Early Spring Salads

The early spring kitchen garden continues to offer salad greens from the sturdy plants that provided greens throughout the winter. Arugula, red mustard and kale all came through the cold snaps of December, January and February and now with the longer light of March and April are sending out new growth.

Arugula is starting to bud and blossom but the new leaves that are growing too are tender and spicy.

Spring arugula 4.18

Red mustard is sending out succulent-stemmed, horseradish-spicy leaves.

Spring mustard 4.18

And kale, the year-round champion, is bursting with sweet, tender leaves.

Spring kale 4.18

We eat kale salads for lunch nearly every day and lately we’ve been adding red mustard leaves to the bowl, their hot crispness a perfect balance to the tender sweet kale. Olive oil, a little salt, fresh lemon juice and grated Pecorino cheese meld the flavors of the two together into a perfect salad.

Spring mustard, kale 4.18

Spring kale mustard salad

Arugula makes a great salad with the same dressing, but for the past few months, I’ve been using Yotam Ottolenghi’s recipe for arugula with roasted red onions and walnut salsa from his 2014 cookbook Plenty More.

Red onion Walnut salsa recipe

It’s so good! The thick slices of red onions roast, soften and caramelize. Redwing is my favorite storage onion, a variety I’ve grown for years. Served warm over a bed of arugula these roasted onions are delicious and beautiful and would be a fine just with the arugula, but what really makes this salad is the walnut salsa. Modifying Ottolenghi’s recipe slightly, I marinate minced garlic in red wine vinegar with a little salt for an hour or so then add coarsely chopped walnuts and finely diced poblano peppers I’d roasted and frozen last summer. Thawed they are perfect for this salsa.   Flavors of sharp vinegar, pungent garlic, crunchy walnuts and spicy poblanos make a salsa that I’m happy simply to eat with a spoon. Tossed into the salad it’s great too. Another modification I make is to use much more arugula than the recipe suggests, making this a dinner salad rather than an appetizer.

Red onion walnut salsa salad

These early spring salads are exactly what we need as we wait for warmer weather and the first lettuce of early summer.

Advertisements

Parsnip Chips

The days are getting longer and winter roots in the kitchen garden are responding to the increased light by sending out new growth. Though they are covered with hay mulch to simulate darkness, even the remaining parsnips are starting to show a few green leaves. There are lots of ways to cook these sweet winter parsnips before too much new growth reduces their sweetness. One technique I’ve just begun experimenting with is turning parsnips roots into parsnip chips. They are easy to make, full of sweet parsnip flavor and definitely make me happy that there are still a few parsnips left in the kitchen garden.

A Google search for parsnip chip recipes yields some helpful techniques. All suggest using a mandoline or a food processor to create very thin slices. Recipes that recommend baking instead of deep-frying suggest lightly oiling the slices and arranging them in a single layer on a sheet pan. For cooking temperature, there is a lot of variation, from 300 to 425 degrees with cooking times varying by temperature.

In my experiments, I used a mandoline to slice the unpeeled parsnips into 1/8-inch (35mm) thick rounds. Mine is a Swissmar Borner V-1001 V-Slicer Plus Mandoline.

Parsnip chips mandolinThen I brushed a light skim of olive on a sheet pan, arranged the parsnip rounds on this oiled surface and brushed a little more olive oil over the surface of the rounds.

Parsnip chips rawFinally, because 300 degrees seemed too low, I put the pan in a 425-degree oven and set the timer for ten minutes. After ten minutes, many of the rounds were starting to curl and brown at the edges though the centers remained soft.

Parsnip chips curledI removed the pan from the oven, turned the rounds with a thin spatula and returned the pan to the oven for another ten minutes. Keeping an eye on them, I found that before the second ten minutes was up, some of the chips looked brown enough to remove. Leaving them another ten minutes resulted in some chips that had turned black and bitter. Cooking at this high temperature made tasty chips but did require vigilance.

