Fish Cakes

I’m not called the queen of the leftovers for nothing. After I simmered a giant fish carcass to make stock, I was able to salvage a couple of cups of fish meat, some in chunks, some flaky. My method of cooking the stock is very gentle so the leftover fish had decent texture, though not tremendous flavor. It was codfish so didn’t have a strong flavor to start with. 

I decided to make fish cakes using Ina Garten’s approach to crab cakes from her first cookbook, The Barefoot Contessa. The base for the cakes includes plenty of vegetables that are stewed with capers, parsley, Old Bay seasoning, Worcestershire sauce and hot pepper sauce. No problem with flavor. Held together with mayonnaise, mustard and a beaten egg, these whipped up into moist and flavorful patties. Even though this was completely improvised, I’d make this again with either leftover fish or raw fish. And of course crab during the summer. 

Fish Cakes, inspired by Ina Garten’s crab cakes in The Barefoot Contessa

2 c cooked fish chunks (or an equal amount of raw white fish)

2 tsp each butter and olive oil

¼ c minced red onions

¼ c minced celery stalks

¼ c finely diced red or orange pepper

¼ c minced parsley

1 tbsp capers

1 tsp Old Bay seasoning

½ tsp Worcestershire sauce

¼ tsp red pepper sauce

2-4 tbsp mayonnaise

½ tsp Dijon mustard

1 egg

¼ c panko or dried bread crumbs (optional)

Additional panko or bread crumbs for the crust (optional)

Butter and olive oil

Flake the cooked fish or mince the raw fish. In a large sauté pan over medium heat, melt the butter in the olive oil and add the onions, celery, pepper, parsley, capers, Old Bay seasoning, Worcestershire sauce, and red pepper sauce and cook slowly until the vegetables are well cooked, about 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and cool.

Combine the vegetables and fish flakes.

With a fork, combine mayonnaise, mustard and egg and fold the mixture into the fish and vegetables. Add more mayonnaise and/or bread crumbs so that the mixture is not watery. (More will seem necessary for uncooked fish.) Refrigerate the mixture for 20-30 minutes and form into patties. If you want a crust, coat the patties with bread crumbs.

Warm a large flat pan over medium high heat and add a little butter and vegetable oil. Cook the fish patties in a single layer with space between them over medium heat, flipping them once. You may have to cook them in batches. Raw fish will take only a little more than the pre-cooked fish since the egg is the governing ingredient.

Makes about 6 three-inch patties.

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Waste Not, Want Not: White Fish Stock and Chowder

One of my favorite things to do is to walk away with an armload of “garbage” and turn it into gold. Fish stock is a great luxury and a classic lesson in “waste not, want not,” especially when our local fishmonger is generous with his trimmings. I can walk into his tiny store just about any afternoon and walk out with a bag of fish heads and frames to use as a base for soup and chowder. Like shopping for anything seasonal and regional, you need to be flexible. An ideal fish for a versatile stock will be a white-fleshed fish like haddock or cod. However, one day I received salmon and another, bluefish. The resulting chowders were highly specific to the characteristics and flavors of those fish.

Last weekend, I scored big on white fish. There was a sparkle in the eye of the store’s fishmonger-of-the-day when I asked for fish trimmings and he was in the midst of carving a sizeable cod hand-caught somewhere between the Bay of Maine and Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Even the Monterey Bay Aquarium, the be-all-end-all of fish watchdogs, would approve. A wink and a nod later, I walked out of the store past a line of customers with their jaws dropped over the enormity (and maybe appearance) of what I was carrying in a clear plastic bag.  I think the fishmongers like to dish out daunting tasks, but know that I am intrepid. The great thing about this catch is that there’s usually enough flesh on the bones to make a fulfilling soup or chowder. However, given the generosity of the store and its place in our community, I always purchase some of the fish whose bones I got for free. It’s just fair. 

