Mangiafagioli

"Bean eaters." That's apparently the nickname given to the people of Tuscany, who are well-known for their voluminous consumption of beans. In soups, pastas, and salads, the humble legume finds itself starring in countless traditional Tuscan recipes. In fact, it's the staff of life in many cultural cuisines, from Latin America to Africa to Asia.

Despite my affinity for all things porcine--and my very recently posted recipe for pasta in sausage ragu--I try as frequently as possible to cook vegetarian at home. Beans figure into much of my cooking, which relies more frequently on sources of protein other than meat and fish. There are usually a few cans of beans in the pantry--black, white, garbanzo, etc.--that manage to land in one or two of my weekly dinners. Not only are they economical, but high in nutritional value. Their high soluble fiber content helps trap and remove cholesterol before being absorbed by the body.

While I typically stock up on canned beans with every trip to the market, I tried a few weeks ago to cook dried white cannelini beans from scratch. While the canned variety are great in a pinch, it's hard to beat home-cooked beans when you have the time. Not only does their texture tend to be more firm versus canned (which have been sitting in liquid for who-knows-how-long), but they are usually less salty and more flavorful.

I consulted Cooks' Illustrated for their technique for cooking dried beans, and was happy to learn that a traditional overnight soak is no longer necessary. This step was always a deal-breaker for me, as it generally took much more planning ahead than I was willing to do. When you do have a couple of spare hours, their technique is a fairly effortless affair, and results in a bean that is firm on the outside and creamy within, and is tremendously superior in flavor.

The following is adapted from a recipe published by Cooks' Illustrated for a Tuscan White Bean Soup. It's the first step to making the soup, and results in perfectly cooked beans that can be applied in any other recipe that calls for beans.

Home-cooked White Beans

6 oz. pancetta, diced (to make vegetarian, substitute with a 2-inch piece of Parmigiano-Reggiano rind)

12 c. water

1 lb. dried cannelini beans, rinsed and picked over

1 large onion, unpeeled and halved

4 garlic cloves, unpeeled

1 bay leaf

1 tsp. salt

In a large stock pot or Dutch oven, cook pancetta over medium heat until golden (omit this step if using Parmigiano rind). Add water, beans, onion, garlic, bay leaf, and salt (and Parmigiano rind, if using). Bring to boil over medium heat. Cover pot partially, reduce heat to low, and simmer--stirring occasionally--until beans are almost tender, approximately 1-1.25 hours. Remove from heat, cover completely, and allow to stand until beans are tender, approximately 30 minutes. Drain beans, reserving liquid and discarding flavoring ingredients. Spread beans in an even layer on a baking sheet and let cool. The beans are now ready for use, however you like.

I've followed this technique twice now and used the beans in three different applications. On my first go round, I used them in a hearty bean and vegetable soup, with carrots, celery, and Swiss chard. When draining the beans, I discarded the flavoring ingredients but reserved the cooking liquid. This, I added to the vegetables after they had been sauteed, and allowed it to simmer for a few minutes, along with a sprig of fresh rosemary and a little fresh water. Lastly, in went the beans for a final simmer, along with a little salt and freshly-cracked black pepper. Drizzle each bowl of the finished soup with a little balsamic vinegar when serving.

On my next, I stewed them with sauteed, sliced fennel in my homemade marinara. It was delicious as is, but could have been made heartier and non-vegetarian with the addition of a little sauteed Italian sausage.

Finally, I used the leftover beans in marinara and combined them with drained and rinsed canned black beans to make a black-and-white bean stew. I sauteed some garlic, onion, and red bell pepper in olive oil, added the beans, and allowed it to simmer in some vegetable stock balanced 50/50 with fresh water. Seasoned with salt and pepper, along with a little chili powder and cumin, it changed what began as an Italian-style bean dish into something south-of-the-border(ish).

Photo: Harvard School of Public Health

Cantoro's Italian Market, Livonia, Michigan

After two weeks of seemingly non-stop holiday revelry, we found ourselves with a Saturday morning completely void of any obligations. Thankfully, it was a beautifully sunny, but nearly sub-zero, day--perfect for running random errands that had been neglected over the holidays.

Following a long, sunny drive from the far west- to near east-ends of Grand River Avenue (the reason for which is unimportant here), we made a brief stop at Cantoro's Italian Market on Middlebelt Road in Livonia, just south of 8 Mile Road. It's quite a paradise for all ingredients Italian: fresh breads, cured meats, canned Italian tomatoes, jarred anchovies and tonno in olive oil, traditional Italian desserts, and various and sundry olives, pickles, and cheeses. I wandered its long aisles over and over again, in search of items to re-stock our barren pantry.

