the mark bittman minimalist club: do you like pina coladas?

I made this citrus rice salad because I'm leaving tomorrow to spend a couple of weeks at my mom's house in Florida. Why not wait to make it until I'm at my mom's, where I can pluck fresh citrus fruit from the trees in her backyard? Because I'm counting on the fact that once I arrive in Florida my mom will do all the cooking. Naw, I'm just kidding: My sister will probably help her out.


And maybe they will make this dish, which is from a column on rice salads Mark Bittman did last year (the piece also featured Indian, Japanese, and pad-thai-style rice salads). It's one of the recipes I was referring to earlier this week that could easily be either gruel de la semaine or a component of a meal that you might actually serve to other people. I think we all know which option I chose; see my serving suggestions after the recipe.

Citrus Rice Salad
from the New York Times

1½ to 2 cups any rice [I used 1 cup of uncooked long-grain, brown rice, which made ~2 cups of cooked rice.]
s&p
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons freshly squeezed citrus juice, or more to taste (lemon, lime, orange, tangerine, grapefruit, or a combination [I acutally used all five])
2 tablespoons grated citrus zest
1 tablespoon sugar or honey [honey]
1 cup chopped citrus flesh (or whole segments, if small)
½ large red or mild white onion, minced [I minced half of a smallish red onion and didn't even use all of it; the raw onion could easily overpower the other flavors.]
½ cup chopped fresh mint
½ cup or more grated Parmesan [or not; see notes below]
chopped almonds or pecans, optional [pecans, definitely]


1. Cook rice in abundant salted water, as you would pasta, until it's just done; white rice will take 10 to 15 minutes, brown 30 or a little longer. Drain, rinse in cold water, drain again, then put in a large bowl. [I cooked the rice according to the directions on the package and didn't do all of the draining and rising at the end.]

2. Combine olive oil, citrus juice, zest, sugar or honey, salt and pepper in a blender and turn the machine on; a creamy emulsion will form within 30 seconds. Taste and add more citrus juice a teaspoon or two at a time until the balance tastes right to you.

3. Drizzle vinaigrette over rice [do this to taste; I didn't use it all]. Use 2 big forks to combine, fluffing rice and tossing gently to separate grains. Stir in citrus flesh, onion, and mint; taste, and adjust the seasoning or moisten with a little more dressing.

4. Serve, sprinkled with Parmesan and chopped nuts, at room temperature, or refrigerate for up to a day, bringing salad back to room temperature before serving. [See my serving suggestions, below.]


I, of course, made a batch of this on Sunday and ate it for lunch all week. But because variety is the spice of life, I tried it two ways. Sometimes I ate it as directed, with grated Parmesan. But on a couple of days I went rogue/tropical, skipped the Parmesan, and added avocado instead, which is about as exotic as things get around my house. Either way, this makes for a nice gruel de la semaine; the bright citrus flavors are perfect on a gray fall day, and both the Parmesan and avocado give the salad a richness that balances the tang.

As a component of a fancier meal this would serve quite nicely as a bed on which you could lay a piece of fish, which you could then top with an avocado salsa. This kind of bold nüfüsion cüisine will surely impress your friends. It would impress me, anyway, and we're friends. Right?

Citrus rice would also go well with the yachtsman's famoüs French Chicken in a Pot, if you eat those nasty birds (I'll try to get him to whip one up while we're in Florida so my mom can take the night off and I'll have something to bl*g about). And there's something a little risotto-ish about this dish (could be the rice, I guess)—it might be nice topped with shrimp, if you like pieces of fishy rubber for dinner.

Actually, the risotto idea is a good one; perhaps I'll ask my mom to make a citrus risotto with chunks of fresh fruit added at the end, plenty of Parm, possibly some asparagus, served sprinkled with pecans. And then I will hope that I'm not sent to my room without dinner.

how i roll

This is how I roll: In general, three deep. Culinarily, I like to make myself a big batch of something on Sunday and eat it all week. You, however, do not need to do the same. If you're the kind of go-getter who regularly changes out of pajamas, the type of high achiever who takes hours or days, not weeks or months, to reply to e-mails, then you just may be up for taking a recipe for gruel and transforming it into a course or side dish for your next dinner party. The one you will invite me to via smoke signal, the dress code for which will be black fleece.

This week I will be featuring a couple of recipes that can be either eaten as gruel de la semaine or served as a component of a fancier meal, depending on how you roll.


Let's start with beets, which may be ugly (frightening, in fact) on the outside, but when roasted and peeled are not only pretty but delicious, perfect for a dinner party. They also have a long shelf life, perfect for a week in my fridge. This roasted beet salad has a secret ingredient: almond butter, a smear of which on the bottom of the plate transforms a somewhat common salad into something quite special, a salty, sweet, savory, addictive first course suitable for guests, or for lunch alone in pajamas. Because even slothful people deserve something special for lunch, don't we?

No, seriously. Don't we?

Roasted Beet Salad With Almond Butter and Gorgonzola
adapted from this recipe, which appeared in Gourmet

½ cup toasted, slivered almonds
½ garlic clove, chopped
pinch of cayenne
¼ cup + 2–3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
5 or 6 medium-to-large beets

2 tablespoons Sherry vinegar
3 tablespoons finely chopped shallot
3 tablespoons finely chopped chives
baby arugula
Gorgonzola or blue cheese

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cut off all but ~½ inch of beet tops and carefully scrub beets. Wrap each beet in tin foil and place on a baking sheet. Bake for 45 minutes to 1½ hours, or until you can slice through the beets easily with a sharp knife. If the size is not uniform, beets may not all be done at the same time, so pull them out as they're ready. When they're cooked, peel off the foil, let them cool, then peel and cut them into ½-inch wedges.


