Sourdough Focaccia with Olives & Rosemary

I killed them both in one fell swoop.
Both were tragic deaths. Unfair. And sudden. And utterly inelegant. And I mourned them both privately and on Facebook.

I now maintain that it was a matter of simple cross-contamination -- yeast meets beast --but I spent weeks wondering about the untimely fate of both my sourdough starter (of 7+ years) and my kombucha scoby (which I'd maintained without fail since early last spring).  I also acted quickly to find replacements.

The scoby was easy enough to replace, since I've given out quite a number of baby scobies to friends & neighbors all over town (and I seem to have developed a waiting list of others who are still awaiting the chance to own a 'booch baby of their own).  But the sourdough...

Fortunately for me, R from Cakewalk was passionately working on one of her latest obsessions -- sourdough culture derived from the fermentation of grapes (a la Nancy Silverton). And she was kind enough to offer me a bit of her brand new starter.

It was gorgeous stuff -- smelling of yeast and ferment and the ever-so-slight perfume of grapes (or was that my consistently overactive imagination?). In any case, it was a wonder of a living food. And I couldn't wait to take it for a test drive.

Interestingly enough, Peef was craving foccacia.  So, we planned a lovely casual weekend dinner of cheese, wine, fruit... and a lovely sourdough experiment.

The dough mixed together beautifully.  I used a mixture of bread flour and a half and half blend of all purpose and white whole wheat flour.  And I gave the loaf a nice long rise (nearly 8 hours total) -- to ensure that the wild yeast had an opportunity to thoroughly develop.

When the dough was finished rising, I hand shaped it on a piece of parchment paper, allowed it to rest, and then put together the toppings. Olives... rosemary...thinly sliced garlic... I hoped that this would be the focaccia of my (sometimes easy to please of late) dreams.

I watched the loaf in the oven as it slowly lifted -- as if levitating -- air flowing through every bubbly crevice. And, as a crust formed along the outer edges of the dough, I saw the bread take form and color beautifully.

The final product was crisp & airy, with a beautifully tender exterior pleasantly dappled with air tunnels.  Although it would have been perfect for sandwiches, we sliced it simply and ate it in big, manly chunks -- spread with tomato basil jam and followed with sheep's milk cheese and a swig of wine.

It was love at first bite - which is exactly why I feel the need to share.  If you can manage to get your hands on a bit of sourdough starter, you must try this recipe.


Sourdough focaccia with olives & rosemary

Oh!  And before I forget -- stay tuned later this week as we write about our adventures with locally made spice blends... I don't think I'd be giving too much away if I suggested there might be a giveaway involved...

Want more? Read Lo's latest ruminations at FOODCrush, her Milwaukee Magazine blog.


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Yay for Spring Veg: Tortellini with Asparagus & Olives

If any of you thought we were lying about eating asparagus until we couldn't handle another the thought of another spear, I just want to reassure you. Here at Burp! we don't play around.

The past couple of weeks have been utterly JAM PACKED with asparagus. We've eaten it raw. Steamed. Grilled. Plain. And buttered. We've dipped fresh spears in green garlic and basil cream cheese. And tucked them into grilled cheese sammiches. We've adorned grilled asparagus with rosemary salt (oooh! so fantastic) and roasted a pound or two with olive oil and "Sea Kelp Delight". We've thrown it on pizza. We even made lasagne with asparagus and morel/leek jack cheese sauce (which, regrettably, I didn't photograph...but it would have made a fantastic blog post).

Everything we've created has been delicious. But, there was one evening in particular when we roasted up some particularly succulent with lemon and sweet Vidalia onions -- and then tossed it with oil-cured olives and tortellini. And I can't get it out of my head. It was so very much worth the (minimal) effort.

