to a simmer and crush tomatoes lightly with a spoon. Simmer until carrots are tender, about 20 minutes. Discard bay leaf.
2. Using an immersion blender, or working in batches with a stand blender, purée soup lightly, leaving it a bit chunky. Add lemon juice, cabbage and 3 cups water. Simmer until cabbage is cooked to taste, about 1 hour for al dente cabbage or up to 2 hours for soft cabbage.
3. 10 minutes before serving, add 3 - 5 cups water to thin soup to desired consistency. Add raisins. Check soup for seasoning, adjusting if necessary. Serve with a dollop of sour cream and sprinkle with chopped herbs.

Lentils for my new year

Over the Christmas holiday, I was lucky enough to be able to travel to Austria, Czech Republic and Hungary, pretty much eating my way through my wanderings. As an Ashkenazi Jew, and therefore someone with roots in this region of the world, I immediately felt a connection to the cuisine I found in these countries: warming, long-cooking dishes like goulash, stuffed cabbage and a wide variety of soups, as well as a mind-boggling array of delicious pastries, many stuffed with sweetened poppyseeds, a popular (and my favorite) filling for hamentaschen cookies, traditionally made during the Jewish holiday of Purim.

It being the end of the year, though, the one dish that you could find anywhere and that was advertised everywhere (especially on New Year's Day) was lentil soup. All over the world, it's traditional to eat legumes on the first of January: they symbolize money, and so are eaten in the hopes of assuring a financially propitious year. We Americans might be most familiar with Hoppin' John, a dish of blackeyed peas stewed with pork that's commonly consumed in the south, but all over Europe, including Italy, Germany, and the central European countries I visited, lentils are the number one New Year's Day meal.

I didn't actually eat any lentil soup in Budapest, the city where I rang in 2011, but the little green legume lodged itself in my mind, because I found myself craving it ever since I returned to Toulouse. I found the perfect occasion to prepare a lentil dish when my birthday, the 9th of January, rolled around. As anyone who follows this blog knows, on my birthday my preferred means of celebration is to fix a big, inexpensive meal and invite all my friends over. Usually the celebration is a porkfest (and, incidentally, pork is another auspicious food oft prepared for the New Year's meal). But although pork butt is cheap, my funds this year were even more limited than usual, having just returned from a vacation and all, and I set my sights on a meal that though still tasty, would cost me almost nothing. And what fits the bill for that? Why, legumes, of course. So I whipped up some hummus, an old standard of mine, and I improvised a lentil salad made with roasted red peppers and shallots. I felt it was appropriately French--they eat a lot of lentils over here, especially the little green ones which I suppose best symbolize money--and what's more, my buddies seemed to enjoy it, too:























Lentil Salad with Potatoes, Red Peppers and Shallots
Serves 8 - 10 as a side dish

Ingredients:

- 2 cups green lentils, rinsed
- 4 medium new potatoes, scrubbed and cut into a medium dice
- 1 red bell pepper
- 3 shallots, peeled and sliced into paper-thin half-moons
- 1 lemon
- Red wine vinegar
- Olive oil
- Salt
- Pepper

Preparation:

1. Preheat the oven to 400°. Rub the red pepper with a small amount of oil, place it in a small baking dish, and roast in the oven, turning occasionally, until the skin is blackened and the flesh is soft, about 20 minutes. Remove dish from oven and tent with foil.
2. Meanwhile, cook the lentils. Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil, then add the lentils. Drop to a simmer and cook lentils, stirring occasionally, until they are tender but still al dente, about 20 minutes. Drain and rinse with cold water.
3. Place the diced potatoes in a medium pot and cover with cold water. Add 1/2 tsp. salt. Bring to a boil, drop to a simmer, and cook until potatoes are cooked through but still firm, about 12 - 15 minutes. Drain.
4. When pepper is cool enough to handle, peel off the skin, open it up and discard the seeds and ribs. Slice into thin strips.
5. Combine the lentils, potatoes, red pepper and sliced shallots in a large salad bowl. Add the juice of 1 lemon. Add about 2 tbsp. red wine vinegar and about 4 tbsp. olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Taste the salad and adjust flavorings as necessary: it might need more vinegar, oil, salt or pepper. The salad is best if it sits for a few hours and absorbs the dressing. Before serving, taste again and adjust seasonings as necessary.

