As cooks, we are always looking for something new to try. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes, and perhaps this is the most interesting part of creative cooking, is finding something that "sort of" works. Those are the dishes where you have to consider what else you are going to serve with the new dish, and that will determine whether it works or not.
I want to present two soups to you using vegetables that you may not have heard of, or if you have heard of them, you don't use them much. One is a soup of turnips and chestnuts, and the other is cardoon soup.
Let me start with cardoons. I am not at all sure I can do these justice via a written description. I suggest you go and do a google picture search for a cardoon. Wait until you see these sort of prehistoric plant. We don't know them in the United States, although they are well known in Italy and are in fact a critical ingredient in "bagna cauda," or "hot bath. In that dish, vegetables are cut , perhaps steamed, and then served with a "hot bath" of olive oil, anchovies, garlic and other goodies. You dip the veggies into the oil and then you eat them. The oil is hot enough to warm them, but not to fry them. It's a very interesting dish, and I recommend it.
But cardoons have a bitter flavor. OH MY, do they have a bitter flavor. I would describe them as a cross between artichoke and brussel sprout, and if that doesn't interest you or makes you feel ill, by all means, move on. If it intrigues you, read further.
If you have in fact done that picture search, the following will make sense. "Cardoon" in Italian is "cardone." "Cardo" is a thistle, and "one" at the end of the word, means "big" Does it make sense now? They are difficult to grown and come into season very late. I found them for the firs time this year today. ALL the foodies found them at the same time. Franca, my "source, didn't even have her sign up, or a price. But I got there first, and scored two bunches.
The leaves on the cardoon are inedible, and the exterior is so tough as to be inedible. So you are going to have a lot of waste. And they take a LONG time to cook. You have to boil them before you can do anything else with them. Sometimes, I cut them into smaller pieces, boil those, cool them, peel them ,and then dip them in a bread crumb batter. I pan fry them, and serve them with homemade, lemony mayonnaise. The contrast of the fatty, almost sweet taste of the mayonnaise and the bitterness and softness of the cardoon, contrasted with the crispy coating, is something that people really love.
Today, I used them for soup. This is a soup that needs a thickener. You could do the standard flour thickener, cooking flour with butter, and then combining it with the hot soup, but you could also use a starch, like I did. Okay, get set, this is gonna take some time.
You need about two pounds of cardoons. Strip the leaves and then cut the stems into about 2 inch pieces. Put them into a large pot, filled with water and the juice of a lemon (Cardoons darken very quickly without acid). Bring this pot to a boil, and simmer for five minutes. Then drain the cardoons.
If you tasted that water, you would be ill. It is NASTY. You've leached out most of the bitterness, but not all. Now you can start making soup.
Start by chopping two medium onions, and saute them in a tablespoon of butter and two of olive oil. When they go translucent, add the cardoons. You might also add a handful of chopped parsley. Also add a good sprinkle of coriander. Yup, coriander. You could use juniper berries too, if you liked. Add six cups of a combination of chicken stock and water. Meanwhile, in a separate pot, cook up two cups of rice. Use any kind you have.
Bring the cardoons to a boil and then cover the pot half way, lower the heat and simmer for 45 minutes. When that is done, let the mix cool. Start putting the liquid and cardoons into a food processor and puree for a while. Then drain the stuff through a collander. You will get a very thin, greyish green soup. Take that and combine it with the rice, and puree it again.
If you let this soup sit, the rice will settle out, so stir it again before you stir it. Finally, melt two tablespoons of butter into the soup.
Like I said, these veggies are hard to find, and they're not for everyone, but if you're adventursome, give it a try.
Turnips and chestnuts both have an inherent sweetness to them, so you're going to get a sweeter soup here. And since you will roast the turnips, the sweetness will be increased. This soup is really a variation on the carrot fennel soup I wrote about. Get about ten medium sized turnips, and cut them into quarters. Turn them into a bowl with three tablespoons of olive oil and a teaspoon or so of salt. Stir them together, and then dump them on a baking sheet . Bake them at 475 for 20 minutes, stirring them every now and then.
While that's happening, open a vacuum jar of chestnuts (prepping chestnuts yourself is a pain in the neck. Not worth it). When I say "jar," I mean about a pound. Cook these in two tablespoons of butter until they begin to color.
When the turnips are finished (it will take longer than the chestnuts), combine them, and mix them with three cups of stock and three of water. Get out your food processor, and blend away. You are going to get a very thick, chunky soup that will thicken. Chestnuts are also a starch, so you're thickener is right there. Taste the soup, and add salt to it if you need it, as you probably will.
These are soups with very distinct identities. As your palette grows, you will pick things to go with them that seem right. For example, with the cardoon soup, I can well imagine a nice piece of grilled chicken, or something with spicy peppers in it. I would stay away from fennel type dishes. For the chestnut soup, it just seems to me that this is a starter for a meal that involves a big steak, and some carrots. But thats my take on it. As I say, these are very individualistic soups, and you ARE an individual. Build your own menu, and trust your taste
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Sunday sauce and braciole
There is a tradition in Italian homes of the big Sunday "dinner," which is really more of a slightly late lunch. We would sit down, usually sometime between 12 and 1, and have a HUGE meal. There were elements of it that changed. Sometimes we'd have a leg of lamb, or sometimes roast beef. Sometimes there would be chicken, roasted with breadcrumbs and lemon (always my favorite), and then there would be salad of some kind, usually involving the leftover vegetables from the week, "refrigerator pickled" and then fruit for dessert. We didn't usually have a fancy Sunday dessert. Perhaps a cannoli from the bakery on the way home from church, but that was unusual.
The constant for all of those dinners, was pasta with what everyone called "Sunday sauce."
Every Italian has a soft spot in his or her heart for those tomato based sauces that were used on just about anything and everything During the week, we would have pasta several times, always served with red sauce and cheese. I still love a plate of that good stuff. But on Sunday, the sauce was augmented with meat: LOTS of it. There were always meatballs, and sausages. Nana would add things if she had them. I remember the occasional pork chop (my stepfather always got that one), or a breast of chicken (Mom's favorite). But there were always braciole. And that was MINE.
Braciole is another one of those dishes where, if you ask ten cooks how to make it, you'll get ten recipes. There ARE some constants. Braciole is a "meat roll", but what kind of meat? I know it with beef, but I know people who have had it, and swear by it, with pork, or veal. What CUT of meat? I know it from round steak or flank steak, but others say shoulder, or some other cut. (It DOES seem that the weight of majority falls on round steak though). The meat was always sliced, or pounded thin, filled with something and then rolled, tied and cooked. What kind of filling? Oh, heavens, there were so many things. I have seen it with prosciutto wrapped in it, and also either whole, or sliced eggs. Grated cheese, always, but what kind? Parmesan or pecorino, or something else. Parsley? Sometimes. Bread crumbs? Yes and no. Raisins or currants? Yes and no. Pine nuts? Yes and no.
Then there is the question of how to cook the meat. Nana would put her bracioles directly into the sauce and cook them that way. I like to fry mine before hand, and then add them to the gravy (which is what we all called that red sauce that was ALWAYS in the house), but I will admit that Nana's version was SO good (someday, someone is going to write a paper on the psychology of having food cooked for you. It always tastes better, and to this day, when I eat a braciole, either of my own making or in a restaurant, if I'm lucky, I find myself thinking back to those wonderful ones that Nana made).
I find myself thinking about braciole because my friend James asked me about them a week ago. And I realized I haven't made them in years. But it's one of those things like riding a bike, I guess, if you know how (I don't): you don't forget. I think I could make braciole in my sleep, because I used to make it a lot. Nana used to let me help her do it, and it was so much fun. Her hands were so much more experienced than mine and she would get four done to every one that I did. Now, when I'm working with a cooking novice and watch my own hands move quickly while they move along tentatively, I recall my wonderful Nana's patience and how much I learned from her without knowing it. So it's time to revive these wonderful "beef rolls" as you'll see them referred to.
The key thing to making a good braciole is getting the meat cut thin enough. If you have a good butcher, and you tell him or her that you want to make braciole, they will know exactly what to do. If they don't, go to another butcher, or learn to get the meat ready on your own.
You are going to need thin slices of beef. If all you can get is a BIG round steak, or a flank steak, what you'll need to do is cut pieces, wrap them in plastic wrap, and pound them to thinness with a meat pounder of some kind. I have actually found that minute steaks, or as they now call them, "sandwich steaks" have the right thickness and flavor for bracioles. I'll be using those.
I use Nana's filling, with a simple modification. I add pine nuts. I think that if Nana could afford them on her budget, she would have used them. She liked pine nuts. What you do is make a filling of a half cup of dry flavored bread crumbs (remember. This is down home Italian American cooking), a half cup of grated pecorino cheese (you could use parmesan if you like), and then a few tablespoons of chopped parsley (you could leave this out, or use a different herb). You also need about three or four tablespoons of plump raisins (soak them in water if they're dried out. Some people, especially Sicilians, use dried currants. By the way, did you know that dried currants are not dried currants? They are dried grapes. Ain't that interesting?). Finally, a couple of tablespoons of pine nuts. You may want to add some salt to this and some pepper.
I don't use an egg, but if you want to, what you want to do is use a half of a hard boiled egg for a smaller braciole, a whole one for a bigger one. What you do is take the slices of meat, and spread a few tablespoons of the mixed filling onto the meat. Then, starting at an end, roll it. If you use the egg, put the egg on top of the filling. Roll the meat to the end. Then, tie it at several points. There's a fancy technique that I've seen professional chefs use to do this, but I don't know how to do it. Sometimes, Nana would use tooth picks. How she kept them from coming out in the cooking process, I don't know. It was part of her magic.
After you have them all rolled up and tied, either drop them just as they are into a pot of hot tomato sauce (with meatballs and sausages in the sauce), OR, panfry them in olive oil until you get a brown coating, and then add that to the sauce.
Let this simmer away for a good hour and a half, or longer. The sauce should barely break a bubble as it cooks. The braciole will get very tender in the cooking. A knife should go through it very easily when it's done.
Traditionally, you take the bracioles out of the sauce and snip off the strings before you serve them. To me, chewing on those strings was always something I loved doing. But that's an idionsyncracy. You can also slice the bracioles into slices before you serve them. But again, for me, the fun of that first cut in the rolled braciole is something I would not want to give up.
"Formal" service says take the meat out of the sauce, eat the pasta with the sauce, and then serve the meat. We always ate them as one plate. And the pasta was always ziti or rigatoni or something like that.
Nor will I give up the memory of walking into the kitchen, my hands in my pocket, and not saying anything as Nana was cooking. She knew. Out came a small plate a spoon went into the sauce, and I got a braciole before Sunday dinner was served. And then another one with the dinner. I can visualize those moments now, as if it happened yesterday.
I will never love anyone the way my Nana loved me, but there are an awful lot of people I love dearly. I think it's time for a nice pot of Sunday sauce. With bracioles. And if one of you slip into the kitchen while I'm prepping, with the puppy dog eyes that I used to give my Nana, you may very well get an extra one yourself.
The constant for all of those dinners, was pasta with what everyone called "Sunday sauce."
Every Italian has a soft spot in his or her heart for those tomato based sauces that were used on just about anything and everything During the week, we would have pasta several times, always served with red sauce and cheese. I still love a plate of that good stuff. But on Sunday, the sauce was augmented with meat: LOTS of it. There were always meatballs, and sausages. Nana would add things if she had them. I remember the occasional pork chop (my stepfather always got that one), or a breast of chicken (Mom's favorite). But there were always braciole. And that was MINE.
Braciole is another one of those dishes where, if you ask ten cooks how to make it, you'll get ten recipes. There ARE some constants. Braciole is a "meat roll", but what kind of meat? I know it with beef, but I know people who have had it, and swear by it, with pork, or veal. What CUT of meat? I know it from round steak or flank steak, but others say shoulder, or some other cut. (It DOES seem that the weight of majority falls on round steak though). The meat was always sliced, or pounded thin, filled with something and then rolled, tied and cooked. What kind of filling? Oh, heavens, there were so many things. I have seen it with prosciutto wrapped in it, and also either whole, or sliced eggs. Grated cheese, always, but what kind? Parmesan or pecorino, or something else. Parsley? Sometimes. Bread crumbs? Yes and no. Raisins or currants? Yes and no. Pine nuts? Yes and no.
Then there is the question of how to cook the meat. Nana would put her bracioles directly into the sauce and cook them that way. I like to fry mine before hand, and then add them to the gravy (which is what we all called that red sauce that was ALWAYS in the house), but I will admit that Nana's version was SO good (someday, someone is going to write a paper on the psychology of having food cooked for you. It always tastes better, and to this day, when I eat a braciole, either of my own making or in a restaurant, if I'm lucky, I find myself thinking back to those wonderful ones that Nana made).