First, you take your asparagus, and chop it into 2 inch lengths. Slice an onion in the same manner, and toss the two together.
Zest one of those lemons that's been sitting in your fridge just waiting to be used, and then juice the lemon. Toss the zest and juice with some olive oil and a bit of melted butter. Yes -- you really want the butter here. It adds SO much flavor, and it also ensures good caramelization on your roasted veg. Really fresh asparagus and sweet onions both contain a considerable amount of moisture, so you want to make sure you give them a bit of encouragement in the browning department.
Pour the lemony vinaigrette over your asparagus, and then add salt & pepper to taste.
Layer everything in a baking pan and throw it in the oven at 450º for about 15 minutes or so.
Meanwhile, cook up a bit of tortellini. I'm not normally a fan of dried tortellini, but recently I found a brand I really like. The trick, it seems, is to avoid overcooking the pasta at all costs -- while still getting the dried cheese filling to soften. My tips:

1. Use a larger pot to boil the tortellini than you think you need. Plenty of water circulating around the pasta is key.
2. Do NOT believe the package instructions. The pasta NEVER needs as long to cook as they recommend.
3. Test, test, test. Begin testing those tortellini as soon as they begin to float. Continue testing them until the noodles are toothy-but-tender, and the cheese within the pasta is pleasantly cooked (but not mushy).

In between testing your tortellini, you'll want to slice up a few oil-cured olives. A handful will do. Their flavor can be pretty overpowering, so you don't want to over-do it. I like to cut mine into smaller pieces so that you get the salty perfume of the olives distributed throughout the pasta dish without completely obliterating all of the other flavors.
When your pasta is cooked, and your asparagus is pleasantly roasted (see what I mean about that caramelization?) you'll want to toss everything together.
And then let your eyes linger on the beauty in the bowl.
Bright and briny. Cheesy and filling. Oh, and did I mention how incredibly EASY it is to throw together on a busy weeknight?

On a cloudy late spring day, this recipe is enough to transport me directly to a sunny Mediterranean beach. And who can argue with that?

Lemony Roasted Asparagus and Sweet Onions


©BURP! Where Food Happens

Roasted Broccoli Risotto with Sundried Tomatoes and Olives

Ah. Risotto.
Seduce me with your creaminess. Woo me with your toothy charm.
Nourish me with strong-flavored winter veg... OK, maybe I'm getting a little bit carried away. But, when a girl is as seriously TIRED of broccoli as I am, it's pretty exciting when she finds a broccoli dish that really bowls her over.

This dish was inspired by a pasta recipe I ran across years ago that became a regular occurrance in our winter repertoire. It was a baked penne with broccoli, oil-cured olives, and feta cheese. I liked the recipe because it came together quickly on weeknights. It was also an exceedingly brilliant composition -- all those strong/savory/salty/briny flavors complementing one another all in one bowl.

It hadn't occurred to me to combine the same flavors in a risotto. Until just the other night. When the idea hit me -- like a flash of light -- I was pretty stoked. I decided that roasted broccoli would be a decidedly fine addition to such a risotto, so I hauled out my roasting pan. While the broccoli was crisping up, I hauled out my risotto pan and sauteed some onions with a bit of dried thyme and garlic. I also heated up a bit of stock in a separate saucepan. This would be an excellent vegetarian dish if I had used vegetable stock, but I happened to have chicken stock on hand, so I used that.

I also pitted and chopped a handful of oil-cured black olives, as well as about a half cup of oil-packed sundried tomatoes (which I decided would add some welcome color and a great *pop* of sweet flavor to the dish). And I crumbled a handful of Greek feta.

And so the risotto process began. I added the rice to the pot. And then a bit of semi-dry white wine (actually a nice Chenin Blanc/Vignier).

Then came the stirring. The adding of stock. And more stirring. The kitchen started to smell wonderful. My tummy started rumbling. And I'd slipped into that zen sortofa place that you go when you're making risotto. Then the oven beeped. After jumping about half-way through the ceiling, I regained my composure and opened the oven door to find the broccoli all nice and roasty-toasty. Perfect.

I kept stirring and adding stock. When the rice was nearly al dente, I added the roasted broccoli, tomatoes, and olives -- giving them just long enough to cook together with the rice and allow the flavors to meld.

Then, we scooped that lovely risotto into bowls and sprinkled everything with a bit of crumbled feta. And the dish was complete. And completely glorious. *sigh*And so we dined. Each forkful evoked all sorts of crucifer-meets-umame-wonderful. And our Winter Bellies were satisfied. Which is a Very Good thing.
Roasted Broccoli Risotto with Sundried Tomatoes and Olives


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