Category Archive: recipes

Workshop Improvisations and Fennel and Herb Soup

Most of us cook in reverse. We start with a dish we want to make, a recipe we like, and take appropriate steps to get it to the table. This involves relying on skills we might have (or not) and on ingredients being available, affordable, and fresh at the moment we crave them. At Purple Kale Kitchenworks, we take the opposite approach. We begin with the best ingredients we can, and applying skills we know, see where they take us. It’s a perspective antithetical to way most cooking shows and schools work, and one that makes an afternoon in our Brooklyn studio well worth one’s time.

Thanks to the participants from this past round of workshops for bringing their enthusiasm and keen palates to the stove. Here’s a list of some of the dishes we together improvised, followed by some pictures from the classes, and our recipe for Fennel and Herb Soup:

Crostini of Trumpet Mushrooms with Garlic Butter
Delicata Squash and Pickled Apple Soup
Manny Rice with a Shallot-Pepper Relish
Tagliatelle with Poached Garlic, Herb Butter, and Breadcrumbs
Garlic Stock Soup with Kale, Trumpet Mushrooms, and Polenta
Crostini of Ricotta Custard and Braised Leeks
Tagliatelle with Cauliflower, Anchovy Butter, Onion Jam, and Hunza Raisins

Fennel and Herb Soup

      1/2 recipe Braised Fennel
      1 large Yukon Gold potato, peeled and boiled
      Stalk Stock
      Herb Butter
    Ground white pepper

      In a pot, heat braised fennel, along with its braising liquid until very hot. Cut up cooked potato and add it to the soup.

Puree until smooth, adding Stalk Stock, as necessary, to thin the puree. Pass through a fine strainer, if you have one. Once the soup is the consistency you like, add in a knob of herb butter, and puree. Continue to add herb butter, until you can begin to just taste its effect on the puree. Season with salt, if necessary, and white pepper.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

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Otherwise, Trash: Creamed Leek Stems

I like to cook with leeks, and for a long time, I ended up with bundles of army-green stems that went straight to the trash. Then, as chronicled in a previous entry of “Otherwise, Trash,” I improvised a leek vinaigrette, built around these same stems, which I make to dress grains or for potato salad. Recently with three bunches of leek stems on hand, I began blanching and pureeing for this same vinaigrette, and then stumbled upon a new use entirely: a play on steak-house creamed spinach, but made of the more brazen leek.

Creamed Leek Stems are ridiculously versatile, delicious as a side dish on their own, or stretched with a little pasta water and paired with peas over orecchiette, maybe swirled into a frittata with ricotta cheese, or chilled and spread on crackers.

A couple of delightful side benefits:
–Most creamed spinach recipes include the addition of sauteed onion; using leeks happily eliminates this step.
–The cream reduction in the recipe, a thickening alternative to the traditional roux, can be used on its own, whenever you want to enrich a sauce or soup.


Creamed Leek Stems

    2 cups heavy cream
    3 quarts water
    3 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon salt
    1 pound leek stems (dark green part only), from 2 to 3 bunches of leeks, washed well and trimmed of any brown edges
    8 cups ice water
    1 1/4 cup, loosely packed, finely grated pecorino cheese
    1 teaspoon ground white pepper
    1 teaspoon ground coriander
    1/4 cup slivered almonds, toasted

      Pour cream into a small, heavy-bottomed pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a brisk simmer, making sure that the cream doesn’t scorch at the bottom. Reduce cream by half to yield 1 cup. This could take up to 45 minutes, depending on the width of your pot. Once reduced, set aside.

*Bring 3 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot. Add 2 tablespoons of the salt. Add the leeks all at once, pushing down with a spoon or tongs.

Immediately grab a large bowl to fill with ice water and an additional tablespoon of salt. Stir to dissolve salt.

Cook leek stems until they are soft and pliable and just before they begin to darken, 2 to 3 minutes. Strain immediately and plunge strained stems into the ice water, Stir gently to help cools stems quickly. As they cool, you can pull out any stems that have turned yellow or brown. Drain stems very well.**

Once well drained, place the stems in a food processor. Process the stems until the pieces resemble torn herb leaves–do not finely puree. This will yield about 2 cups.

Scrape stems into a large bowl. Add the cream, pecorino, white pepper, coriander, and 1 teaspoon salt. Taste for proper seasoning. Fold in almonds at end. Serve warm.

