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Homemade Tempeh
Adapted from Wild Fermentation by Sandor Katz

1 lb dried soy beans, soaked overnight in plenty of cold water
2 T vinegar
1 t. tempeh spore

Hull the soaked soybeans.  This is the most tedious part of the whole process.  Pinch each soybean between your fingers to separate the skin from the bean.  Discard the skins, and put the beans into a large cooking pot.

Cover the beans with cold water so that they are covered by about 2-3 inches.  Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium low, and cook until beans are almost cooked, about 1 - 1 1/2 hours.  Stir the beans every now and then, and remove any leftover hulls that float to the top.

When the beans are nearly done (the beans should be slightly underdone — they will continue to soften during the incubation process), drain the beans, discarding the cooking water.  Spread the beans over a large kitchen towel, and dry with another towel.  Dry the beans very well — one of the main reasons for failed tempeh is too-damp beans.  After drying the beans, you may even consider spreading them over a different dry towel and allowing them to air dry for another 2-3 hours (or even overnight).

Mix the beans with the vinegar and tempeh spore, and spread evenly into a 9×13 inch baking dish.  Poke holes every inch or so in a piece of aluminum foil large enough to cover the baking dish.  Press the foil fairly tightly over the beans.

Incubate the beans at 85-90 degrees for somewhere between 24 and 36 hours (longer at cooler temperatures).  I incubated my tempeh in the oven with just the pilot light on.  For the first 12 or so hours, not much will happen.  Eventually, patches of white mold will begin to appear.  Then the mold will start to fill all of the spaces in between the beans.  The tempeh is done when there is a solid coating of white mold, and patches of black being to appear (probably near the air holes in the foil).   The finished tempeh may have the distinct smell of ammonia — this is ok, and totally natural.

Cut the tempeh into large squares and either use immediately, refrigerate for up to 3 days (allow tempeh to fully cool before refrigerating, otherwise it will continue to incubate), or alternatively, cut into smaller pieces, steam for 10-15 minutes, then freeze for up to two months.

To cook, cut the tempeh into cubes, steam for 15 minutes, then fry in your favorite fat — butter, olive oil, bacon drippings, etc.  Serve with a flavorful dipping sauce.  Enjoy!

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When I try to explain what tempeh is to a person who isn’t familiar with it, it never ends up sounding very appetizing… well, it’s cooked, hulled soybeans that have been mixed with a special mold spore and incubated for about 24 hours until a thick layer of white mold grows throughout the beans.

Yummm…… moldy soybeans……

I swear though, tempeh is actually very delicious — a little nutty, chewy in a great way, mild but with a unique earthy flavor — I love it and eat it at least a few times a month.

I used to make the mistake that I am sure many people make when first making tempeh — not steaming the tempeh before using it.  Typically when I would buy tempeh, I would simply cut it into cubes, lightly fry it in a mixture of butter and oil, then serve the cubes with a flavorful dipping sauce.  It was acceptable, but the texture was quite dense.

Then, after seeing a mention of it on an Indonesian cooking website, I tried steaming the tempeh cubes for about 15 minutes before frying them.  And the result was fantastic!  The dense texture that I wasn’t wild about changed to perfectly chewy with enough body to keep things interesting.

Since I like tempeh so much, I decided to make it from scratch to understand the process.  As many of you know, I have a thing for making things from scratch — tofu, jam, pickles, limoncello, gravlax, sauerkraut, and sausage to name a few.  Tempeh had been on my to-make list since seeing the recipe in Sandor Katz’ book, Wild Fermentation (a fantastic book with great explanations of fermentation at home, plus recipes for more unusual tempehs — I highly recommend it).  The process isn’t very complicated (much easier than making tofu from scratch in my opinion), but it does take a good two days from the time you start to soak the soy beans to when you have finished tempeh.  Thankfully, patience is something I have a lot of.

The two most difficult parts of the tempeh making process are 1) acquiring the tempeh spore, and 2) hulling the soy beans.  For problem 1, I bought my tempeh spore from Budiman Food in San Jose, CA.  I just sent them an email and asked for enough tempeh starter to make a few batches of tempeh.  A good sized package cost somewhere in the vicinity of $5-$10.  For problem 2, I decided to remove the skins of the beans by pinching each one after they had been soaked but before they were cooked.  This took me the better part of an hour for the pound of soy beans.  Some might call it tedious, but I prefer to think of simple repetitive cooking tasks like this as meditative….  I just checked out the Budiman Food website again after not visiting for a few months, and I see they now sell tempeh making kits that include already hulled soybeans!  Talk about two birds with one stone.

