Spork Notes: Aw, Nuts!

A recent rave at the Forkquarters has been walnuts. While they're not exactly an unheard of item, I've been enjoying them in some unusual ways.

Pasta with broccoli, edamame and walnuts sparked this walnut renaissance. This tasty, easy recipe (see below) comes from the friendly folks in the Moosewood Restaurant empire.

From this recipe in Moosewood Simple Suppers, I gleaned that the reason I hadn't loved walnuts before was that they weren't toasted. I should have realized this sooner, as the toasted almond is a real Forkster fave.

Since that moment, I've been wearing out the toaster. I'm having walnuts in my cereal with sliced banana every morning. They've enhanced instant oatmeal and yogurt snacks. Finally, they're really awesome in a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, where the chocolate and walnut combo impersonates a sundae.

I'd have to guess that the reason I'm so fond of the toasted walnut is that it evokes that fresh-from-the-oven oatmeal cookie. And who wouldn't want that spicing up their breakfast?
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Pasta with Broccoli, Edamame and Walnuts

3/4 lb. chunky pasta

1/4 cup olive oil

4 garlic cloves, minced or pressed

3 cups bite-sized pieces of broccoli

1 cup frozed, shelled edamame

3/4 tsp. salt

1/4 cup chopped fresh basil, oregano, thyme or marjoram (dried herbs work, too)

1 cup chopped, toasted walnuts

salt and pepper

grated Parmesan or Pecorino Roman cheese

Cook pasta until al dente, saving 1/2 cup of the water. Warm 2 T olive oil in a skillet on low heat. Add garlic and cook for a few seconds. Add the broccoli and that 1/2 cup of hot pasta-cooking water, turn heat on high for 2 minutes. Add edamame, salt and herbs. Cook until water evaporates or about 5 minutes. Toss past with the vegetable mixture, the remaining 2 T of olive oil and the walnuts. Top with grated cheese. Yum.

recipe courtesty of Moosewood Restaurant Simple Suppers.

Spork Notes: Ellio's Pizza

From time to time, I write about a favorite food in a feature I call Spork Notes. Today's topic: Ellio's Pizza.

While some folks' freezer pizza of choice is round, I hew to the rectangular. Within that genre, French bread pizza has regal aspirations. Ellio's aspires to no such heights. Its beauty lies in its simple, solid taste.

An Ellio's box contains three sheets of pizza, each one perforated into three "slices." Apparently some people will only cook one or two slices, but I've always made three. That's probably because when I wanted a "pizza snack," I went with that traditional Italian treat--Bagel Bites.

Besides, snapping off slices before baking takes some doing, seeing as they're frozen. I've stopped that practice because it shakes loose a bit of the cheese, of which there isn't much to spare. That's part of the charm in this age of inch-thick mozzarella.

Ellio's Pizza was the second "dinner" I could make for myself, after hot dogs. Interestingly, both involved the toaster oven. Maybe that's why I'm fiercely loyal to a toaster oven, and can't stand the pop-up kind.

While Ellio's remains pretty low-brow, I've always seen it as customizable. What began with garlic powder and parmesan now looks a bit more deluxe.

Sadly, McCain foods doesn't sell this prince of the pizza aisle here in North Carolina. Perhaps that enhances the allure. It certainly explains why two Ellio's boxes filled my cooler on the return leg of a recent trip to Delaware. (If you work for McCain and are reading this...let's talk).

Since then, Ellio's has ousted Mrs. T's Pierogies, as my standard solo supper. As you can see from the photo, which I've named "Dinner for One," you could do a lot worse.

Spork Notes: Herdez Salsa

This post marks the first Spork Notes. I'm trying out this idea where I'll write about food items unrelated to columns. It'll probably be a rave like this one, but there may be future rants.

Today, I'd like to tell you about Herdez salsa, also known as the only salsa eaten in the Forkquarters. Believe it or not, I'm not paid by The Herdez Corporation. I'm simply in love with their salsa.

When I think of Herdez, the word that comes to mind is 'fresh.' It tastes like the tomatoes have just been crushed, instead of having endured the NAFTA-friendly journey from Mexico. Its full flavor is likely due to its minimal ingredients: tomatoes, onions, serrano peepers, salt and cilantro. That's it.

The salsa is a little watery, so folks who like a more chunky, pico de gallo-type condiment should take note. But its liquidity makes makes dipping almost easier, as a submerged chip acquires that fresh taste regardless of whether it retains the salsa's solid parts. And you can always use a fork, as I do, to isolate the chunky bits.

You lucky North Carolina folks can find Herdez at Food Lion and Harris Teeter, but the former has it for half the price of the latter. If your local market doesn't carry the salsa, you can order Herdez at Amazon.

There isn't much difference between hot, medium and mild, but make sure you get the "Salsa Casera." Steer clear of the Salsa Taquera and the Salsa Verde (green salsa), which tastes like a weak green tea.

As long as you get the Salsa Casera version, you're in business. I promise, it'll make your chips chirp, your burritos buzz and your tacos tingle.