That afternoon, I spent an hour or so cleaning the fish and preparing a strong fish stock. Cleaning is important, since you want to rid your fish of all traces of blood, and if you have a fish head, you need to remove the gills. In addition, for this fish, I also used a thin flexible-bladed boning knife to extract meat for my chowder. 

I make fish stock two ways. The first is analogous to making chicken stock: place the fish bones in water (preferably with a little white wine), and bring to a boil, skimming off the foam. Reduce the heat to simmer the liquid and add aromatics, such as onions, celery, carrots and parsley, plus whole peppercorns and a little salt. This cooks to perfection in 20 minutes.

The other method produces what Jasper White calls “Strong Fish Stock.”  Jasper White, if you don’t know him, is a seafood genius from New England. Having spent a good part of my life in Massachusetts, I appreciate what he has to say in books like 50 Chowders. I think I’ve cooked about 25 so far, most of which are variations on a method.  So-called strong fish stock is made in several gentle stages:  sweat (slowly cook) onions, celery, carrots, herbs in a large pot for 8 minutes; add white wine, stack the fish heads and frames on top and sweat them until the bones turn white, 10-15 minutes; cover with water and simmer for 10 minutes; turn off the heat and let the mixture sit for 10 minutes; carefully decant. That’s it.  Other than cleaning any residual meat from the bones. 

My big cod yielded not only enough raw meat for chowder but also enough cooked meat for fish cakes. Two full four-person meals from the trash, and 3 quarts of fish stock for the freezer. Not to mention that fish bones can be pretty good for composting, but don’t get me started.

This particular chowder is a variation on classic New England chowder, made with abundant celery and celery leaves, and generally follows Jasper White’s method. 

Strong Fish Stock, adapted from Jasper White, 50 Chowders

1 tbsp unsalted butter

2 medium onions, very thinly sliced

4 stalks celery, very thinly sliced

2 medium carrots, very thinly sliced

2 bay leaves

¼ c roughly chopped parsley stems and leaves

6 large sprigs thyme

2 tbsp black peppercorns

1 large (6”) or 2 small fish heads (cod or haddock), cleaned of blood and gills removed

2-3 lbs fish frames (bones), cut into 4-inch pieces and cleaned of blood

½ c white wine

About 2 qts very hot or boiling water

Salt

Melt the butter in a large saucepan or stockpot over medium heat. Add the onions, celery, carrots, bay leaves, parsley and thyme and cook slowly, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is soft, about 8 minutes.

Place the fish head and then the bones on top of the vegetables. Add the wine to the pot, cover it and let the fish bones sweat until they turn white, about 10-15 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring water to a boil in a quantity sufficient to cover the fish mixture. Add enough barely to cover the bones and bring the mixture to a simmer. Cook for about 10 minutes, skimming off any foam that rises to the surface. (Hint: push a shallow ladle or skimmer in a circular motion to the edges of the pot.)

Remove the pot from the heat, cover it, and let the mixture steep for 10 minutes.

Gently remove the fish and vegetables from the liquid and strain it. Cool thoroughly before refrigerating or freezing. This lasts for about 3 days in the refrigerator and a couple of months in the freezer.

New England-Style Fish Chowder with Celery inspired by Jasper White

2 tbsp chopped meaty salt pork

Vegetable oil or butter

1 medium onion, cut into ½-inch pieces

1-2 stalks celery, cut into ¼-inch slices, leaves reserved

1½ tsp fresh thyme leaves (or use summer savory)

1 lb Yukon gold or other white potatoes, peeled and cut in ½-inch dice

2-3 c fish stock

¾-1 lb white fish such as cod or haddock

½- ¾c half and half (or use heavy cream)

Salt and pepper

2-3 tbsp chopped celery leaves

1 tbsp chopped parsley leaves (optional)

In a large pot over low heat, sauté the salt pork until it renders its fat. Increase the heat slightly and cook the salt pork until brown. Remove the salt pork to a towel to crisp, leaving the fat in the pot.  (Pour off excess.)

Add the oil or butter to the pot and stir in the onions, celery and thyme or savory, cooking over medium heat until the vegetables are soft.

