Chilled Mango-Pomegranate-Ginger Soup

Sometimes I’m super-organized (hey, I’m a Capricorn). And sometimes, well, let’s just say I’m not. This story falls into the latter category.

We went to visit Stephen’s folks this weekend. Had a lovely time, ate lots of sausages and house-made hot dogs from Marlow & Daughters (we always bring BK-made food when we go down; is that weird?), blah blah blah. On Sunday, as we were loading up the car to come home, my mother-in-law offered us a pair of lovely, huge mangos. Of course we said yes, and I threw them into the back seat of the car.

I found them there yesterday. After two full days of baking in the July sun. They were a little overripe.

It seemed like a shame to just throw them away—they really were a pair of beauties—but clearly they were beyond cutting up and eating. I could feel the flesh turning into juice under the pressure of my finger. So I did what I always do: I rummaged around for something to add to the ingredient at hand, something that would transform the mangos from past-her-prime Bette Davis to young-and-lovely Anne Baxter. I found ginger. An adorable, gnarled knob of ginger. And a small bottle of Pom Wonderful pomegranate juice, from the stash the Pommers so kindly sent me to play with. And in the cabinet, I found snack-sized pineapple bits in juice—the very same ones that made my Polynesian Flank Steak so fabulous.

The result: Mango-Pomegranate-Ginger Soup. Perfectly refreshing for mid-summer. About as easy as turning on a blender. And definitely, absolutely, positively young-and-lovely.

Bonus: This morning I poured some into a tall glass, about half-full, and added seltzer. Whoa. I could see spiking it with champagne instead for a really killer cocktail.

Chilled Mango-Pomegranate-Ginger Soup
Serves 2-3

2 extremely ripe, large mangos
2 snack-sized cups of pineapple bits in juice (about 1 cup total)
1 tablespoon chopped ginger
1 cup pomegranate juice

Put the first three ingredients in the blender, and puree. Add the pomegranate juice through the feed hole. Strain before serving, and discard the pulp.

Off-Topic: Attention, Parents of Truck-Loving Boys

Check out this incredible tutorial for a dump truck made out of recycled milk cartons! I can't wait until Harry's old enough to do this with me.

I know, that has nothing to do with food, really. Except for the milk carton part. But I'm so excited, I just had to share. (Plus you should totally check out Origami Mommy's other posts--she does lots of super-cute stuff.)

Addendum: Pomegranate Salad Dressing

A little while after the moms left this morning, I decided to make a batch of Wheatberry Salad (there wasn't enough quinoa for our dinner!). I had the dressing already made from the quinoa salad, so I decided to just use that--but I was worried it wouldn't be enough. So I did what I always do: I dug into the top shelf of my fridge, home to condiments, sauces, and jams galore. Hmm, maybe the strawberry-balsamic mostarda? Nah, too sweet. Hoisin? Nope, too Asian. Wait a minute, what's that... A little bottle of Pom Wonderful pomegranate juice, which the Pom people kindly sent me a few weeks ago. I'd been using them for Fizzy, Frosty, Fruity Freezes and meaning to find a more creative use. Maybe now was the time!

So I poured in a few ounces, and tasted. Not bad, not bad, but the pomegranate wasn't really showing up yet. Dumped in a bit more. Still needed oomph. In the end, I used a good 1/2 cup, and I must say it made this dressing pretty killer. I'd use it on almost any grain-based salad; since the ratio of oil-to-liquid is heavily in favor of the liquid, it's too thin for a green salad. I suspect it would do very well with pasta salads--the pasta should soak up the liquid and take on a really nice, fruity-but-not-overpoweringly-sweet taste.

And you know, I have no proof since I haven't tried it myself (yet), but I'll bet this would make one heckuva marinade for chicken. I'll road-test that and get back to you.

Here's the "recipe," such as it is:

Pomegranate Salad Dressing

1 teaspoon honey
1/2 teaspoon whole grain mustard (I used a cranberry-orange mustard, just because I had it)
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1/2 cup pomegranate juice
Kosher salt, to taste
Freshly ground pepper, to taste
1/4 cup olive oil

Put all the ingredients into a small container with an air-tight seal, and shake. This'll hold well in the fridge for a good week, and you double or triple it, I'm quite sure.