I find myself thinking about braciole because my friend James asked me about them a week ago. And I realized I haven't made them in years. But it's one of those things like riding a bike, I guess, if you know how (I don't): you don't forget. I think I could make braciole in my sleep, because I used to make it a lot. Nana used to let me help her do it, and it was so much fun. Her hands were so much more experienced than mine and she would get four done to every one that I did. Now, when I'm working with a cooking novice and watch my own hands move quickly while they move along tentatively, I recall my wonderful Nana's patience and how much I learned from her without knowing it. So it's time to revive these wonderful "beef rolls" as you'll see them referred to.
The key thing to making a good braciole is getting the meat cut thin enough. If you have a good butcher, and you tell him or her that you want to make braciole, they will know exactly what to do. If they don't, go to another butcher, or learn to get the meat ready on your own.
You are going to need thin slices of beef. If all you can get is a BIG round steak, or a flank steak, what you'll need to do is cut pieces, wrap them in plastic wrap, and pound them to thinness with a meat pounder of some kind. I have actually found that minute steaks, or as they now call them, "sandwich steaks" have the right thickness and flavor for bracioles. I'll be using those.
I use Nana's filling, with a simple modification. I add pine nuts. I think that if Nana could afford them on her budget, she would have used them. She liked pine nuts. What you do is make a filling of a half cup of dry flavored bread crumbs (remember. This is down home Italian American cooking), a half cup of grated pecorino cheese (you could use parmesan if you like), and then a few tablespoons of chopped parsley (you could leave this out, or use a different herb). You also need about three or four tablespoons of plump raisins (soak them in water if they're dried out. Some people, especially Sicilians, use dried currants. By the way, did you know that dried currants are not dried currants? They are dried grapes. Ain't that interesting?). Finally, a couple of tablespoons of pine nuts. You may want to add some salt to this and some pepper.
I don't use an egg, but if you want to, what you want to do is use a half of a hard boiled egg for a smaller braciole, a whole one for a bigger one. What you do is take the slices of meat, and spread a few tablespoons of the mixed filling onto the meat. Then, starting at an end, roll it. If you use the egg, put the egg on top of the filling. Roll the meat to the end. Then, tie it at several points. There's a fancy technique that I've seen professional chefs use to do this, but I don't know how to do it. Sometimes, Nana would use tooth picks. How she kept them from coming out in the cooking process, I don't know. It was part of her magic.
After you have them all rolled up and tied, either drop them just as they are into a pot of hot tomato sauce (with meatballs and sausages in the sauce), OR, panfry them in olive oil until you get a brown coating, and then add that to the sauce.
Let this simmer away for a good hour and a half, or longer. The sauce should barely break a bubble as it cooks. The braciole will get very tender in the cooking. A knife should go through it very easily when it's done.
Traditionally, you take the bracioles out of the sauce and snip off the strings before you serve them. To me, chewing on those strings was always something I loved doing. But that's an idionsyncracy. You can also slice the bracioles into slices before you serve them. But again, for me, the fun of that first cut in the rolled braciole is something I would not want to give up.
"Formal" service says take the meat out of the sauce, eat the pasta with the sauce, and then serve the meat. We always ate them as one plate. And the pasta was always ziti or rigatoni or something like that.
Nor will I give up the memory of walking into the kitchen, my hands in my pocket, and not saying anything as Nana was cooking. She knew. Out came a small plate a spoon went into the sauce, and I got a braciole before Sunday dinner was served. And then another one with the dinner. I can visualize those moments now, as if it happened yesterday.
I will never love anyone the way my Nana loved me, but there are an awful lot of people I love dearly. I think it's time for a nice pot of Sunday sauce. With bracioles. And if one of you slip into the kitchen while I'm prepping, with the puppy dog eyes that I used to give my Nana, you may very well get an extra one yourself.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
More on gnocchi
Yesterday I posted my recipe for butternut squash gnocchi, one of my favorites. I want to continue with the theme of gnocchi today, because it's unfair to think of them as limited to potato.
"Gnocchi" are "bumps" in Italian. Sometimes, the word is used to describe joints generally, like knees or elbows. So, really, it's just a shape, like an orecchiete, or spaghetti, or anything like that. (Indeed, when my grandmother's knees were sore, I recall hearing her say that her "gnocchi" hurt. We didn't eat them at home, so it took me a lot of years to figure out what she meant),
In Rome, gnocchi are almost always made of semolina. To be honest, given the meaning of the word, I don't understand why these are called gnocchi, but what I do understand is that they are rich, tasty, delicious morsels. I could eat a whole pan of them, and then be sick afterwards. And not regret it. I have them on the menu for a lunch next week, and I know they're gonna go over well.
To make a LOT of these (and, unfortunately, the recipe does not seem to work well if you cut it back), you will need a quart of milk. (I'm told that low fat will work. Be my guest...). You will also need a stick of unsalted butter, a cup of grated parmesan cheese, and a cup of semolina flour. You may also want a teaspoon or so of salt.
Now, some may be asking this question, if they haven't already: why do you use unsalted butter if you're going to add salt?
As always, I can see Sue's hand up in the back, and of course, she's right. That way you can control how salty the food is. If you put salted butter in, the salt is there and you can't do anything about it. For BONUS points, you would know that salt in butter can frequently cover up the fact that it is rancid. It almost never happens today, but it does happen.
Okay, enough of that diatribe. So what you do next is you get a baking sheet, and you take the paper from the stick of butter and wipe it all over the sheet. Then push it aside, because you'll use it later.
In a big pot, add the cold milk, the stick of butter, and the flour. This is contrary to what is taught for when you make these, but remember, I told you how to do this with polenta too. If you tried it, you know I'm right. Put the pot on a medium flame, and start stirring. You DO have to stir constantly. The milk will begin to bubble, and you should stir a bit more vigorously. Eventually, after about 6-7 minutes, the mix will begin to take on the texture of a very thick custard. The whole mass will move away from the side of the pan and begin to form a mass on your spoon. At this point, stir in the cheese. I also like to stir in a grating or two of nutmeg.
Pour out the mass onto your baking sheet - remember the one I told you to prep and you forgot about? Now, wet your hands (this is a very hot mass), and spread out the thing to a nice, even layer. Don't worry about filling the baking sheet, that's not what you're after here. Then let this cool, for say about ten minutes.
Now, the fun part. Get a cutter of some kind. A biscuit cutter, a glass, a measuring cup, something, and start cutting circles out of the semolina. These circles will be your gnocchi. What you do is you take these and start layering them in a buttered baking dish (I didn't tell you about prepping that pan. Sorry). Have them overlap each other , like cards lying on top of each other in solitare. Then put the whole pan in a preheated, 350 oven, and bake it for about twenty minutes.
If you REALLY want to put this dish over the top - ready for this? Grate another half cup of parmesan cheese , and get yet another half stick of butter. Dot the top of the gnocchi with the butter and cheese, and then broil it for five minutes.
Sounds good, doesn't it? It is. It's intended as a first course, and you will have enough here for many first courses. If you decide to use it that way, maybe a grilled piece of meat with nothing on it, a green vegetable and a salad afterward. No dessert after that meal.
But... I cannot tell you how often I have sat there with a big plate of these as my dinner. Followed by salad. Interestingly enough, white wine doesn't work that well with these. A very flowery white, or zinfandel, or something with a great deal of fruit is the wine of choice.
**************************************************************************************
Now, chickens, Annalena needs your help. We are at entry number 297. Rapidly approaching our goal of 300. So, what would you like to know about, in entry 300? Do you want a recipe for some particular item? A story of Annalena's young life with or without Nana? Something else perhaps? Annalena shall try to comply with all reasonable requests, and any unreasonable ones that leave me hot and bothered? If you are silent, you must be satisfied with what will follow.
"Gnocchi" are "bumps" in Italian. Sometimes, the word is used to describe joints generally, like knees or elbows. So, really, it's just a shape, like an orecchiete, or spaghetti, or anything like that. (Indeed, when my grandmother's knees were sore, I recall hearing her say that her "gnocchi" hurt. We didn't eat them at home, so it took me a lot of years to figure out what she meant),
In Rome, gnocchi are almost always made of semolina. To be honest, given the meaning of the word, I don't understand why these are called gnocchi, but what I do understand is that they are rich, tasty, delicious morsels. I could eat a whole pan of them, and then be sick afterwards. And not regret it. I have them on the menu for a lunch next week, and I know they're gonna go over well.
To make a LOT of these (and, unfortunately, the recipe does not seem to work well if you cut it back), you will need a quart of milk. (I'm told that low fat will work. Be my guest...). You will also need a stick of unsalted butter, a cup of grated parmesan cheese, and a cup of semolina flour. You may also want a teaspoon or so of salt.
Now, some may be asking this question, if they haven't already: why do you use unsalted butter if you're going to add salt?
As always, I can see Sue's hand up in the back, and of course, she's right. That way you can control how salty the food is. If you put salted butter in, the salt is there and you can't do anything about it. For BONUS points, you would know that salt in butter can frequently cover up the fact that it is rancid. It almost never happens today, but it does happen.
Okay, enough of that diatribe. So what you do next is you get a baking sheet, and you take the paper from the stick of butter and wipe it all over the sheet. Then push it aside, because you'll use it later.
In a big pot, add the cold milk, the stick of butter, and the flour. This is contrary to what is taught for when you make these, but remember, I told you how to do this with polenta too. If you tried it, you know I'm right. Put the pot on a medium flame, and start stirring. You DO have to stir constantly. The milk will begin to bubble, and you should stir a bit more vigorously. Eventually, after about 6-7 minutes, the mix will begin to take on the texture of a very thick custard. The whole mass will move away from the side of the pan and begin to form a mass on your spoon. At this point, stir in the cheese. I also like to stir in a grating or two of nutmeg.
Pour out the mass onto your baking sheet - remember the one I told you to prep and you forgot about? Now, wet your hands (this is a very hot mass), and spread out the thing to a nice, even layer. Don't worry about filling the baking sheet, that's not what you're after here. Then let this cool, for say about ten minutes.
Now, the fun part. Get a cutter of some kind. A biscuit cutter, a glass, a measuring cup, something, and start cutting circles out of the semolina. These circles will be your gnocchi. What you do is you take these and start layering them in a buttered baking dish (I didn't tell you about prepping that pan. Sorry). Have them overlap each other , like cards lying on top of each other in solitare. Then put the whole pan in a preheated, 350 oven, and bake it for about twenty minutes.
If you REALLY want to put this dish over the top - ready for this? Grate another half cup of parmesan cheese , and get yet another half stick of butter. Dot the top of the gnocchi with the butter and cheese, and then broil it for five minutes.
Sounds good, doesn't it? It is. It's intended as a first course, and you will have enough here for many first courses. If you decide to use it that way, maybe a grilled piece of meat with nothing on it, a green vegetable and a salad afterward. No dessert after that meal.
But... I cannot tell you how often I have sat there with a big plate of these as my dinner. Followed by salad. Interestingly enough, white wine doesn't work that well with these. A very flowery white, or zinfandel, or something with a great deal of fruit is the wine of choice.
**************************************************************************************
Now, chickens, Annalena needs your help. We are at entry number 297. Rapidly approaching our goal of 300. So, what would you like to know about, in entry 300? Do you want a recipe for some particular item? A story of Annalena's young life with or without Nana? Something else perhaps? Annalena shall try to comply with all reasonable requests, and any unreasonable ones that leave me hot and bothered? If you are silent, you must be satisfied with what will follow.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Feeling nostalgic: Marianne's butternut squash gnocchi
One of the songs that always makes me melt, regardless of who sings it , is The Beatles "In My Life." Look up the lyrics if you don't know it, and see if it doesn't do that to you. I'm sure that there is at least one person it reminds you of. Send off the lyrics immediately. And I bet you wish that someone would send them to YOU as well. (Someone DID send them to me recently. Melted me like gentle heat melts butter).
Marianne Esposito is a cook and cookbook author who has that kind of place in my life. I discovered her by accident one day, when Guy was off at a music retreat, and I was flipping through the TV, looking for something "good to watch." This smiling, heavy set Italian woman was chirping away through recipes, and I JUST LOVED HER STYLE. Interestingly enough, when Guy first saw her on TV, his reaction was "Oh, she's you with a skirt." Marianne and I have met, a couple of times, and we've cooked together. In fact, one day I may write about how she called me up in front of a group of students at a class at Macy's because I was "one of the two handsomest men in the audience." And guess what? Her husband's name is Guy. And like mine, one of his hobbies is photography. So maybe we are the same person.
Anyway, the recipe Marianne was making on the show that day was butternut squash gnocchi. At the end, she ate a few of them, raised her eyebrows and said "these are GOOD." Yes, they are. I don't make them often enough , but I'm getting a hankering to make them. We have some entertaining to do in the future, and this may very well be on the menu.
I have changed Marianne's recipe a little, by leaving out an ingredient(I will explain), and changing the sauce. I have also changed the timing on making it. I turn it into a two day recipe, but that's only because I'm impatient. You need cooked, pureed butternut squash for this, and it takes a while to cool. So I make the squash on one day, and make the gnocchi the second day.
