Buttermilk Basil Ranch Dressing, It’s No Longer Cute

I will spare you the heat groans.  We all know it’s hot in Boston.  I’ve been calling it spicy, but on Day Four of scorching, it’s no longer cute. 

I haven’t turned on my stove in days and despite subsisting on salads and frozen fruit, I still feel puffy.  Until this business improves, I will be relying mostly on the aforementioned.

Impeccably timed really, I made a couple mason jars worth of ranch dressing earlier this week.  You know, before hell rose to the surface of the earth.  Never fear.  No heat necessary for this one.

Here’s what you do.  Secure a few fistfuls of basil, plus two shafts of scallions.  Mix in some chilled buttermilk, yogurt, vinegar, a neutral oil, plus some seasoning.  Toss with vegetables that can sustain their crunch.

The preferred combination I’m working with includes sugar snap peas, sliced Easter egg radishes, a mix of raw Royal Burgundy and chartreuse green beans, and romaine.  Add in some cubes of sourdough and parmesan shards.  Plus a few mint leaves and a flick of fleur de sel.  The bread sops up any dressing that pools at the bottom of the bowl.  The result is a refreshing, creamy salad that straddles the line somewhere between Caesar and panzanella. 

If you get up the guts to actually cook something, some red potatoes would be very welcome, as well.  As for the big yellow bowl?  Yeah, I ate lunch out of it today.  Dainty went out the window six degrees ago.

Buttermilk Basil Ranch Dressing

Ingredients:

2 fistfuls of basil (about 1-1½ cups)

2 scallions, the white and green parts

½ cup buttermilk

¼ cup 2% plain Greek yogurt

¼ cup mayo

¼ cup cider or wine-based vinegar

1 heaping tbsp Dijon mustard

pinch red pepper flakes

salt and pepper, to taste

½-2/3 cup canola or grapeseed oil

Instructions:

Blend the first nine ingredients in a food processor.  Blend or whisk in oil.  Taste and adjust seasoning, adding more salt, Dijon, mayo, and/or oil if it seems too wimpy.  Refrigerate.  The flavor gets better the longer it sits, ideally overnight.

Makes about 1 pint

Notes:

-This can very easily adapt to other herbs.  Mint, cilantro, and chives would be winning.  It’s a wonderful, loosey goosey recipe.

-I seem to remember scribbling down the bones of this ranch recipe while listening to The Spendid Table a few years ago.  Though a quick recipe google search revealed nothing that Lynne Rossetto Kasper would now recognize.  I suspect it was adapted to the contents of my fridge at the time; the rest is history.

The Shocking Truth About These Buckwheat Buttermilk Pancakes

Last Friday I received an e-mail that read: “THE SHOCKING TRUTH ABOUT DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME.”  [Pause.]  Could there be something truly sinister lurking about this yearly occurrence?  Something worthy of all caps font? 

Something so shocking that it could lure me into losing time by clicking on a link about losing time? Are we (and I use the collective “we” loosely here) really trying to drum up commotion over time?  One hour, to be exact.

I never did get jazzed up enough to actually click on the link.  Sorry.  Consider me a Daylight Saving deadbeat.  I guess we'll never know the shocking truth.  What I do know is that what we’ve lost in time we can potentially gain in pancakes. 

Pancakes, now pancakes incite passion.  I’ve been looking for the perfect recipe.  And I think it’s safe to say I’ve found my syrup mate.  In fact, I’ve been holding out on you.  At least one—if not two—rounds of saving daylight have gone by without me sharing the recipe.  This was not intentional, I assure you. 

They were just hard to photograph.  I would stand in my kitchen flipping pancakes, eating them hot and crispy straight from the pan, and labeling the glass jar of forks on my countertop as situationally obsolete.  By the time I’d sit down to eat breakfast, I’d have a belly full.  Eating a composed stack seemed a tad aggressive. So it took some restraint to get this shot.  I hope you can appreciate that. 