Add the potatoes and enough stock to cover them completely. You can add water if you do not have enough stock. Bring the liquid to a boil, lower the heat to medium-high and cover the pot. Cook the potatoes vigorously until just tender, about 8-10 minutes. Smash a few potatoes against the side of the pot to release the starches and slightly thicken the chowder (this cuts down on the temptation to add a lot of cream!).

Add the fish, salt and pepper,  and most of the celery leaves and cook over low heat for 5 minutes.  Remove the pot from the heat and stir in the half-and-half or cream. Let it sit, covered, for 10 minutes, covered. (The fish will continue to cook.)

When ready to serve, heat the chowder over low heat, stir in the reserved salt pork, additional celery leaves, and parsley if using.

Serves 4.

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Waste Not Want Not: Mashed Potato Burgers

This is about leftovers. Then I promise I’m finished with Thanksgiving. From the time that I was a kid, an eldest child with a brood of siblings, I became known as queen of the leftovers. My own kids have the same attitude. It’s a game. They think I’m disguising old food and I think I’m transforming it.  The score it probably tied.

After Thanksgiving weekend this year, we had very few of the normal leftovers, just the diehards: turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes. In years past, I’ve had enough roasted roots and greens to make bread pudding, and enough Brussels sprouts and potatoes to make a version of bubble and squeak. Oh, I could (and did) make turkey hash. But what about just plain lactose-free mashed potatoes? Really?

I combined the mashers with lots of chopped scallions (gleaned from our final CSA harvest) and parsley, and added a beaten egg, salt and pepper. I formed them into patties, dipped them in beaten egg and then in panko (crispy Japanese bread crumbs), and sautéed them in vegetable oil until crisp. Garnished with more scallions, they were delicious, especially for leftovers.  We all knew, but we didn’t care.

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Waste Not Want Not: Restocking the Bird, Turkey Rice Soup

The bird was barely warm when we stripped it.  After the Thanksgiving feast, we quickly removed the turkey meat to cool and refrigerate it and placed the carcass in a deep stockpot.  After being covered with cold water brought to a near boil, the turkey simmered all night nestled in with the trimmings of onions, carrots and celery, heat adjusted to a low simmer. The result was a large pot of delicious stock. This is not like the stock of last weekend, made from fresh turkey legs and necks browned in the oven and similarly simmered all night with aromatic vegetables. That produced a gelatinous, deeply flavored stock that we used to moisten cornbread stuffing and to make deeply colored gravy. No, this one is light, not gelatinous, since the bones were already cooked. This is more like chicken stock and hence more versatile. 

This soup celebrated the flavorful stock and made a light lunch, refreshing after the excesses of Thursday’s groaning board. (Groaning board is an old English term for a buffet table laden with food to the point where the wooden tabletop creaks.  By stretch, it also describes how our Thanksgiving guests were acting by the end of an indulgent meal.)  

I simply sautéed chopped onions, carrots and celery in a little butter, added stock to cook them thoroughly, and then chopped turkey meat and a combination of pre-cooked white, red and wild rice.  If you don’t have pre-cooked rice, add a small amount of raw rice to the stock after bringing it to a boil. Turn down the heat and simmer, covered, until the rice is cooked. Then add more stock if necessary, seasonings and the turkey. It’s important to add the turkey at the end so that it doesn’t dry out.  Bon appetit.

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Waste Not Want Not: Beet Stem Broth for Summer Onion Soup, and Beet Soup with Tarragon Cream

I discovered a new vegetable broth, my latest “favorite.” Made with the red stems of beets and the greens of leeks or spring onions, it has all the flavor and color of a light beef stock but it’s entirely vegetarian. Lightly salted, it could pass for consommé. In fact, I tried it out on a few family members who agreed with me. Making vegetable broth is a cinch. I tend to use complementary ingredients, things that might work together in a stew, and then not too many. Here I washed and chopped the stems from a couple of bunches of fresh organic red beets and cut the dark green tops off of two small leeks, washing them well and chopping them coarsely. Covered with salted water two times the depth of the vegetables, the mixture cooked for about 30-40 minutes.  It keeps, refrigerated, for a week or so, which allowed me to make two soups with it.