Don't use canned pumpkin here. The texture is just not right. It's too wet, and you wind up adding too much flour. Do it from scratch.
Start by cutting a medium sized butternut squash in half, and scoop out all of the gunkies. Then put it, cut sides down, on a baking sheet. Pour half a cup of water to the baking sheet, and put the whole thing in the oven, and bake it for at least a half hour, at 350. It's hard to determine how long to bake these things, but the way I tell is this: put on an oven mitt, and press down at the middle of the long part of the squash (this is the part that takes the longest to cook). If it's soft enough to yield , it's ready. Let it cool down, and scoop out the squash. You want to drain this a bit, by putting it in a sieve, over something liquid can drain into. You'll get a surprising amount of it. I find it takes a couple of hours to drain completely, and again, you can let this happen in the fridge. Then, take the squash, and mash it with a spoon, a meat pounder, a potato masher, whatever you have. You CAN use a food processor, but you'll release more liquid. After you've done this to the squash, scoop out about a cup and a half of it. If you have left over, use it in soup or muffins or something like that. Take that cup and a half of squash, and add half a cup of grated parmesan, a large egg, and a few scrapings of nutmeg (At this point, Marianne adds some crushed amaretti cookies, a third of a cup. By all means, use them if you like. I think the resulting gnocchi are just a bit too sweet for me). Also add half a teaspoon of salt. Stir everything together.
Now this is the part I like doing the best. You need two cups of all purpose flour. Keep an additional half a cup in reserve. Form it into the shape of a volcano, with a hollow in the center. Put your squash in the hollow.
When you make gnocchi, or pasta, or anything using this technique, what you do is you start stirring the flour into the soft ingredient, almost tablespoon by tablespoon, stirring with a fork. Eventually, you'll get a soft, but solid dough, and then you can get your hands into it and combine everything. Try to be gentle, because if you handle them too heavily, you'll get tough gnocchi.
Did you add enough flour? this is a good question and there is only one way to tell. Get a small pot of water boiling and pinch off a piece about the size of a walnut. Lower the heat to a simmer, and then drop in the dough. If it holds together, you've added enough. If not, add some of that reserved flour (recipes like this are very sensitive to the ambient temperature, humidity and whatnot, so that's why you can't be precise).
Traditionally, what you do at this point is divide the dough into four pieces and roll it into ropes. You can do that if you feel very traditional. But you could also break off pieces about the size of a small walnut, and roll them in your hands. As you do this, put them on paper lined baking sheets. You should get a LOT of them. I don't get the 160 Marianne says the recipe makes, but I do get a hundred or so. If you like the traditional "shape" of a gnocchi, press the back of the tines of a fork into each one. Some feel this helps pick up the sauce. I don't find it necessary, but this is your call.
These guys do not refrigerate well. They FREEZE well, but leaving them in the refrigerator will get them soggy and wet and BLECH. If you aren't going to use them right away, what I would suggest is that you leave them unrefrigerated, with a cloth thrown over them to keep your cat's hair from getting in them.
When you're ready to cook these, it's important to cook them gently. In my experience, the biggest problem people have with gnocchi is they boil them like pasta. Nope. You want a simmer, and unless you have a REALLY big pot, don't do more than a quarter at a time. Use well salted water, and drop in the gnocchi. Stir them gently, because they tend to fall to the bottom of the pot and stick. Eventually, they will begin to come to the top of the pot, which means they're ready. Scoop them out with a slotted spoon or a salamander spoon, something like that.
Now, these take SO well to an herb butter sauce, that I can' t think of eating them any other way. I have had them with rosemary sauce, and sage sauce. I like sage better, but both will work. To make it, - ready for this - it's REAL complicated - melt a stick of butter or two sticks. Add about ten sage leaves, or three or four sprigs of rosemary and let this sit for ten minutes.
Think you could handle that sauce? As the gnocchi come out of the pot, drop them into the sauce. Stir it gently, and then add a bit more parmesan to the top.
IF you didn't use the cookies, and you are having your doubts, now you can crumble some and put the crumbs over the pasta. But I suggest you don't do that.
"In my life, I've loved them all." You know you feel it. So make these. Or ask someone to make them for you. But hell, whether you do one or both of those, get those lyrics and send them to someone with a note saying "I've been thinking of you."
Marianne Esposito is a cook and cookbook author who has that kind of place in my life. I discovered her by accident one day, when Guy was off at a music retreat, and I was flipping through the TV, looking for something "good to watch." This smiling, heavy set Italian woman was chirping away through recipes, and I JUST LOVED HER STYLE. Interestingly enough, when Guy first saw her on TV, his reaction was "Oh, she's you with a skirt." Marianne and I have met, a couple of times, and we've cooked together. In fact, one day I may write about how she called me up in front of a group of students at a class at Macy's because I was "one of the two handsomest men in the audience." And guess what? Her husband's name is Guy. And like mine, one of his hobbies is photography. So maybe we are the same person.
Anyway, the recipe Marianne was making on the show that day was butternut squash gnocchi. At the end, she ate a few of them, raised her eyebrows and said "these are GOOD." Yes, they are. I don't make them often enough , but I'm getting a hankering to make them. We have some entertaining to do in the future, and this may very well be on the menu.
I have changed Marianne's recipe a little, by leaving out an ingredient(I will explain), and changing the sauce. I have also changed the timing on making it. I turn it into a two day recipe, but that's only because I'm impatient. You need cooked, pureed butternut squash for this, and it takes a while to cool. So I make the squash on one day, and make the gnocchi the second day.
Don't use canned pumpkin here. The texture is just not right. It's too wet, and you wind up adding too much flour. Do it from scratch.
Start by cutting a medium sized butternut squash in half, and scoop out all of the gunkies. Then put it, cut sides down, on a baking sheet. Pour half a cup of water to the baking sheet, and put the whole thing in the oven, and bake it for at least a half hour, at 350. It's hard to determine how long to bake these things, but the way I tell is this: put on an oven mitt, and press down at the middle of the long part of the squash (this is the part that takes the longest to cook). If it's soft enough to yield , it's ready. Let it cool down, and scoop out the squash. You want to drain this a bit, by putting it in a sieve, over something liquid can drain into. You'll get a surprising amount of it. I find it takes a couple of hours to drain completely, and again, you can let this happen in the fridge. Then, take the squash, and mash it with a spoon, a meat pounder, a potato masher, whatever you have. You CAN use a food processor, but you'll release more liquid. After you've done this to the squash, scoop out about a cup and a half of it. If you have left over, use it in soup or muffins or something like that. Take that cup and a half of squash, and add half a cup of grated parmesan, a large egg, and a few scrapings of nutmeg (At this point, Marianne adds some crushed amaretti cookies, a third of a cup. By all means, use them if you like. I think the resulting gnocchi are just a bit too sweet for me). Also add half a teaspoon of salt. Stir everything together.
Now this is the part I like doing the best. You need two cups of all purpose flour. Keep an additional half a cup in reserve. Form it into the shape of a volcano, with a hollow in the center. Put your squash in the hollow.
When you make gnocchi, or pasta, or anything using this technique, what you do is you start stirring the flour into the soft ingredient, almost tablespoon by tablespoon, stirring with a fork. Eventually, you'll get a soft, but solid dough, and then you can get your hands into it and combine everything. Try to be gentle, because if you handle them too heavily, you'll get tough gnocchi.
Did you add enough flour? this is a good question and there is only one way to tell. Get a small pot of water boiling and pinch off a piece about the size of a walnut. Lower the heat to a simmer, and then drop in the dough. If it holds together, you've added enough. If not, add some of that reserved flour (recipes like this are very sensitive to the ambient temperature, humidity and whatnot, so that's why you can't be precise).
Traditionally, what you do at this point is divide the dough into four pieces and roll it into ropes. You can do that if you feel very traditional. But you could also break off pieces about the size of a small walnut, and roll them in your hands. As you do this, put them on paper lined baking sheets. You should get a LOT of them. I don't get the 160 Marianne says the recipe makes, but I do get a hundred or so. If you like the traditional "shape" of a gnocchi, press the back of the tines of a fork into each one. Some feel this helps pick up the sauce. I don't find it necessary, but this is your call.
These guys do not refrigerate well. They FREEZE well, but leaving them in the refrigerator will get them soggy and wet and BLECH. If you aren't going to use them right away, what I would suggest is that you leave them unrefrigerated, with a cloth thrown over them to keep your cat's hair from getting in them.
When you're ready to cook these, it's important to cook them gently. In my experience, the biggest problem people have with gnocchi is they boil them like pasta. Nope. You want a simmer, and unless you have a REALLY big pot, don't do more than a quarter at a time. Use well salted water, and drop in the gnocchi. Stir them gently, because they tend to fall to the bottom of the pot and stick. Eventually, they will begin to come to the top of the pot, which means they're ready. Scoop them out with a slotted spoon or a salamander spoon, something like that.
Now, these take SO well to an herb butter sauce, that I can' t think of eating them any other way. I have had them with rosemary sauce, and sage sauce. I like sage better, but both will work. To make it, - ready for this - it's REAL complicated - melt a stick of butter or two sticks. Add about ten sage leaves, or three or four sprigs of rosemary and let this sit for ten minutes.
Think you could handle that sauce? As the gnocchi come out of the pot, drop them into the sauce. Stir it gently, and then add a bit more parmesan to the top.
IF you didn't use the cookies, and you are having your doubts, now you can crumble some and put the crumbs over the pasta. But I suggest you don't do that.
"In my life, I've loved them all." You know you feel it. So make these. Or ask someone to make them for you. But hell, whether you do one or both of those, get those lyrics and send them to someone with a note saying "I've been thinking of you."
Monday, October 27, 2008
Borrowing from Justin: crostini of squash, trout and creme fraiche
The "Justin" in the title is one of my favorite cooks. I should, properly call him a chef, but one of the reasons I adore Jonathan is that if you asked him, he'd tell you "never call me a chef. I'm a cook." Justin "gets it." There isn't ego there, there's just a whole lot of talent.
Justin did the cooking for our recent commitment ceremony. There has been nothing but a contented sigh from the assembled masses about that meal. It truly was wonderful.
I steal from Justin all the time. I eat something that he cooks, I go home and I copy it. Or I make a change in it and claim it's my recipe, and I don't give him credit. And when he reads this, he's gonna laugh (cause I suspect Justin is as much a thief as I am, but show me a cook who isn't).
Anyway, there was a whole lot of good eating going on at the cocktail hour at that ceremony. Yours truly had his share of cocktails, so I don't remember precisely what some of those pass around goodies were, but I remember certain ingredients. I remember butternut squash. I remember smoked trout. And I remember crostini. I don't remember creme fraiche, but maybe it was there. But in any case, I didn't ask Justin for his recipe, and you know what? With his food, you don't need to. Once you eat it, it seems so "self evident," that you can do it. Here's how I did mine.
You start, of course, with toasts. I used a baguette that I had sliced into pieces about a quarter to a third of an inch thick and baked them for ten minutes at 350. This crisped them, without giving them any color.
While they were baking, I took the NECK of a small butternut squash (the long part), peeled it, and then cut it into half moons. I tossed this with some olive oil and salt and then layed out the half moons on a baking sheet, and put them into the oven, which I had increased to 425. I checked after ten minutes, and the squash had softened, and begun to color. I let them cool, while I got to work on the smoked trout.
Now, a word of warning with trout. There are bones. There are LOTS of small bones. It's almost impossible to work the fish and get all those bones out, if you're working yourself, as I was. But it's very easy to get the meat off of the carcass of a smoked fish. Just bend back the head and tail and they'll break off. The meat separates from the skin very easily and just do the best you can at pulling out bones. Again, you won't get them all, and just make sure people know that they should look for those little "pin bones." You'll have a nice pile of smoked fish.
Put a slice of butternut squash on top of each crostino, and then add a bit of the smoked fish. Finally, a little dollop of creme fraiche to finish it off, and you're there.
If you really want to gild t his lilly, and you have it, a few trout eggs on top adds some additional color, but this is really unnecessary. The combination of the white, the orange, and the pale pink of the fish makes a really pretty color combination that is very appealing during a time of the year when you think everything is getting dark and gloomy. And it tastes good too.
Give it a try.
Justin did the cooking for our recent commitment ceremony. There has been nothing but a contented sigh from the assembled masses about that meal. It truly was wonderful.
I steal from Justin all the time. I eat something that he cooks, I go home and I copy it. Or I make a change in it and claim it's my recipe, and I don't give him credit. And when he reads this, he's gonna laugh (cause I suspect Justin is as much a thief as I am, but show me a cook who isn't).
Anyway, there was a whole lot of good eating going on at the cocktail hour at that ceremony. Yours truly had his share of cocktails, so I don't remember precisely what some of those pass around goodies were, but I remember certain ingredients. I remember butternut squash. I remember smoked trout. And I remember crostini. I don't remember creme fraiche, but maybe it was there. But in any case, I didn't ask Justin for his recipe, and you know what? With his food, you don't need to. Once you eat it, it seems so "self evident," that you can do it. Here's how I did mine.
