Simmons Says

Panzanella not just a summer treat

COME WINTER, instead of eating salad I like to savor cooked greens smothered with garlic-laced olive oil. Between forkfuls of greens, I dip chunks of bread into the fragrant juices and call it the perfect winter meal. Today, while enjoying this greens-and-bread lunch, my mind wandered to a favorite bread salad called panzanella.

Traditional panzanella is a summer meal. It's made with crumbled stale whole wheat Tuscan bread dampened with water and tossed with chopped ripe tomatoes, herbs, olive oil and vinegar. The tomato juices soak the bread much as the juices from the greens soaked my bread.

Of course obsessing about panzanella in the middle of winter is futile. But then I thought, "No tomatoes? No problem." How about a winter panzanella?

It was my son-in-law's roasted beet panzanella that made me aware of the possible variations on this theme. His salad, made with cubes of toasted olive bread, cooked beets, and crumbled goat cheese, was a revelation and an inspiration.

Bread traditions

After all there are many other ingredients — and ethnicities that have embraced the concept of "stale bread" salad. There's the Middle Eastern favorite, fatoosh, a salad of leftover pita layered with shredded lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes and yogurt and the south of the border fast food "taco" salad made with meat, chips and cheese. But, it's the Italian rendition that I find most appealing.

As soon as I can get my hands on some decent melons — I know it'll be months — I plan to try a melon panzanella a chef friend told me about. Made of cubes of day old bread, ripe melon, strips of prosciutto and some grated parmesan, it sounds intriguing. For now, I'll stick to the ingredients — think winter — at hand.

Stale and stout

But first a word of caution to would be panzanella makers: Make sure your bread is worthy. To stand up to the wetness of the salad the bread needs texture. No soft, mushy loaves need apply. The bread should also be slightly stale, and if it's not, then force it dry by drying out slices in a 350 degree oven for about 20 minutes. As the bread cools it'll get even drier. Cut or crumble it into small pieces. If the pieces are too big they won't absorb the dressing evenly and the salad won't come together.

My winter version uses crumbled dried slices of ciabatta — a flat loaf of crusty Italian bread shaped like a slipper — olive oil-packed canned tuna, celery, red onion, roasted red peppers, black olives, fresh oregano, and a strong red wine vinaigrette. Ultimately, my tuna panzanella was a hit, but by the last spoonful I must admit I found myself thinking ahead to when tomatoes are once again in season. I plan to make tuna panzanella and top it with chopped tomatoes.

Link to Recipe - Winter Tuna Panzanella

Link to Recipe - Braised Swiss Chard with Golden Garlic and Olive Oil

I’m attracted to the color orange. I’m not talking about orange hued drapes, throw pillows or shirts, but orange food. Pumpkins, sweet potatoes, carrots, and oranges are all among my favorites, but right now I’m crazy for winter squash, most especially the common variety called butternut.

Butternut squash is an unassuming member of the rowdy family of cucurbits, the name given for this group of winter squash that have especially tough skins. Compared to some of their cousins—the thick skinned Japanese Kabocha, the dramatically shaped squat turban, and the nubby skinned hubbard— the smooth skinned butternut squash is not distinctive. But what it lacks in appearance, it more than makes up for in taste and ease of preparation.

On appealing attribute is that its nondescript tan skin is quite thin which makes it conveniently easy to peel. Fortunately the flesh under this skin is rich, creamy and lusciously sweet. And while its skin is less dramatic that its other cucurbit relatives, the shape of the butternut, with it’s long slender neck and perfectly round curvaceous bottom is actually rather sexy.

Easy to prep and cook, I usually hack off the stem end and then cut the squash into two halves or lengthwise quarters. Typically I leave the skin intact for both roasting and serving. But when I want to serve it in chunks or as a puree it’s as easy to peel as a potato. To roast the squash I place the halves or wedges cut side down on a lightly oiled rimmed sheet pan. The seasoning can be as simple as coarse salt and a grinding of pepper, or for an exotic touch sprinkle it with a shower of cinnamon or a fall spice mixture called pumpkin pie spice. For a more exotic flavor profile dust it with some ground coriander or the Moroccan blend called raz el hanout, available in many specialty shops. When using these more unusual spices sprinkle the roasted squash with some diced salted lemons (easy to make at home or found in specialty shops). Roast the cut up squash in a 400°F. oven for 30 to 45 minutes depending on the size of the squash, until it is tender when tested with a skewer or the tip of a knife. A drizzle of olive oil added before roasting adds a nice touch.

I prefer butternut squash roasted uncovered because the dry heat concentrates the flavors in the already creamy, flavorful flesh. But if you’d like to serve it mashed or use it in a pureed soup I suggest removing the skin with a vegetable peeler, cutting it into chunks and steaming it over simmering water. It should take 20 to 30 minutes depending on the size of the chunks.

For an especially delicious side dish mash or puree (through a food mill or potato ricer) the steamed squash plain or combined with cooked peeled sweet potatoes. Add a splash of hot apple cider or apple juice until the mixture is of the desired consistency. Butternut squash purees makes a luscious soup when thinned with a can of lowfat coconut milk and perked up with a squirt of lemon or lime juice and some chopped cilantro and jalapeno.

My current favorite is to top halves of roasted butternut squash with a layer of cheese and melt it under the broiler, in the oven, or if the squash has been baked ahead of time, in the microwave. It makes a dish rich enough for an entrée and for a little color—and flavor—contrast I serve the golden orange butternut squash with a bright green mix of braised Swiss chard with garlic and olive oil.