The Power of the Pantry (Quinoa Salad with Chickpeas, Walnuts & Dried Fruit)

All I can say is, Thank god for my pantry.

Today was the first session with a new group for my Parents Need to Eat, Too, cooking class. As always, I planned to start with a discussion of The New Mom’s Pantry, after which we’d cook that night’s dinner. Since it’s a pantry class the recipe is, of course, largely pantry-based; last time it was Spaghetti alla Puttanesca, but I thought I’d go with something more summery today. I chose Sesame Noodles with Shredded Chicken.

I made sure I had all the ingredients, in sufficient quantity for multiple batches. I cleaned and organized my kitchen. I pulled out knives and cutting boards. I pulled out spatulas and plastic bowls for the babies to play with. I was ready. Or so I thought.

The moms arrived and we got settled. I asked them about their cooking history and what they hoped to get out of the class. We talked about the New Mom’s Pantry, and how it’s different from a regular-person’s pantry. I was getting a really good vibe from my little group.

When we were done talking, it was time to start cooking. And that’s when I realized I’d forgotten the biggest possible thing: I forgot to double-check the student questionnaires before selecting the recipe. One of my students is allergic to both soy and peanuts. That’s right, I chose a recipe that could’ve killed her. A, if you’re reading, I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY. (I feel like I can’t say that enough.)

She was so sweet about it, too. Instead of taking one look at the assembled deadly ingredients, which were on the table before class even started, and making a stink—as I would’ve done—A waited until we were about to cook, and calmly said, “You know, I’m not going to take this one home with me. It’s full of things I’m allergic to.”

I was MORTIFIED. I wanted to shrink into a tiny pea-sized woman and hide under the table. But I couldn’t; I still had to teach the class, and there was no way I was sending A home without tonight’s dinner. I quickly rifled through the recipe packet I’d distributed, silently praying that there was something else we could make. There it was, several pages in: Quinoa Salad. It was simple, it was filled with interesting flavors and textures, and it was made up entirely of ingredients I always have on hand. (Well, except for the cheese, but the moms were gracious and agreed that they could easily pick up a hunk on the way home.) My well-stocked pantry saved my sorry ass, yet again.

I didn’t have enough of either regular or black quinoa for everyone, but the two packages combined for exactly the right amount. It made the dish exceptionally pretty—I wish I’d had my camera handy so you could see it.

Quinoa Salad with Chickpeas, Walnuts & Dried Fruit
Adapted from The San Francisco Chronicle
Serves 4

If you make this salad ahead, you may need to add more salt just before serving, but keep in mind that the feta will also add salt.

1 1/2 cups quinoa, rinsed
1 cup canned chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup dried cranberries or cherries
1/2 red bell pepper, diced small
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup walnut pieces, toasted
1 teaspoon honey (substitute 1/2 teaspoon of brown sugar if you’ll be serving it to babies, as one student planned to)
1/2 teaspoon whole grain mustard
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
Kosher salt, to taste
Freshly ground pepper, to taste
1/4 cup walnut oil or olive oil
2/3 cup crumbled feta cheese or fresh goat cheese

Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add quinoa and boil until it is translucent but still has a bit of crunch, about 10 minutes. Drain and spread out on a baking sheet to cool.

Combine the quinoa with the chickpeas, fruit, green onions and walnuts in a large serving bowl.

Put the honey, mustard, vinegar, salt, pepper, and oil into a small container that seals tightly, and shake. Add the dressing to the salad and toss with a little more salt and pepper to taste.

Serve immediately or chill, covered tightly, for several hours or overnight. Top with the cheese right before serving.

Believe It or Not: 1 Space Available in Parents Need to Eat, Too, Starting THURSDAY!

After all the great responses I've received for the next series of classes, which begins this Thursday, somehow I still have one space available. Who knew: People's schedules change much more frequently in summer. In recent days we've had more juggling than Ringling Brothers, my friends.