You start, of course, with toasts. I used a baguette that I had sliced into pieces about a quarter to a third of an inch thick and baked them for ten minutes at 350. This crisped them, without giving them any color.
While they were baking, I took the NECK of a small butternut squash (the long part), peeled it, and then cut it into half moons. I tossed this with some olive oil and salt and then layed out the half moons on a baking sheet, and put them into the oven, which I had increased to 425. I checked after ten minutes, and the squash had softened, and begun to color. I let them cool, while I got to work on the smoked trout.
Now, a word of warning with trout. There are bones. There are LOTS of small bones. It's almost impossible to work the fish and get all those bones out, if you're working yourself, as I was. But it's very easy to get the meat off of the carcass of a smoked fish. Just bend back the head and tail and they'll break off. The meat separates from the skin very easily and just do the best you can at pulling out bones. Again, you won't get them all, and just make sure people know that they should look for those little "pin bones." You'll have a nice pile of smoked fish.
Put a slice of butternut squash on top of each crostino, and then add a bit of the smoked fish. Finally, a little dollop of creme fraiche to finish it off, and you're there.
If you really want to gild t his lilly, and you have it, a few trout eggs on top adds some additional color, but this is really unnecessary. The combination of the white, the orange, and the pale pink of the fish makes a really pretty color combination that is very appealing during a time of the year when you think everything is getting dark and gloomy. And it tastes good too.
Give it a try.
Bringing out the flavor: roasted vegetable soups
As the weather is cooling down - and it IS cooler this year than it was last year (so much for global warming!), my mind turns to dishes with deeper, richer flavors. At the same time, many of the items that are an essential part of my summer kitchen are gone. I looked in vain this weekend for a leaf of pesto, and it was no easy task to get some thyme. (Nevia bailed me out). As the list of available ingredients shrinks, the task of a cook is to be somewhat creative, and think of new ways to work with what is , essentially, a limited color palette of flavors.
That's a"BLOCK THAT METAPHOR" if there ever were one, isn't it? Sorry. It's Monday, I'm sort of exhausted, and I'm just doing the best I can to set this one up.
OK, so let me get to the food. In cold weather, I cook a lot of soups. Some are improvised and take minutes. Others take a bit longer. This one is somewhere in between, and it really serves as a model for a whole variety of soups you can make.
My friend Chuck made me a soup of roasted root vegetables a couple of years ago that I still remember. There must have been about six different veggies in that wonderful puree. And I was thinking about that as I made this soup, which appeared in Gourmet magazine.
Fennel, as faithful readers will know, is one of my favorite things in the world. When we were kids, and Nana was making thanksgiving dinner, my favorite part was at the end, when she would pull out slices of fennel, with olive oil and salt, and we'd just crunch away. I later found out that this was (and may still be), a traditional part of southern Italian festival eating. I think they call it pizzimonio or something like that, and occasionally you'll have it offered to you in a really
traditional, southern Italian restaurant . These days, I use it in salad, I make it in a dish with cheese and butter (and I wrote about that one), and now, in this delicious soup.
When you roast vegetables, in fact when you roast anything, you are essentially making caramel. All that browning you see on a piece of a roast, or a vegetable, etc, is the natural sugars in the product, reacting as you heat them, to the point where they carmelize. So when you roast vegetables, they are going to taste sweeter. You need to keep this in mind when y ou're adjusting your seasonings for the end product.
OK, here we go. You need a large onion, peeled and quartered. You also need 3-4 cloves of garlic, a pound of carrots (that's usually one large bunch), and either one very large fennel bulb, all the fronds removed, or two smaller ones, treated the same way.
Cut the carrots into large chunks, say three or four per carrot, and then slice the fennel bulbs lengthwise, about a quarter to a third of an inch thick. Take all of those vegetables, and toss them in a bowl with five tablespoons of olive oil, and a scant tablespoon of salt. Get your hands in there and work the oil all over everything. Then dump it all out on a baking sheet, and put it in an oven that's been preheated to 450 - 475 if you feel comfortable going that high. Make sure everything is spread out on the pan so that everything gets good contact with the baking sheet.
You're going to roast these vegetables for a half hour. Every ten minutes or so, I suggest going in and stirring them, and perhaps flipping the fennel so that the top becomes the bottom, (NOW NOW, BOYS), and everything gets sort of soft.
You'll have some pieces that are fairly charred, some that aren't charred at all, and of course, some in between. Now, what the recipe TELLS you to do is to puree half the vegetables with chicken stock, and half of them with water, then to combine them and adjust the seasonings with salt and fennel seed.
If you're a vegetarian, don't use the chicken stock. What you should then do is kick up the seasonings, perhaps with some additional olive oil, or some crispy vegetables or something like that. OR - as I did this weekend - make a pesto. I dressed up each bowl of the soup with a big spoon of the sage pesto I talked about a few entries ago.
You can eat this soup cold. If you do, the taste of the fennel will be very pronounced. That's fine with me, but if it's not to your liking, then you'll either want to heat it, or perhaps modify the flavor by blending in a cup or so of milk or buttermilk, or even a good quality yogurt.
This is the kind of recipe that, of course, admits to many variations. If you're eating seasonally, you're going to be eating a LOT of root vegetables in the near future. My own vegetable crisper is crammed with turnips, because I used the greens for another purpose this weekend, and I'm thinking of what might go with turnips in a soup. I'm leaning toward chestnuts. If anyone has any ideas, bring em on, but keep in mind that the turnips are going to be at the center of this. I'll let you know how it turns out.
That's a"BLOCK THAT METAPHOR" if there ever were one, isn't it? Sorry. It's Monday, I'm sort of exhausted, and I'm just doing the best I can to set this one up.
OK, so let me get to the food. In cold weather, I cook a lot of soups. Some are improvised and take minutes. Others take a bit longer. This one is somewhere in between, and it really serves as a model for a whole variety of soups you can make.
My friend Chuck made me a soup of roasted root vegetables a couple of years ago that I still remember. There must have been about six different veggies in that wonderful puree. And I was thinking about that as I made this soup, which appeared in Gourmet magazine.
Fennel, as faithful readers will know, is one of my favorite things in the world. When we were kids, and Nana was making thanksgiving dinner, my favorite part was at the end, when she would pull out slices of fennel, with olive oil and salt, and we'd just crunch away. I later found out that this was (and may still be), a traditional part of southern Italian festival eating. I think they call it pizzimonio or something like that, and occasionally you'll have it offered to you in a really
traditional, southern Italian restaurant . These days, I use it in salad, I make it in a dish with cheese and butter (and I wrote about that one), and now, in this delicious soup.
When you roast vegetables, in fact when you roast anything, you are essentially making caramel. All that browning you see on a piece of a roast, or a vegetable, etc, is the natural sugars in the product, reacting as you heat them, to the point where they carmelize. So when you roast vegetables, they are going to taste sweeter. You need to keep this in mind when y ou're adjusting your seasonings for the end product.
OK, here we go. You need a large onion, peeled and quartered. You also need 3-4 cloves of garlic, a pound of carrots (that's usually one large bunch), and either one very large fennel bulb, all the fronds removed, or two smaller ones, treated the same way.
Cut the carrots into large chunks, say three or four per carrot, and then slice the fennel bulbs lengthwise, about a quarter to a third of an inch thick. Take all of those vegetables, and toss them in a bowl with five tablespoons of olive oil, and a scant tablespoon of salt. Get your hands in there and work the oil all over everything. Then dump it all out on a baking sheet, and put it in an oven that's been preheated to 450 - 475 if you feel comfortable going that high. Make sure everything is spread out on the pan so that everything gets good contact with the baking sheet.
You're going to roast these vegetables for a half hour. Every ten minutes or so, I suggest going in and stirring them, and perhaps flipping the fennel so that the top becomes the bottom, (NOW NOW, BOYS), and everything gets sort of soft.
You'll have some pieces that are fairly charred, some that aren't charred at all, and of course, some in between. Now, what the recipe TELLS you to do is to puree half the vegetables with chicken stock, and half of them with water, then to combine them and adjust the seasonings with salt and fennel seed.
If you're a vegetarian, don't use the chicken stock. What you should then do is kick up the seasonings, perhaps with some additional olive oil, or some crispy vegetables or something like that. OR - as I did this weekend - make a pesto. I dressed up each bowl of the soup with a big spoon of the sage pesto I talked about a few entries ago.
You can eat this soup cold. If you do, the taste of the fennel will be very pronounced. That's fine with me, but if it's not to your liking, then you'll either want to heat it, or perhaps modify the flavor by blending in a cup or so of milk or buttermilk, or even a good quality yogurt.
This is the kind of recipe that, of course, admits to many variations. If you're eating seasonally, you're going to be eating a LOT of root vegetables in the near future. My own vegetable crisper is crammed with turnips, because I used the greens for another purpose this weekend, and I'm thinking of what might go with turnips in a soup. I'm leaning toward chestnuts. If anyone has any ideas, bring em on, but keep in mind that the turnips are going to be at the center of this. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Friday, October 24, 2008
A pasta polemic
Let's face it: we LOVE pasta. For all of the anti-carb eaters out there, we LOVE pasta. It's my favorite food: when nothing else will work, a bowl of spaghetti or linguine (more on this below), with plain tomato sauce and parmesan cheese will. Let's face it: somwhere on your list of ten favorite foods, there is at least one pasta related dish, be it an Italian classic, spaghetti and meatballs, macaroni and cheese, it's there. You probably have a box of pasta in your house somewhere.
And there are SO MAY RULES we get told about pasta. Some that I have heard, and enforce to one degree or another are: sauces with olive oil base: long pasta, sauces with a butter base: stubby pasta. Sauce with chunks: chunky pasta. Smooth sauces: long pasta. Cheese? Yes with meat, no with fish. Small pasta in soup, no big pasta in soup. Always al dente. Never use a knife and fork when you're eating it. Fresh pasta is better than dry pasta.
HOLD ON. What is eating all about? It's about PLEASURE. I would like to propose a rather radical solution: Let's throw out all rules about pasta.
Except one. Sorry about that one. But I'll get to that.
See, everyone has his or her own favorite way of cooking, and eating pasta. I remember last year teaching my friend Andrew how to make fettucine alfredo (which is NOT an Italian recipe, although Italy HAS adopted it). Fettucine alfredo calls for fresh pasta, and we cooked it to a point where I thought it was too soft. Andrew thought it was too firm. Does that make me right and him wrong ? I COULD say "well, I have more Italian blood in me, so I'm right (and I may think it in my heart), but the fact is, no I'm not right, and I'm not wrong. Neither one of us is either. He prefers a more cooked pasta, I prefer a more firm one. No one says "you're wrong ifyou like choclate cake, but not lemon cake," do they (OK, I do that too).
Knife with a pasta? You know, it kind of skeeves me, but for heaven's sake, whatever works for you. Remember that there was a time when people didn't use cutlery at all. GET OVER IT.
I could go on and on and on. And I know, I usually do. But I want to focus on one dish today, which to me sort of typifies how all of these "rules'" are artificial. And that's linguine with white clam sauce. One of my favorite dishes.
Clams. Chunky or smooth? No brainer. So why are we using long pasta? Hmmmmmmm? No butter in this sauce, it's olive oil based. So why are we using long pasta? Hmmmmmmm?
You will NEVER find a restaurant serving "fusilli with clam sauce," or "rotelli with clam sauce." But I KNOW you've heard both of those rules. And frankly, if you want to use them with clams, by all means, use them.
So, let's make that dish . It is really, REALLY easy. Here's my version. You need six clams per person, the smallest ones you can find. Wash them in cold water, and rub them to make sure they're not dirty or that they don't have "stuff" stuck to their shells. That "stuff" will come off in the cooking. You will also need one or two cloves of garlic per person, and also 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil per person. I like using a handful of chopped parsley and I also like a tablespoon of hot red pepper in mine. You can leave these out. Some people like fennel and its fronds. That's also good. Finally, you are also going to need a liquid of some kind, about half to three quarters of a cup. White wine is traditional. If you feel uncomfortable with wine in your sauce, use chicken stock, or clam juice. Keep all of these ingredients at the side. Get a BIG, wide pan ready, and put it on the burner next to the pot where you're going to cook your pasta. I allocate a quarter pound of dry pasta per person, which many Italians will say is too much pasta, but I find it's the right size for me and my crew. I cover the pot to get the water boiling faster, and when it comes to the boil, I add two tablespoons of salt. I put in the pasta and stir it. When the pasta begins to go down in the pot, I cover it, but not completely, until the water comes back to the boil (if you cover it all the way, the starch will climb up, push its way out of the pot, and you will have a mess like you've never seen before).
As soon as you start cooking the pasta, put the flame on under the pan and add the olive oil. When it's hot, add the peeled garlic cloves. I don't chop them, but you can if you like. Then add your other vegetable ingredients. Finally, toss in your clams, and add your liquid. Cover that pan TIGHTLY, and lower the heat.