Our CSA distributed four pounds of large torpedo onions that were light red, juicy and not too pungent They were not suitable for storage and should be refrigerated and used in a couple of weeks. They were perfect, light companions for the beet stem broth and made a terrific light and flavorful summer onion soup. I used two large onions and about two cups of broth. To prepare the onions for soup, cut them in half vertically and then slice them thinly crosswise. Place a combination of butter and oil in a saucepan and slowly cook the onions until they collapse and start to brown, about 20-30 minutes. Stir them occasionally. Be careful to keep the heat low enough so that the onions do not burn. (If you were using yellow storage onions, add a pinch or two of sugar to caramelize them at the end. These onions were sweet so they didn’t need sugar.) Add the broth and cook for another 20 minutes. Serve with cheese toasts. By the way, you could make the vegetable broth in the length of time it takes to cook the onions.

The second soup used two large beets from the weekly CSA haul, combined with a large reddish torpedo onion and the beet stem broth. I served the soup both hot and cold, like a summer-time borscht, marbled with a delicious tarragon cream. To make the soup, cook 1 large diced onion in a little butter and olive oil until translucent and add 2 large diced cooked beets (or grated fresh beets) and broth. If using cooked beets, you will need about 2 cups of broth; for raw beets, the cooking time will be longer so use more broth, about 2½ cups.  Cook until very tender, 30 minutes or so, and puree with an immersion blender or food processor. 

For the tarragon cream, fold snipped fresh tarragon into sour cream and let it sit for 15 minutes. Add a little tarragon vinegar (or white wine or cider vinegar) to thin it. Stir it into the soup or add a dollop on top. 

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Waste Not Want Not: Fennel Frond Broth for Cooking Beans and Making Soup

The first of a two-part series on ideas for using the whole fennel plant – bulb, stalks and fronds – in several complementary dishes…

One of the great advantages of belonging to a CSA or growing your own food, even in a little kitchen garden like mine, is that you often obtain the entire plant. The bulb of fennel and bushy fronds, beets, radishes and turnips with their edible greens, cilantro with its roots, peas with pods, and so on.  Even though what’s typically offered in the supermarket, or even in the local organic grocery, is trimmed to the most prevalent form of the vegetable, maybe just maybe, that’s because that’s more durable, longer lasting, prettier to display, easier to ship. Personally, I get a lot of pleasure from seeing how vegetables, fruits and flowers grow. And when we have an excess of something, I feel free to experiment.

Fennel from our CSA provided just that opportunity as it came bunched in pairs, with relatively small bulbs and nearly 30-inch long stalks laden with bright green fronds. I say “bulbs” since that’s what the base of fennel resembles. Actually, in so-called Florence fennel, the bulb type, these are thick stalks. Think of them like celery, or even chard. (Fennel, without the bulb habit, is typically thought of as an herb, harvested for its leaves.)

It’s easy to figure out what to do with the bulbs and the tender stalks, but that volume of fronds was daunting.  I’ve gone through a full-fennel experience in the fall, at the beginning of the Dark Days, so I know that successive cooking of various parts is a good idea. Sometime, I will elaborate on my theory – actually a method – of successive cooking, a one-thing-leads-to-another approach, related largely to the use and re-use of water. That’s what started me off .  

First, I soaked dried baby lima beans in water overnight and drained them, discarding the water. (This was hardly necessary because they turned out to be young beans that would cook relatively quickly.) I covered the drained beans with fresh water, added salt and a giant handful of fennel fronds, and lightly simmered them stovetop for an hour or so. I separated the beans from the liquid to cool, and then re-combined them to store. The beans became infused with the anise/licorice flavor and aroma of the fennel and the resulting broth was amazing. From the beans, the broth had the viscosity of chicken stock and, from the fennel, an alluring herb flavor and greenish hue.