Parship chips plates

The next time, I used a 300-325 degree oven. While the cooking time was much longer, 45 minutes instead of 20, none of the chips burned, I didn’t need to be quite so vigilant, and all chips became just as crisp as those cooked at a higher temperature. For future batches of parsnips chips, I’ll probably use the lower temperature unless I’m really in a hurry.

Parsnip chips have turned out to be a hit as an appetizer. Fresh from the oven, crisp but still a little warm, sprinkled lightly with salt, they are all gone by the time the main course is ready. They may keep well in a tightly closed container, but I haven’t found out yet.

Meals from a Bitter Cold Alert

Vancouver Island garden writer Linda Gilkeson regularly emails “Linda’s List” to her many subscribers in the Maritime Northwest. Her most recent subject line, Bitter Cold Alert, definitely caught my attention and sent me to the kitchen garden to follow her advice: “Given how cold it could be, I suggest you harvest as much of the above ground crops (leeks, cabbage, kale, Br. sprouts, chard, etc.) as you can stuff in your refrigerator and cover everything you can’t harvest.”

Heading out into the cold and blustery but sunny late morning, I started with the leeks and quickly filled a wheelbarrow with the last 12-foot row of these special winter alliums, about six dozen leeks. Next I went to the Brussels sprouts and cut off at the base the fullest remaining stalks, six little trees of sprouts. Leaving these two crops to clean later, I turned to the chard, collards and kale, filling bags with the biggest leaves of each and packing them into the refrigerator. Then it was time to cover what remained. I piled extra mulch on the carrot and parsnip beds. I also piled extra mulch around the tall kale plants before moving hoop houses over them and over the chard, securing a small cloche over the mache and closing the cold frame over the mustard and arugula. Finally, I trimmed the leeks and popped the Brussels sprouts from their stalks, filled gallon bags with both, and found more room in the fridge.

Garden covered 2:18

Happily, I was able to start using this emergency harvest right away. At a dinner party that night, I shared a platter of sautéed leeks and Brussels sprouts and at another dinner a few days later, I shared a platter of sautéed leeks, chard and Brussels sprouts. For the first, I sliced the leeks lengthwise and then crosswise into inch-long pieces, then sautéed them in a little butter. I sliced the Brussels sprouts into eighth-inch rounds and sautéed them quickly in butter as well. Finally, I added a little heavy cream to the final sautéing of both the leeks and the Brussels sprouts, not really necessary but very tasty.   The warm green and yellow tones of both vegetables looked lovely against a dark brown stoneware platter.

For the second dinner’s platter of leeks, chard and Brussels sprouts, I sautéed the leeks and Brussels sprouts in butter as before though I left out the cream. Then I braised the dark green chard in a bit of water until it was tender. On a shallow yellow rectangular platter, I arranged the vegetables in sections, leeks then chard then Brussels sprouts forming a winter vegetable harvest flag. I missed the opportunity to get photos of each of these dishes but they were as beautiful as they were delicious.

Still working my way through bags of leeks and kale, a few nights later I made a large dish of Boerenkool to serve at a birthday party we were hosting. This classic Dutch dish combines mashed potatoes, sautéed leeks and wilted kale into a wonderfully satisfying winter mash. With roasted carrots and a pork leg roast, it made a festive dinner.

Boerenkool parts & carrots

Boerenkool

The cold has abated, but there are still bags of leeks in the fridge along with bags of collards, Brussels sprouts, arugula, radicchio and parsley.  And the roots and greens covered and left in the garden survived the cold.  We’ll use them all for parties ahead, warm times with friends as we move from winter to spring.

Winter Vegetable Mash or Hash

Winter vegetables 2017

There’s something so appealing about a pile of winter vegetables. Maybe it’s the mix of colors: orange, yellow, white and purple carrots, green striped Delicata squash, rosy rutabaga and green Gilfeather turnip contrasting with brown potatoes, white celery root and parsnips. Maybe it’s their compactness, these solid, densely textured vegetables. Or maybe the appeal is the anticipation of their flavors, richly sweet carrots, parsnips and squash, pungent rutabaga and turnip, earthy potatoes, nutty celery root, delicious individually but even better mixed together.