Some of the clams are going to start opening after about three-five minutes, and some are going to be more recalcitrant. After ten minutes, if there are any that aren't opened....
I bet you thought I was going to say throw them out. NOPE. You're going to do something first. Take a small knife and push the tip of it into the wide part of the clam. See, sometimes the clams die so fast that they don't get a chance to open. The trigger of the knife gets them to open. Do this at ten, and at fifteen minutes of cooking. Then, and only then, should you toss unopened clams. You spent the money for them, don't throw away good food.
By now, your pasta is just about ready. What I do is I scoop out half a cup of pasta water and put it to the side. Then I get a big spoon or tongues, and ladle the pasta into the clams and sauce. If you don't have those tools, drain the pasta into a colander and then toss it into the sauce and clams. Stir it around. If it doesn't look "soupy" enough for you ,add some of the pasta water until you have it where you want it. It should be salty enough, too. Leave the clams in their shells, and serve the dish in big bowls, preferably with some toast and a place for people to toss their shells, as they pull out the clams. This is a dish for families and friends, it ain't pretty and it ain't polite.
Ok, now with this dish I have to tackle the last rule: cheese and fish. Oh, heavens, does this one give Annalena grief. Several of Annalena's friends take a good dose of parmesan in this preparation, and there are others where, (sigh), there are cream sauces with scallops, with cheese over them, or smoked salmon (which most assuredly is NOT Italian), with mascarpone cheese, or shrimp with ricotta.
So, here's Annalena's position on this. Not in my house. Sorry, but no, no no no no. This is one where I draw the line. I happen to think this rule is correct, and the taste of cheese with fish on pasta is very repellant to me. I of course cannot control what you do in your own home, and you should always make sure that you cook to suit yourself. But in someone else's home, be a gentleman or a gentlewoman. If it's a fish based sauce, and you are not offered cheese, dont ask for it. Endure your suffering, and perhaps you can ask your host if he will serve some of his delicious parmesan cheese with the dessert course. Annalena will always do it.
Sorry Keith. I couldn't do it. But if we make it at your house, put all the cheese on it you like. I won't even make a face. :)
And there are SO MAY RULES we get told about pasta. Some that I have heard, and enforce to one degree or another are: sauces with olive oil base: long pasta, sauces with a butter base: stubby pasta. Sauce with chunks: chunky pasta. Smooth sauces: long pasta. Cheese? Yes with meat, no with fish. Small pasta in soup, no big pasta in soup. Always al dente. Never use a knife and fork when you're eating it. Fresh pasta is better than dry pasta.
HOLD ON. What is eating all about? It's about PLEASURE. I would like to propose a rather radical solution: Let's throw out all rules about pasta.
Except one. Sorry about that one. But I'll get to that.
See, everyone has his or her own favorite way of cooking, and eating pasta. I remember last year teaching my friend Andrew how to make fettucine alfredo (which is NOT an Italian recipe, although Italy HAS adopted it). Fettucine alfredo calls for fresh pasta, and we cooked it to a point where I thought it was too soft. Andrew thought it was too firm. Does that make me right and him wrong ? I COULD say "well, I have more Italian blood in me, so I'm right (and I may think it in my heart), but the fact is, no I'm not right, and I'm not wrong. Neither one of us is either. He prefers a more cooked pasta, I prefer a more firm one. No one says "you're wrong ifyou like choclate cake, but not lemon cake," do they (OK, I do that too).
Knife with a pasta? You know, it kind of skeeves me, but for heaven's sake, whatever works for you. Remember that there was a time when people didn't use cutlery at all. GET OVER IT.
I could go on and on and on. And I know, I usually do. But I want to focus on one dish today, which to me sort of typifies how all of these "rules'" are artificial. And that's linguine with white clam sauce. One of my favorite dishes.
Clams. Chunky or smooth? No brainer. So why are we using long pasta? Hmmmmmmm? No butter in this sauce, it's olive oil based. So why are we using long pasta? Hmmmmmmm?
You will NEVER find a restaurant serving "fusilli with clam sauce," or "rotelli with clam sauce." But I KNOW you've heard both of those rules. And frankly, if you want to use them with clams, by all means, use them.
So, let's make that dish . It is really, REALLY easy. Here's my version. You need six clams per person, the smallest ones you can find. Wash them in cold water, and rub them to make sure they're not dirty or that they don't have "stuff" stuck to their shells. That "stuff" will come off in the cooking. You will also need one or two cloves of garlic per person, and also 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil per person. I like using a handful of chopped parsley and I also like a tablespoon of hot red pepper in mine. You can leave these out. Some people like fennel and its fronds. That's also good. Finally, you are also going to need a liquid of some kind, about half to three quarters of a cup. White wine is traditional. If you feel uncomfortable with wine in your sauce, use chicken stock, or clam juice. Keep all of these ingredients at the side. Get a BIG, wide pan ready, and put it on the burner next to the pot where you're going to cook your pasta. I allocate a quarter pound of dry pasta per person, which many Italians will say is too much pasta, but I find it's the right size for me and my crew. I cover the pot to get the water boiling faster, and when it comes to the boil, I add two tablespoons of salt. I put in the pasta and stir it. When the pasta begins to go down in the pot, I cover it, but not completely, until the water comes back to the boil (if you cover it all the way, the starch will climb up, push its way out of the pot, and you will have a mess like you've never seen before).
As soon as you start cooking the pasta, put the flame on under the pan and add the olive oil. When it's hot, add the peeled garlic cloves. I don't chop them, but you can if you like. Then add your other vegetable ingredients. Finally, toss in your clams, and add your liquid. Cover that pan TIGHTLY, and lower the heat.
Some of the clams are going to start opening after about three-five minutes, and some are going to be more recalcitrant. After ten minutes, if there are any that aren't opened....
I bet you thought I was going to say throw them out. NOPE. You're going to do something first. Take a small knife and push the tip of it into the wide part of the clam. See, sometimes the clams die so fast that they don't get a chance to open. The trigger of the knife gets them to open. Do this at ten, and at fifteen minutes of cooking. Then, and only then, should you toss unopened clams. You spent the money for them, don't throw away good food.
By now, your pasta is just about ready. What I do is I scoop out half a cup of pasta water and put it to the side. Then I get a big spoon or tongues, and ladle the pasta into the clams and sauce. If you don't have those tools, drain the pasta into a colander and then toss it into the sauce and clams. Stir it around. If it doesn't look "soupy" enough for you ,add some of the pasta water until you have it where you want it. It should be salty enough, too. Leave the clams in their shells, and serve the dish in big bowls, preferably with some toast and a place for people to toss their shells, as they pull out the clams. This is a dish for families and friends, it ain't pretty and it ain't polite.
Ok, now with this dish I have to tackle the last rule: cheese and fish. Oh, heavens, does this one give Annalena grief. Several of Annalena's friends take a good dose of parmesan in this preparation, and there are others where, (sigh), there are cream sauces with scallops, with cheese over them, or smoked salmon (which most assuredly is NOT Italian), with mascarpone cheese, or shrimp with ricotta.
So, here's Annalena's position on this. Not in my house. Sorry, but no, no no no no. This is one where I draw the line. I happen to think this rule is correct, and the taste of cheese with fish on pasta is very repellant to me. I of course cannot control what you do in your own home, and you should always make sure that you cook to suit yourself. But in someone else's home, be a gentleman or a gentlewoman. If it's a fish based sauce, and you are not offered cheese, dont ask for it. Endure your suffering, and perhaps you can ask your host if he will serve some of his delicious parmesan cheese with the dessert course. Annalena will always do it.
Sorry Keith. I couldn't do it. But if we make it at your house, put all the cheese on it you like. I won't even make a face. :)
A baker's basic: pastry cream
There is all sorts of mystery around those professionals we call "pastry chefs." Somehow, they are different from the others. Many people may aspire to be chefs, but very few feel like they can take on the task of "pastry chef." Indeed, when I teach people cooking, there is a deep rooted fear of cakes, pies, ice cream, anything that falls under the category of "dessert". Yet, how many of you out there will say that your best part of a meal is dessert?
In fact, "pastry", as they usually call the whole field of dessert making, IS more precise than other types of cooking. It's not as precise as mythology would have it, but it IS precise. You CAN burn things easily if you bake them a few minutes longer than you should. You CAN spoil a dessert by not adding enough sugar, or forgetting all together (I've done that). There are pitfalls all along the way - but they're not all that different from the pitfalls of regular cooking. And the truth is, with a few basics, you can be a fairly good dessert maker. You won't feel comfortable enough to be a "pastry chef" or a "dessert specialist," but you needn't be afraid anymore.
Yours truly is not all that fond of dessert making, truth to be told. To me, desserts take an incredibly long amount of time. Also, since I like the other components of a meal so much better, by the time we get to dessert, I usually almost don't taste it. I prefer to have my "dessert" as it were, at a time in mid afternoon, or later in the evening , when I'm between meals, or when the dinner has settled. Having said that, however, I do know how to make certain things that are key to the pastry kitchen. You've seen some of them in preceding pages. I will provide more. And one of the key ones is an item that makes people who know how to make it cringe in disgust: pastry cream.
"Pastry cream" is a poor choice of words, because there is no cream, in pastry cream. It's an amalgalm of milk, flour, eggs, and sugar, which if left alone, tastes like a slightly sweet version of wallpaper paste, or bad mashed potatoes. It serves, however, as a vehicle for many flavors. It's the stuff you usually get in cream puffs, when you don't get whipped cream. You find it on the bottom of fruit tarts, flavored with different things (which is what we're going to do here today), and you will also find it as a filling for some layer cakes. It is a useful thing to know how to make. Let's learn.
To begin, combine a third of a cup of flour and a third of a cup of sugar . Mix them together, and put them aside. Then separate six large eggs. You can use the egg whites for something else, you're only going to need the yolks here. Break them up with a whisk or a fork, or whatever you have to do that.
Now, heat up two cups of milk in a heavy duty pot. You're going to SCALD it. What is scalding? Scalding is heating the milk to the point where certain chemical reactions go on, which are tedious to describe and not really all that important. What you need to know is that scalding happens when little bubbles form around the perimeter of your milk. When that happens, pour the milk into the bowl with the flour and sugar, and stir it until everything is dissolved and smooth. It won't take long. Pour this all back into your pot, and then add the eggs, turn the heat to low, and start heating.
Now, how long do you cook? This is a good question. If you have a thermometer, it is an easy one to answer: 170 degrees. If you do not, it is harder. You are waiting for the stuff to thicken, take on a sheen, and coat a spoon. You "know" when it's ready after you've seen it cooked to temperature once, and you'll never forget it. I wish I could be more precise than that , but I can't.
OK, now taste this. BLECH. It is UGLY. I am serious. This is truly TRULY UGLY. But unlike something like bakers icing, this has potential. I don't quite know the why or the wherefor of thsi, but somehow, this disgusting, white mass, becomes something wonderful, with flavoring. You can add any liqueur you want, for example, or any flavoring. You can add lemon peel, or orange peel, or anything you really like. And you don't have to worry about overdoing it.
Today, I made the pastre cream, and then crumbled six amaretti cookies into it, giving it a very lovely, light almond flavor . I am using this under a poached pear tart, so the flavor is right.
You DO have to cool this to make it thicken completely. And you also have to cook it to that temperature to make it do so.
I suggest that you make this once, and then flavor it with vanilla the first time. You COULD also cook the milk with a vanilla bean if you like. When it cools off, use it to fill a cream puff shell, or to put in between cake layers . I think you will soon find how useful this is.
I know that pastry chefs make MOUNDS of this stuff every day. I don't think any home cook needs any more, at any one time, than the recipe presented here makes. I have tried to double it, and it works, but you really have to be careful with the milk. And the thought of separating a dozen eggs may really drive you crazy. But if you need it, well... You gotta do it.
In fact, "pastry", as they usually call the whole field of dessert making, IS more precise than other types of cooking. It's not as precise as mythology would have it, but it IS precise. You CAN burn things easily if you bake them a few minutes longer than you should. You CAN spoil a dessert by not adding enough sugar, or forgetting all together (I've done that). There are pitfalls all along the way - but they're not all that different from the pitfalls of regular cooking. And the truth is, with a few basics, you can be a fairly good dessert maker. You won't feel comfortable enough to be a "pastry chef" or a "dessert specialist," but you needn't be afraid anymore.
Yours truly is not all that fond of dessert making, truth to be told. To me, desserts take an incredibly long amount of time. Also, since I like the other components of a meal so much better, by the time we get to dessert, I usually almost don't taste it. I prefer to have my "dessert" as it were, at a time in mid afternoon, or later in the evening , when I'm between meals, or when the dinner has settled. Having said that, however, I do know how to make certain things that are key to the pastry kitchen. You've seen some of them in preceding pages. I will provide more. And one of the key ones is an item that makes people who know how to make it cringe in disgust: pastry cream.