Because these pancakes are a special breed.  Though they have a healthy dose of whole grain in them, they refuse to come off as heavy.  And, yes, it’s absolutely worth the extra step of whipping the egg whites separately. Take the time.  I know we’ve recently lost an hour, but it’s important.  It’s equally important that the butter and sugar make their way into the batter.  I know what you’re thinking, but just do it.  All of it.  These things make the pancakes light and buttery and slightly sweet.  No accompaniments necessary.  Though, a drizzle of grade B maple syrup and a healthy pat of butter is unabashedly appropriate.  So butter away.  Gild with syrup. 

Now, depending on you and your breakfast routine, what happens next may vary.  Normally, I try to use breakfast time to compose myself before the-madness-that-is-life begins.  But there is really no other way to say this.  THESE PANCAKES ARE SO DELICIOUS THAT YOU MAY FALL OFF YOUR CHAIR IN SHOCK.  YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

Buckwheat Buttermilk Pancakes

Inspired by the Clinton Street Baking Company & Restaurant and  A Chica Bakes

Ingredients:

1 cup all purpose flour

1 cup buckwheat flour

2 tsp baking powder

¼ cup plus 2 tbsp sugar

½ tsp kosher salt

3 eggs, yolks and whites separated

1½ cups buttermilk

3 tbsp unsalted butter, melted (plus a few tablespoons more for the pan or griddle)

1 tsp vanilla extract

Instructions:

Sift the flours and baking powder into a large mixing bowl; mix in the sugar and salt and set aside.  In a medium bowl, whisk the egg yolks, buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla.  Whisk the wet liquid into the flour mixture until well combined.  Whip the egg whites in another medium bowl until soft peaks form (when the peaks are just starting to hold and firm up).  This can be done in a mixer, though I tend to whip them by hand to because it’s less mess to clean up; it only takes a minute or two with a whisk.

Mix ½ of the whipped egg whites into the pancake batter by gently folding them in with a rubber spatula and then do the same with the remaining whites.  (You will have little pockets of egg whites that do not get fully incorporated and that’s okay, you don’t want to overmix here.)

Heat a pan or griddle on medium heat and grease well with butter.  Pour a scant ¼ cup batter for each pancake into the pan or griddle, allowing for enough room to flip them.  They are ready to turn when they start to bubble and appear golden brown when you gently lift their bottoms up.  When the pancakes are cooked through on the other side, remove them and repeat until all batter has been used.

Yields about 15 pancakes

Notes:

-The Clinton Street Baking Company & Restaurant is a brunch spot in NYC.  They've created quite a following for their pancakes.  They also have a cookbook.  It made The New York Time's Year's Best Cookbooks in 2010.  No biggie.  

-The original recipe doesn't include buckwheat.  But I've been on a bit of a buckwheat kick, so half of the all purpose allotment went to my new favorite flour.  (They are also extremely good with just all purpose flour.)  I also halved the recipe and made smaller pancakes; they're a bit bigger than silver dollar size, but not by much. 

-I also cut the butter in half.  They were so buttery the first time I made them that I had a hard time justifying additional butter.  I like to use a decent amount of butter when griddling.  And then I also like to add more butter with the syrup.  So I figured enough was enough was enough.  The original also calls for milk instead of buttermilk.

-Once again, friends, this is a perfect food to freeze.

Kale Greens Under Buttermilk Roast Chicken, South By Northeast

First things first.  In my buttermilk haze, I completely forgot to truss this bird.  I get a little excited about roast chicken.  And also a bit distracted buttermilk, as you may have heard.  

So when I opened the oven door, the bird’s legs were splayed out in a poultry version of happy baby yoga pose.  The legs were also golden brown and incredibly moist. This was first apparent during the carving, and then became even more convincing once I had a thigh in my clutches.

