Whole Wheat Linguine with Kale and Sausage

Dating is a challenge.  Even if you’ve been married for 40 years, if you imagine the quest of seeking a suitable partner that will both help keep the house clean and give you butterflies in your stomach, I’m sure you will be able to flirt with the magnitude of this process.  Like most things in life, it’s usually best to enjoy the journey, instead of focusing on the end result; in dating, this means that sometimes you spend time with people that you know aren’t ultimately right for you, but you’re enjoying the ride and it’s nice to have some company from time to time.  This is exactly where I was with my last quasi-relationship, which is really a rare and beautiful place to be.  Heartbreak is not part of the equation because you’re not in love, but there also must be some sort of conclusion at some point.  Ideally, the conclusion will manifest itself in a natural and respectful manner.  I’m sure my readers are all very respectful people, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that text messages are not considered to be one of the respectful ways to end an affair, even if the premise was casual and low-commitment.  The problem was not that the involvement was concluded, but the means of message delivery was inappropriate.  I think it’s safe to say that anything beyond 3 or 4 dates requires an actual phone call, as opposed to some sort of electronically transmitted text. 

With a phone call, I would have seen said involvement as fun, and purposeful, but the text message breakup cheapened the experience.  It left a bitter taste in my mouth.  So I embarked on a three-step process to wash that man out of my hair.  The first step was to literally wash my hair; a hot shower can be a profoundly symbolic gesture in letting go of the old, and being prepared for a fresh start. Next, I got a pedicure; you can only take the missteps of others so seriously when your toenails have been freshly painted a color dubbed “Cajun Shrimp.”  Last, I indulged in a home cooked meal that was both satisfying and nourishing, and also one that I knew my former beau would not have enjoyed, but suits my taste perfectly. 

Enter whole-wheat linguine with kale and sausage.  I adapted this dish from my newest cookbook, cheekily titled “50 Shades of Kale” (completely ridiculous, I know, but I do attest that it was the most creative and compelling of the 5 kale-based cookbooks at Peppercorn, the local culinary retail Mecca of Boulder).  This dish is very simple, but it has all the best things in it: pasta, cream, white wine, garlic, crushed red pepper, sausage, and loads of kale. The recipe called for whole-wheat linguine, which is not my favorite.  In general, I feel like it’s not quite worth it; if you’re going to indulge in pasta, go for the real thing: tender, toothsome, silky strands, not their cardboard-esque, healthy cousin.  But I went against my usual stance because I felt that the hearty combination of the cream, sausage, and kale might be enough to balance out the rustic texture of the whole-wheat pasta.  This turned out to be an excellent judgment call.  This was definitely the right sauce for the job, but I also think I may have inadvertently chosen the best whole-wheat pasta on the market: Whole Foods Organic Whole Wheat Linguine.  It had the heartiness you expect from whole grains, which stands up nicely to the cream, without the woody or chalky quality that I so frequently encounter in whole-wheat pasta.  Delicious, satisfying, spicy, creamy, slightly acidic from white wine; this dish confounded the bitterness that text message left me with, and leftovers to boot.   

Whole Wheat Linguine with Kale and Sausage (adapted from 50 Shades of Kale)

1/2 pound mild Italian sausage

3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes, divided

10 ounce bunch of kale, stems removed and coarsely chopped

1/2 cup white wine

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1/2 cup heavy cream

1/2 pound whole wheat linguine

Parmesan cheese for garnish

-       Cook the linguine in a large pot of salted, boiling water, al dente, per package instructions.  Reserve approximately 1 cup of pasta cooking water; drain pasta and set aside.

-       In a large skillet preheated over medium heat, sauté the sausage, breaking it apart, until cooked though.

-       Add the garlic and half of the hot pepper flakes, and sauté for 1 minute.

-       Add the kale and the white wine, scraping up any brown bits off the bottom of the pan.  Season with salt and pepper.  Sauté for about 5 minutes, until the kale is wilted, and starts to become tender.

-       Add the cream, and cook for about 5 minutes more.

-       Toss in the pasta and enough pasta cooking water to make the mixture slightly saucy.  Garnish with Parmesan cheese. 