What does this mean? It means that if you were toying with the idea of taking the class but hesitated, or maybe your own schedule was too tight before but now has loosened up a bit, I've got room for you! Here's the full scoop:

Now that baby's here, are you finding it as hard as I did to make sure you’re eating well? Living on takeout and jarred pasta sauce? Come and learn in my Williamsburg kitchen! The class focuses on things that are easy enough for beginners and frazzled new parents, delicious, nutritious meals you can make in stages during junior's naps, or cook super-fast after you put her to bed. You'll leave each class with that night's dinner ready to cook. Along the way you'll learn tips about cooking in general, and meet other parents to compare notes with.

We’ll meet once a week in my apartment’s kitchen, four Thursdays from 9:30-11, starting this Thursday, the 9th. Babies and children are welcome, of course—the whole point of the class is to learn how to cook while taking care of your baby. There are four sessions:

• The New Mom’s Pantry, in which we’ll discuss the staples that make life easier when there’s a baby in the house, and prepare a lightning-fast dinner using items from the pantry
• Big Batch Cooking, in which you’ll learn how to cook once and eat multiple times
• The Slow Cooker, in which you’ll learn how to use the new mom’s best friend (and don’t worry if you don’t have one—I’ll teach you how to adapt slow cooker recipes to your oven)
• Nap Time Cooking, in which you’ll learn how to break more complicated recipes down into stages, to be completed while junior naps

The series of four classes is $160—that includes the food plus a weekly packet of recipes to try at home.

Here’s what previous students had to say about the class:

“I am an extremely inexperienced cook…. You gave me tools that I could work with instead of just a handful of dishes that I could make. I’m incredibly thankful that you gave me this opportunity to learn how to improve my family’s diet—and life.”
–Sue

“The class inspired me to cook more often and get over the mentality that I didn’t have enough time to cook anything really good. I have definitely become more confident in the kitchen, which was a major goal… Thanks for a great class and helping me to get back into cooking and making better/healthier meals!”—Jenn

And here’s what KidCity said:

“1 min spent in Debbie Koenig’s pragmatic new parent cooking class is 10 fewer spent slaving in your kitchen. Participants come with kids, leave with a few nights’ dinner, and bond in between…. Until the Culinary Institute welcomes breastfeeding moms and toddler toys into the kitchen, this is the best cooking & camaraderie class you’ll find in the 5 boroughs. The intimacy of her kitchen means you should to sign up early. It books FAST.”

Farmer's Market Haul

I love this time of year...

2 quarts strawberries
2 pints blueberries
1 bunch basil
1 bunch chives
1 head red salad bowl lettuce
5 Jersey tomatoes
5 of the cutest little zucchini
5 each red bliss and Yukon gold potatoes
5 ears corn
1 dozen eggs
2 pints of ice cream (!!!): chocolate mint & chocolate raspberry truffle
2 pounds of wheatberries

Things I didn't buy and kinda regret:
2 lbs of farmer-ground corn meal (next time)
mushrooms
flowers, flowers, flowers
nitrate- and nitrite-free hot dogs ($14! for hot dogs!)

Things I'm not at all sorry to have passed up cuz they just weren't up to snuff:
sugar snap peas
cherries
99% of the overpriced, sad-looking stuff at the organic booth

Things I can't wait to see:
eggplant
sun gold tomatoes
cucumbers
melon

Happy Fourth, Everyone!

Savino’s Quality Pasta with Chicken, Artichokes, and Sun-Dried Tomatoes

You know that chicken I “roasted” in the slow cooker? Well, one downside of letting something cook for five hours is that by the time it’s ready, you may have lost your enthusiasm for actually eating it. That’s what happened to me the other day—the slow cooker filled the apartment with delicious roast-chicken smells all afternoon, but by dinnertime it just felt too heavy to eat. I wanted something lighter, something livelier (and to be perfectly honest, I was feeling far too lazy to come up with any side dishes—I wanted a one-dish meal).