*You may choose to reduce additional cream, if you think you’d find uses for it elsewhere in your mise en place–maybe, chilled and slightly sweetened, then folded into lemon curd for an impromptu dessert.

**As you may imagine, I save this leek stem cooking liquid, too. Taste it. It’s an incredible foundation for a nice vegetable soup. “Otherwise, Trash” taken twice.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

Related Posts: other “Otherwise, Trash”

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The Kitchen Clearance: Stray Bean Soup

The New Year is an expected time to cull our kitchen stock of items that have fallen out of rotation or rarely see any play. But a kitchen clearance doesn’t just target dusty spice jars and condiments sporting sticky drips. It includes neglected, partially-used bags of common pantry goods, too. In Purple Kale Workshops, I call these things “strays,” items leftover from preparing one meal, then overlooked as players in the next. Beans, especially, seem to end up in odd jars around my kitchen; the following soup is a favorite destination for assorted quantities of beans, of different ages and temperaments. Enjoy.

Stray Bean Soup

    Gather together stray bags of beans–turtle, pinto, navy, Great Northern, cranberry, or black eyed peas. I usually leave out chickpeas or soy beans, thinking their distinctive flavors detract from the soup. Combine them in a pot filled with a generous amount of water (about five times the volume of beans), loads of sliced garlic cloves (about 4 cloves per dried cup), thinly sliced onion (1/2 an onion per cup), and a bundle of any fresh herbs on hand. Cover and bring to a quick boil. Stir and turn heat to low. Cover again and cook until each kind of bean is tender; the time will vary depending on the age and type of bean and some beans will turn to mush before others are nearly done. As the beans cook, leave them mostly undisturbed, checking now and again just to stir the bottom beans up to the top, and to make sure there is still plenty of water in the pot. Remove herbs, salt–modestly, at first–and puree the beans in a blender, in batches, using as much cooking liquid as you need for a fine, smooth soup. Season with additional salt and splashes of red wine vinegar. You may want to re-season the soup as it continues to cool, playing the salt and vinegar off each other. Cool any extra soup to room temperature before storing in the refrigerator or freezing.

    A note about cooking beans: I try to start cooking with more water than I think I need and a generous amount of aromatics. This is especially important if I am cooking a lot of beans at once, and if my cooking pot is wider than it is tall.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

Related post: The Winter Put By

Cooking with improvisation, efficiency, sustainability, and good taste.
Purple Kale Kitchenworks’ January and February workshop schedule is up!

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Braising Root Vegetables, Celeriac Soup

Just in time for Thanksgiving, and–as promised to the last workshop participants–the Purple Kale Kitchenworks recipe for Braised Celeriac and, out of that, one for Celeriac Soup. Additionally, below are my thoughts on braising vegetables, perhaps my favorite way to HOLD roots and tubers arriving for the season. Enjoy the holiday, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving.


Braising is the act of cooking something slowly, completely submerged in liquid. My favorite thing about braising is that it is hard to do wrong.

You can cook something for just enough time or a really, really long time. You can cook it on really low heat, or on whatever moderate heat you happen to be cooking something else at the time.

The general idea is that you have an ingredient (say, a duck leg or celery root), or a bunch of ingredients (duck, spices, prunes or celery root, herbs, and spices), to which you add a liquid (stock, wine, water), cover tightly, and cook on low heat for a very long while. In meat, braising will ease tendons, render fat, and soften muscles. For root vegetables, braising softens starchy flesh and perfumes crude flavors.

You can braise other things. Tough greens will bend into blankets; fruit will turn to confection.

Perhaps the best thing about braising is its economy of effort. In the act of cooking one item, you end up with two. The resulting braising liquid–whether of duck or celery root–can strike out on its own and find use in other dishes. Cook sweet potatoes in some duck braising liquid, use it for a rich pasta sauce. Take the resulting “stock” of celery root and poach fish, add to a bloodymary, or make into soup. A recipe, follows:

Braised Celeriac

    2 ½ pounds trimmed celery root, about 4 pounds whole, untrimmed
    3 cups water
    1/3 cup white wine
    5 sprigs thyme or 1 or 2 sprigs sage
    1 bay leaf
    1 ½ tablespoons salt
    1 tablespoon olive oil
    3 cloves garlic, sliced thinly
    ½ teaspoon coriander seeds, roughly crushed