Stuffed Peppers

Unlike the typical 9 to 5 job, I work 4-10 hour days.  The days are undeniably long, but a weekly 3-day weekend more than makes up for my intense workweek.  It’s like a weekly mini-vacation.  My favorite part of my three-day weekend is Sunday.  Not working on Mondays, Sunday has been transformed from a somber, stressful affair, focused on preparing for the workweek, into a relaxing and delightful day.  I spend most of my Sunday evenings hunkered down at a good friend’s house in Denver, sipping vodka, eating antipasto, and verbally dissecting the world at large.  Our Sunday meal is typically low maintenance; however, this Sunday, my friend expressed a hankering for stuffed peppers, which I have never made before, and I quickly accepted the challenge, and the change of pace.

When I went to the store, red bell peppers just happened to be on sale, and the whole scenario seemed meant to be.  I went with an Italian theme for the peppers.  I didn’t grow up eating them, so I wasn’t exactly sure what the traditional flavor profile would be, so I chose the direction I know and love best: Italian.  I used ground beef, sausage, rice, tomatoes, basil, onions, garlic, pesto, and, of course, cheese.  I chose a combination of ground beef and sausage because I felt that sausage exclusively would be too fatty and rich; a lot of pasta sauces have both in them, so why not my stuffed peppers?  It turned out lovely, but I will warn you to make sure your stuffing is well seasoned.  The stuffing seasons the actual pepper, in addition to the filling, so over-seasoning a tad is wise.   I used diced tomatoes and a can of sauce for tomato products, but a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste added to the beef and onions would work well; despite the double hit of tomato, a little more would have brought warmly welcomed depth of flavor.  Cheese, glorious cheese, was naturally a pivotal ingredient, and it renders the pepper filling a complete dish in and of itself (we gleefully ate spoonfuls from the pan).  The peppers are stuffed, put in a baking dish with a touch of chicken broth (white wine would also be nice), and sealed with foil before baking.  When they are just about done, they are blanketed in cheese, and broiled.  I chose a combination of mozzarella and asiago, but a sticking solely with a young asiago would be lip-smacking good.  Pick your poison.   

Stuffed Peppers

1/2 lb. ground sirloin

1/2 lb. mild Italian sausage

1 cup rice

2 1/2 cups chicken stock, divided

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 onion, diced

4 garlic cloves, minced

2 cups shredded cheese (such as mozzarella, asiago, parmesan, or a combination)

1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes

6-ounce can of tomato sauce

1/2 cup good quality pesto

1/4 cup basil chiffonade

4-6 bell peppers

Salt, pepper, red chile flakes, oregano

-       Preheat oven to 375 degrees

-       Prepare rice by adding it to 2 cups of simmering chicken stock.  Cover and simmer for 15-20, lifting lid as little as possible.  Set aside when finished.

-       Prepare peppers by cutting of the top, and removing seeds and large ribs.  Set aside in a 9x13 inch baking dish.

-       Preheat a large skillet over medium heat with oil.  Add ground beef and sausage, breaking up chunks with a wooden spoon or spatula.

-       When meat is broken up and beginning to brown, drain excess fat.  Then add onion and minced garlic.  Season with salt, pepper, oregano, and red chile flakes (about 1/2 teaspoon of each, maybe more salt, and little less hot pepper flakes).  Cook until onion and meat is cooked through, stirring occasionally.

-       Add rice, diced tomatoes, and tomato sauce (if you want it more tomato-y in flavor, add 2 tablespoons of tomato paste with the onions).  Stir to combine, taste, and re-season. 

-       Turn off heat and add basil, pesto, and 1/2 the cheese.

-       Fill each of the peppers until heaping with rice and tomato mixture.  This recipe makes enough for about 6 medium-sized peppers, and the rice mixture also is very tasty on its own.

-       Place filled peppers, standing up, in the baking dish, and add remaining chicken broth (or better yet, white wine).  Cover the dish with aluminum foil.

-       Bake for 30-35 minutes.  Remove peppers from the oven, and turn on the broiler.  Put remaining cheese on each pepper, then place under the broiler until browned and bubbling.