Lately I’ve been experimenting with ways of mixing the colors, textures and flavors of these winter vegetables. Mashing is one technique, creating smooth purees or chunky blends from two or more cooked vegetables. Hash is another, dicing vegetables into small, same-sized cubes and roasting or sautéing them together so that the pieces crisp and the flavors blend. Mash and hash both make comfort food for this time of year.

Last weekend, a friend invited us for dinner. She was serving slow-braised beef and we agreed that some sort of mash would be a great accompaniment. Keeping it simple, I settled on potatoes and rutabaga, peeling, quartering and steaming the potatoes, peeling, cutting into chunks and boiling the rutabaga, then mashing the two together with some buttermilk and butter, salt and pepper. The rutabaga gave just the right pungence as well as a pretty yellow tone to the potatoes and the buttermilk added a touch of sharpness.

Another favorite mash combines potatoes, celery root and Delicata squash. With garlic and thyme infused cream and butter, this mash is smooth, richly sweet and beautifully orange.

Celery Root puree

In contrast to this smooth mash, there’s a chunkier one I first made several years ago, sautéing all the vegetables together in a pot then mashing them into a coarse mix for a pretty side with pork chops and leeks.

Roots mash in pot

Roots mash on plate

I often roast chunks of winter vegetables, but when making hash, I dice the vegetables into smaller cubes. Roasted at 400 or 425 until they are soft and beginning to crisp, they result in a hash that’s perfect as a side dish for pork or lamb. Lately, though, I’ve been pairing winter vegetable hash with eggs, once for dinner and once for breakfast.

Hash and eggs

I could eat this tasty combination for lunch too. Potatoes alone make a fine hash but hash with rutabaga, turnip, and Delicata squash is three times better.

A few nights ago I turned some leftover winter vegetable hash into a free-form baked pasta dish. Following a recipe that called for broccoli but substituting hash, I tossed boiled and drained pasta and hash together on a sheet pan, spooned ricotta across the mix, sprinkled on a mix of bread crumbs, grated parmesan cheese and lemon zest, drizzled on some olive oil and put the pan under the broiler for four or five minutes to warm the ricotta and crisp the crumbs and parmesan. Piled on plates, this pasta and hash made a great dinner.

Hash and pasta

The variations on mash and hash are endless. Begin with an inspiring pile of winter vegetables and start experimenting.

Thanksgiving Salads

Our Thanksgiving feast surrounds the turkey, gravy and stuffing with lots of vegetable side dishes: mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts, succotash, winter squash, rutabaga, all offering rich, sweet, earthy and pungent flavors as well as soft, dense textures. In past years, to balance these heavier side dishes, I’ve experimented with opposite flavors and textures, most often in salads. Celery root and apple salad dressed with apple cider vinaigrette has been a good choice, both crisp and acidic. It’s pretty, too, with additions of toasted nuts and chopped parsley or arugula. Or I’ve made a simple salad of mache and sherry vinaigrette, fresh green contrasting the other mashed, roasted and pureed vegetables. Some years a guest will bring pickled vegetables or sweet and sour red cabbage and I skip a salad altogether because these acidic flavors work well to balance the richness of the other vegetables. This year, when we’ll have the same line up of rich side dishes, I’ve settled on a radicchio and pear salad, going for the pleasantly bitter flavor of radicchios and the fresh sweetness of the pears.

Radicchio and pear salad was an easy choice this year because the red and green radicchios and the pears from the kitchen garden have been so beautiful.

