Category Archives: Sauces & Condiments

Kale Pesto

kale pesto

So my local Safeway sells kale one way and one way only: in a massive, Costco-sized three-pound bag. None of this namby-pamby “by the bunch” b.s. you see at Whole Foods. Nope, Safeway looks you right in the face and says “Hey man. If you want some kale, you’d better WANT SOME KALE.” Challenge accepted, Safeway.

For the record, three pounds may not sound like a lot, but when we’re talking about leafy greens…that’s a whole lot of leafy greens. I have trash bags at home that are smaller than this. It takes up a huge chunk of real estate in my fridge so I have to make a concerted effort to eat it down a little more every day until it’s time to go back to Thunderdome…uh…Safeway…and get more. Needless to say, I eat a lot of kale. Smoothies for breakfast. Ribboned and dispersed harmlessly through my lighter salad greens at lunch. Baked into crispy chips as a snack. And massaged, sautéed, braised and pureed six ways from Sunday all other times of the day, until every last bit is gone. Obviously pesto was going to happen at some point. Why not? It’s hardier than basil and doesn’t turn that awful dark color if you leave it out for a few minutes. No, simple oxygen is no match for the rugged kale leaf. It makes a beautiful bright green pesto that in turn is a fantastic spread for sandwiches or pizzas, or of course thinned out with a little water and mixed into pasta. As an added bonus, this vegan version is healthy as all get out. Nutritional yeast stands in for the parmesan cheese and cuts way down on the fat, while still lending a nutty, cheesy taste that does wonders for the flavor. This is such a good light replacement for traditional basil/parm pesto – and now that I have this in my back pocket, I can make tons of it and freeze it. Gotcha, Safeway – I’ve found your loophole. Check and mate, and on to the next three-pound bag.

Kale Pesto

Kale Pesto
5.0 from 1 reviews

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Category: Sauces, Sides
Prep time:
Total time:
Yield: About 1 cup
A healthy, vitamin-packed vegan pesto.
Ingredients
  • 4 cups chopped kale leaves
  • ½ cup raw walnuts
  • ¼ cup nutritional yeast flakes
  • 1 clove garlic
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • ⅓ cup olive oil
Instructions
  1. Combine the kale, walnuts, nutritional yeast flakes, garlic, salt, and pepper in a blender or food processor and pulse until blended. With the motor running, drizzle in olive oil until pesto is relatively smooth. Remove and store covered in refrigerator until ready to use.
  2. To use as a sandwich spread: spread thinly on bread.
  3. To use as a pizza topping: Add a bit of olive oil to the desired amount to make it a bit thinner and more spreadable. Spread evenly on crust and cover with toppings.
  4. To use with pasta: Add hot pasta water to the desired amount of pesto and stir until desired consistency (somewhat thin like a sauce). Toss into pasta.

Movie Munchies: My Blue Heaven (Arugula Pesto)

“A-rooooo-gula. It’s a VEG-E-TA-BLE.”

I can’t so much as think about arugula without hearing Steve Martin explaining to a supermarket full of people he sees as bumpkins what “a-ROOOOO-gula” is. In “My Blue Heaven,” Martin plays a mobster in witness protection in a much smaller town than he’s used to. In the famous supermarket scene, he wreaks havoc on his new grocers – an innocent salesperson with a sample gets a “f*** you,” he steals the pricing gun to re-price expensive meat at $0.39/pound, and when he almost gets caught, instead of counting his blessings, takes the opportunity to point out that the grocer is missing arugula.

Truthfully, I probably would’ve gone my entire life without seeing this movie if it hadn’t been for a customer at the restaurant where I used to wait tables. He and his wife would come in every Friday night, and he would always, without fail, order the arugula salad. And every time, he’d order it like this: “I’ll have the a-ROOOO-gula salad. Have you ever seen that Steve Martin movie? Where he says “a-ROOOO-gula?” I would always laugh and admit that I hadn’t, and he would say, “I’m going to order it like that every week until you see that movie.” Each week he’d ask again, “Have you seen it yet?” and of course, my answer was always no – hey, I was working two jobs! I wasn’t making time for some old Steve Martin movie!

