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

Potato Gratin with Caramelized Fennel and Leek

1 fennel bulb, trimmed, cored, and any bruised outer leaves removed
1 medium-large leek
2 T butter, divided plus extra for pan
1 garlic clove
3 fist sized yukon gold potatoes, peeled
1 T. fresh thyme, chopped
Salt and Pepper
1/2 – 1 c grated hard, salty cheese (about 2 – 4 oz) (such as parmesan, manchego, or gruyere)
approximately 3/4 cup cream (or substitute milk or stock)

Slice both the fennel and leek into thin rounds. Heat 1T butter in a medium-large saute pan over medium heat until melted, then add the fennel and leek and stir to coat. Reduce heat to low and cook until fennel and leeks are caramelized, about 40 minutes, stirring every now and then to prevent burning.

Meanwhile, thinly slice the potatoes (about 1/8th – 1/16th of an inch thick).

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter the bottom and sides of a 1.5 qt baking dish*, then slice the garlic clove in half and rub all over the pan.

When fennel and leeks are caramelized, assemble the gratin: layer 1/3 of the potatoes in the baking dish, overlapping slightly; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Spoon half of the fennel and leek mixture over potatoes and spread evenly. Dot with 1 t butter, and sprinkle with 1 t thyme. Repeat for one more layer. Top with remaining potatoes, and dot with remaining butter and thyme. Sprinkle grated cheese over gratin, then pour in enough cream, milk, or stock so that the liquid is at the same level as the top of the potatoes.

Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until top is golden and gratin is fork tender. Enjoy!

*I used an oval pan that is about 10 inches long, 8 inches wide, and 2 inches deep.

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It’s official: Spring is in full swing here in Los Altos Hills, California — the days are getting noticeably longer, the pea plants in my garden are exploding with fresh peas, and the winter greens (collards & kale) have bolted to seed… my seedlings on the windowsill are growing like mad and will be transplanted in just two or three short weeks. There’s still snow in the nearby Sierras, but here in the Bay Area it’s nothing but blue skies.

In these first days of spring you’d think I would be singing the praises of spring vegetables I haven’t seen in almost a year — asparagus, fava beans, shelling peas, and pea shoots, to name a few. Believe me, I am (and will be on Modern Beet very soon — I have a whole backlog of spring recipes just waiting to be posted). Yet in the early days of spring I sometimes long for one last ‘winter vegetable hurrah’ — something earthy, rich, and filling, usually with tubers or root vegetables, a healthy dose of cheese, and some fresh hearty herbs that do well in cooler temperatures, such as rosemary or thyme. That longing, plus the desire to clean out my vegetable drawer, inspired this gratin.

Gratins are a great canvas for experimentation and improvisation — you don’t have leeks? substitute onions. you don’t have fennel? oh well. just use all leeks, onions, or even celery; you can even leave it out entirely and do a plain potato gratin. love garlic? feel free to add some (either roasted or chopped fresh). don’t have potatoes? try parsnips, rutabaga, sweet potatoes, or turnips. The method is the same for whatever ingredients you use — slice the main ingredient into thin rounds, layer into a baking dish (perhaps adding embellishments between layers), dot with butter and herbs, add liquid, top with cheese, bake, enjoy.

A healthy portion of gratin, a green salad, some fruit, and a glass of white wine makes for a light, delicious, and elegant dinner. And on a side note, I’m hoping to find some cardoon (a relative of the artichoke) at the farmer’s market in the upcoming weeks — one of the most delicious gratins I’ve ever made had this as the main ingredient… yum!

Braised Caramelized Fennel

1 large fennel bulb (or 2 small)
2-3 T olive oil
1 c. dry white wine, or a mixture of wine and water

Optional garnishes: butter, freshly grated parmesan cheese

Cut the stems and fronds from the fennel and discard. Core the fennel by cutting a pyramid shaped wedge around the core on the bottom of the bulb. Discard the core. Slice fennel into six wedges.

Heat olive oil in a heavy skillet over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking. Add fennel wedges and saute about 4-5 minutes per side, until the sides are a nice golden brown color. Add the wine and reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer until nearly all of the wine has evaporated or has been absorbed, about 45 minutes.

If desired, dot each wedge butter or sprinkle with freshly grated parmesan.

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When I used to live in downtown San Francisco, I would take the commuter train each morning from the 22nd Street station, an oddly quiet, dilapidated and desolate platform situated under the raised highway. The station was usually deserted except for the five minute period before a train’s arrival. Most mornings the station’s aroma was a melange of diesel smoke from the trains, car exhaust from the road overhead, and unknown chemical scents from the unidentifiable businesses with corrugated tin walls on Pennsylvania Avenue. For a few weeks during the spring and fall though, the air was decidedly sweeter–my olfactory organ were delighted by the scent of thriving wild fennel.

When one imagines an ideal environment for a plant to thrive, it’s rarely the train station under the freeway or the abandoned gravel lot in the middle of downtown; but for wild fennel, these places are home sweet home, especially in the Bay Area’s mediterranean climate.

On especially long or tiring days, I would imagine that the fennel was standing at the edge of the concrete sidewalk, seeing me off as I left and greeting me when I returned. The six foot tall celery-like stalks would wave their feathery leaves and flowery yellow embels in my direction, filling the air with a spicy, licorice-like scent.

Fennel comes in two main varieties: wild and cultivated. Wild fennel, as described above, is often found growing in the most un-hospitable of places–abandoned lots, roadsides, train stations, etc. Despite its sometimes sketchy origins, the leaves and flowers of wild fennel make an excellent addition to soups, salads, sauces, and marinades, and also make a beautiful garnish. Cultivated fennel, also known as Florentine fennel, is what you find in the grocery store or at the farmer’s market. It has a compact, white, layered, bulbous base and looks a little like an onion but…… but is completely and totally unlike an onion in every other sense. Fennel is one of the most unique vegetables in my eyes, and also one of the most versatile. For ages the Italians have been slicing it paper thin (raw) and serving it with oranges; it’s also commonly found sliced into rings and caramelized (I swear, at least taste-wise it’s really nothing like an onion). It can be eaten raw, grilled, roasted, gratin-ed, stewed, and so much more. My favorite way of preparing fennel, especially on a cold winter evening, is a combination caramelize-braise, as described in the recipe above. The edges turn a beautiful deep golden brown, and the rest of the bulb becomes melt-in-your-mouth tender… delicious!

Besides simply enjoying it on its own, braised caramelized fennel is great with an herb-y pork tenderloin or a crispy roasted chicken. It’s also delicious sliced onto a white pizza with a generous handful or two of grated parmesan and a sprinkling of fresh herbs (tarragon is especially good here) and a dash of balsamic vinegar (after the pizza is cooked). If you’ve never cooked fennel, I encourage you to give this delicious and unique vegetable a try.