Anyway, if you’re feeling adventurous and have some free time on your hands, I recommend you try making tempeh at home!  The process is fascinating as well as being a nice way to spend a lazy weekend.

I started pondering solo dining a while back when Denise from Chez Danisse recommended I read Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant, a collection of short stories about cooking for one, dining alone, and preparing meals in less than ideal kitchens.  I followed her suggestion, and thoroughly enjoyed the book.  I suggest you read it too!

I have dined alone quite a lot in my life.  Besides being a bit of a loner by nature, I spent the year after graduating from Wellesley traveling around Europe, during which time, I dined alone a lot.  Sometimes I had an apartment that I could cook in and I would dine alone there; other times my home was a hostel or a hotel or a friend of a friend’s couch, meaning I ate out a lot.  I might even go as far as saying I am a pro at dining alone.  It doesn’t phase me one bit to walk into a restaurant (nice, dive, mid-range, whatever) and ask for a table for one.  One might even say I feel a bit empowered by it.  I even got good at requesting a table for one in many different languages — eine person, bitte; una persona, por favor; une personne, s’il vous plait; sola persona, per favore; een persoon, alsjeblieft…

In the last few years I haven’t dined alone that much.  When I do dine alone, it’s because Steven has to stay late at work or is out of town.  Most nights we eat together, either at the table or on the couch watching Lost or Stargate on one of our laptops…  When I am cooking for both of us, I am fairly adventurous, but tend to stick to the tried and true.  If I am trying something totally new and different for the very first time, I tend to wait for a night when I will be alone because, well, I feel best cooking something entirely new just for myself, you know, just in case…

I picked up some marinated sliced pork belly from the butcher in Bissendorf the other day, along with some entrecote steaks, ground beef, salami, and frankfurters.  Everything but the pork belly went quickly.  Having never cooked pork belly before, I was a little bit at a loss of what to do with it.  One day went by, then two, then three, then four…  today I finally decided that I needed to cook the pork belly or throw it out.  Steven had to stay late at work tonight too, making this the ideal evening to try my hand at pork belly cooking…  Not really knowing what to do, I decided to cut the pork belly slices into large-ish pieces (2 in wide, 2-3 in long, 3/4 in thick or so), and fry it like I would bacon until it was crisp and nicely browned.  Perhaps it’s not the best or most elegant preparation of pork belly, but it is at least a good place to start.So, I fried up the marinated pork belly and served myself a good-sized portion over spicy sauteed zucchini, green onions, shallots, and napa cabbage.  And you know what, it was sooooooo  delicious!  Sort of like…. mega-bacon.  I am pretty sure I lost the nuance of the meat by frying it for so long, but like I said before, at least it was a place to start.  Now I am not so intimidated by the large pieces of skin-on pork belly sold at the butcher….  I am ready to roast.

So one more thought on dining alone — as much as I love dinner company, I also look forward to dining alone.  If you’re at a restaurant, a solo meal gives you time to think.  At home, a solo meal can be a canvas for experimentation (as well as giving you time alone to think).  Do you eat alone often? by choice? do you experiment? cook a comfort meal?

Crustless Quiche with Tomatoes, Zucchini, and Salami
Adapted from Tartine

~1/3 c. sun-dried tomatoes (dry packed)
~1/3 -1/2 c. salami, chopped
1/2 of a zucchini, cut into small uniform pieces

5 large eggs
3 T. flour
1 c. creme fraiche
1 c. whole milk
1 t. salt
1/2 t. black pepper
1 T. fresh parsley, chopped

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Lightly grease a 9 inch pie plate.

Heat 1-2 c. water until boiling.  Place the sun-dried tomatoes in a medium bowl and pour the boiling water over them.  Re-hydrate the tomatoes for 15 minutes, then drain and finely chop.  Set aside.

Meanwhile, heat a small frying pan over medium heat.  Lightly saute the salami until some fat is rendered and the edges start to crisp.  Press the salami to one side of the pan so some of the fat drains off.  Remove the salami from the pan and set aside, but leave the fat.  Reheat the pan, then saute the zucchini pieces in the rendered fat (if there isn’t much fat, add a little bit of butter or olive oil).  Saute the zucchini for about 5-7 minutes until the edges start to turn brown.  Add the zucchini to the salami and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk one egg and the 3 T. of flour until smooth.  Add the remaining four eggs, and whisk until smooth.