[click for recipe and more]

Roasted Red Pepper Hummus

Hummus is one of those things that’s so readily available on grocery shelves that we rarely think to make it ourselves (by “we,” in this case, I am talking about “me”). Even though I grew up with homemade hummus, even though I am half-Lebanese and therefore pretty sure that I have some variation of hummus coursing through my veins, I am frequently guilty of picking it up at Trader Joe’s instead of, you know, exerting myself for the five whole minutes it takes to make it from scratch.

I’m very delicate, you know (delicate = lazy).

[click for recipe and more]

Rustic Hand-chopped Pesto


Okay, I normally don’t use words like “rustic” to describe recipes. In my kitchen, it’s a running joke that if something turns out edible but supremely unattractive, it gets classified as “rustic.” The banana bread that overrose its pan and spilled over the sides? Rustic. Mushroom gravy that tasted divine but looked like something you’d scrape off your shoe? Rustic. See the pattern?

I may have to retire that joke in favor of the true definition of rustic – charmingly simple, unsophisticated. When I first tasted this pesto, my eyes opened wide, and I think I let out an audible gasp. I could taste every component in each bite – the basil, the garlic, the pine nuts, and the parmesan. It was as if each ingredient took a quick turn in a starring role before melding together into the most perfect blend of flavors I can imagine. It’s the simplest of dishes – five ingredients and no equipment required but a sharp knife, a cutting board, and some elbow grease (RUSTIC!). It’s that simplicity that makes this pesto special. Hand-chopping the ingredients a little bit at a time is what allows each flavor to both shine on its own and meld with the others, because it’s not ground into mushy paste in a blender (blenders aren’t rustic). The best part, aside from the taste, is the feeling of accomplishment after finishing all of that chopping (or maybe that’s just me. Frankly, it doesn’t take much to make me feel accomplished). Accomplishment, for the record, is also rustic.

[click for recipe and more]

Blood Orange Curd

Last week, I impulse bought a 3-pound bag of blood oranges during a 6 AM trip to the grocery store. Clearly, I was not entirely awake, or I would’ve remembered the identical 3-pound bags of blood oranges I bought over the previous two winters that sat unused in my produce drawer until, shriveled and dried up, I finally had to throw them away.

When I came to my senses (thank you, caffeine), I remembered those squandered oranges and made a solemn and dramatic vow to myself that not only would I not allow this batch to go to waste, but I would use every single bit of them – pith, peel, juice – in glorious ways (okay, I threw out the seeds). I quickly got to work peeling and juicing (lesson learned: convert your kitchen into something similar to Dexter’s kill room, or risk staining everything within five feet). Then, as I proudly gazed down at my pile of zest and peels and cups of beautiful scarlet juice, I realized that I’d given exactly zero thought to what I was actually going to do with all of it. Drink it straight? Yes, I did have a cup. But after my declaration of grand destiny for this bag o’ blood oranges, simply chugging the juice seemed like a bit of a letdown.

I’d never made my own curd before – the fact that my Trader Joe’s sells lemon curd at a very reasonable price, combined with the very real potential of homemade curd ending up as sweetened scrambled eggs (ew), has always held me back. But how could I resist blood orange curd? I certainly couldn’t buy it at Trader Joe’s, and the odds of ending up with a wealth of perfectly sweet, tart, pale pink loveliness handily trumped the risk of sugary scrambled eggs.

I’m so glad I made this – it’s incredibly simple, tastes amazing, and I’ve already thought of about 354657 ways to use it, including:

  • donut filling
  • blood orange tarts
  • Swiss meringue buttercream
  • eaten alone with a spoon

In fact, I loved it so much that I made a second batch. And then I had to go out and buy another bag of blood oranges. Don’t fear for their future, though – I think it’s safe to say that you’ll never see blood oranges go to waste in my home again.

[click for recipe and more]

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