Paris Store

Upon arriving in Toulouse I was lucky enough to move into a house with an extremely well-stocked kitchen: pots, pans, dishes of all sizes, as well as a good selection of oils, herbs and spices. But there was one category that was sorely lacking, and that was the "International Foods" section. As I've chronicled on this blog, I've gotten very interested in cooking Asian food, particularly Chinese, over the past two years, and to suddenly find myself without my sesame oil, my sambal oelek, without even a bottle of soy sauce, was, to put it mildly, jarring. My number one fast, delicious go-to meal--fried rice--was suddenly out of reach. I was not pleased.

Happily, I found an ally in my roommate Ben, who's an accomplished cook and fellow admirer of spicy food (a true rarity in France). When I voiced my concerns to him he recommended we take a trip to Paris Store, a huge Asian food megamart in Mirail, the university district of Toulouse. And one cold Saturday about a week ago, that's exactly what we did.

















Paris Store is similar to the many Asian supermarkets I'm familiar with from Brooklyn and Manhattan Chinatowns. It's got a great selection of meat, produce, sauces, spices, preserved and frozen items, as well as an interesting array of serving dishes and cookware. With one difference: whereas in New York these stores' prices are bargain-basement, making it a challenge for even your most indulgent shopping trips to cost you over $20, the prices at Paris Store are the same as you'd find at any normal supermarket. Not expensive, but enough to slightly reduce the omigodthisisSOcheap thrill of its U.S. counterparts.

















Trust me when I tell you that I was thrilled nonetheless. This store really has everything. Need some MSG? They've got it. How about fresh durian? Or some jarred toddy palm paste, whatever that is? They've got that, too.



















































The expression "like a kid in a candy store" comes to mind here. As you can see, my roommates and I made out pretty well in the end:

















We picked up tons of stuff, but most importantly the five condiments that I consider the most necessary to basic Asian cooking: light soy sauce, fish sauce, toasted sesame oil, rice wine, the aforementioned sambal oelek (or any other chili paste). Finally, I was reunited with my beloved ingredients, and a whole new world of flavor was opened up to me! By the time we got back from our shopping trip I was famished, and set to work on a simple stir-fry as soon as we walked in the door. I started with the basics: fresh ginger, garlic, scallions and chilis, which I always find so beautiful all lined up and waiting to be deployed to a hot pan:

















These staples got fried up along with some gai lan, or Chinese broccoli, some cubed firm tofu, and the requisite lashings of several different kinds of sauces. Scooped over some freshly steamed white rice, it was the perfect bowlful. Absence makes the heart (and stomach) grow fonder, indeed.


















Stir-Fried Chinese Broccoli with Tofu
Serves 2 as a main dish, 4 as a side

Ingredients:

- 1 tbsp. fresh ginger, minced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 scallions, finely chopped (white and green parts)
- 1 fresh red chile, chopped finely (seeds and ribs removed if chile is very hot)
- 3 tbsp. vegetable oil
- 1 head of gai lan (Chinese broccoli), chopped and leaves separated from stalks
- 1/2 package of firm tofu, excess water squeezed out and chopped into cubes
- 3 tbsp. light soy sauce
- 2 tbsp. rice wine
- 2 tsp. sambal oelek or other Asian chile paste
- 2 tbsp. Chinese pickled vegetables (optional)
- 2 tsp. toasted sesame oil

Preparation:

1. Heat the vegetable oil in a wok or large deep pan set over medium-high heat.
2. Add the chopped broccoli stems, ginger, garlic, chilis and scallions and cook, stirring or tossing frequently, until broccoli stems are slightly softened, about 6 minutes.
3. Add the chile paste and pickled vegetables, if using. Fry for 2 minutes.
4. Add the chopped broccoli leaves, tofu, soy sauce, and rice wine. Cook, stirring gently, until liquid has evaporated slightly and broccoli is cooked through, about 4 more minutes. Drizzle sesame oil over. Check for seasoning. Serve over hot rice.