Harry and I had taken a little stroll around the neighborhood while the chicken was cooking—yet another benefit of the slow cooker: you can leave the house with no fear—and stopped at Savino’s Quality Pasta. It’s our go-to place for cut-to-order pappardelle, so perfect with Little Gram’s Sauce, but that afternoon I was feeling adventurous. While Harry frolicked with the owner’s two little girls (one of whom shares his birthdate, we discovered!), I asked if they ever made short pasta. Sure, the owner said, rigatoni and ishkabibble. Maybe he didn’t say ishkabibble (that’s more likely to come from the pastrami man), but whatever he said, I’d never heard the word before. One look at my puzzled face sent him to the back of the store, and he returned with two pieces of a new-to-me pasta shape. It was a double-helix of sorts, two thick strands of pasta about five inches long, twisted together. The closest cut I can think of is gemelli, only it was longer and looser. It was so perfectly intriguing, I bought a pound immediately. I figured I’d find something to do with it the next night.

All the way home, I thought about that pasta. Even a stop at the Brooklyn Kitchen, where Harry loves to play with the nifty toy kitchen (or feed carrots to Woody, the dog) while I browse, didn’t distract me completely. Which brings us back to the chicken. I fantasized about shredded pieces of breast meat in a light, summery sauce, with just a few vegetables thrown in to liven things up. The dinner fairies whispered in my ear: Artichokes! Sun dried tomatoes! Spinach! Perfect. All three are items in the New Mom’s Pantry, so they were ready to go. I could barely wait the three remaining hours until Harry’s bedtime, when the kitchen would be completely mine again.

As it turns out, this is another dish that’s perfect for harried cooks—parents or not. Assuming you’ve got cooked chicken (and rotisserie is perfect for this), there’s almost no prep; only slicing some garlic and sun-dried tomatoes, and quartering the artichoke hearts. The sauce comes together while the pasta cooks—and with fresh pasta, that’s only six minutes. Six minutes!

Stephen and I both loved this so much, we fought over who’d get to eat the leftovers for lunch the next day. I won, but there was enough that he got a small pre-dinner snack the next night, too.

Pasta with Chicken, Artichokes, and Sun-Dried Tomatoes
Serves 3-4

1 pound fresh pasta or ¾ pound dried
a few glugs of olive oil
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
pinch red pepper flakes (optional)
10 sun-dried tomato halves, sliced
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
6 large artichoke hearts, quartered
1 ½ cups cooked chicken breast, shredded with two forks
two handfuls baby spinach

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, and add the pasta. Set the timer to undercook it by a minute. While the pasta cooks, make the sauce:

Heat the olive oil over medium heat in your largest frying pan (it should be big enough to hold the pasta eventually), and add the garlic and red pepper. When the smell of cooking garlic fills the air, add the sun-dried tomatoes. Let that cook for a minute, stirring, and add the chicken broth. Let it boil for a minute or two, until it’s reduced slightly, and add the artichoke hearts and cooked chicken. When that’s heated through, add the spinach, and stir until spinach leaves wilt. By now the pasta should be done—drain it and add it to the pan. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid is nearly gone and the pasta has taken on a saucy appearance.

Serve with freshly grated parmesan cheese.

Slow Cooker “Roast” Chicken: Parents Need to Eat, Too

OK, that picture isn’t quite accurate. That’s a picture of a chicken roasted the old-fashioned way, in the oven. But people like to look at pretty pictures of food, and if I started out showing you what a chicken looks like after five hours in the slow cooker, you might stop reading.

And you shouldn’t stop reading.

In the heat of the summer, when the very idea of turning on the oven is enough to make one slightly nauseous, roasting a chicken would seem to be out of the question. But I’m here to tell you it’s not—it’s entirely possible, as long as you’re a little flexible with your definition of “roast.” The not-so-secret weapon is a humble appliance, one that I scorned until junior came along to claim every available moment: the slow cooker.

Roasting a chicken in the slow cooker is about the easiest thing you can imagine. I’m pretty sure even Harry could do it. There are only three basic steps: 1. Season the chicken. 2. Put the chicken in the slow cooker. 3. Turn on the slow cooker. For reals, it’s that simple. The kitchen won’t heat up, you don’t have to monitor it or stick it with a thermometer, and at dinnertime you’ll have a whole lotta cooked chicken to play with.