For a while, I'd been wanting to create my own version of a favorite dish from the Italian menu of El Barzon restaurant in Mexicantown:Strozzapreti Norcina. It's a dish of twisted, housemade pasta, tossed in a ragu of Italian sausage. With a fresh batch of homemade marinara waiting for me in the refrigerator, I picked up some fancy, imported pasta and sweet Italian sausage. While some recipes for Pasta Norcina call for the addition of cream or milk, I thought I'd skip that step, allowing instead the starch from the pasta to add creaminess and body to the dish.

Twisted Pasta with Sausage Ragu'

2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 lb. sweet Italian sausage, casing removed

3 c. homemade marinara

Pinch of red chile flakes

1 lb. twisted pasta (e.g., Cavatappi, Trofie, Strozzapreti)

Parmigiano Reggiano, for serving

In a large saucepan over a medium flame, add the olive oil and heat until shimmering. Add the sausage and cook until no longer pink and only slightly browned, crumbling into small and medium pieces. Do not overbrown, as this will cause the sausage to toughen as it cooks in the sauce. Add the marinara and chile flakes, and allow the sauce to simmer while you cook the pasta.

In a large stockpot, cook pasta in boiling, salted water, until just short of al dente (approximately 2 minutes short of suggested cooking time). Drain pasta in a colander, reserving about one cup of the pasta cooking water. Add the drained pasta to the simmering sauce and allow to finish

cooking until al dente, stirring and adding the pasta cooking water little by little to prevent the sauce from becoming too dry. The starch in the pasta cooking water will add body and

creaminess to the finished dish.

Turn the pasta into a serving dish, and grate fresh Parmigiano over. Serve additional Parmigiano on the side.

New Year's Brekkie: Red Flannel Hash & Eggs

A strong desire yesterday to nest--and, perhaps, to nurse a light, post-revelry hangover--drove me to our near-barren cupboards to scrounge for our New Year's Day breakfast. Although holiday travels kept me from keeping the pantry stocked, I was able to scrape together an onion, a handful of potatoes, and some Michigan beets that I had roasted a few days earlier, for just such an occasion.

Knowing I had just purchased at Eastern Market a carton of freshly laid, cage- and hormone-free eggs from Holtz Farms in Ida, Michigan, my thoughts turned immediately to recreating an old diner favorite for breakfast: Red Flannel Hash and Eggs.

I started by dicing the potatoes and steaming them with a little water in a non-stick pan, topped with a lid. As the water evaporated, I added a touch of olive oil and sauteed them until lightly browned, salting along the way. This became an exercise in pan-scraping, so I was sure to use my wooden spatula. Then came the onion, diced into a similar size and sauteed, 'til softened and golden. Finally, I tossed in the peeled, diced beets, just to warm them through. Their addition turned the whole concoction a ridiculous shade of fuschia--and probably did the same to my insides.

I topped each plate of hash with a fried egg, over easy, so that each cube of potato could be dipped into its golden, unctuous yolk. The dish was earthy and sweet, and satiated our growling, hung-over tummies.

My Year in Food, 2009 Edition

So here we are, 6 months since my last post. This long gap is not a reflection on my dining experiences so much, but rather my laziness, pure and simple. I've had no other excuse, really, especially having been laid off from work in June. Huh, there's a coincidence in there somewhere....

In any event, the Year 2009, for all of its challenges, still managed to be a pretty great year in food for me. Borrowing an idea from my previous blog, "Fork & Spoon," here, then, is a Top 15 recap of my gustatory life, 2009 edition. In no particular order:

15. My pilgrimage to Alice Waters' Chez Panisse in Berkeley, California, where I enjoyed a symphony of summer's bounty: heirloom tomato salad with basil and shallots; sweet corn souffle' on a bed of sauteed spinach, mushrooms, and corn; and plum galette with a scoop of ice cream, flavored with a mysterious spice the name of which I can't recall, but was told to have been derived from the pit of a certain stone fruit

14. Learning from my foodie cousin, Toni, the art of jamming the fruits of Michigan summer--plump blueberries from Kalamazoo and juicy peaches from Bay City

13. Countless trips to Detroit's historic Eastern Market, alone and with friends, to load up on the treasures of summer and fall in Michigan--"Peaches and Cream" sweet corn was a particular favorite