Baked Rigatoni with Eggplant and Chicken Sausage

I've been sitting on this recipe for a while.  When I was in Detroit for Thanksgiving, I went on a Food Network-watching binge.  Amidst all the recipes for stuffing and green bean casserole, Tyler Florence’s baked rigatoni with eggplant was a refreshing change of pace.  I am not exactly a huge fan of Florence’s show.  First of all, the title, “Tyler’s Ultimate,” is a little presumptuous.  Who can really claim to be the authority on the ultimate?  And the presumption doesn’t stop there: he introduces every recipe as the “ultimate [insert food here].”  My favorite is the episode where he makes the “ultimate barbecued ribs,” yet his recipe requires neither a grill, nor a smoker.  As far as I’m concerned, at least one of those cooking methods is requisite to “barbecue” ribs.  Also, someone should inform Tyler of the fact that he compulsively says, “boom” after every thing he does in the kitchen. 

Now that the Tyler-bashing is out of my system, I will admit that he does sometimes prepare some rather appealing recipes.  Perhaps I seem to be backpedaling, but please note that said I’m not a huge fan of the show.  The recipes may be a different story, and, for the right recipe, I can handle verbal ticks, and cocky attitudes.  This eggplant rigatoni is just such a recipe.  It consists of soft eggplant, homemade tomato sauce, chunks of chicken sausage, and rigatoni.  As if those luscious ingredients weren’t enough to make your eyes bulge, it’s all glued together by melty, stringy cubes of mozzarella cheese. And if you have never made your own tomato sauce, consider this your golden opportunity.  The ingredients for tomato sauce are inexpensive, the process is satisfying, and your heart will brim over with pride when you taste it.  This recipe will mess up a multiple pots and pans, but it’s worth it.  Don’t worry:  the time the pasta spends snuggling in the oven is more than enough to tackle those dishes.    

I’m sure you’re asking: “Why? Why would an alleged psycho cooker wait over two months to cook and post about something so wonderful?”  Well, the truth is I actually made it during finals, but I did not have the time to write it up.  Before you get any angrier with me, I must tell you there is an upside to my delayed posting: I have now made this twice.  While the first batch was lovely, the second batch was undoubtedly of a higher caliber.  The version below has the perfect ratio of sauce-to-pasta, and it’s heavy on the sausage and the eggplant, making it virtually a one-pot meal (of course, an extra green vegetable won’t hurt anyone). Eggplant rigatoni: make it; love it.

Eggplant Rigatoni  (adapted from Tyler Florence’s recipe)

Olive oil (plenty of it)

¾ of a pound of raw chicken sausage (about 3 links)

1 onion, diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

1-28 oz. can whole tomatoes including juices, squashed with your hands

2 bay leafs

½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)

Salt and pepper, to taste

¼ cup chopped parsley

1 large eggplant (about 1¼ to 1½ pound), one-inch dice

¾ pound rigatoni

½ pound mozzarella, small dice (10 minutes in the freezer will make chopping easier)

½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

·      Put a large pot of water on to boil for the pasta, and preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

·      In another pan, heat a drizzle of olive oil in and heat over medium-high to high heat until the pan is very hot.  Add sausages and allow to brown on all sides, 4-5 minutes per side.  They do not have to be cooked through completely because they will finish cooking in the oven. 

·      Remove sausages and set aside.  Reduce heat to medium and add onions and garlic to the same pan (the moisture from the onion will pick up any brown bits from the sausage).  Season with salt, and pepper, and allow to cook for 8-10 minutes, until onion is soft and translucent.

·      Add tomatoes, bay leafs and hot pepper flakes.  Reduce heat to a simmer, and allow sauce to simmer for at least 15-20 minutes.

·      In a large wide pan, heat 3 or 4 tablespoons of olive oil over medium-high heat.  Add eggplant.  If it doesn’t fit in a single layer, cook it in batches.  Allow to brown for 7-8 minutes, but it doesn’t have to be completely cooked through because it will cook more in the oven.  Once it is browned, season with salt and pepper.

·      Meanwhile, cook rigatoni in boiling water, but take it out a couple of minutes before it is completely cooked through.  Reserve ½ - 1 cup cooking water before draining.