Radicchios in basket

Radicchios cut in basket

I’ve made this salad several times already. It goes together quickly, easy to do at the last minute.   The green is Sugarloaf chicory and the red is Indigo radicchio. I usually slice the crisp leaves rather than tearing them because it’s quicker and I like their ribbon-like shape. The pears ripening now are Conference and Comice. I quarter them, peel them and then slice them into chunks. Toasted hazelnuts add their sweet, nutty flavor and some crunch. I’ve tried both sherry vinaigrette and balsamic vinaigrette and prefer balsamic because its complex sweetness complements the slight bitterness of the radicchio. Finally, this is a beautiful salad, one more reason to include it on the Thanksgiving table.

Radicchio salad T-day

What is a shell bean?

“What is a shell bean?” a friend asked me the other day when I was describing succotash, a traditional New England dish of corn and shell beans that I often serve at Thanksgiving. We’d been talking about her dry bean crop and the varieties she’d just harvested. “A shell bean is the bean fully formed in the pod but not dry yet,” I said, adding that I often harvest beans at this stage, remove them from the pods, boil them to eat right away with just olive oil, salt and pepper, or blanch them and freeze them so I can have shell beans in the winter.

Shell beans harvesting

Shell beans on terrace The idea of a shell bean was completely new to her and I realized that my answer wasn’t making sense. I’m so used to calling the plump, fresh bean harvested in mid-summer a shell bean and the smaller, hard, dried bean harvested in early fall a dry bean that it never occurred to me that this fresh shell bean stage could be so unfamiliar.

Later, wondering if I was trapped in my own bean universe, I turned to seed catalogs to see how others talk about these two bean stages. Territorial Seeds refers to shelling beans and Johnny’s Selected Seeds and Fedco refer to shell beans but the harvest stages are the same. Territorial advises: “For shelling beans, pick when the seeds are fully formed but still soft and green. For dry beans, maturity can take 3-4 more weeks depending on the weather. Harvest when 90% of the leaves have yellowed or fallen off.”   Johnny’s advises picking shell beans “when beans are plump inside pods” and harvesting dry beans “when at least 90% of leaves have fallen and pods are dry.”

In the Fedco catalog, there’s a “Shell and Dry Beans” section with some introductory sentences advising gardeners to “Harvest shell beans when the beans are plump inside pods. For dry beans allow pods to dry on the vine until pressing the beans with your fingernail leaves no indentation.” In the descriptions of the beans that follow, Fedco’s catalog writers often characterize qualities of the shell stage and the dry stage. Silver Cloud Cannellini beans “make amazingly early and absolutely superb shell beans…When dried and cooked its smooth, meaty texture and dense meaty flavor are prized in minestrone.” Limelight is “excellent both as a shell and a dry bean.” Tiger Eye makes “superb fresh shell and delicious baked beans …Wide 4” pods fill with large flattened kidney-shaped seeds mostly white at the shell stage but taking on more yellow as they dry.” Jacob’s Cattle “if harvested earlier…make superb shellies.”

Any bean can be harvested at the shell or the dry stage; even green beans that have grown too tough to eat green can hold tasty shell or dry beans. In my years of harvesting beans at shell and dry stages, I’ve come to favor certain beans at the shell stage and others at the dry stage. Cranberry, the pole flageolet Soissons Verte, Good Mother Stallard and all runner beans taste best to me at the shell stage while cannellini and black beans taste better fully dried then rehydrated.

Soissons Verte

Bean Soissons Vert

Good Mother Stallard

Beans Good Ma S

Runner Beans

_DSC6515

But if your intent is growing dry beans, even seed catalog descriptions might not encourage shell bean harvest. The phrase “shelling beans” might signal only the process of removing the beans from the pods. Yes, you do shell both shell beans and dry beans, along with peas, so the term is confusing. And if you didn’t grow up eating shell beans as I did, maybe you have to discover shell beans by chance as my friend Carol did, explaining: “I learned about them accidentally years ago when frost was threatening, the beans weren’t dry and I ate some. Get the word out there!  They are wonderful.” It’s true. As a bean tasting  we did a few years ago revealed, shell beans are rich and creamy, fresh tasting and nutty, needing nothing but a little olive oil and salt and pepper, or maybe a little corn, to make a meal.