2. While beets are roasting, grind almonds to a paste with garlic, ¼ teaspoon salt, and cayenne in a food processor. With motor running, add just enough oil to make a silky paste.

3. Whisk together vinegar and ½ teaspoon salt in a bowl, then whisk in oil. Add shallot and chives and toss some of the dressing with the beets (I used about half with my six medium beets—plenty to coat the beets and then some. Lightly dress arugula with remaining dressing.

4. Smear a spoonful of almond butter on the bottom of your (or your guests') plate(s), top with beets, arrange a dainty little circle of arugula around the edge, and sprinkle with blue cheese.

spam for dinner

I really may be serving Spam for dinner tonight. In my mad rush to get out of town yesterday I forgot (1) the FOUR QUARTS of strawberries I'd bought to make shortcake, (2) the shallot and balsamic vinegar to make dressing for the roasted beet salad, and (3) the special Italian tuna for the pasta. (My frantic day yesterday included non-food-related catastrophes, as well, such as nearly overdosing the dog on morphine -- let's just say he had a really, really, really mellow afternoon.)

Now I'm hiding in the little internet hut, searching for recipes I can make with the limited ingredients I have on hand, namely penne, beets, capers, and canine morphine.

it's actually much better than it looks

We (the yachstman and I) had a little pre-Flynn-show dinner party on Saturday night, where I may have served a gruel-on-separate-plates-is-tapas dinner to people I don't know that well. But they claimed to enjoy it.

I didn't take pictures of the actual event but I did photograph some actual leftovers.

Sweet Potato and Goat's Cheese Frittata

And since we (the staff here at GFD Headquarters International Ltd.) haven't posted any recipes in awhile, here's a three-fer. This frittata was pretty scrumptious, if I do say so myself -- a little savory, a little sweet -- both the first time around and as leftovers, and also as leftover leftovers.

The recipes below are from Skye Gyngell's cookbook A Year in My Kitchen, which is written in British. I would do the translations for you, but then you wouldn't find yourself frantically googling "23 cm = how may inches?" and ending up on a porn website twenty minutes before your guests arrive.

Sweet Potato and Goat's Cheese Frittata

1 medium sweet potato (or 2 small ones)
s&p
250 g fresh, rindless goat cheese (I don't know what the hell that means; I bought one with a rind and then cut it off)
1/2 cup Roasted Red Onions (see below, and please actually make these, because they're amazing, and useful every day, not just for this recipe)
75 ml Basil Oil (see recipe below, see parenthetical note above)
60 g Parmesan, freshly grated
10 eggs
1 tbsp olive oil

1. Run to the computer and google "170 degrees celsius = how many degrees fahrenheit?" then preheat the oven to 170 degrees Celsius. Peel the sweet potato, cut into chunks, and place in a saucepan. Cover with cold water, add a pinch of salt, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer until tender while you wonder whether what you bought was a sweet potato or a yam, about 15 minutes.

2. While the sweet potato/yam is still warm, crumble the goat's cheese into the bowl. Toss in the roasted red onions, spoon over the basil oil, and sprinkle with Parmesan. Toss together lightly and set aside.

3. Break the eggs into a separate bowl and season generously with salt and plenty of freshly ground black pepper. Whisk to combine.

4. Place a 20-23 cm ovenproof (preferably non-stick) frying pan over medium heat and add the olive oil. While the pan is hot, add the sweet potato and goat's cheese mixture, distributing it evenly over the base of the pan. Pour in the beaten egg and, using a fork, tease it between the sweet potato chunks, making sure it gets into all the nooks and crannies.

5. Lower the heat and cook gently for 3-4 minutes, then place the pan in the oven and cook a further 10 minutes until firm on the surface but still slightly soft and runny in the centre [all right, I'll help you out a little: centre is Britis for center. The frittata will continue to firm up as it cools out of the oven.

6. Serve warm or at room temperature.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!

Roasted Red Onions

[You're gonna be seeing lots of these in the coming weeks, as I have a shit ton of them in my fridge.]

5 medium red onions, peeled
110 g caster sugar, which I'm pretty sure is just sugar
s&p
200 ml [you don't need to consult your new favorite porn site Google for this one; there should be a ml measurement on your measuring cup] balsamic vinegar
50 ml extra virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Slice the onions about 3 mm thick pinwheels [whatever, just slice them] and spread out on a baking tray. Sprinkle with the sugar and a generous pinch each of s&p. Pour over the balsamic vinegar and olive oil and mix together lightly with your hands. Roast in the oven for 30 minutes or so [it was over an hour for me], tossing and shaking occasionally. When the onions are ready, they should be deep purple in colour [that's how she spells it, bitches] and glistening, tasting sweet and sharp at the same time.

Basil Oil

3 large bunches of basil [seriously big bunches]
1 clove of garlic, peeled
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
200 ml extra virgin olive oil

Pull the basil leaves from their stalks and put them into a food processor with the garlic and a good pinch of s&p. Process until the basil is finely chopped. With the motor running, slowly trickle in the extra virgin olive oil through the funnel and continue to blend until you have a beautiful, moss-green purée. Leave to stand for a few minutes, then taste and adjust the seasoning. Pour into a jar, cover and refrigerate until ready to use. Or just spill it all over your floor and lick it up; it's that good, people, and then you can say your floors are so clean you could eat off them. (If you have any left over, this basil oil will keep well in the fridge for up to a week.)