In a large bowl, whisk the creme fraiche until smooth.  Add the milk and whisk again.  Add the egg mixture, then the salt, pepper, parsley, sun-dried tomatoes, salami, and zucchini.  Mix well.  Pour into the prepared pie plate, and place in the middle of the oven.  Bake for 10 minutes, then turn the heat down to 325 and bake for an additional 35-40 minutes, until the center of the quiche is slightly firm to the touch.  Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack for 20 minutes before slicing.  Enjoy!

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I had a quiche epiphany the first time I tasted the quiche from Tartine Bakery in San Francisco.  The texture was amazing — light, fluffy, and almost custard-like.  It was a far cry from the dense, slightly dry, slightly rubbery texture that my mind conjured when I heard the word quiche.

Though I sadly live thousands of miles from oh-so-delicious Tartine Bakery nowadays, the Tartine cookbook has a recipe for basic quiche that is just as good as the quiche they sell in the shop.  The key ingredients for the fluffy texture are copious amounts of creme fraiche and whole milk, along with a little bit of flour.

If you’re appalled that the recipe calls for 1 cup of creme fraiche AND 1 cup of whole milk, then, well, that’s unfortunate because you’ll be missing out on perhaps the most amazingly textured quiche in existence.  I fall pretty squarely into the camp that ‘fat doesn’t make you fat, sugar and excess carbohydates do’, so you’ll get no apology from me for the fat content of this quiche.

As for filling, let your taste and imagination be your guide.  The past few quiches I have made have used sun-dried tomatoes and brianza salami that I picked up on a recent trip to Lake Como, Italy.  Chopped cooked asparagus or spinach would also be delicious, along with numerous other vegetable and herb combinations.  I have heard that at Tartine they even make a nettle quiche during the spring!

And though this quiche is crustless, I am quite sure that it would be delicious with a crust as well.  If you decide to go that route, use your favorite crust recipe, and fully bake it before adding the filling.  Then, bake the quiche as directed above.

I’ve been in the routine of making a quiche on sunday, which I then eat for breakfast during the week.  When I get up, I place a slice in a low oven to reheat it, and by the time I am out of the shower and dressed, the quiche is thoroughly heated and ready to be eaten.  Delicious and filling!

Bärlauch on the hike

Bärlauch Roasted Chicken
Adapted from The River Cottage Meat Book

1 3-4 lb chicken
7 T. butter, room temperature
1 small bunch wild garlic (bärlauch), finely chopped
~ 1 T. finely chopped parsley
salt and pepper
1/2 c. chicken stock, wine, vegetable stock, or water

Preheat the oven to 425.

In a medium bowel, mix the butter, wild garlic, and parsley until well combined.  Add a healthy dash of salt and a few grinds of fresh black pepper.

Place the chicken in a roasting pan.  Remove any trusses from the chicken, gently pull the legs away from the body a bit, and enlarge the cavity so that hot air will be able to circulate all around and into the chicken.  Rub the chicken all over outside and in with the herb butter.

Place the chicken in the middle of the hot oven.  Roast for 30 minutes, then turn the temperature down to 350.  Baste the chicken with the juices that have run off.  Pour the stock, wine, or water into the bottom of the roasting pan (not over the chicken).  Roast for an additional 35-40 minutes, until the juices from the thigh area run clear.

Turn off the oven, and open the oven door a bit.  Let the chicken rest for 20 minutes.  Remove from the oven, and carve directly in the pan, letting the pieces fall into the juices.  Serve, and enjoy!

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Back in the US, nettles are my favorite wild food.  Here in Germany, it’s bärlauch, also known as wild garlic or bear garlic.

On Sunday Steven and I rented a car and went for a hike near the small town of Coppenbrügge, which is nestled at the end of a 13 mile long tree-covered ridge.  The first mile was pretty grueling — it was steep! — but once we reached the top of the ridge, the terrain was gentle.  The views of the Niedersachsen countryside were pretty spectacular; there are many rapeseed farms around here, and currently the fields are full of glorious, bright yellow blooms.