This dish is a take on Southern staples like buttermilk fried chicken and silky collard greens. The greens—also known as dinosaur kale in this kitchen narrative—were graced with the juices that trickled out of the chicken as it cooked.  They shriveled down quite a bit in the roasting pan, so what was left of them didn’t feed a crowd.  But they fed me, crowd for one.

I ate some of the greens straight from the roasting pan.  Some I placed on top of crusty bread.  I even slipped a few spoonfuls into the inner leaves of a Napa cabbage.  Which sounds a bit odd, but it brought the west coast-vibed vegetable to a whole new place.  A homey place.  A place where I imagine the sweet tea flows freely, where peach pie is prom queen, and where lard is a birthright.

So what I’m trying to say is that the meal delivered on its Southern hospitality.  I also recognize you can’t just throw buttermilk and sweet tea around and expect to develop a drawl.  Though—if I’m being honest about my Southern dalliances—I did make pimento cheese spread earlier this week.  And I had it for, not one, but two whole meals. 

That said, I fully admit the inspiration for this chicken came from a certain New Yorker, who was inspired by the lovely Nigella Lawson.  I’m also writing to you from Boston, which has a reputation for being a bit more buttoned up than our neighbors to the South.

No matter. An appreciation for chicken steeped in buttermilk might unite us all.  This recipe is easily destined to become a Sunday night staple at my place, paired with some shriveled olives and perhaps a glass, or two, of Chinon. Call it New England meets Georgia meets the Loire Valley.  I call it dinner, comingling.  But perhaps that’s just my Southern spin.

Kale Greens Under Buttermilk Roast Chicken

Inspired by Smitten Kitchen

Ingredients:

Kosher salt

About a 3 pound whole chicken

2 cups buttermilk

6 cloves garlic, divided 

1½ tsp smoked paprika

1 tsp red pepper flakes

1 tbsp sugar

Bunch of dinosaur kale (or Lactinato kale)

Small handful of cilantro, very roughly chopped

¾ tbsp butter

Black pepper

Olive oil, as needed

Instructions:

The day before you plan to make the chicken, salt the inside cavity of your bird liberally and repeat on the outside.  Combine the buttermilk, 3 cloves of smashed garlic, paprika, red pepper flakes, and sugar in a bowl large enough to place your chicken.  Add your chicken to the bowl; spoon the buttermilk marinade on top so that the chicken is well covered in marinade, and refrigerate it for at least 24 hours.

The following day, when you are ready to cook the chicken, preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Roughly chop the dinosaur kale, smash the remaining 3 cloves of garlic, and toss both in a large roasting pan.  Toss the greens and garlic lightly in some of the buttermilk marinade to moisten them, then add the roast chicken to the roasting pan; the roast chicken should be well covered in marinade, but you will likely have some leftover remaining marinade that you’ll want to discard.

Gently lift up some of the bird’s top skin so that you can slip the cilantro into it and then rub the butter under the skin.  (At this stage, you may also wish to tie its legs; if so, truss on.)  Season the bird and the kale with black pepper, perhaps a little more kosher salt, and drizzle a little olive oil on top, just for good measure.

Cook the bird until a thermometer reads 165 degrees when inserted into the thickest part of a thigh.  This should take about 90 minutes, but it will vary depending on your oven, so you may want to check and see where you’re at after 75 minutes, give or take.  If you notice your greens are getting a little dry, toss them with a little more olive oil. Let the chicken be for a good 10-15 minutes before attacking.

Makes 1 roast chicken and about 1 cup of greens

Notes:

-If this leaves you wanting more buttermilk.  More chicken.  Perhaps even fried.  You may want to check out this Eat Boutique recipe.  It’s a recipe from a Georgia-bred fellow New Englander and French enthusiast.

-If you are wondering what I do “during the day” (and let’s be honest, you probably aren’t—but here I am, telling you any way) check out this link where I compare my day job (a dietitian) to my pay job (a grad student in BU’s gastronomy program).