·      Chop sausages into chunks.  Then combine pasta, eggplant, sauce, sausage, parsley, and mozzarella.  Add pasta cooking water if the pasta looks dry, a couple tablespoons at a time until it reaches the desired consistency.  Transfer to a 9x13 inch baking dish, and top with Parmesan.  Bake for 25-30 minutes until bubbly and golden.

Sausage and Lentils with Fennel

I won’t try to dress it up: this was not my finest hour in the kitchen.  Before I even went to the market to get the ingredients, doubt whispered quietly in my ear about this recipe.  But I ignored it, and walked straight into this culinary mess anyway.  For a while, I’ve wanted to make something with fennel. So when I found this recipe on Epicurious.com, it sounded perfect: a lovely sauté of vegetables and lentils, served with sausage.  I love French lentils, those green little beauties, and with a chicken sausage substitution, this sounded healthful and unlike anything I’ve made in the past. 

Then I read the reviews: many were positive, but with a lot of changes to the original recipe, and there was a small, but conspicuous percentage of bad reviews, most accusing the dish of being boring.  I hoped I wouldn’t feel this way, but after making it, I agree with latter.  Not only was the end result boring, but the process of cooking this dish was a mess.  I don’t know if it was the altitude, my ancient stove, or my own ineptness, but every single step took an inordinate amount of time to complete.  I don’t mind a long leisurely recipe, in fact, I love it, but this was just a jumble of too many pans, and an unpleasant feeling of doubt. Every thing felt either rushed or uncertain.  For two hours. 

Usually, cooking is a feast for the senses: ingredients smell and look good, they sizzle, simmer, and transform into something delectable.  This sensory experience was mundane at best. I just knew my trials and tribulations would not trigger a great, big, involuntary “MMmmmm” at the first bite.  My suspicions were unfortunately realized.  The dish itself was edible, but nothing special.  I added a ton of parmesan cheese to it, which was a modest improvement.  Even after 40 minutes, the lentils were cooked through, but still not tender the way I wanted them.  And the fennel, which I was so excited about, was lost in its surroundings, the sea of boring.  I did have a little success with the leftovers: cooking the lentils and sausage in marinara and tossing it with pasta and parmesan, but this does not validate the initial struggle.  Below is the recipe as it came from Epicurious.com, with my feeble contributions denoted by italics. 

1 cup dried lentils (preferably French green lentils; 7 ounces)

4 ½ cups cold water  (or one can reduced sodium chicken stock, and 1 ¼ cups water)

1 ½ teaspoons salt

1 medium (3/4 -pound) fennel bulb (sometimes labeled "anise"), stalks discarded, reserving fronds

3 ½ tablespoons olive oil

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 carrot, cut into ¼ -inch dice

2 cloves garlic, minced

½ teaspoon fennel seeds (optional, according to Psycho Cooker)

1 ¼ pounds sweet Italian sausage links (I used one pound of hot Italian chicken sausage)

3 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

½ teaspoon black pepper

1 tablespoon red-wine vinegar, or to taste

Extra-virgin olive oil for drizzling

§  Bring lentils, water, chicken stock, and (½ teaspoon salt if you’re not using stock) to a boil in a 2-quart heavy saucepan, then reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, until lentils are just tender but not falling apart, 12 to 25 minutes (or 40+ minutes if you’re inept, like me).

§  While lentils simmer, cut fennel bulb into ¼ -inch dice and chop enough fennel fronds to measure 2 tablespoons. Heat 3 tablespoons oil in a 3- to 4-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat until hot but not smoking, then stir in onion, carrot, fennel bulb, (fennel seeds,) and remaining teaspoon salt. Cover pan and cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are very tender, about 10 minutes.

§  Meanwhile, lightly prick sausages in a couple of places with tip of a sharp knife, then cook sausages in remaining ½ tablespoon oil in a 10-inch nonstick skillet over moderately high heat, turning occasionally, until golden brown and cooked through, 12 to 15 minutes (or 20 minutes, plus 5 minutes in the microwave out of paranoia regarding salmonella). Transfer to a cutting board.