Bean tasters

Bean samplesDry beans are very good, but they aren’t the same; they’re starchy and less sweet, wonderful at absorbing other flavors but not so good alone.

Or maybe you can discover shell beans at Thanksgiving dinner. As I do nearly every year, I’ll serve succotash at Thanksgiving, using a mix of Cranberry, Aunt Jean and Soissons Verte shell beans and sweet corn I’ve frozen in the summer in anticipation of this holiday meal. I’ll be sure that my friend tastes these shell beans and hope that my answer to her question: “What is a shell bean?” will finally make sense.

Succotash bowl

My favorite succotash recipe

1 ½ Cups fresh corn cut from the cob or frozen corn thawed

1 Cup fresh shell beans or frozen shell beans

1 Garlic clove, minced

2 Tablespoons Butter

1 Teaspoon Olive Oil

Salt

Pepper

Bring a saucepan of water to a boil and add fresh or frozen beans; simmer until soft, about 7-10 minutes but check often. When soft, drain and set aside.

Heat butter and olive oil, add garlic and cook 2-3 minutes

Add fresh or thawed corn and cook, stirring frequently, until hot

Add beans to corn, mix, heat through and serve

Serves 4

Easy to double or triple

For an interesting history of succotash, see this article from Yankee Magazine.  And for more history and some tasty variations on the basic succotash recipe, see David Tanis’s New York Times City Kitchen column Yes, Succotash Has a Luxurious Side.

Root Vegetable Annas

The classic French pommes Anna recipe calls for layering thinly sliced potatoes with clarified butter and baking them to create a cake. As Julia Child writes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume Two (1970): “Pommes Anna looks like a brown cake 6 to 8 inches in diameter and 2 inches high, and it smells marvelously of potatoes and butter. That, in effect, is all it is: thinly sliced potatoes packed in layers in a heavy pan, bathed in clarified butter, and baked in a very hot oven so that the outside crusts enough for the potatoes to be unmolded without collapsing. The contrast of crusty exterior and tender, buttery interior is quite unlike anything else in potato cookery, and to many pommes Anna is the supreme potato recipe of all time.”

Pommes Anna is truly delicious but so, I’m finding, are Annas made from other root vegetables. Turnips, rutabaga, beets, celery root, carrots all undergo the same transformation when thinly sliced, layered with butter or olive oil in a glass or metal pie plate or heavy skillet, and baked in a hot oven.

The first non-potato Anna I tried was Turnips Anna from an October 2014 Sunset Magazine recipe. A friend had made it for a party that fall and I finally got around to making one this winter. In addition to layers of turnip, bits of crispy bacon, a little grated cheddar cheese and fresh thyme join the melted butter in the layers between the thinly sliced turnips.

turnips-anna-ingredientsI used Gilfeather turnip, a large, very sweet white turnip that holds beautifully in our winter kitchen garden. Gilfeather turnips growingThe result was everything Julia Child promised for pommes Anna, crispy exterior, creamy interior, but this time the fragrance was of sweet turnip and butter with a hint of smoky bacon and herby thyme. turnips-anna-finishedI’ve made it several times since and want to try it next with Joan rutabaga instead Gilfeather turnip. I think the flavor will be very similar but perhaps a bit earthier and the color more golden from the yellow-toned rutabaga.