    Oven 350 F.
    Peel trimmed celery root and cut into ½-inch thick slices.
    Place celery root in large roasting pan, snugly.
    Place water, wine, thyme, bay, salt, garlic, and olive oil in pot and bring to a quick boil. Pour into pan, making sure to just cover celeriac. Cover with foil or snug lid.
    Place in oven and cook until celery root is quite tender at its core, about 30 to 40 minutes. Cool in braising liquid. Store in braising liquid. Sometimes, braised vegetables are best made one day in advance.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

Celeriac Soup

    1/2 recipe of Braised Celeriac
    (about 3 1/2 cups)
    1 3/4 cups Celeriac Braising Liquid
    1 1/2 cups or more,
    Stalk Stock
    pinch white pepper
    dill (optional)
    Combine celeriac, braising liquid, and stalk stock in a blender and puree until very smooth. If you have a fine mesh strainer, like a chinois, consider passing the soup through. Without a strainer, you may add more stalk stock until the soup is the consistency you like.

Season with white pepper. Garnish with dill just before serving.

You may serve this soup hot or cold.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

Want to learn more? The next Purple Kale Kitchenworks workshops are December 3 (The Vegetarian Pantry), December 4 (Calling All Cooks) and December 6 (Parents at the Stove).

Otherwise, Trash: Bread Crusts

(This is a reprint of a guest post I wrote for Park Slope Parents on October 27th)

Child-free cooks are often incredulous at the ways in which parents accommodate the eating “preferences” of kids.

In our house, for instance, we love toast. The crustier the better. But sometimes our kids protest the effort it takes to chew. Rather than abandon the artisanal loaf, I have come to accept demands to whittle the outside away.

Daily, dutifully, then, I gnaw on fresh piles of buttered and salted toast crusts. This scene drives my husband crazy. He says to our girls, “When I was your age, I ate ALL the crusts of my bread!” This is true, but pretty tame as far as triumphs go. Likely, too, why neither child cares.

Continually humored by this exchange, I set out months ago to find an alternate use for these toast crusts. Somewhat directionless, I started a Crust Bank in a freezer bag. Two months of toast later, I made Banana Buttermilk Bread-Crust Pudding. It was an easy lesson for my daughters in frugality and improvisation, cloaked as another experiment for “Otherwise, Trash.”

First, start a bread bag.
bread crusts for buttermilk banana bread pudding
In a freezer bag, toss in the crusts of most bread you might otherwise discard. Even those marked with a little jam and peanut butter, or a bit of cream cheese. Bread pudding is sweet and rich and won’t fuss over a schmear of something extra. (I don’t think I would recycle pieces with deli meat or mayonnaise, however.) Using toast crusts, in particular, gives you a leg up on the pudding process, since all bread pudding starts with stale or oven-dried bread. But you can toss in any bits of leftover danish, if you have them, or slice up the nub end of a baguette, too.

I used buttermilk in this recipe, because I had some on hand (see, Might as Well: Buttermilk), but you can use cream alone, if you prefer. The pungent, ripe banana (if you have some from a frozen stash), smells deliciously of vanilla and rum, a good match for the rich, sour milk. If you use just heavy cream, substitute it for the buttermilk in equal amounts. You can leave out the bananas if you don’t have any, or if you prefer a pudding less sweet.

Some recipe notes:
If you use frozen, ripe bananas, first let them thaw in the container or bag you stored them in. They will break down as they defrost, releasing delicious juices. Use the juices along with the fruit.

Use any loaf or cake pan you have, recognizing that the shallower the pan, the less time the pudding needs to cook. I baked my pudding in a cast-enamel terrine pan (like a long loaf pan, but beautiful in that French way, and conveniently lidded). In fact, my long pieces of toast crust reminded me of lardons and tenderloins that would have filled that terrine pan in my pre-parenting, entertaining days. I layered them, here, like I would a typical terrine, careful to fit each piece snugly next to another. You want the custard mixture, which you’ll pour on top, to glue together the crusts rather than fill up holes between them.
bread crusts for banana buttermilk bread pudding