"Pastry cream" is a poor choice of words, because there is no cream, in pastry cream. It's an amalgalm of milk, flour, eggs, and sugar, which if left alone, tastes like a slightly sweet version of wallpaper paste, or bad mashed potatoes. It serves, however, as a vehicle for many flavors. It's the stuff you usually get in cream puffs, when you don't get whipped cream. You find it on the bottom of fruit tarts, flavored with different things (which is what we're going to do here today), and you will also find it as a filling for some layer cakes. It is a useful thing to know how to make. Let's learn.
To begin, combine a third of a cup of flour and a third of a cup of sugar . Mix them together, and put them aside. Then separate six large eggs. You can use the egg whites for something else, you're only going to need the yolks here. Break them up with a whisk or a fork, or whatever you have to do that.
Now, heat up two cups of milk in a heavy duty pot. You're going to SCALD it. What is scalding? Scalding is heating the milk to the point where certain chemical reactions go on, which are tedious to describe and not really all that important. What you need to know is that scalding happens when little bubbles form around the perimeter of your milk. When that happens, pour the milk into the bowl with the flour and sugar, and stir it until everything is dissolved and smooth. It won't take long. Pour this all back into your pot, and then add the eggs, turn the heat to low, and start heating.
Now, how long do you cook? This is a good question. If you have a thermometer, it is an easy one to answer: 170 degrees. If you do not, it is harder. You are waiting for the stuff to thicken, take on a sheen, and coat a spoon. You "know" when it's ready after you've seen it cooked to temperature once, and you'll never forget it. I wish I could be more precise than that , but I can't.
OK, now taste this. BLECH. It is UGLY. I am serious. This is truly TRULY UGLY. But unlike something like bakers icing, this has potential. I don't quite know the why or the wherefor of thsi, but somehow, this disgusting, white mass, becomes something wonderful, with flavoring. You can add any liqueur you want, for example, or any flavoring. You can add lemon peel, or orange peel, or anything you really like. And you don't have to worry about overdoing it.
Today, I made the pastre cream, and then crumbled six amaretti cookies into it, giving it a very lovely, light almond flavor . I am using this under a poached pear tart, so the flavor is right.
You DO have to cool this to make it thicken completely. And you also have to cook it to that temperature to make it do so.
I suggest that you make this once, and then flavor it with vanilla the first time. You COULD also cook the milk with a vanilla bean if you like. When it cools off, use it to fill a cream puff shell, or to put in between cake layers . I think you will soon find how useful this is.
I know that pastry chefs make MOUNDS of this stuff every day. I don't think any home cook needs any more, at any one time, than the recipe presented here makes. I have tried to double it, and it works, but you really have to be careful with the milk. And the thought of separating a dozen eggs may really drive you crazy. But if you need it, well... You gotta do it.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
You have to have a recipe for chocolate chip cookies
Yes, you do. Even yours truly, who is decidedly NOT a fan of them, makes them. Why? Well, make a batch of them someday, and put them in front of people. Warm, cold, hot, whatever, watch faces light up. Honestly, I don't get it. Bring the oatmeal cookies out for me, but hey, who am I to argue? There was a time when I was making a batch of these every week (but then again, there was a time when I had a 33 inch waist. I DID!!! Don't call me a liar, I'll show you the pictures).
There. I feel much better. The thing about these is that they seem to remind people of everything that was "good" about childhood, even if there wasn't much. Some people have told me that eating a chocolate chip cookie feels like a kiss. Well, alright. I like kissing. I like kissing my friends, and if it's a chocolate chip cookie that does it, ok, let's go.
Frankly, you don't need a recipe for these cookies. If you buy Nestle's chocolate chips, the recipe on the package is kind of definitive (just like the pecan pie recipe on the label of Karo corn syrup is the best one I have ever found). But I like the one that follows better. I like the texture of the cookies it produces, and I like the fact that I have the control over soft or crispy. I think you'll like them too. There's an interesting technique in here, and it may seem weird, but it works. Here we go.
First, preheat your oven to 325. Then, melt a stick and a half of unsalted butter, and let it cool. Don't cool it all the way , "warm" is what you want. What is warm? We went over this with bread: if it feels tepid to you, it's warm. If it feels like a hot shower to you, it's not.
While it's cooling, get your other ingredients together. Those will be 2.25 cups of bleached flour.
WHOA. He's saying "bleached" again? Well, yes. The fact is, the bleaching of flour breaks down the ability of the flour to make gluten. You want gluten for a loaf of bread. For a cookie, where you want a "snap" you want shorter strands. That's why you use bleached flour. You mix this in a bowl with half a teaspoon, each of baking soda and salt.
Separately, have a cup of brown sugar and a half cup of white sugar. You will also want one large egg, and one egg yolk. Also, a tablespoon of vanilla. Finally, the "goodies." If you want to make a completely chocolate chip cookie, get two cups of chips. Any kind, just please make sure they are good quality. I prefer bittersweet, not everyone does. You can mix chips and get white and bittersweet, cinnamon and chocolate, peanut butter and chocolate, just make sure they're tasty. If you want to make a mix of chips and something else, like nuts, do a cup of each. If you put too much "stuff" into the cookies, they will not bake up properly. Two cups is about all this recipe can take.
Now, you can do this by hand, and really, you should. Mix butter and the sugars together until you've got a very thorough blend. You'll see this happen, as it moves from a wet sand kind of consistency, to a mass. Now add the egg and yolk, the vanilla and mix. Then stir in the flour and don't overdo it. Finally, add your goodies.
Now, we come to the fun stuff. You want to take no more than a quarter cup of batter per cookie. Measure it. Take a ball of the dough, and - ready for this? Pull it apart with your two hands. You'll have a smooth side, where you didn't pull, and the rough side, where the parts came apart. Rotate the halves, and have the rough edges stand up. Push the halves together, and then put that mass of dough on a parchment lined baking sheet. Keep on keeping on until you've filled the sheet with, say, no more than about twelve to a sheet. Use more sheets if you make more (incidentally, you can make smaller cookies. Just reduce the baking time).
Set a timer for seven minutes and turn it on after you put the cookies in the oven. At seven minutes, reverse the cookie sheet, so that the front is now the back (incidentally, NEVER bake more than one sheet of cookies at a time. Ovens heat differently. You'll burn one sheet and undercook the other. Trust me.). After 14 minutes, take a look. Are they light golden brown, and do you see a crisping at the edge? If so, you're done. If not, wait two, then four minutes. Don't bake these more than 18 minutes total.
Here's another cute trick. Do you like chewy cookies, or crispy ones? If you like chewy ones, when you take the sheet out of the oven, let them cool on the sheet. This traps moisture that stays in the cookie. If you like a crispier cookie, you should let them cool on a rack, so that all the moisture can get out of the finished product.
When they're cool, if they make it that far , put t hem in a tin for a few days. They won't keep that long, but they aren't supposed to. Cookies are supposed to be a spur of the moment thing, and they should be enjoyed as such.
For all of you folks who use the premade dough from stores, try these. They really don't take too much time more, and take one taste. They are MUCH better.
I would like to dedicate this recipe to Roland and Andrew, who love chocolate chip cookies, and who looked so good dancing together at our commitment ceremony that I wanted to make the cookies right then and there. And yes, that' s another sip out of the distillate that is the commitment ceremony.
There. I feel much better. The thing about these is that they seem to remind people of everything that was "good" about childhood, even if there wasn't much. Some people have told me that eating a chocolate chip cookie feels like a kiss. Well, alright. I like kissing. I like kissing my friends, and if it's a chocolate chip cookie that does it, ok, let's go.
Frankly, you don't need a recipe for these cookies. If you buy Nestle's chocolate chips, the recipe on the package is kind of definitive (just like the pecan pie recipe on the label of Karo corn syrup is the best one I have ever found). But I like the one that follows better. I like the texture of the cookies it produces, and I like the fact that I have the control over soft or crispy. I think you'll like them too. There's an interesting technique in here, and it may seem weird, but it works. Here we go.
First, preheat your oven to 325. Then, melt a stick and a half of unsalted butter, and let it cool. Don't cool it all the way , "warm" is what you want. What is warm? We went over this with bread: if it feels tepid to you, it's warm. If it feels like a hot shower to you, it's not.
While it's cooling, get your other ingredients together. Those will be 2.25 cups of bleached flour.
WHOA. He's saying "bleached" again? Well, yes. The fact is, the bleaching of flour breaks down the ability of the flour to make gluten. You want gluten for a loaf of bread. For a cookie, where you want a "snap" you want shorter strands. That's why you use bleached flour. You mix this in a bowl with half a teaspoon, each of baking soda and salt.
Separately, have a cup of brown sugar and a half cup of white sugar. You will also want one large egg, and one egg yolk. Also, a tablespoon of vanilla. Finally, the "goodies." If you want to make a completely chocolate chip cookie, get two cups of chips. Any kind, just please make sure they are good quality. I prefer bittersweet, not everyone does. You can mix chips and get white and bittersweet, cinnamon and chocolate, peanut butter and chocolate, just make sure they're tasty. If you want to make a mix of chips and something else, like nuts, do a cup of each. If you put too much "stuff" into the cookies, they will not bake up properly. Two cups is about all this recipe can take.
Now, you can do this by hand, and really, you should. Mix butter and the sugars together until you've got a very thorough blend. You'll see this happen, as it moves from a wet sand kind of consistency, to a mass. Now add the egg and yolk, the vanilla and mix. Then stir in the flour and don't overdo it. Finally, add your goodies.
Now, we come to the fun stuff. You want to take no more than a quarter cup of batter per cookie. Measure it. Take a ball of the dough, and - ready for this? Pull it apart with your two hands. You'll have a smooth side, where you didn't pull, and the rough side, where the parts came apart. Rotate the halves, and have the rough edges stand up. Push the halves together, and then put that mass of dough on a parchment lined baking sheet. Keep on keeping on until you've filled the sheet with, say, no more than about twelve to a sheet. Use more sheets if you make more (incidentally, you can make smaller cookies. Just reduce the baking time).
Set a timer for seven minutes and turn it on after you put the cookies in the oven. At seven minutes, reverse the cookie sheet, so that the front is now the back (incidentally, NEVER bake more than one sheet of cookies at a time. Ovens heat differently. You'll burn one sheet and undercook the other. Trust me.). After 14 minutes, take a look. Are they light golden brown, and do you see a crisping at the edge? If so, you're done. If not, wait two, then four minutes. Don't bake these more than 18 minutes total.
Here's another cute trick. Do you like chewy cookies, or crispy ones? If you like chewy ones, when you take the sheet out of the oven, let them cool on the sheet. This traps moisture that stays in the cookie. If you like a crispier cookie, you should let them cool on a rack, so that all the moisture can get out of the finished product.
When they're cool, if they make it that far , put t hem in a tin for a few days. They won't keep that long, but they aren't supposed to. Cookies are supposed to be a spur of the moment thing, and they should be enjoyed as such.
For all of you folks who use the premade dough from stores, try these. They really don't take too much time more, and take one taste. They are MUCH better.
I would like to dedicate this recipe to Roland and Andrew, who love chocolate chip cookies, and who looked so good dancing together at our commitment ceremony that I wanted to make the cookies right then and there. And yes, that' s another sip out of the distillate that is the commitment ceremony.
By request: a bit of t his, a bit of that and you have dinner
When I took the hiatus from writing this blog, a few readers told me that what they really would like to see is some kind of account of "what did you make for dinner last night?" That was very interesting to me, because when I first started writing, I thought that that was, indeed what I was going to do. As I went along, even as early as the second week, it dawned on me that I, too, fall into the category of people who really have just about fifteen recipes that they make, over and over again. Not that there's anything wrong with that, and in fact, if you like the recipes, there's everything RIGHT about it (not politically, but morally). So when I would make one of my basic recipes, but with a few variations, I wouldn't write it down, thinking "who wants that?" Well, "vox populi," so to speak. So here is something that fits in with a bunch of the ideas that I write about: seasonality, simplicity, and being a bit "creative."
Striped bass, for all of its appearance on menus throughout the year, is a seasonal fish. WILD striped bass I mean. You can get farmed striped bass year round, and if you're willing to eat fish that can travel hundreds, or even thousands of miles before it gets to your plate, you can have it whenever you want. But in NYC, wild striped bass has a season that will be ending soon. During season, it is so plentiful that I tend to say "no, next week, when the tuna doesn't look so good," or something like that. Then it's gone and I think "I should have made more striped bass." So, last night, we were having a filet of the stuff. I like to bake this fish, and I was looking for a way to make it taste really, really good. As I rifled through the fridge, and, somewhat coincidentally, was writing about pesto, I had an idea. And it turned out to be a good one.
I have pesto in the freezer. Tons of it. And I forget it's there, too. Well, pesto is mostly olive oil, and when you bake fish, you're always taught to anoint it with oil. I also had some underripe cherry tomatoes.
The days of sunripened, full flavored tomatoes are over. They're still good, but to bring out their flavor really strongly, they need some help. I had the yellow ones, so they were also pretty.
