Wednesday, September 20, 2006

roasted tomatoes and cippoline onions

roasted tomatoes with white beans

I’ve been struggling lately to get my Favorite Food in the Whole Entire World to perform as I want it to. It started long before I started this site, with a grilled baby artichoke recipe that sounded too precious to resist, but ended up too resistant to eat, and continued recently with roasted ‘chokes that left me with similarly disappointing results, as well as questioning my relationship with Martha Stewart. So, when I saw this stunning step-by-step tutorial on preparing artichokes in Becks and Posh-land, I knew she was onto something fabulous. And the accompanying Artichoke Panzanella? Be still, my wobbly heart.

What I’ve been faltering on? Those green leaves, every last one of them, have to go. It was really hard for me to reduce one of my favorite dinners — a whole steamed artichoke — to something that makes less than a side dish; I filled nearly a garbage bag with the leaves of three giant globes, and don’t even get me on the price of three big artichokes in the city. But, I wanted to see this recipe through because I knew, I just knew, it was going to be amazing.

And now, ze best ting Sam eveur did might be my best, too, or stunningly close. I lack the language to accurately tell you what this salad tasted like, but if I tell you it was like homage to everything my tastebuds have ever longed for, something they still lurch at the memory of, will that do? No? Well, if olives and sharp cheese and artichokes and cubed bread and garlic and olive oil and lemon and vinegar are your thing, um, then does Sam have a recipe for you!

blanching cippoline onions

A salad as awe-inspiring as the artichoke panzanella can’t be served with just anything, and since we’re waxing superlative here, I served it with what I think is the best thing I ever make: roasted tomatoes and cippolini onions over white beans with garlic-rubbed bread cubes (though I skipped the bread that night because between the panzanella and my new class, I fear I’m comprised of about 75% leavened flour right now). This dish could upstage any at a table, and has before, except maybe the artichoke panzanella. It put up a good effort though, really, the kind of food fight I’m honored to have come out of my kitchen.

artichokes, conquered at last

Artichoke Panzanella
Artichoke Preparation Information | Recipe

Roasted Tomatoes and Cippoline Onions Over White Beans [With Garlic-Rubbed Bread Cubes]
Adapted from Gourmet

1 pound cipolline or small boiling onions, blanched for one minute in boiling water, dropped in cool water and peeled
1 pound large cherry or mini-Roma tomatoes (mixed colors cherry tomatoes look great in this; 4 cups)
1 teaspoon sea salt
A few tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 1/2 to 2 15-ounce cans canellini beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 cup slivered fresh basil leaves

Toss tomatoes with blanched and peeled cipolline on a baking sheet or large, shallow baking dish with salt and olive oil. The trick with the oil is to coat them well, and keep them from sticking, but not overdo it. (The original recipe calls for 1/2 cup; I’m not sure I use all that.)

Roast at 500°F, anywhere from 35 to 50 minutes, until they show brown patches and the tomatoes are falling apart.

Assemble the dish by placing the white beans at the bottom of a large bowl or large deep platter, scraping the tomatoes and all* of their juices on top, and topping it with slivers of basil leaves.

Serve immediately. I like to throw a few garlic-rubbed bread cubes** in the bottom of a plate or small bowl and scoop the goods on top.

* These juices are where it’s at. We sop them up on at the end with the leftover or bread cubes.
** Lately, I’ve been using 4 1″-thick slices of a large ciabatta loaf and partially drying them out in the oven, but use whatever bread you fancy or have around. (If I’m in more of a hurry, I’ll toast them in the oven with the tomatoes, for just a minute or two.) When I take them out, I immediately rub both sides with a peeled, halved raw garlic clove. Then I cut them into cubes. You don’t want them as hard as store-bought croutons, but a nice crunch is ideal for soaking.


Comment

[New here? You might want to check out the Comment Guidelines before chiming in.]