The soaking of crusts in custard is important, but doesn’t need to take all day. I think it is a good idea, however, to weigh down the bread as it soaks; it results in a nice, compact, easily sliceable loaf. If you don’t, you may bake the pudding with excess custard, which will cause it to buckle up as it cooks, and turn into something more eggy than bread-y. Here’s how you weigh down your soaking pudding: take a piece of cardboard from your recycling pile. Cut it to fit just inside the pudding pan. Wrap it well in aluminum foil. To fill your pudding pan, place the pan on a tray to collect any excess custard. Once you’ve added you toast and banana and poured the remaining custard on top, cover with a generous amount of plastic wrap, then place the foil-wrapped cardboard on top. With your hands, press down firmly.
bread crusts banana buttermilk bread pudding

For a loaf or terrine pan, grab a few cans of beans, soup, coconut milk–whatever–from your pantry and place them directly on top of the cardboard to keep it in place. For a wider, shallower pan, try a small plate as a weight. Compress pudding for at least 30 minutes at room temperature. You can also refrigerate it, as is, overnight. When ready to bake, remove the cardboard and the plastic wrap, pour off any obvious excess custard, wipe the sides of the pan well, and cover with a clean piece of foil.

Banana Buttermilk Bread-Crust Pudding

      Yield: 6 to 8 servings

1 1/2 cups heavy cream
3/4 cups sugar
a few scrapes of nutmeg
scant 1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
pinch salt
3 eggs
about 4 cups toast crusts
2 tablespoons butter, in small pieces (and more to butter pan)
3 frozen and thawed ripe bananas, roughly smashed (with their juices)

      Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.

In a small pot, heat cream until scalding. Add sugar and stir well to dissolve. Add nutmeg and vanilla and set aside to cool to room temperature.

Once cool, stir in buttermilk and add salt.

In a medium bowl, whisk eggs. Add cream/buttermilk mixture to eggs, whisking continuously until smooth.

Butter the bottom and sides of a terrine or loaf pan. For added non-stick insurance, you can place a piece of parchment on the bottom, too. This usually isn’t necessary. Place the pan on top of another pan, or cookie sheet, to catch inevitable drips.

Fill the bottom of the terrine pan with toast crusts, breaking pieces as necessary to fill in any gaps, all pieces tightly aligned. Toss in a about half of the butter bits, distributing evenly on top. Casually arrange half of the banana on top of that. Pour on enough of the buttermilk custard to cover. Repeat the snug layering of bread, butter, banana and custard, one more time, ending at last with a final bread layer. Pat down firmly to compress the layers, then pour in as much remaining custard to completely cover the top layer of crusts. If you have extra custard, resist pouring it all in. Cover the top of the bread with a generous layer of plastic wrap, press and weigh down, as described above. Better to let excess custard run out of the pan than to make your pudding too eggy. (Likely, just a matter of preference.) Let the pudding rest at room temperature for at least 30 minutes.

Bake in the oven for 45 to 50 minutes, until a thin knife inserted in the center comes out custard clean (not liquid-y wet nor completely dry). Cool to room temperature before refrigerating to set completely. In my opinion, this pudding is best served cold or at room temperature the next day.
banana buttermilk bread pudding

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

For other ideas on feeding your family creatively, frugally, and deliciously, check out Purple Kale Kitchenworks’ cooking workshops.
Registration now open for November and December classes.

Workshop Improvisations and Parsnip Veloute!

Thanks to all participants for some fantastic cooking classes this weekend.

“The workshop was fun, and a total revelation.”

Below, a menu created “on the fly,” using a set of singularly-prepared, versatile ingredients, a result of each participant taking two minutes to create something entirely new. As promised, the “2 minutes” recipe for Parsnip Veloute follows.

Risotto with Coriander Braised Leeks
Seared Kale and Ricotta Pappardelle

Soft Herbed Polenta
Poached Halibut in an Oyster Mushroom Broth
Potato, Onion, Pepper Hash

Garlic and Kale Potage
Potato Aioli Salad
Autumn Soup of Chicken, Red Kuri Squash, Za’atar
Pulled Pork over Polenta, Cumin Vinaigrette

Freekeh, onion jam
Arugula and Apples, with Cumin Vinaigrette
Ricotta Custard, Coriander Braised Leeks
Poached Garlic and Shallots over Pappardelle

and. . .
Parsnip Veloute (recipe, below)

Parsnip Veloute

    Yield: about 8 servings

    1 large onion, chopped
    8 tablespoons butter
    1/2 cup flour
    2 quarts water (to boil)
    1 recipe Cumin Braised Parsnips (braising liquid, too)
    additional warm water

    Cook onion in butter on medium-low heat until very soft, without color. Keep a close eye on the pot, stirring frequently and adjusting heat as necessary to keep a good “sweat.” Add flour all at once and stir with a wooden spoon to make a paste, and then cook for about 5 minutes, essentially making a roux.