Besides the view, the other remarkable part of the hike was the wild garlic — for miles and miles the forest floor was thickly covered in it!  At first I wasn’t sure if this green plant with broad leaves was the bärlauch I’ve heard so much about, but after a while, the smell made things pretty clear — wild garlic has a strong smell, but it’s sweeter and less pungent than regular garlic.  It’s strong, but not overt.  My guess is you will know it when you smell it.

When we got home, it seemed entirely appropriate to make a bärlauch roasted chicken for dinner.  Simple and hearty, it was the perfect post-hike meal.  I served it alongside spicy butter-fried zucchini, crusty bread, and a glass of dry white wine.

Bärlauch is plentiful these days, but it’s new to me and I don’t really know that many things to do with it.  if you have ideas or have cooked with it before, I’d love to hear about it!

Green Garlic Soup
serves 2

4 heads green garlic with stem, trimmed (heads should be about 2 inches in diameter — use more if your heads are smaller)
2 c. rich vegetable stock
1 rind from a hard salty cheese like dutch edamer (optional, but adds a nice richness)

Slice the green garlic in half lengthwise.  Put in a medium sized pot and cover with vegetable stock.  Bring mixture to a boil, then reduce heat to low.  Add the cheese rind.  Simmer for 40 minutes until the garlic is soft.

Remove the cheese rind from the broth and discard.  Pass the garlic and broth through the medium disc of a food mill.  There will be a good handful of leftover fibrous material, which you should discard.  Reheat soup, ladle into bowls and serve.  Enjoy!

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Besides the expected potatoes and cabbage, green garlic is one item that I have been coming across with great frequency here in Germany.  I rarely remember seeing it back in California — I perhaps had tried it once or twice before coming here — but over the past months, I’ve come to know and love this mild, younger sibling of typical garlic.

Green garlic (also called young garlic) is simply garlic that is harvested before the plant has had a chance to form cloves.  There’s no paper skin, just solid garlic through the whole head.  There may or may not be a papery outer layer over the whole head; if there is, you should remove it, as it is somewhat fibrous.  About 20-30% seem to have this outer layer, the rest not.  It has a taste that is much milder than mature garlic (don’t be alarmed that I call for four heads for two servings!), and to me tastes lighter, less earthy, more tangy, and almost a little sweet.  Another quick note, since there is no peeling involved, green garlic is very quick and easy to work with.

So whether spring is just arriving (ahem, Hannover), or whether it’s already been around for a while, I encourage you to seek out this somewhat unusual food, along with nettles, elder flowers, ramps, wild garlic, or anything else uniquely “springtime” in your area.  For me, this means white asparagus (LOTS!), coming soon to a market near me!!

Sundried Tomato and Fennel Sausage

1/3 c. dry packed sun-dried tomatoes
1/2 - 1 T. olive oil
4 T. cold water
2 t. fennel seeds, freshly ground
3 garlic cloves, finely minced
1/2 T. fresh thyme, finely minced
1 1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. white pepper
2 lbs pork shoulder, well chilled

Place the sun-dried tomatoes in a bowl, and cover with boiling water.  Allow to soften for 15 minutes, then drain and finely chop.  Place chopped tomatoes in a small bowl, then mix with the olive oil, water, fennel, garlic, thyme, salt, and pepper.  Set aside

Cut the pork into smallish cubes, about 3/4 inch or so.  Pass through the coarse plate of a meat grinder.  Place pork in a bowl, then using your hands, mix in the tomato and fennel spice mixture until well combined.  Pass meat mixture through the coarse plate of the meat grinder one more time, then place in a bowl and refrigerate for at least two hours or overnight to allow the flavors to blend.

Shape into patties and fry, stuff into casings, or simply saute the loose sausage.   Enjoy!

Alternatively, if you don’t have a meat grinder, if you ask nicely, most butchers will grind the meat for you in their shop.  Or you can simply start with ground pork, adding 1/4 c. or so extra chopped fat from slab bacon or pork belly

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Sometimes you find an ingredient that just inspires you.  Usually for me it’s not something that’s exotic or expensive, but rather something that is of such high quality or is so fresh that you want to run home and cook something with it *right now*!

Such were the dried tomatoes I found at a small salumeria in Como, Italy this past weekend.  Steven and I went down for a long weekend and pretty much ate ourselves silly with amazingly delicious Italian food.  The highlight was an under-the-stars dinner on the terrace at Al Giardino (on Via Monte Grappa, if you happen to be in the area) in the outskirts of Como — fresh burrata, handmade pasta with fresh spicy sausage, breaded and fried lamb chops, a chocolate and pear tart, and oh the red wine!