Months ago, I wrote about the technique of cooking fish "en papillote," or as we do it here, wrapped in foil. That somehow seemed "right" to me. And the recipe came together.
If this is an old recipe, and it may very well be, I came to it independently. I take no credit for it, as I want everyone to cook everything, but as per request, this is what we ate last night.
You'll need about three tablespoons of basil pesto, without any cheese in it. Also, about a cup of cherry tomatoes, cut in half. This doesn't take as long as you might think it will, and if you remain unconvinced, then don't cut them. The dish will still be fine. You also need (DUH), a nice pound or so of striped bass fillet. I had it in one piece, but if you have two smaller ones, or four small ones, by all means, use them. Just distribute everything over four packets instead of one.
Get a large piece of foil for each fillet you have, and smear a bit of pesto on the foil. Lay the fish on top of that pesto, and then salt and pepper it. Then, smear a bit of pesto over each fillet, and toss some of the sliced or whole tomatoes into it. Seal the packets tightly, and lay them on a baking sheet. Put the whole thing in a 425 degree, preheated oven, and let them cook for about 10 minutes if you have small ones, 15 minutes if they're about a half pound each, and 20 for a pound fillet.
Remove the baking sheet, and very CAREFULLY open the foil. There will be a lot of liquid. Use a pancake flipper or other flat serving implement, and remove the fish to the plates you'll eat from. Pick up whatever tomatoes are left and spread them over the fish as well. I don't use the liquid (a sin, I know), but you could pour this over the fish, or whatever starch you're serving, if you like.
This is actually a variation of a dish that I learned years ago, using, of all things, mayonnaise instead of pesto. You can in fact vary the "sauce" you use, as long as it has a very fatty or oily base, and of course, you can change the vegetables if they are cut small . Leeks would be a good choice here, at this time of year, as would be carrots. Finely shopped peppers, while they're stil around would work. Use your imagination "that's what it's for" as Madonna says.
Ok, now to the plotting and scheming for next dinner
Striped bass, for all of its appearance on menus throughout the year, is a seasonal fish. WILD striped bass I mean. You can get farmed striped bass year round, and if you're willing to eat fish that can travel hundreds, or even thousands of miles before it gets to your plate, you can have it whenever you want. But in NYC, wild striped bass has a season that will be ending soon. During season, it is so plentiful that I tend to say "no, next week, when the tuna doesn't look so good," or something like that. Then it's gone and I think "I should have made more striped bass." So, last night, we were having a filet of the stuff. I like to bake this fish, and I was looking for a way to make it taste really, really good. As I rifled through the fridge, and, somewhat coincidentally, was writing about pesto, I had an idea. And it turned out to be a good one.
I have pesto in the freezer. Tons of it. And I forget it's there, too. Well, pesto is mostly olive oil, and when you bake fish, you're always taught to anoint it with oil. I also had some underripe cherry tomatoes.
The days of sunripened, full flavored tomatoes are over. They're still good, but to bring out their flavor really strongly, they need some help. I had the yellow ones, so they were also pretty.
Months ago, I wrote about the technique of cooking fish "en papillote," or as we do it here, wrapped in foil. That somehow seemed "right" to me. And the recipe came together.
If this is an old recipe, and it may very well be, I came to it independently. I take no credit for it, as I want everyone to cook everything, but as per request, this is what we ate last night.
You'll need about three tablespoons of basil pesto, without any cheese in it. Also, about a cup of cherry tomatoes, cut in half. This doesn't take as long as you might think it will, and if you remain unconvinced, then don't cut them. The dish will still be fine. You also need (DUH), a nice pound or so of striped bass fillet. I had it in one piece, but if you have two smaller ones, or four small ones, by all means, use them. Just distribute everything over four packets instead of one.
Get a large piece of foil for each fillet you have, and smear a bit of pesto on the foil. Lay the fish on top of that pesto, and then salt and pepper it. Then, smear a bit of pesto over each fillet, and toss some of the sliced or whole tomatoes into it. Seal the packets tightly, and lay them on a baking sheet. Put the whole thing in a 425 degree, preheated oven, and let them cook for about 10 minutes if you have small ones, 15 minutes if they're about a half pound each, and 20 for a pound fillet.
Remove the baking sheet, and very CAREFULLY open the foil. There will be a lot of liquid. Use a pancake flipper or other flat serving implement, and remove the fish to the plates you'll eat from. Pick up whatever tomatoes are left and spread them over the fish as well. I don't use the liquid (a sin, I know), but you could pour this over the fish, or whatever starch you're serving, if you like.
This is actually a variation of a dish that I learned years ago, using, of all things, mayonnaise instead of pesto. You can in fact vary the "sauce" you use, as long as it has a very fatty or oily base, and of course, you can change the vegetables if they are cut small . Leeks would be a good choice here, at this time of year, as would be carrots. Finely shopped peppers, while they're stil around would work. Use your imagination "that's what it's for" as Madonna says.
Ok, now to the plotting and scheming for next dinner
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Pesto, pesto, pesto
As summer draws to its inevitable close, it's very easy to fall back on memories of food: those wonderful apricots, the sun drenched tomato salad, the barbecue where you met the person you're seeing, that wonderful pesto on the pasta.
Well, soon there won't be basil. And even though there still is some, I for one find myself gravitating away from the summer flavors. Maybe I want to be the one who says "NO, I left YOU, you didn't leave ME," or whatever. So tonight we'll have what may be our last basil pesto of the year, with a piece of fish. Striped bass, and that, too, will disappear shortly.
But pesto does not have to disappear completely. "Pesto" just means a paste. You can make a pesto out of just about anything (and just about anyone can be a pest, but we won't go there).
During the autumn, I use a LOT of sage. It just "feels" like an autumnal herb, know what I'm saying? I don't know if it's because it's used in stuffing a lot, or if it's because it winters well, so it's there when other herbs aren't, but in any event, I use lots of it. Sage is strong. Where you may sometimes be tempted, for example, to use a whole bunch of basil in a dish, using a few leaves of sage for anything , is all you need. Too much, and you turn a dish into a very mediciny tasting item. But it makes wonderful pesto. How? Well, here we go.
You will need a good sized bunch of flat leaved parsley (Incidentally, does anyone know why curly leaved parsley exists? I've never seen a recipe call for it, and it can't be there just so that greasy diners have a garnish for a plate), and you should use the leaves and if you like, the TENDER part of the stem. Don't go too far down or you may wind up with a laxative effect from the fiber. For a nice sized bunch of parsley, start with about 8 or 10 sage leaves. Put them into a food processor with the parsley.
If you're wondering why I am being so careful with the sage, take a leaf, rub it between your fingers and smell. Strong,huh? No wonder that "saging" a space to clear it from ghosts is standard. They can't stand the smell).
You have your parsley and sage in the food processor bowl. Add a quarter cup of olive oil, and about a quarter cup of walnuts, toasted if you like (I do). Start the processor going and then add a clove or two of garlic, as well as a teaspoon or so of salt, and keep adding olive oil until you get the texture you want. Taste it for salt, keeping in mind that you MAY be adding cheese.
I say MAY because it's a misconception that all pestos have cheese in them. This is YOUR call. If you want cheese, add cheese. I prefer pecorino in this one, when I do use the cheese, but usually, I just use the pesto, as I will this weekend to garnish a soup of roasted carrots and fennel. You can make lots of this and freeze it in ice cube trays. It will keep well.
Onto another one. Sicily is home to some of the most vibrant foods in all of Italy. It is from there that a pesto of sun dried tomatoes comes.
Let me say at the start, that all sun dried tomatoes have NOT been sun dried. They can't be. Sun drying tomatoes requires lots of space. There isn't enough open space in the world to dry all the sun dried tomatoes in the world. Use the oil cured ones. It will make your job easy, and make sure they are nice and soft (my baked plum tomatoes would work well here). Add a hefty tablespoon of capers. If you use the salt cured ones, soak them for about half an hour before you use them. Put the stuff into a food processor, and go to work.
Here, you want to be careful with oil, since the tomatoes are carrying some, and more liquid will be released when you do the processing. You also want to be careful with salt, because just about all sun dried tomatoes have also been salted. You can leave this just as it is, or you can put in some pignoli nuts, too.
What you have now, is a very vibrant, strong tasting accompaniment. It is a freakin FABULOUS pasta sauce. It also goes with grilled meats, especially stronger tasting ones, in a way that few salsas can match. And, I confess, it makes a great sandwich filling. Yup. I have sat there with a big piece of semolina bread and tomato pesto on it, and been a very happy person.
These two pestos can waken up your food as the weather gets colder. You will notice a change in the flavor of things, and begin to appreciate the sense of nutrition rather than flavor. Having these available to help you along, will do just that.
Well, soon there won't be basil. And even though there still is some, I for one find myself gravitating away from the summer flavors. Maybe I want to be the one who says "NO, I left YOU, you didn't leave ME," or whatever. So tonight we'll have what may be our last basil pesto of the year, with a piece of fish. Striped bass, and that, too, will disappear shortly.
But pesto does not have to disappear completely. "Pesto" just means a paste. You can make a pesto out of just about anything (and just about anyone can be a pest, but we won't go there).
During the autumn, I use a LOT of sage. It just "feels" like an autumnal herb, know what I'm saying? I don't know if it's because it's used in stuffing a lot, or if it's because it winters well, so it's there when other herbs aren't, but in any event, I use lots of it. Sage is strong. Where you may sometimes be tempted, for example, to use a whole bunch of basil in a dish, using a few leaves of sage for anything , is all you need. Too much, and you turn a dish into a very mediciny tasting item. But it makes wonderful pesto. How? Well, here we go.
You will need a good sized bunch of flat leaved parsley (Incidentally, does anyone know why curly leaved parsley exists? I've never seen a recipe call for it, and it can't be there just so that greasy diners have a garnish for a plate), and you should use the leaves and if you like, the TENDER part of the stem. Don't go too far down or you may wind up with a laxative effect from the fiber. For a nice sized bunch of parsley, start with about 8 or 10 sage leaves. Put them into a food processor with the parsley.
If you're wondering why I am being so careful with the sage, take a leaf, rub it between your fingers and smell. Strong,huh? No wonder that "saging" a space to clear it from ghosts is standard. They can't stand the smell).
You have your parsley and sage in the food processor bowl. Add a quarter cup of olive oil, and about a quarter cup of walnuts, toasted if you like (I do). Start the processor going and then add a clove or two of garlic, as well as a teaspoon or so of salt, and keep adding olive oil until you get the texture you want. Taste it for salt, keeping in mind that you MAY be adding cheese.
I say MAY because it's a misconception that all pestos have cheese in them. This is YOUR call. If you want cheese, add cheese. I prefer pecorino in this one, when I do use the cheese, but usually, I just use the pesto, as I will this weekend to garnish a soup of roasted carrots and fennel. You can make lots of this and freeze it in ice cube trays. It will keep well.
Onto another one. Sicily is home to some of the most vibrant foods in all of Italy. It is from there that a pesto of sun dried tomatoes comes.
Let me say at the start, that all sun dried tomatoes have NOT been sun dried. They can't be. Sun drying tomatoes requires lots of space. There isn't enough open space in the world to dry all the sun dried tomatoes in the world. Use the oil cured ones. It will make your job easy, and make sure they are nice and soft (my baked plum tomatoes would work well here). Add a hefty tablespoon of capers. If you use the salt cured ones, soak them for about half an hour before you use them. Put the stuff into a food processor, and go to work.
Here, you want to be careful with oil, since the tomatoes are carrying some, and more liquid will be released when you do the processing. You also want to be careful with salt, because just about all sun dried tomatoes have also been salted. You can leave this just as it is, or you can put in some pignoli nuts, too.
What you have now, is a very vibrant, strong tasting accompaniment. It is a freakin FABULOUS pasta sauce. It also goes with grilled meats, especially stronger tasting ones, in a way that few salsas can match. And, I confess, it makes a great sandwich filling. Yup. I have sat there with a big piece of semolina bread and tomato pesto on it, and been a very happy person.
These two pestos can waken up your food as the weather gets colder. You will notice a change in the flavor of things, and begin to appreciate the sense of nutrition rather than flavor. Having these available to help you along, will do just that.
Something to go with the peanut butter ice cream: concord grape pie
I believe in the past I have written in this blog that I don't understand some of the expressions we use about food. Why, for example, are we "as American as apple pie" or "as normal as blueberry pie?" Surveys say that the United States' favorite pie is cherry. I can go for that, although if you did a survey of MY friends, you would get a lot of sentiment for peach, or other fruits. I don't think you'll get much of a response to apple pie. There may be multitudes of reasons for that, but the fact remains that if you ask a cook "do you ever make pie?" you will almost inevitably find out they make apple pie, and only apple pie.
All those apple pies, and all those people sighing and saying "oh well. I wish it were...."