    Meanwhile, bring water to boil. Grab a whisk and whisk roux continuously while adding the water. Bring soup back up just to a boil to thicken, turn off heat, and add parsnips to heat through.

    Blend everything together, adding only warm water, only as needed at the end to smooth puree. Pass through chinois or other fine mesh strainer (optional) and season with salt.

    Serve topped a very thin pat of butter and a sprinkling of coarse sea salt.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.


Buttermilk Poached Halibut, Buttermilk Aioli

Buttermilk Poached Hailbut, Buttermilk Aioli

    While the flavors of this dish–coriander, mushrooms, buttermilk–work deliciously together, the fish alone is worth the effort. The Buttermilk Aioli (an optional addition) is fantastic and if you like to have aioli around for other uses (as I do), consider employing it here. If not, the fish and mushrooms in the coriander-infused butter stand perfectly well alone. If you don’t have mushrooms, try other vegetables you may have already “mise-d,“* finishing them in the coriander-infused oil/butter before plating.

    (Yield: 2 servings)

    1 teaspoon salt
    1/2 teaspoon freshly ground, toasted, coriander seeds
    2 (6-ounce) halibut fillets, skin on
    1 to 1/4 cups buttermilk
    1 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
    2 tablespoons butter
    6 to 8 oz. oyster mushrooms, pulled apart into fork-size pieces
    pinch of crushed (not finely ground) coriander seeds
    couple pinches salt
    2 tablespoons Grain Mustard Aioli
    1 to 2 tablespoons buttermilk poaching liquid

    Combine salt and coriander in a small bowl. Generously pat fillets all over with the spice mixture. Let fish sit for 10-15 minutes for a quick “cure.”

    Choose the smallest pot possible to snugly fit both fillets. Add the buttermilk, just enough to cover fish**. Remove fillets for the moment and heat buttermilk to scald (the point just before it wants to simmer). As the buttermilk starts to separate (look for clear whey near the pot’s inside edge), turn off the heat and whisk well to bring buttermilk back together. Gently add the seasoned fish, skin-side down, and cover. Let the fish steep in the buttermilk for 7-10 minutes; for thicker pieces, let the fish sit longer. The fish is done when it is firm to the touch, but breaks apart easily with your fingers, and is nearly opaque at the center. Remove fish to a serving plate and cover with foil to keep warm. Reserve poaching liquid to make the Buttermilk Aioli.

    *Mise en place is a French culinary term referring to a dish or menu’s partial preparation, in advance of the final cooking or assembly of a meal. As used in this blog and in Purple Kale Kitchenworks’ courses, mise en place broadly describes any item that is prepared to a particular holding point, often even to the point of eating, but is still versatile enough to serve as a component in other dishes. “Mise-d” ingredients, then, are those prepped in this way.

    **If you have insufficient buttermilk to completely cover the fillets, you can flip them halfway through the poaching process to cook both sides.

    In a medium saute pan over medium-high heat, add olive oil and butter. After butter melts, add crushed coriander seeds and swirl for 30 seconds to toast. Add the mushrooms, in a single layer, and press down on them with a flat pot lid or the back of a wide, sturdy spatula to sear. When the edges begin to brown deeply, flip them over, season with salt, reduce heat to low, and cover. Cook until tender, 2 to 3 minutes each side. Arrange on plate with halibut, along with any infused oil and butter left in the pan, and cover to keep warm as you prepare the aioli.

    Place Grain Mustard Aioli in a small bowl. Slowly whisk in buttermilk poaching liquid. Serve on the side or drizzled on top of the halibut and mushrooms.

Other Might As Well: Buttermilk recipes

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

The Amaro Sour

The Amaro Sour

    Here, the “sour” comes not from a cocktail mixer, but from buttermilk. The drink is like a grown up White Russian.