But back to the tomatoes.  These dried tomatoes are perfectly pliable, deep rusty red, and highly aromatic.  Personally, I find more uses for dry packed tomatoes than tomatoes packed in oil, though both have a time and a place.  Once I got back home, I started thinking of ways to use the tomatoes… tomato cream sauce, polenta with dried tomatoes, egg custard with dried tomatoes and herbs… and then my mind drifted to sausage — I do live in Germany, you know :).

Making sausage is really much easier than one would think, especially if you just make patties or use it as bulk sausage.  Most of the time when I buy sausage links, I end up taking it out of the casings anyway, so when making my own, I rarely bother with the stuffing step.  If you don’t have a meat grinder, then things are even easier!  Just ask your butcher to grind whatever meat you purchase there in the shop.  If possible, start with a cut of meat rather than buying pre-ground pork, as you are more likely to get the meat to fat ratio correct with a cut like a picnic shoulder or boston butt.  Then just mix in the seasonings, and you have bulk sausage.

And one last note, definitely don’t skimp on the fat when making sausage — an 85/15 or 80/20 meat to fat ratio is ideal.  Less than that and your sausage will have a grainy, dry texture.  And really, if you’re going to go to the trouble of making sausage from scratch, shouldn’t it be as tasty as possible?  And speaking of the taste of this sausage — it’s fantastic!  Herby with a hint of savory sweetness from the tomatoes, and just the right amount of pepper — delicious at any meal!

Bulk Sausage

Breakfast Patties

Homemade Celery Salt
Adapted from The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating by Fergus Henderson
makes about 2 cups

1 1/2 c. sea salt
1 lb peeled celery root (celeriac)

Grate the celery root on the large holes of a box grater, then mix with the salt in a large bowl or ziploc bag.  Mix until the salt and celery root are well mingled.  Place in the refrigerator and allow the flavors to blend for about three days.

Heat the oven to 200 degrees Fahrenheit, then spread the celery/salt mixture on a large baking tray.  Dry in the oven for between 2 and 3 hours, until the celery root is very dry and crisp, but not singed.  Allow to cool for 15-20 minutes

Grind the mixture in batches in a spice grinder or all at once in a food processor.  Stored in an airtight jar, the mixture will keep indefinitely.

Enjoy with soft boiled eggs, sprinkled over vegetables, rubbed on a steak, or however you please!

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Hands down, my favorite breakfast is two soft boiled eggs, a touch of butter, a piece or two of good ham or salami, a nice warm crusty roll or some dense wheat bread, and a cup of strong coffee with real cream.  I could eat it every day for the rest of my life.  It’s a typical German breakfast, though I started enjoying it far before I moved here a few months ago.  Pancakes, french toast, waffles… these are all good too, but nothing is as filling, satisfying, or simple as my beloved german breakfast.

I even have a bit of a breakfast ritual.  Two eggs get poked with a pin to prevent breakage, then cooked in barely boiling water for exactly six minutes, then run under cold water for about 20 seconds before being placed in their individual eggs cups, narrow side down.  While the eggs are cooking I arrange about 1/2 - 1T of butter, a little pile of salt, the salami, and the roll (a broetchen in German) on the plate, making it look nice so that I start the day off in the right manner.

With such a ritual, why ever change it?
Well, because you might be a sort-of cookbook addict, and you come across a recipe for something so simple but classic that you decide you must try it immediately.  Such was Fergus Henderson’s Celery Salt with Boiled Eggs in Nose to Tail Eating (I know, celery salt isn’t so “nose-to-tail”, but it does epitomize one idea of that book — that it can be easy to make products that we typically purchase at the store without a second thought… this celery salt is more fresh, more pure, more tasty than what you buy at the supermarket!)

And the result?  I love it!  It adds an earthy complexity to the otherwise clean and bright flavors of egg yolk, salami, and good bread.

If you’re a sweet breakfast type of person, and eggs with celery salt sounds like your anti-breakfast, I’d recommend using this mixture on things like steamed buttered vegetables, as a rub for a piece of poultry or other meat, mixed in to  ground beef for hamburgers, or even mixed into eggs for a savory quiche or tart.

Do you have any breakfast rituals? or any food rituals for that matter?