Fennel and Bean Soup

I made soup from the beans, broth and separately braised fennel, sprinkled with fresh fennel fronds. A little freshly ground black pepper is all the extra flavoring it needed.

Mixed Bean Salad

I also made a delicious, garlicky mixed bean salad by combining the cooked limas and yellow wax beans and green beans that were cooked until tender in fennel-bean broth. Dressed with a clove or two of garlic mashed to a paste with salt and doused with olive oil, as well as a few chopped fennel fronds, this was a very flavorful salad that would be great to take to a picnic.

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Waste Not Want Not: Pea Pod Soup

 I used to weep at the bushels full of peas set before me as a kid tasked with shelling them. The weeping had as much to do with yield as with the task itself. A giant pile could reduce to a mere cup or two.  Later, snow peas and sugar snap peas came to my attention, and I reveled in the fact that I only had to top-and-tail them and maybe pull some strings. Yet every year, I go to a pea-picking farm or the farmers market and get a few quarts or even a half a peck (4+ quarts) of shelling peas. The last time I went to the farmers’ market, just before the July heat wave set in, I brought home slightly older shelling peas and some slightly over-the-hill snap peas. Fresh enough but not going to make a gorgeous early spring pea and mint soup like last year’s.

I decided to make a soup with the peas and leeks, both at the end of their season, and a potato, at the beginning of its. The reason for the potato was to make a creamy soup without using dairy products. The foundation – you guessed it – was a broth made of the pea pods and leek trimmings. After cleaning them well, I chopped the pods and leek greens, placed them in a wide saucepan covered with lightly salted water to a level about an inch above the vegetables. After simmering them for about 30 minutes, I drained the liquid and put the solids in the compost pile. If you are keeping the broth for another day, make sure you cool it completely before storing it. It can be frozen, just like the corn stock that I make from the leftover cobs.

For the soup, there’s no specific recipe or even a formula. To retain color, first blanch a couple of cups of peas in plenty of boiling water, salted, and remove them to cool. (If your kitchen is hot, you might plunge them in ice water to retain the color.) In a large saucepan, saute a chopped leek in butter or oil or a combination, add a peeled and chopped medium waxy potato, and toss to coat. Add enough broth to cover the vegetables by about an inch, and bring the mixture to a simmer. Cook, covered, until soft. Add the peas to warm them and then puree the mixture with an immersion blender or in a food processor.  I kept the mixture slightly coarse and added a few reserved whole peas at the end. Season to taste, adding salt, pepper and/or herbs such as mint, tarragon or lovage. You can add milk or cream, but I didn’t think dairy was needed. 

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Red Chard and Golden Raisins with Orecchiette

I was like one of my kids separating stew on his dinner plate into identifiable parts. A two-pound bag of mixed chard cuttings from our CSA – different sizes and colors – was simply not getting stewed in one go. And the package was too voluminous to fit into the fridge, so it had to be done.  My personal rule when returning from our CSA is to prepare the veggies in order based on volume. This week, 1.5 cubic feet of chard and a 3-foot-tall bunch of fennel competed to be cut down to size, both for cooking in the moment and for meals later in the week.

I patiently sorted the chard leaves by color and size, intermingling white with yellow, and piling pink, orange and red with each other. This was like doing laundry. I would rather keep the reds separated from the whites. I was teased all winter for wearing only pink turtlenecks after my husband tended the wash. And I am secretly pleased that he has to endure the pink sheets and towels. (What was he thinking?)