Latkes for ten

Well, folks, it's that time of year again: the holiday season is upon us. It's been chilly here in Toulouse, not one but two holiday markets have sprung up, and many of the streets in the center of town have been illuminated with strands of twinkling lights. Oh, yeah: and it snowed the other day. Only for about fifteen minutes, but still, snow is snow.

Hannukah came early this year--it started on the first of December--and as a cultural (read: food-obsessed) Jew, I felt it my duty this season not only to make latkes for myself, but to share them with my friends and roommates, many of whom had never attended a Hannukah celebration before. I'm sure anyone reading this blog knows what latkes are, so I won't take the time to explain them; I will, however, state unequivocally that they are one of my favorite foods. I find latkes incredibly festive: being a somewhat health-conscious cook and eater, it's not often I indulge myself by making fried foods, so when Hannukah rolls around and I fry up some potato pancakes, it really feels to me like a unique occasion, and a special time of year. Even setting aside for a moment the comfort that adhering to tradition brings, these things are just delicious: who doesn't like fried potatoes?

















At home in New York, I usually celebrate Hannukah with my family, and that more or less means that on one of the nights my mom will fry up a large batch of latkes, usually several different varieties, in fact. Classic potato is always on the roster (and despite how good all types of latkes are, plain potato is by far my favorite), and she'll usually whip up some sweet potato latkes, too, as well as zucchini or mixed vegetables. Because I was inviting 10 people over for my Hannukah, as well as making a beef brisket, homemade applesauce and a side salad, I decided to only tackle 2 kinds of latkes this year: the classic potato, as well as a potato/beet mix, in order to pay homage to my current home country. The French love beets and you can find them everywhere (most supermarkets actually sell them precooked in vacuum-sealed packaging, which I don't really find appealing, since beets are so easy to cook anyway). And what's not to love? Beets are earthy and sweet, quite beautiful to look at, and, most importantly for me anyway, ridiculously cheap.

















For me, latkes fit neatly into one of the categories of things I most like to cook, that being things that are fairly simple but also somewhat time consuming. I like cooking projects: give me a free Sunday afternoon and some good music to listen to, and there's few things I'd rather be doing. There's nothing complicated about latke-making, but it does require some elbow grease, both to grate the potatoes as well as to wring them out, in batches, in a kitchen towel (if you're lucky enough to possess a food processor with a grating attachment, as I am, the process is made infinitely easier). The number one most important thing about making latkes, no matter what type of potato you use or which recipe you follow, is that you really squeeze the living daylights out of those potatoes. The more water you get rid of (and the more starch, which will get wrung out along with the water), the crispier the latkes will fry up. And if there's anything you want your latkes to be, it's crispy.

















I also tried a new technique this year that I think may have resulted in my crispiest latkes ever. Trying to get ahead a little on my prep workload yesterday, which was considerable, I grated all the potatoes early in the day and submerged them in ice cold water, then stored them in the fridge until I was ready to wring them out and add the rest of the ingredients. Soaking the potatoes gets rid of even more of the starch. It's a technique I use when making oven french fries, and it worked particularly well in this application, too.

And what did I serve the latkes with? Homemade applesauce, of course, as well as sour cream (or, in this instance, crème fraiche). As I mentioned, I also made a brisket, which I don't even want to get into here because I couldn't find the right cut of beef and the texture left something to be desired, and I also made a cooling salad of grated carrots and fennel. Alongside such a rich food like latkes, it's important to have something light to cut through the oiliness, and this salad did the trick nicely. There's three nights of Hannukah left; go ahead and try it!


















Classic Potato Latkes
Serves 6

Ingredients:

- 6 medium russet (baking) potatoes, peeled
- 1 medium white or yellow onion
- 2 tbsp. all-purpose flour
- 1/2 tsp. baking powder
- 2 eggs, lightly beaten
- Salt
- Pepper
- Vegetable or canola oil, for frying

Preparation:

1. Using the medium holes of a box grater, or the grater attachment of a food processor, grate the potatoes. If making ahead, place grated potatoes in a large bowl or pot and cover with cold water; store in the fridge until ready to proceed.
2. Grate the onion on the smaller holes of a box grater, or on the grater attachment of a food processor. Using your hands, squeeze out some but not all of the excess onion juice.
3. Drain the potatoes and squeeze out some of the water using your hands. Then transfer half the potatoes to a clean kitchen towel, roll it up tightly, and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Repeat with other half of potatoes. Transfer potatoes to a large mixing bowl and add the grated onion.
4. Add the eggs, the flour, the baking powder and a lot of salt and pepper. Mix well (hands work best for this).
5. Heat a large, heavy-bottomed skillet (ideally cast iron) over a medium flame. Add 1/2 inch of oil.
6. When oil is hot, drop about 2 tablespoons of mixture for each latke to the pan and fry, turning once. Keep oil hot but not hot enough to burn, and add more oil as needed with each subsequent batch.
7. When latkes are well-browned on both sides (about 6 minutes total), drain on layers of paper towel. If not eating immediately, transfer to a cookie sheet and keep in a warm oven. Serve latkes with sour cream and applesauce.


Potato-Beet Latkes
Serves 6

Ingredients:

- 4 medium russet (baking) potatoes, peeled
- 1 small beet, peeled
- 1 small white or yellow onion
- 2 tbsp. all-purpose flour
- 1/2 tsp. baking powder
- 2 eggs, lightly beaten
- Salt
- Pepper
- Vegetable or canola oil, for frying

Preparation:

1. Using the medium holes of a box grater, or the grater attachment of a food processor, grate the potatoes. If making ahead, place grated potatoes in a large bowl or pot and cover with cold water; store in the fridge until ready to proceed.
2. Using the medium holes of a box grater, or the grater attachment of a food processor, grate the beet. Transfer to a clean kitchen towel, roll up tightly and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Set aside.
3. Grate the onion on the smaller holes of a box grater, or on the grater attachment of a food processor. Using your hands, squeeze out some but not all of the excess onion juice.
4. Drain the potatoes and squeeze out some of the water using your hands. Then transfer the potatoes to a clean kitchen towel, roll it up tightly, and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Transfer potatoes to a large mixing bowl and add the grated beets and onion.
4. Add the eggs, the flour, the baking powder and a lot of salt and pepper. Mix well (hands work best for this).
5. Heat a large, heavy-bottomed skillet (ideally cast iron) over a medium flame. Add 1/2 inch of oil.
6. When oil is hot, drop about 2 tablespoons of mixture for each latke to the pan and fry, turning once. Keep oil hot but not hot enough to burn, and add more oil as needed with each subsequent batch.
7. When latkes are well-browned on both sides (about 6 minutes total), drain on layers of paper towel. If not eating immediately, transfer to a cookie sheet and keep in a warm oven. Serve latkes with sour cream and applesauce.


Carrot and Fennel Slaw with Cumin-Honey Dressing
Serves 6


















Ingredients:

- 4 large carrots, peeled
- 1 large bulb of fennel, trimmed and core removed
- 3 tbsp. olive oil
- Juice of 1 lemon
- 2 tbsp. honey
- 1 tsp. ground cumin
- Salt
- Pepper
- 3 tbsp. chopped fresh parsley or chopped fresh cilantro

Preparation:

1. Using the medium holes of a box grater, or the grater attachment of a food processor, grate the carrots and the fennel. Transfer to a clean kitchen towel, roll it up tightly, and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Transfer to a large serving bowl.
2. Place dressing ingredients in a jar, screw on the top and shake vigorously. Check for seasoning. Dress slaw, tossing lightly. If possible make 1 hour in advance and keep in fridge until ready to serve.
3. Garnish slaw with chopped parsley or cilantro and serve.


Homemade Applesauce
Makes about 2 cups

Ingredients:

- 6 medium apples of any variety, peeled and cut into a small dice
- 2 tbsp. sugar
- 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
- 1 small segment of fresh lemon peel
- Water

Preparation:

1. Place the apples, sugar, cinnamon, and lemon peel in a small heavy-bottomed saucepan. Add about 3 tbsp. of water and stir.
2. Cook slowly over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally and adding more water as needed. Cook until apples are soft and broken down, about 20 minutes. If you want a smoother texture, you can break up the apples with the back of a spoon or purée briefly in a food processor.