Intrigued by this Anna technique, I’ve searched the Internet for other root vegetable Annas and found many variations both in vegetables used and in baking strategies. One recipe from Food 52 is titled Rustic Rainbow Root Vegetables with Rosemary (or, more simply put, Root Vegetables Anna) and begins with the observation that “you can basically do whatever you want with this one,” both in the roots you choose and the technique you follow. I’m learning that flexibility is one of the pleasures of root vegetable Annas. For my rainbow of root vegetables, I used celery root, White Satin carrots, Yellowstone carrots, Red Core Chantenay carrots and red beets, slicing each on a mandoline then layering them in a heavy skillet with olive oil, salt and pepper, grated Parmesan cheese and rosemary.

rainbow-anna-ingredientsThe resulting Anna was fragrant with the sweet smells of carrots and beets. The celery root wasn’t so dominant as the other roots, but it offered a subtle sweetness and softer texture and I’d definitely include it in future recipes. And the finished dish was beautiful.

rainbow-anna-in-skillet

rainbow-anna-on-plate

Other variations I’m looking forward to trying are from Bon Appetit using potatoes, celery root and turnip, butter and rosemary and from Martha Stewart using rutabaga and potato, butter and thyme. Finally, the New York Times recently republished a recipe for Sweet Potatoes Anna With Prunes from The Food 52 Cookbook. I don’t grow sweet potatoes but I’m wondering if winter squash would be a good substitute.

Just as there is a lot of variation among the root vegetables, oils, herbs and cheeses, each recipe also gives slightly different suggestions for how to slice the vegetables, what pan to cook them in, whether to use the oven, the stove top, or some combination of the two, how to bond the layers of vegetables and finally how to present the finished Anna.

I’ve most often used a mandoline to slice the vegetables and really like the very thin, even slices it allows (3.5 mm or about 1/8 inch), slicing-gf-turnip-with-mandolinbut I’ve also used a sharp knife and gotten good, thin slices, not so thin as a mandoline produces but still fine for the final dish. I used Pyrex pie dishes for the first Turnip Anna because I didn’t have metal pie pans, but I’ve made it again in a heavy aluminum frying pan and I agree that metal produces a crispier crust. Both Julia Child in her pommes Anna instructions and the Food 52 Rainbow Anna recommend using a heavy skillet and starting the Anna on the stovetop to begin the browning immediately and then transferring the Anna to the hot oven to finish cooking. This method has produced a crispier bottom crust for me.

Another step most recipes include is pressing or weighting down the layers so that they fuse into a cake. The Food 52 Rustic Rainbow recipe suggests simply pressing down on the layers while the skillet is on the stove top “to make sure the layers are bonding together.” Sunset’s Turnips Anna recipe recommends setting another pie pan on top of the Anna and weighting it with dried beans or pie weights. I’ve done both and find the added weight helps bond the layers. Several of the recipes also suggest placing a rimmed baking sheet underneath the pie pan or skillet to catch bubbling butter. In her pommes Anna recipe, Julia Child gets graphic with this warning advising: “Set drip pan under the potatoes, on rack below, to catch bubblings-up of butter (which could otherwise set fire to your oven).” No fires yet in my oven!

And for the final presentation, turning the Anna out onto a platter shows off the crispy bottom layer as well as any pretty design of vegetables I might have managed to arrange on the bottom layer, but serving directly from the pan works fine too. The important thing is to enjoy the amazing fragrance and flavors and, of course, to have fun making these root vegetable variations on the classic French pommes Anna.