§  Drain cooked lentils in a sieve set over a bowl and reserve cooking water. Stir lentils into vegetables with enough cooking water to moisten (¼  to ½ cup) and cook over moderate heat until heated through. Stir in parsley, pepper, 1 tablespoon vinegar, and 1 tablespoon fennel fronds. Season with vinegar and salt.

§  Cut sausages diagonally into ½ -inch-thick slices. Serve lentils topped with sausage and sprinkled with remaining tablespoon fennel fronds. Drizzle all over with extra-virgin olive oil.

Baked Pasta in Varying Dimensions

This dish is definitely not winning any beauty pageants, but it compensates for its unfortunate looks with flavor.  Baked pasta and vegetables is one of my favorite Sunday night dinners.  It gives me the opportunity to use any lingering vegetables or cheese in my fridge, and the leftovers make me so happy on Mondays, the longest of long days.  Honestly, when I prepare this, I usually eat it for one of the two meals I pack for school (because my Mondays are so long that they require two meals), and I’m generally thrilled to eat it again for dinner when I finally return to my cozy apartment.  This “recipe” is the epitome of flexibility.  Sauté some vegetables with flavors you love, boil some pasta, toss it all together with some type of tomatoey goodness and cheese (perhaps some sort of protein too), and bake the whole thing until it bubbles.  These are the guidelines I abide by, however, I will provide more details on how I created my latest adaptation to give a clearer picture of this incredibly malleable process.

  

Baked Pasta 

Drizzle of olive oil

½ to 1 pound chicken sausage (I used basil chicken sausage; use anything Mediterranean)

1 onion, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 red bell pepper, chopped

1 zucchini, chopped

8-10 button mushrooms, chopped

Generous sprinkles (at least a ½ teaspoon) of dried oregano, dried basil, hot pepper flakes

Salt and pepper to taste

Third to a half-pound mini penne (any short cut pasta will do)

2 to 2 ½ cups of jarred marinara sauce

3 tablespoons chopped flat leaf parsley

½-¾  cup crumbled feta cheese

½ cup seasoned breadcrumbs

●     Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Over medium-high heat, sauté the chicken sausage in olive oil (squeeze it out of its casing right into the pan).  Break it up with a spoon (this takes a bit of effort), and allow it to brown and cook through.  Remove cooked chicken sausage from the pan and set aside (the more you buy, the more you can snack on while everything else cooks).

●     In the remaining oil/delish chicken sausage drippings, sauté the onion and bell pepper.  After a few minutes, add the dried herbs and seasonings.  Also, put a pot of water on for the pasta.  Continue to sauté the onion and red pepper until tender, about 8 minutes.  Add mushrooms, zucchini, and garlic; sauté for a few minutes (they will finish cooking in the oven).

●     Add pasta to boiling water.  Cook until just shy of al dente (a minute or two before the full cooking time).  Toss pasta, vegetables, marinara, cheese, sausage, and parsley together.  Adjust seasoning if necessary, and then pour into a 9x13-inch baking dish.  Add breadcrumbs (and maybe some parmesan and extra parsley) on top, and bake for about 30 minutes, or until hot and bubbling.  

Comments:  The chicken sausage is optional.  I would have added that into the recipe, but the truth is, everything in this recipe is optional.  It works well as a vegetarian meal, and I’m sure chunks of chicken breast would also be nice.  I usually add a 14-ounce can of diced tomatoes, rather than marinara.  However, the point of this is to use what I have, and my pantry is currently bursting with jars of marinara due to an irresistible sale.  Regarding cheese and vegetables, the options are limitless.  Cauliflower is great; broccoli, spinach, peas, eggplant… it all works.  A can of chickpeas or small white beans might be a pleasant accompaniment, especially for added substance to a vegetarian version.  For me, the following ingredients are mandatory: onion, garlic, abundant seasoning, pasta, tomatoes, and cheese.  The rest depends on my mood, and what I have. 

A plate of steaming, cheesy baked pasta is incredibly comforting on a Sunday night.  However, something else surpasses it:  opening my refrigerator after a grueling day to see a casserole dish, brimming with leftovers.  After a minute and a half in the microwave and a sip of icy vodka, the drama of the day melts away before you even take the first bite.