Anyway, the reason for the separation was not just a matter of color. The red chard stems are different in shape and size from the others and the leaves and stems have a more mineral-like flavor. They’re more like beet greens, no surprise, since chard and beets are in the same family. The stems of the lighter chard, including the pink ones, are similar to white. (The mix is called “rainbow chard” or sometimes “bright lights,” market-speak for their multicolored appearance.) They have broad, flat stems that when large are cut lengthwise into matchsticks (which I did). I cut the smaller red stems into dice and cooked them back-to-back with the leaves. (That 1.5 cubic feet wilted down into 3-4 pint containers!)  First I cooked the leaves in the water that clung to them after washing, and then the diced stems in the remaining liquid. I stored the remaining liquid (less than ½ cup) with the stems so that I could use it in whatever dish I decided to make from the chard. Waste not want not, as they say.

What I made was a last minute pasta dish, using orecchietta pasta, translated as “little ears,” little cups that catch the added ingredients. While the pasta was boiling, I used some of the hot liquid to soak golden sultana raisins, sautéed the previously cooked chard and stems in olive oil and plenty of garlic from our garden, and toasted slivered almonds that were going to substitute for the traditional pine nuts. I used the chard cooking liquid to moisten the lightly salted pasta.

The combination of the raisins and the mineral taste and texture of the chard stems made my husband speculate that I’d put bacon in the pasta. (Or was it a red bag in a white laundry?) While that seemed to be a curious comment, there is something special, and slightly unexpected, about this combination, which is actually a Sicilian classic.  

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Waste Not Want Not: Pickled Chard Stems and a Bunch of Ways to Use Them

The weather turned reliably warm and my chard bolted. I don’t mean, found the door and vamoosed. I mean, developed thick, faceted stems and prepared to go to seed. Chard in my experience is slow to bolt, but this patch was over-wintered — first time ever for me – and it’s time. Everything else that over-wintered – kale, Asian celery and parsley – is also bolting. Oh man, I have to clean out the garden just as the CSA is starting up, yielding a ridiculous amount of greens. What to do?

Think pantry thoughts. There’s little you can’t pickle or preserve in one way or another, prolonging its life just a little or a lot. As you know from my earlier post on “aigre-doux,” I’ve been combing through Paul Virant’s The Preservation Kitchen, a recently published book by a Chicago restaurateur who’s a fan of stocking a pantry full of ingredients that either complement or become essential ingredients in dishes he makes for his customers. He’s also a great fan of combining pickled and non-pickled versions of the same vegetable, asparagus for example, or chard. 

The chard stems are a quick pickle, meaning that they’re intended to be consumed within a few days and are not processed. The chard stems are lightly poached in a combination of Champagne vinegar, honey and water. The lightness of the vinegar and the use of honey impart and intriguing delicateness to the sweet-tart pickle.  My chard was white but this would be great with yellow- or orange-stemmed chard, which I’m growing this season, or pink.

The pickles are fine on their own as a condiment. Virant suggests adding them to cooked chard leaves, which was very good. I also added cooked chickpeas to make a more substantial meal.

And finally, the full build-out tossed the chard and chickpea combination into fettuccine to which I added cubes of crisped prosciutto. This made a full-bodied and flavorful meal. However, the richness of the pasta and chickpeas were offset well by the chard greens and the piquant pickled stems. 

Just as with aigre-doux, I have an issue with the sequencing of his recipe. He makes the vinegar mixture first, and then prepares the vegetables. Vinegar loses its oomph when heated and evaporates. Maybe he meant to weaken the vinegar mixture, but I doubt it.

Pickled Chard Stems adapted from Paul Virant

2-3 cups chard stems, sliced ¼-inch thick (see below)

½ c champagne vinegar

½ c water

2 tbsp honey

½ tsp kosher salt

To prepare the chard stems, slice the leaves from the thick stalks and cut the stems crosswise into ¼-inch slices. Alternatively, depending on the shape of the stems, slice them into ¼-inch wide matchsticks.

Bring the vinegar, water, honey and salt to a simmer in a large saucepan, stirring to dissolve the salt. Add the chard stems and bring back to a simmer. (The liquid may not fully cover the stems.) Cook gently, stirring occasionally to make that all of the stem pieces absorb some brine, for about 4-5 minutes or until tender but not mushy. Remove from the heat and let the stems cool in the liquid.