Here’s what a bird looks like when it’s done:



I’m not going to lie—slow cooker roast chicken doesn’t taste quite the same as oven-roasted. For one thing, the skin never gets crispy (a good thing, in my opinion, since I’m not tempted to sneak little bits of fatty goodness when nobody’s looking). And the chicken itself has a softer texture—it’s more akin to a braise, really, since the chicken releases considerable amounts of water and juices, which the bird then simmers in. In the winter, I’ll scatter whole shallots, small potatoes, and carrot chunks underneath, and we’ve got a one-pot meal. In warmer weather, I’ll put the chicken in the cooker early in the day, and use the cooked chicken in a quick pasta recipe or Whaddya Got Fried Rice.

Here’s a sneak peak at tomorrow’s post, which used one cooked breast:



Not bad for two minutes of prep, eh?

A note on chickens: I’m really grooving on air-chilled chickens lately. Most store-bought chickens in the U.S. are chilled in a chlorinated water bath after slaughtering — which can add 5 to 12 percent of the chicken's weight in absorbed water. Sounds disgusting, no? In most of Europe they use cold air to chill their birds, and the technique is catching on over here. I buy a brand called Smart Chicken, and Bell & Evans also air-chills their birds. To me, these chickens are more chickeny, less slimy. And opening the package is not the leaky, disgusting, watch-out-for-your-shoes experience I used to have. Bonus: Smart Chickens come already trussed!

Slow Cooker “Roast” Chicken
Serves 4 to 6, depending on how you use it

1 4-5 pound chicken, trussed
Salt and pepper, plus seasoning of your choice (I like Penzeys Northwoods Seasoning)

Spray the slow-cooker insert with nonstick spray. Crumple up two pieces of aluminum foil and put them in the cooker—they’ll make a roasting rack of sorts. (This isn’t strictly necessary, but I like to lift the chicken just a bit out of the fat and juices.)


Season chicken all over with salt, pepper, and whatever seasoning blend you’re using. Put it on top of the foil.



Cover the cooker, and turn it to low. Cook for 4-6 hours (I usually let mine go for 5, then switch it to warm).

Press Sightings

A few recent articles I wrote for Weight Watchers:

Luxe on a Budget: Eight costly ingredients that are absolutely worth the money.

Most Valuable Ingredient: Chicken: Everything you ever wanted to know about buying (and using) a whole chicken. It's basic, but it's still interesting (I hope).

Most Valuable Ingredient: Potatoes: Come on, who doesn't love potatoes?

Twelve Minute Pasta Salad

Twelve minutes. That’s how long it takes for the pasta to boil, and it’s also how long it takes to pull this entire recipe together. It’s light, it’s summery, and if you toss in some bocconcini, edamame, chicken, or tuna, it’s a meal. I plan to alternate it with my Wheatberry Salad for lunch, oh, every day until summer’s last, tomatoey gasp.

You’ve got twelve minutes, don’t you?

Twelve Minute Pasta Salad
Serves 6

1 package medium-sized pasta of your choice [I use Barilla Plus, which—hip hip hooray—now comes in farfalle, too]
1 pint grape or cherry tomatoes, halved [especially good with Sun Gold, those orangey little cherry tomatoes]
Corn from 3 ears of super-fresh summer corn or ½ pound frozen corn kernels, defrosted
Your choice of protein: cheese, edamame, chicken, tuna, beans… (optional)
¼ cup best quality extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons sherry vinegar [it’s great with a fruit-infused vinegar, too]
6-8 large basil leaves, chiffonaded

Bring large pot of well-salted water to a boil, and add the pasta. While it cooks, throw the tomatoes, corn, and protein (if you’re using) in a big ol’ salad bowl. When pasta is cooked, drain and rinse under cold running water. Add it to the big ol’ salad bowl and drizzle with the oil & vinegar. Toss, along with the basil, salt & pepper.

If you’re making this ahead, I’d hold off on adding the dressing until just before serving. Pasta salad has a tendency to absorb all available liquid, leaving you with something much less pleasant than it should be.

For an interesting discussion of how best to cook pasta for pasta salad, check out thekitchn.

One Spot Left! Parents Need to Eat, Too: Starting Thursday July 9

Thanks to the onset of summer (finally) and the last-minute schedule changes that always seem to accompany it, I have one spot available in the next session of Parents Need to Eat, Too, the cooking class I teach in my Williamsburg kitchen. We'll be meeting every Thursday in July from 9:30-11, starting July 9. The series of four classes costs $160.

