My taste in pizza runs strongly to the Neapolitan, and the pizza I make most often at home has a very thin, crisp crust. But I am by no means some kind of Neapolitan absolutist: I keep an open mind about the many styles of pizza in the world. Sometimes I even make a different style at home – like last night, when I got a craving for doughy, pillowy-crusted pizza. Without any dough prepped, I needed a crust that could be assembled and baked within a couple of hours. Focaccia is perfect for this – its flavor might be a little better with an overnight fermentation, but in a pinch it is a great bread to throw together.

As a baker, I happen to think pizza is always mostly about the crust, but with an assertive bread like focaccia as its base this pizza called for the simplest of toppings: some tomatoes, dried oregano, and a sprinkling of mozzarella cheese.

Dough:

• 20 oz all purpose flour
• ½ oz salt (~1 Tbsp)
• ¼ oz instant yeast (~2 tsp)
• .58 oz powdered milk
• .34 oz sugar (~1 Tbsp)
• 1.25 oz olive oil (~5 Tbsp)
• 16 oz water

The first thing to notice about this dough is that its hydration level is 80%: that’s way to wet to knead by hand. You could use the stretch and fold method, but it will greatly increase mixing time and should really involve an overnight rest. If you have a machine at your disposal, this is the time to use it: I combined all the ingredients in the bowl of my stand mixer and mixed – with the paddle to combine then with the dough hook – for about 9 minutes. But this batch was too small for my mixer to handle: the hook was missing a lot of the dough. The next time I make focaccia, I’ll use the food processor. Combine all ingredients in the food processor’s bowl using the steel blade and process until the dough comes together and is smooth, about two minutes.

Allow the dough to rest in an oiled medium mixing bowl for an hour until approximately doubled.

Preheat oven to 425ºF. Line a half-sheet pan with parchment and spread two or three tablespoons of olive oil evenly over the parchment. Pour out dough onto lined pan, top with another couple tablespoons of olive oil, then use your fingertips to spread the dough to fit the pan. It probably won’t fully cover the corners, but get as close as you can. Cover the dough with plastic wrap and allow to rest another hour, until the dough looks bubbly and full.

Toppings:

• 1 (14 oz) can diced tomatoes (I use Muir Glen’s fire-roasted variety and heartily recommend them)
• 1 tsp dried oregano
• 4 oz mozzarella cheese, shredded

After dough has risen the second time (in the pan), spread the tomatoes evenly over it and sprinkle with oregano. Distribute the cheese evenly over top. Bake 18-20 minutes, until crust is golden and cheese has started to brown in spots.

Some people have their broccoli-cheese casserole; I have this: penne with blue cheese and broccoli. It’s filled with the same comforting overload of starch and gooey cheese but has an added element of danger provided by tangy blue cheese and generously-applied red pepper flakes. I’ve been making this dish for years – I distinctly remember cooking it in high school – and if there is broccoli in the refrigerator and I’m feeling lazy or uncreative this pasta is inevitable. I don’t mind the repetition though; this is a dish that lingers on the table as forks seek out one last bite, and then another.

I think the original recipe was published in the New York Times but I can’t locate it online. In any case, I’ve cooked this without the recipe enough times that I’m willing to claim it for my own.

Penne with Blue Cheese and Broccoli

• 6 oz blue cheese, crumbled
• 4 Tbsp butter
• 1 clove of garlic, minced or pressed through a garlic press
• Black pepper
• Red pepper flakes
• Salt
• 2 medium heads of broccoli, florets separated, stems discarded or reserved for other use
• 1# penne

Bring plenty of salted water to a boil in a large stockpot. Place blue cheese, butter, garlic, and salt, pepper and red pepper to taste in a large mixing bowl. Place the bowl over the stockpot while it is heating to soften the cheese and butter. When water boils, add pasta. After about 4 minutes have passed, add the broccoli. When pasta is done to your liking, drain pasta and broccoli, reserving some of the water to adjust the consistency of the sauce. Toss pasta and broccoli with butter-bue cheese mixture. Adjust seasoning and serve.

Thanks to the magic of hoop houses, Gardens of Eagan has kept Midtown Farmers Market shoppers supplied with fresh tomatoes throughout October. Alas, all things must come to an end, and with the final market of the year a week ago, the tomato we ate on toast for breakfast this morning is surely the year’s last.