If you are not serving them right away, refrigerate the chard stems in the liquid for up to 2 weeks.

Sauteed Chard Leaves with Pickled Stems adapted from Paul Virant

1 lb chard leaves, stripped of their stems

2 tbsp olive oil

Picked chard stems (see recipe above)

Salt and pepper to taste

Wash the chard, shake off excess water and cut the leaves crosswise into 1-inch strips

Heat the olive oil in a wide pan and add the chard, stirring it until wilted. Serve tossed with picked chard stems. Season with salt and pepper.

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Waste Not Want Not: Baked Peppers with Tuna and Rice

During seasonal transitions like early spring, I find myself cooking warm comfort food and dreaming about summer food.  There’s a great Italian rice salad that I sometimes make for a summer picnic, laced with tuna that’s been poached in oil (or good quality canned tuna in olive oil). It’s loaded with crunchy celery, abundant finely chopped parsley and fruity olive oil, and make piquant by the addition of capers and sometimes, tiny pieces of anchovy. 

Meanwhile, back here in springtime, I’ve had a hankering for stuffed peppers. I often rescue some good ones from the markdown bin at our local organic produce store. Many people don’t like stuffed peppers – or green peppers at all. Too grassy. Personally, I find them a great convenience as a vehicle for all kinds of mixtures, and a great way to use up stray ingredients or stretch the ones you have on hand. What brought this combination of peppers, tuna and rice to mind was a craving for a certain Italian antipasto of roasted green peppers and anchovies. There was something about the memory of those salty tidbits that made me think that a tuna-rice combination would make a good filling for the peppers.

So where’s the waste-not-want-not lesson? I had made a delicious tuna confit that we’ve been gradually eating for a while now; it involved slowly cooking locally sourced tuna in olive oil and storing it in a jar in the refrigerator. Now that the tuna is gone, except for bits and pieces, I had a jarful of delicious, fishy and fruity olive oil. I didn’t want to throw it out, but what could I use it for? I decided it was the answer to the dryness sometimes experienced with that Italian summer rice salad. I was right. It imparted both moisture and a terrific depth of flavor.

I combined tuna (a combination of my homemade confit and some from a can), chopped green and yellow bell pepper, finely chopped parsley, a little onion, some leftover rice and the olive oil. After taste testing, I added a heaping tablespoon of capers and freshly ground black pepper. Stuffed into peppers that had been halved, seeded, plunged in boiling water for 5 minutes, drained and cooled, the tuna-rice mixture was sprinkled with feta cheese, and the stuffed peppers were baked for 25 minutes.  They were even better eaten cold the next day.

Tuna and Rice Stuffed Peppers

3 green peppers

1½ c cooked white rice

1 small onion, diced

½ green pepper, diced

½ yellow pepper, diced

Approximately 3 tbsp olive oil (new or leftover from tuna confit)

½-¾ c tuna confit (or 1-2 cans good quality tuna in oil)

1 tbsp capers

Optional: 1 tbsp minced anchovies

¼ c parsley

Freshly ground black pepper

Optional: feta cheese

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Lightly oil a baking dish large enough to hold 6 pepper halves.

Wash the peppers and slice them vertically through the stem. Remove the seeds and membrane. When the water boils, plunge the peppers into the water and cook for 4-5 minutes, or until the peppers are slightly tender but still crisp. Remove the peppers to a colander to cool. place them in the baking dish, cut side up.

If you don’t have pre-cooked rice, cook about 3/4 cup of rice in boiling water turned to low as soon as the rice is added, covered, about 15 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly and add some olive oil to it while cooling.

Saute the diced onion and peppers in a small amount of olive oil until tender but still slightly crisp. Combine with the rice. Add tuna, capers, anchovies if using, parsley and freshly ground pepper. Add additional olive oil to bind the ingredients.

Spoon the rice and tuna mixture into the prepared pepper shells in the baking dish. Sprinkle with feta cheese if using and bake uncovered for 25-30 minutes.

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