12. A seemingly neverending bounty of tomatoes from Todd's garden (unfortunately, too few heirloom tomatoes made an appearance, but were nonetheless lovingly welcomed)

11. Sharing a spectacularly pork-centric meal with foodie friends at The Publican in Chicago (see previous post)

10. Devouring in only a few days, A Homemade Life, the memoir of Orangette blogger and Bon Appetit contributor, Molly Wizenberg--her recipe for Meatballs with Cilantro, Pine Nuts, and Golden Raisins will remain forever in my repetoire

9. Successfully pulling off my first Pancit Palabok (a terribly laborious Filipino noodle dish of rice noodles with chicken, pork, shrimp, and vegetables in an annato-seasoned shellfish sauce), to the full satisfaction of my family--mom even asked for my recipe!

8. Eating my way through San Francisco, from the Salumi Cone at Boccalone in the Ferry Building to Mexican street food in the Mission to hipster doughnuts at Dynamo

7. Tackling Cooks' Illustrated's scratch recipe for a retro-style Tunnel of Fudge cake--a dense, chocolaty Bundt with, literally, a tunnel of gooey fudge running through, and drizzled with ganache

6. A celebratory wine and food weekend with Todd's family in Michigan's Leelanau Peninsula, highlighted by a wonderfully Michigan dinner at The Cook's House in nearby Traverse City

5. Making a concerted effort to buy locally, organically, and seasonally from Michigan farmers and producers as much as possible, made especially easy with almost weekly trips to the farmers' market (see #13)

4. The Cassoulet and Deconstructed Banana Split at Central Michel Richard in Washington, DC

3. Stops for crispy and slightly spicy Buttermilk-Fried Free Range Chicken at Zingerman's Roadhouse in Ann Arbor

2. The occasional deli lunch at Mudgie's in Corktown, served by a particularly adorable staff, and capped off with a decadently delicious Fudgie Mudgie

1. Being vehicle-free all summer and fall, forcing me to channel my inner Frenchwoman and walk almost daily to our neighborhood grocer, Western Market, to buy ingredients for that evening's dinner

Can't Teach an Old Blog New Tricks

In my post about dinner at The Publican in Chicago, I indirectly make reference to my previous food blog, "Fork & Spoon." For a glimpse into what I was eating and what was eating me at the time, visit: http://forkandspoonblogger.blogspot.com/ It's a collection of old restaurant reviews and synopses of Top Chef Season 2. Highly relevant stuff.

I have yet an even older blog, "SPAM & Eggs," reaching back to my life in eating since 2005: http://spamandeggs.blog.friendster.com/

DIY Experiment: Martha's French Bread

With the state of the economy as it is, many of us are seeking ways to save a few pennies. Given my affinity for all things foodie, I thought I'd try my hand at baking my own bread. It's easy to do and, with only four ingredients, it's easy on the pocketbook. The practice had pretty much eluded me for years--my fear of yeast used to prevent me from experimenting with the art of breadmaking. However, recent successes with pizza dough had steeled my confidence enough to give it a shot. Despite a few learning moments, my experiment taught me a new baking technique, filled the house with a delicious aroma, and resulted in tasty homemade bread, fresh from the oven.

I used a variation of "Homemade French Bread" from The Martha Stewart Cookbook, one of my standbys for classic recipes. While Martha's original recipe calls for all-purpose flour, she suggests a whole-wheat version using half whole-wheat flour and half all-purpose flour. The resulting bread had a crisp, chewy crust and dense crumb. Stuffed with a sharp, white cheddar gifted by my mother after a trip to Wisconsin, one of the baguettes made for a simple, yet satisfying dinner for Todd and me the evening of its baking.

Unfortunately, being only two in the household, we had more bread than was possible to consume before going bad. Next time, I'll package it up and send it off to friends and family. After all that hard work, it was shameful to let so much go to waste.

Also, another note: Despite Martha's recommendation of a 50/50 balance of white to wheat flour, I found that the texture did suffer some due to the heartier crumb caused by the protein in the whole-wheat. It prevents the formation of gluten, which typically gives "lift" to baked goods. According to Cooks' Illustrated magazine, in any baking recipe that calls for all-purpose flour, do not replace with more than 25% wheat flour, or texture will suffer. Mental note for next time.

HOMEMADE FRENCH BREAD

1 ounce fresh yeast or 2 packages of active dry yeast

2-3/4 cups warm water

7 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (see note, above)

4-1/4 teaspoons salt

Proof the yeast in 1/4 cup of the warm water.