I have a rule of refusing winter hot-house tomatoes based on too many sad, sad experiences, though I might make an exception based on reliable recommendations I’ve heard for Bushel Boy.

Goodbye 2010 tomatoes!

The absolute nadir of last year’s ill-conceived Five Days of Squash was my squash enchiladas. Coated in too little sauce and packed with tough greens (and their even tougher stems) that had no possibility of getting tender, the resulting squash enchiladas were bad enough to turn me off to the concept for at least a year.

The problem with that first attempt was that I was more focused on cleaning out the crisper drawer than on what might actually taste good. Determined not to make that mistake again, for this year’s version I left out the hearty winter greens and instead added black beans, onions, cumin, cayenne pepper, and good Mexican melting cheese. The only concession I made to refrigerator-emptying was using leftover salsa verde from last week’s tongue tacos (warning: pictures of tongue) as the sauce.

If you are looking for a way to use some late-season winter squash you could do much worse than these enchiladas – I might even consider buying a squash just to make them.

Squash Enchiladas

• 1 small kuri squash, halved and seeded
• ½ medium onion, diced small
• 1 tsp cumin
• ¼ tsp cayenne
• ¼ tsp black pepper
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 (14.5 oz) can black beans, drained and rinsed
• 8 oz chihuahua, monterey jack, or other good melting cheese, shredded
• 10-12 corn tortillas
• Salsa Verde (See recipe at bottom of this post)
• 1 green onion, sliced thin

Heat oven to 400ºF. Rub exposed flesh of squash with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast on a sheet pan, cut side down, until flesh is tender and skin is spotted-brown, about 45 minutes.

While squash is roasting, cook the onions with olive oil in a large skillet over medium until edges begin to brown. Stir in spices and salt and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add black beans and keep stirring, cooking until the mixture is heated through. Transfer mixture to a medium bowl.

Use a spoon to scrape squash flesh off skin into the bowl with the beans and onions. Add most of the cheese, reserving some to top the dish. (Cilantro would be great here too, but I didn’t have any on hand.) Toss.

Spread a layer of salsa verde to cover the bottom of an 8″ square baking dish.

Warm the tortillas in the microwave or on the stovetop to make them pliable. Fill each tortilla with about a half cup of the squash-bean mixture, then roll and place seam-side down in prepared baking dish. Repeat until the dish is full. Top with salsa verde to cover. Sprinkle on reserved cheese. Bake 30-35 minutes, until cheese starts to brown.

When the enchiladas are done baking, top with sliced green onions. Serve with sour cream and additional salsa verde.

In one of my first posts on this blog I declared my love for harissa, the spicy North African red pepper spread. Since then I have strayed a bit: our jar of harissa run out, I began to flirt with other spicy red pastes — I was not immune the the trendy allure of sriracha. But when Martha made hlelem recently, I was reminded of my former love. With sausage on the brain lately, a freshly-opened jar of harissa had me thinking one thing: merguez.

A sausage popular in North Africa and Europe, merguez is usually made with lamb. This makes sense – there are a lot of pastoralists raising flocks of sheep in North Africa most of whom are Muslim – pork is neither practical nor permitted. But since I’m free of religious obligations or cultural sensitivity, pork was definitely an option and one too delicious to ignore. The argument could be made that a pork sausage is not really merguez, but I say as long as there’s harissa I’ll not worry about fine distinctions.

As I was searching the Internet for recipes, I was disappointed to see that many contain only a small amount of harissa: 3 tablespoons per 3# of meat, for example. To make up for this deficiency most recipes add other spices (cayenne, coriander, cumin, sumac, etc.). This might be traditional, but I didn’t see how adding additional spices would help; the flavor of the harissa ought to be flavor enough. My final recipe was:

• 1# 5 oz boneless pork shoulder
• 10 g garlic (3 cloves)
• 50 g harissa
• 15 g salt

If harissa is the only thing a sausage has to lean on in terms of flavor, the success of the recipe obviously depends on the quality of the harissa. Someday I will make my own harissa (and you can be sure you’ll be hearing about it here), but with a jar already open I used Mustapha’s. This is, after all, the harissa I fell in love with; I haven’t sampled other brands very widely.

I served the sausage with a cous cous-based taboulli.