If you find yourself struggling to get dinner on the table with a newborn (or a toddler, or a six-year-old) in the house, come on over! After each class you'll have that night's dinner prepped for simple cooking at home, as well as a clutch of new recipes that are guaranteed to save your sanity. We'll be making things like Spaghetti alla Puttanesca, A Greekish Orzo-Tomato Salad, Slow-Cooker Ratatouille (which you can make even without a slow cooker)--recipes that take advantage of the farmer's market without driving you crazy. Along the way we'll talk about parenting and juggling, and hopefully we'll all come away with a bunch of new ideas and tricks (cuz every parent needs tricks, if you know what I mean). Children are, of course, welcome. Full details (including rave reviews!) are here.

Interested? Email me ASAP, or leave a comment on this post.

So Long

Tomorrow morning before the crack of dawn (seriously, we're getting up at 5), Stephen will be driving me and junior to the airport. Harry and I are on our way to Columbus, Ohio, home of Jeni's Ice Cream. Jeni's just got a flurry of publicity here in NYC because Jeni will be shipping small batches of her apparently fabulous stuff to one fancy shmancy market here in Brooklyn. The price: $10 a pint! Yowza. I think we'll be eating as much of this as we can while we're there and leave it at that. Although if it's as good as it sounds (the Dark Chocolate is described as "A chocolate made with the most amount of chocolate and the least amount of anything else"), I may just be reporting back here that it's worth $10 a pint.

So, anywhere else in Columbus we should hit? We're staying with friends so we don't have a ton of control over where we go, but they're adventurous... And while we're at it, any tips on flying with toddlers would be most appreciated. Harry's really the unpredictaboy lately, so I have no idea what to expect from his first flight.

We'll be back Monday night, so don't look for anything new here until Tuesday at least.

Oh, and check out Mommy Poppins on Friday for a guest post by me!

Wheatberry Salad: My New Favorite Thing

Remember how in my steel-cut oatmeal post I said that chewy is one of my preferred textures? Well, these cute little nuggets are the ultimate in chewyliciousness. And in a bright, summery salad, they’re my new favorite thing.

Our neighborhood farmer’s market has a new vendor, which is always cause for excitement. But this one looked a little…dull. Just a single small folding table under a tent, with one lonely woman standing behind it. No crowds of stern-faced Polish women elbowing each other out of the way. Arrayed in front of her were little baggies with different colored contents; as I got closer I recognized them: beans. Dried beans. Now, here in NY the idea of selling a pantry item like dried beans—as opposed to fresh produce, bread, meat, etc—at the farmer's market is a relatively new concept. Beans are sort of pedestrian, aren’t they? It’s hard to imagine that there’d be anything special about them, to justify spending four times as much as I would in the supermarket. I know, I know, there are all kinds of heirloom varieties, things I won’t find in the supermarket, but this stand was selling kidney beans, black beans, and chick peas. I was ready to pass.

And then I looked a little closer and spied a bag that wasn’t beans, a bag of little brown pellets. Wheatberries! The ultimate whole grain: it’s the same wheat that’s used for flour, but the only thing that’s been removed is the tough outer hull. Packed with fiber, they’re about the chewiest grain I can think of. Clearly their texture is right up my alley, but I’d never actually cooked them before. Of course I bought a bag.

The cooking process is simple enough. It’s exactly like cooking pasta, only longer: Big pot of boiling, salted water. Wheatberries in. 45 minutes later, drain. Ta da! I didn’t have a particular recipe in mind when I started, so while the berries cooked I rummaged. The result was a light, refreshing, and filling salad that I intend to eat for lunch every day this summer. As long as the farmer’s market still has them, that is.

And maybe next time, I'll buy some dried beans, too.

Wheatberry Salad with Chickpeas and Dried Cherries
Serves 4

2 cups wheatberries, rinsed under cold running water
¼ cup sliced almonds
1 15-ounce can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
½ of an English (aka seedless) cucumber, diced
1 bell pepper—red, yellow, orange, or any combination, diced
¼ cup finely chopped chives
¼ cup dried cherries (unsweetened)
3 tablespoons high-quality extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons fruity vinegar (I used Orange Muscat from Trader Joe’s)
salt & pepper

Bring salted water to a boil in your largest pot—this will be cooking for a long time and you don’t want the water level to get too low—and add the wheatberries. Lower the heat until it’s boiling gently, and cook 45 minutes. Taste before draining: it should be quite al dente, but not at all hard.