Sunset’s Turnips Anna

 About 6 tbsp. butter, melted, divided

6 ounces sliced bacon

1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese

2 tablespoons flour

1/2 teaspoon minced fresh thyme leaves, plus several thyme sprigs

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper

2 pounds small to medium turnips (any variety), peeled and ends trimmed

  1. Generously brush a 9-in. pie pan with some butter. Preheat oven to 400° (if using metal pans) or 425° (if using glass or ceramic) with a rack set in lower third of oven.
  2. Brown bacon in a medium frying pan until crisp, 6 to 8 minutes. Drain on paper towels, then chop.
  3. Combine bacon, cheese, flour, minced thyme, salt, and pepper in a small bowl.
  4. Thinly slice turnips into rounds with a handheld slicer. Arrange one-sixth of turnips in a layer in pie pan, starting from center, working outward in concentric circles, and slightly overlapping slices. Evenly sprinkle a heaping 2 tbsp. bacon-cheese mixture over turnips and drizzle with about 2 tsp. butter. Repeat to use all ingredients, ending with turnips.
  5. Lightly butter bottom of another 9-in. pie pan and set on top of turnips. Fill upper pan with pie weights or dried beans; set pans on a rimmed baking sheet to catch bubbling butter.
  6. Bake until edge turns golden brown, 50 to 55 minutes. Carefully remove top pie pan and weights and continue to bake Anna until browned on top, 10 to 15 minutes more.
  7. Loosen Anna from pan with a knife and invert onto a plate. Top with thyme sprigs.

Food 52’s Rustic Rainbow Root Vegetables with Rosemary (or, more simply put, Root Vegetables Anna)

 Author Notes: Not to lead you astray in the introduction to this recipe, but you can basically do whatever you want with this one. It’s delicious. And you can make it as simple, or as complex as you see fit. Don’t own a mandoline? No problem. Just slice the vegetables thinly, and perhaps extend the cooking time a bit. Don’t want to go through the acrobatics of flipping a giant hot oily root vegetable pancake? No big deal. Throw it in a gratin dish, seriously consider adding more cheese and some cream, and then bake it for about an hour. If you are feeling really ambitious, whip a little goat cheese with some cream and serve as a sauce on the side.

 Serves 6 as a side

2 red beets, each about the size of a baseball, peeled
3 carrots, peeled
1 large sweet potato or 2 yellow beets, peeled
1 large garnet yam, peeled
3-5 tablespoons olive oil
1 sprig rosemary, chopped very finely
1 cup parmesan cheese, shredded
  • Preheat the oven to 375. Trim the ends off all of the vegetables.
  • Thinly slice each vegetable, about the thickness you would use for making homemade potato chips, with a mandoline. Keep the sliced vegetables separate from one another (the red beets seem to want to territorially mark everything!).
  • Generously brush the inside of an oven safe skillet (I highly recommend cast iron here – an 8 inch works great) with olive oil.
  • Starting with the lightest color root vegetable (either the yellow beets or the sweet potato), lay the thin slices on the bottom of the pan. Start at the outside of the pan, go in a circular motion, and slightly overlap each piece. When you have created the first layer, gently brush a little olive oil on top, then sprinkle with a little salt, pepper, and rosemary. Lightly cover with parmesan cheese.
  • Repeat with another layer of that vegetable, if you have enough. If not, move on to the next darkest color (usually the carrots). Again, gently brush a little olive oil on top, then sprinkle with a little salt, pepper, and rosemary. Lightly cover with parmesan cheese
  • Continue this process until you reach the top layer of red beets. Do not brush olive oil on the very top of the dish.
  • Placing the cast iron skillet on the stove, heat for about ten minutes on medium-high heat. Occasionally, gently press down on the vegetables to make sure the layers are bonding together.
  • Ok, this is the tricky step. Take the skillet off the heat (go ahead and wait a few minutes for it to cool slightly if you want). Gently loosen sides of vegetables with a spatula. Place a large plate (as flat as you can find that fits completely) over the skillet. Flip the skillet over onto the plate – be VERY careful – there is a possibility of hot oil here.
  • Once the vegetable pancake is inverted onto the plate, slide it back into the skillet, now the light color is facing up. The skillet goes back on the heat for another 8 minutes, and then into the oven for another 15 minutes. (I found that this Anna took longer to cook, up to 30 minutes longer for the vegetables to get soft, making the cooking time closer to that of the Turnips Anna.)

Take the vegetables out of the oven and let cool in the skillet for about ten minutes. Gently using spatula, slide pancake onto plate. Cool for another five minutes. Slice into wedges and serve.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1015390-sweet-potatoes-anna-with-prunes