    Yield: 1 generous, or 2 modest cocktails

    ½ cup Amaro Liqueur*
    1 tablespoon dark brown sugar
    ¾ cup buttermilk
    dash of vanilla extract
    cinnamon stick (optional)

    For the syrup:
    In a small heavy-bottomed pot over low heat, combine Amaro and sugar. Stir until sugar is just dissolved and cook for about 5 minutes to reduce slightly. Should yield about 2 ounces. Remove from heat and let cool.

    For the drink:
    Fill a tumbler with large cubes of ice, pour in buttermilk, 2 ounces or more of the amaro syrup and vanilla. Stir well to combine. Serve with a thin stick of cinnamon, to stir and lick as you work your way through the drink.

    *Amaro (“bitter”) is an Italian liqueur, typically a digestif, made with herbs, flowers, citrus, and bark, among other things. Its taste ranges from syrupy and sweet to bitter and medicinal. Here, we’ve taken a middle-of-the-range Amaro and fortified it with sugar to balance the sour milk with sweet and herbal notes.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

Other Might As Well: Buttermilk recipes

Buttermilk Pralines

Buttermilk Pralines

    This is an old Helen Corbitt recipe that I learned from my good friend and mentor, Jane Lilly. Jane was the chef and owner of Lilly & Company, a cafe and catering company in Austin, Texas where I worked toward my tail end of graduate school. Lilly & Company closed in 1998, employing, over time, about 100 smart, funny, caring women (mostly), many who became life-long friends.

    Jane will soon release a third printing of her cookbook, Lilly for Company, a collection of favorites from her repertoire of fresh, elegant, but unfussy recipes for entertaining.

    Yield: about 15 (3-inch) disks

    ¾ cup unsalted butter
    1 cup buttermilk
    2 cups sugar
    1 teaspoon baking soda
    1 teaspoon vanilla extract
    2 cups pecan halves or pieces

    In a large,* heavy bottomed pot over medium-high heat, melt butter. Using a wooden spoon, stir in the buttermilk, sugar, and baking soda. Bring to a boil and let simmer, stirring occasionally, over medium-high heat. As the sugar cooks, the mixture will turn from frothy and pale yellow to more glossy and caramel brown, 8 to 10 minutes. Cook until the mixture reaches the “softball stage,” in candy-making terms the point which sets the candy’s creamy, fudge-like final texture, about 234 to 240 degrees F. Before this stage, the pralines will be too runny to set and after this, they will become increasingly more sandy on the tongue.

    As soon as the mixture reaches the softball stage, remove from heat, and beat with a wooden spoon for a full five minutes (set an exact timer for this). As the mixture cools, it will thicken and after about 3 minutes it will turn silky and smooth. After about 5 minutes of continuous stirring, add the vanilla, stir, and add the pecans, all at once. Working quickly, drop spoonfuls of the batter onto a parchment-lined tray, letting the praline shapes form freely. You’ll notice that the mixture stiffens as you work.

    *You may be tempted to choose a pot more appropriate to the volume of buttermilk, but the buttermilk and sugar will rise and boil up, requiring the safety of a pot with tall sides.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

Other Might As Well: Buttermilk recipes

Bacon Buttermilk Dressing

Bacon Buttermilk Dressing

    I can think of many uses for this dressing, but an obvious one is poured over a plate of fresh spinach, tomatoes, and scallions. Break up the bacon and toss that in, too.

    Yield: 1/2 cup

    6 slices thick-cut bacon
    1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
    1 teaspoon honey
    up to ½ cup buttermilk
    1/2 teaspoon whole grain mustard
    1 egg yolk*
    ¼ teaspoon salt

    Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment and arrange bacon on tray. Cook for 10-15 minutes, or until crispy. Reserve bacon drippings, which should yield about 2 tablespoons of fat. Pour into a small bowl.

    While the reserved bacon fat is still warm, whisk in vinegar, honey, mustard, and salt. In a separate bowl, place egg yolk. Slowly, whisk the vinaigrette into the egg yolk, in a continuous, but very thin stream, until fully incorporated, creamy, and slightly thickened. While continuing to whisk, add buttermilk, also in a thin stream, until just-pourable consistency. Chill to serve.

    *If you do not want to use raw egg yolk, consider using more mustard and/or using less buttermilk for a creamy consistency.

Copyright © and Purple Kale Kitchenworks, LLC.

Other Might As Well: Buttermilk recipes