Mix the flour and salt in a large bowl. Add the remaining water and mix well. Add the yeast mixture. Blend into dough.

Turn onto a floured board and knead until dough is smooth and elastic. If you have a heavy-duty mixer with a dough hook, this whole procedure will take only 4-5 minutes.

Put kneaded dough in a covered bowl and let rise until doubled in bulk. Punch dough down and let rise a second time until doubled. Turn onto a floured board and shape as desired (I split the dough in half, and made three baguettes and just over a dozen rolls).

Let rise for a final time, covered with plastic wrap, until doubled in size. Long loaves must be slashed along the top with a sharp razor (be sure to slash BEFORE the final rise, which I failed to do, resulting in a less-than-visually-perfect baguette).

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Farenheit.

Bake for about 25 minutes, spraying the loaves with water 3-4 times during baking (this was my favorite part; the steam helps to create the crisp, chewy crust). Loaves are done when golden brown and crispy.

This recipe costs only a few cents and makes a LOT of bread--hopefully, you won't have trouble finding a home for your extras.

Inyo, Ferndale, Michigan

When I first saw the signs heralding the arrival of Inyo, a new, Pan-Asian eatery along Ferndale's Woodward corridor, I asked myself if this city could sustain yet another Asian restaurant. With two Chinese takeouts, two Thai restaurants, two sushi bars, and one Indian restaurant, could this town really stand to have another join the plethora of Asian eateries near the intersection of 9 Mile and Woodward? If the food is good, I guess it doesn't hurt.

After a four-day weekend traveling along the northern Michigan coast, Todd and I decided to ease out of our holiday by having dinner at the latest addition to Ferndale's food scene. Inyo is primarily a sushi bar, but with a fair selection of salads, appetizers, and entrees for those who don't care to partake in the standard offering of sashimi, nigiri, and maki. In fact, with the actual sushi bar tucked into the back of the restaurant, you could almost forget that it's there.

The place is pretty stylish, compared to the rest of its counterparts in the neighborhood. Dark, tiled floors, stark-white light fixtures, and red, muralled walls create a modern feel that outdoes the other aforementioned establishments. The curved cocktail bar facing Woodward Avenue is set aflame at night, giving the place even more visual interest. It gets a minus point, however, for the blonde woman at the door wearing a kimono. A little over the top, and borderline tacky.

In addition to a wide selection of beer, wine, and cocktails, Inyo's menu features dishes primarily of the Japanese-Korean-Chinese variety. Not exactly the "Pan-Asian" seletion I was expecting, but acceptable. Soups include the standby Miso and Hot-and-Sour, while Appetizers run the gamut from panko-encrusted oysters to chicken lettuce wraps. The entree menu features a wide variety of seafood dishes (the evening's special was fresh grouper, prepared steamed, fried, or sauteed), as well as poultry and meat dishes, including Chicken Katsu (panko-encrusted chicken cutlet) and Beef Karubi (a.k.a. Kalbi, the Korean-style marinated short ribs).

Not feeling up for a full entree, I opted for a couple of appetizers as my dinner: Pan-fried Ebi (Shrimp) Gyoza and Panko-encrusted Calamari. Unfortunately, the kitchen was out of the gyoza, so our server suggested the Chicken Spring Roll in its place. Served with a cherry-dipping ginger sauce, the spring roll was light and crispy, and filled with shredded chicken instead of the typical ground chicken. The calamari were likewise crisp and tender, and served with a side of sweet chili condiment. In a rare move, Todd ordered two rolls: a Shrimp Tempura Roll and Spicy Scallop Roll. Each was full of flavor and, unlike the rolls across the street at Sakana, these were substantial in size. While I would never consider myself a sushi expert, these were satisfyingly tasty, if not necessarily authentic. Todd and I paired our dinners with glasses from the wine list, a petit Chenin Blanc and Sauvignon Blanc, respectively.

At the end of our dinner, we were offered the option of two desserts, which we declined: Mango Custard and Tiramisu. Why an Asian restaurant would have Tiramisu on its menu, I can not understand, but along with the kimono lady garners the place another minus point. In the end, the bill came to $55 for two, inclusive of wine.

As Downtown Ferndale's newest restaurant, Inyo hardly fills a void as far as variety is concerned. I can't really fault the restaurant, as much as our city planners for allowing another Asian restaurant onto the scene. I should be grateful, I guess, that it occupies one of the handful of empty storefronts downtown. As far as the food goes, however, Inyo does a decent job--it's fresh, flavorful, and full of variety.