While the berries are cooking, prepare the other ingredients. Toast the almonds (I use my toaster oven: 250 for 3 minutes, but you can also do it in a dry skillet over medium heat; just keep them moving until they’re lightly browned). Put everything except the oil & vinegar in a large bowl.

When the wheatberries are done, rinse with cold water to bring to salad temperature and add to the bowl. Add the oil & vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste.

This salad holds surprisingly well. I made it on a Monday, and I finally finished it on Thursday. The vegetables were softer, yes, but not at all unpleasant.

Black Bean & Corn Turnovers

These little pups have quite a few things going for them:

• They’re vegetarian
  
• They’re made with whole grains, beans, vegetables, and cheese: a nutritionally-complete little package
  
• They’re perfect for Nap Time Cooking 
  
• You can eat them with one hand (parents of infants understand why this is important)
  
• If you’ve stocked the New Mom’s Pantry, you’ve got pretty much everything you need right now
  
• They’re cute (and we all know looks count!)
  

They were born out of boredom. I had defrosted a package of whole-wheat pizza dough (I like the one Trader Joe’s sells in the refrigerated section), but somehow the thought of making a plain old pizza—even one with varied, what’s-in-the-fridge toppings—left me feeling downright blah. I’ve been daydreaming a lot about turnovers lately: empanadas, calzones, quesadillas, borekas. The time was ripe to give this unassuming dough a new purpose.

After a quick survey of the pantry, I sensed a theme: There was corn in the freezer, black beans and salsa in the cabinet, and red peppers and cheddar cheese in the fridge. Together, these basic ingredients would make something vaguely Latin American—an empaNOda, to quote Stephen. And so, dinner was born.

From the time I opened the pantry doors to the time I pulled the lovely, browned bundles from the oven, barely an hour passed. And if you use my Nap Time Cooking method and break up the steps into smaller chunks, they practically make themselves.

Well, not really, but they’re easy easy easy.



Black Bean & Corn Turnovers
Serves 4

Olive oil
1 small onion, diced
1 red pepper, diced
1 15-ounce can black beans, rinsed & drained
1 cup frozen corn kernels, defrosted (under running water or in the microwave)
your favorite salsa—I like a smokier one for this
flour, for dusting
1 package whole-wheat pizza dough (I like Trader Joe’s), at room temperature
½ cup shredded cheddar or jack cheese
1 egg, mixed with 1 tablespoon water

Preheat the oven to 425 and make sure the rack is in the center. Line a baking sheet with a Silpat mat or aluminum foil coated with cooking spray and set aside.

In a medium skillet, heat a glug or two of olive oil. When it’s hot, add the onions and sauté over medium heat until translucent. Add the red peppers, and cook until they soften. Empty into a large mixing bowl, and add the black beans and corn. Add as much salsa as you need—you want it to be moist, but not wet.

Dust your clean counter lightly with flour, and put the pizza dough on it. Using a sharp knife or a pastry cutter, divide into 8 equal pieces. Roll out the pieces one at a time, and transfer to the prepared baking sheet.

Place about two tablespoons of the bean-corn mixture on one half of each rolled-out piece—you want to make sure it’s not so much that you can’t fold over the dough and seal them. These were a little overstuffed:



(You’ll have filling left over. I ate it as a salad for lunch the next day!)

I got a little fancy, doing a rolled-over crust to close them up, but the easiest thing is to fold the dough over on itself and use the tines of a fork to seal the two edges together. Brush the tops with the egg/water mixture.



Put them in the oven and bake for 15-20 minutes, turning the tray around after about 8 minutes to ensure they bake evenly.



To use the Nap-Time Cooking method, chop the onions and peppers, sauté them, and combine with the beans/corn/salsa during one nap. Fill, close, and bake during another. Just remember to turn on the oven about 20 minutes beforehand.