The first time I made a grape pie, it was a revelation. It seemed to me to be something that woudl be dramatic - it is, tasty - it is indeed, and fun to make. Three for three. And then I was kind of stunned (I was much younger), to learn that no one in my circle had ever had one, let alone heard of one.
Years later, I found out that this may very well be one of those "regional" desserts that are known to the rest of the country by way of people moving from their home and taking their recipes with them. The finger lakes region of New York, where the best concord grapes grow, is famous for these pies. The city of Naples has a concord grape pie contest every year. And now that they're here, while peaches, nectarines, berries, and other summer favorites have either said "see you next year," or are clearly on their way for hiatus, it's time.
Concord grape pie is sometimes called "slipskin" pie. That's because the thick skin of the grapes allows you to hold them, squeeze them, and "slip" the skin off of them. You then have what many could rightly call a gross little ball of wet sweet "goo" in your hand, and what looks like a small, deflated, purple balloon.
Yes, the image is not much to work with, but bear with me here, huh? You're gonna be happy.
You need to start with two pounds of grapes on the stem (NEVER buy grapes that are not on the stem. By examining the stems, you can tell how fresh they are. A dry, hard stem is a sign those grapes are beyond their prime. The stems, like partners in an affair, should be subtle, sturdy, and invite your fingers to pluck their fruit).
I can't believe I wrote that. But it's staying. OK, so you remove the grapes from the stems (wash them first, if you're cooking this for Kevin. He'll know if you didn't), then put on an apron, and have two bowls in front of you. Squeeze the grapes so that the innards go into one bowl, and put the skins in the other. You're gonna use them both.
Now, take those white globs, put them in a sturdy pot, and cook them at gentle heat for about five minutes after they come to a boil. What you're doing is breaking down tissue, so you can get the seeds out.
Most recipes tell you to let these grapes cool completely before you go forward, but I don't see a need. Get your food mill, if you can find the very fine sieve filter (I never can), or a collander. Either way, press gently to get all the juice and pulp out, leaving behind the seeds. If you press too hard, I'm told that you will get "bitter overtones" from the seeds. I guess I am surrounded by too many bitter overtones. I never notice it. So you have this mess of grape pulp. Stir the skins back into them (incidentally, if you try to eat one of them now, you will find it very tough and have your doubts. Patience, dear ones).
Now, stir 3/4 cups of sugar into those grapes and taste. You may want to add another quarter cup of sugar, this is up to you. Also, add a whopping 3 tablespoons of cornstarch, and the juice of a slice of lemon. The lemon really doesn't do much other than fix the color (you'll notice a change as you go from a very dark purple, to one with blue overtones). You need all that cornstarch because this is going to be your thickener for what is a very wet pie.
So, that's your filling. And now we're going to make our dreaded pie crust. This is a double crust pie. You'll need two sticks of unsalted butter, 2.25 cups of all purpose flour, a heaping quarter teaspoon of salt, a quarter teaspoon of baking powder, and a tablespoon of cider vinegar. You'll also need ice water by your side.
Mix up all those dry ingredients and put them in a bag, in your freezer. Then take a stick of butter, cut it into small cubes, and freeze it, too. Cube the other stick and put it in the fridge.
Leave everything overnight if you can, or at least a couple of hours. When you're ready to start baking, put the dry goods into a food processor and pulse a few times. Then add the refrigerated butter, and process (NOT pulsing), for 20 seconds. NOW add the frozen butter, and pulse to the size of peas. Add the vinegar, and 5 tablespoons of ice water to the crust, and pulse about 5-6 times. Press a bit between your fingers. Does it hold together? If it does, move on. If it doesn't, add up to two more tablespoons of ice water. Dump the stuff out and gather it into a ball, and then divide it into two halves, putting each in a separate bag. Refrigerate this for at least an hour. Again, overnight is better.
When you are ready to bake it, take out the piecrust and let them come to cold room temperature. This is going to take a few hours. Heavily flour your surface, and roll out one piece, turning every three rolls or so, to try to keep a good circle (I never do). You want to roll this out until it's big enough to make a 12 inch circle (don't rely on your friends. Men always think 10 inches is 12, and women always think 14 is 12. Use a ruler).
Did I just write that? Oh, I guess I did. Okay, position this in an 8 or 9 inch pie pan and gently push it in. There will be overlap, and that's okay. Put your filling into this and put the pie aside, while you start preheating the oven to 425.
Now, do for the other half of the dough what you did for the first one. Cover the pie with this dough. If you moisten the edges of the first one, it will be easier to bring them together. You don't have to, though.
You are going to have a fair amount of extra crust on the edge, and you should trim some of that away, but leave enough to make a nice , thick rim when you push them together. I like to use fork tines for decoration (ON THE PIE!!!), but you don't have to. You DO have to cut some vents in the top, though. Some people get really crafty and cut a bunch of grapes pattern on the top. More power to them. I make a few slits in the pattern of a four point star. Then put the pie on a cookie sheet, and put it into the oven. You'll want to bake this for 45-50 minutes. You'll see thick, dark, very dangerous looking juices bubbling up, and this is exactly what you want. After the 45/50 minutes, carefully take everything out of the oven, and let it sit until it's cool.
DO NOT refrigerate this pie. It will be very unhappy if you do. If you've made it right, when you cut this pie, the filling will look like it's just about to ooze out of the shell, but it never will.
The peanut butter ice cream that I wrote about before is perfect for this, but frankly, this is a case where I want vanilla ice cream, and ONLY vanilla ice cream.
This pie is going to stay fine , stored at room tempearture, for two days, but it won't last that long.
I have been very fortunate to be able to take recipes for this pie from three invaluable sources. One is Rose Levy Bernbaum, whom I've written about before. Another is the late and lamented Richard Sax, whom I've also mentioned before. But perhaps the single most important person in the development of this recipe is "Buzzard Creek Irene." Buzzard Creek is the name of an upstate ny vineyard, and they sell their oversupply of grapes at the farmers' market. That's where I get mine. Irene is the sweetest woman you could ever meet. She told me about the Naples pie festival, and gave me pointers on how she makes her concord grape pie. Her approach allowed me to simplify the recipe in many ways, although I will admit, this is not one that screams "EEEEAZY." But it's worth it.
Now's the time. Add it to your repertoire, or start making something new.
All those apple pies, and all those people sighing and saying "oh well. I wish it were...."
The first time I made a grape pie, it was a revelation. It seemed to me to be something that woudl be dramatic - it is, tasty - it is indeed, and fun to make. Three for three. And then I was kind of stunned (I was much younger), to learn that no one in my circle had ever had one, let alone heard of one.
Years later, I found out that this may very well be one of those "regional" desserts that are known to the rest of the country by way of people moving from their home and taking their recipes with them. The finger lakes region of New York, where the best concord grapes grow, is famous for these pies. The city of Naples has a concord grape pie contest every year. And now that they're here, while peaches, nectarines, berries, and other summer favorites have either said "see you next year," or are clearly on their way for hiatus, it's time.
Concord grape pie is sometimes called "slipskin" pie. That's because the thick skin of the grapes allows you to hold them, squeeze them, and "slip" the skin off of them. You then have what many could rightly call a gross little ball of wet sweet "goo" in your hand, and what looks like a small, deflated, purple balloon.
Yes, the image is not much to work with, but bear with me here, huh? You're gonna be happy.
You need to start with two pounds of grapes on the stem (NEVER buy grapes that are not on the stem. By examining the stems, you can tell how fresh they are. A dry, hard stem is a sign those grapes are beyond their prime. The stems, like partners in an affair, should be subtle, sturdy, and invite your fingers to pluck their fruit).
I can't believe I wrote that. But it's staying. OK, so you remove the grapes from the stems (wash them first, if you're cooking this for Kevin. He'll know if you didn't), then put on an apron, and have two bowls in front of you. Squeeze the grapes so that the innards go into one bowl, and put the skins in the other. You're gonna use them both.
Now, take those white globs, put them in a sturdy pot, and cook them at gentle heat for about five minutes after they come to a boil. What you're doing is breaking down tissue, so you can get the seeds out.
Most recipes tell you to let these grapes cool completely before you go forward, but I don't see a need. Get your food mill, if you can find the very fine sieve filter (I never can), or a collander. Either way, press gently to get all the juice and pulp out, leaving behind the seeds. If you press too hard, I'm told that you will get "bitter overtones" from the seeds. I guess I am surrounded by too many bitter overtones. I never notice it. So you have this mess of grape pulp. Stir the skins back into them (incidentally, if you try to eat one of them now, you will find it very tough and have your doubts. Patience, dear ones).
Now, stir 3/4 cups of sugar into those grapes and taste. You may want to add another quarter cup of sugar, this is up to you. Also, add a whopping 3 tablespoons of cornstarch, and the juice of a slice of lemon. The lemon really doesn't do much other than fix the color (you'll notice a change as you go from a very dark purple, to one with blue overtones). You need all that cornstarch because this is going to be your thickener for what is a very wet pie.
So, that's your filling. And now we're going to make our dreaded pie crust. This is a double crust pie. You'll need two sticks of unsalted butter, 2.25 cups of all purpose flour, a heaping quarter teaspoon of salt, a quarter teaspoon of baking powder, and a tablespoon of cider vinegar. You'll also need ice water by your side.
Mix up all those dry ingredients and put them in a bag, in your freezer. Then take a stick of butter, cut it into small cubes, and freeze it, too. Cube the other stick and put it in the fridge.
Leave everything overnight if you can, or at least a couple of hours. When you're ready to start baking, put the dry goods into a food processor and pulse a few times. Then add the refrigerated butter, and process (NOT pulsing), for 20 seconds. NOW add the frozen butter, and pulse to the size of peas. Add the vinegar, and 5 tablespoons of ice water to the crust, and pulse about 5-6 times. Press a bit between your fingers. Does it hold together? If it does, move on. If it doesn't, add up to two more tablespoons of ice water. Dump the stuff out and gather it into a ball, and then divide it into two halves, putting each in a separate bag. Refrigerate this for at least an hour. Again, overnight is better.
When you are ready to bake it, take out the piecrust and let them come to cold room temperature. This is going to take a few hours. Heavily flour your surface, and roll out one piece, turning every three rolls or so, to try to keep a good circle (I never do). You want to roll this out until it's big enough to make a 12 inch circle (don't rely on your friends. Men always think 10 inches is 12, and women always think 14 is 12. Use a ruler).
Did I just write that? Oh, I guess I did. Okay, position this in an 8 or 9 inch pie pan and gently push it in. There will be overlap, and that's okay. Put your filling into this and put the pie aside, while you start preheating the oven to 425.
Now, do for the other half of the dough what you did for the first one. Cover the pie with this dough. If you moisten the edges of the first one, it will be easier to bring them together. You don't have to, though.
You are going to have a fair amount of extra crust on the edge, and you should trim some of that away, but leave enough to make a nice , thick rim when you push them together. I like to use fork tines for decoration (ON THE PIE!!!), but you don't have to. You DO have to cut some vents in the top, though. Some people get really crafty and cut a bunch of grapes pattern on the top. More power to them. I make a few slits in the pattern of a four point star. Then put the pie on a cookie sheet, and put it into the oven. You'll want to bake this for 45-50 minutes. You'll see thick, dark, very dangerous looking juices bubbling up, and this is exactly what you want. After the 45/50 minutes, carefully take everything out of the oven, and let it sit until it's cool.
DO NOT refrigerate this pie. It will be very unhappy if you do. If you've made it right, when you cut this pie, the filling will look like it's just about to ooze out of the shell, but it never will.
The peanut butter ice cream that I wrote about before is perfect for this, but frankly, this is a case where I want vanilla ice cream, and ONLY vanilla ice cream.
This pie is going to stay fine , stored at room tempearture, for two days, but it won't last that long.
I have been very fortunate to be able to take recipes for this pie from three invaluable sources. One is Rose Levy Bernbaum, whom I've written about before. Another is the late and lamented Richard Sax, whom I've also mentioned before. But perhaps the single most important person in the development of this recipe is "Buzzard Creek Irene." Buzzard Creek is the name of an upstate ny vineyard, and they sell their oversupply of grapes at the farmers' market. That's where I get mine. Irene is the sweetest woman you could ever meet. She told me about the Naples pie festival, and gave me pointers on how she makes her concord grape pie. Her approach allowed me to simplify the recipe in many ways, although I will admit, this is not one that screams "EEEEAZY." But it's worth it.
Now's the time. Add it to your repertoire, or start making something new.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Playing with a recipe: lamb in pomegranate sauce
We are in that period of the year when cooks switch from grills, to ovens. It's that time when a slow braise, a stew, something long cooked and with deep flavor appeals much more than a seared steak or grilled piece of fish.
Lamb , or at least some cuts of lamb, is a superb candidate for slow cooking. I'm told that lamb is the least favorite meat of Americans. I think I understand why, and it comes back to the quality of food that we are confronted with in markets. Of all of the readily available meats, lamb has the strongest taste. And if lamb is not raised properly, that strong taste is REALLY strong. GOOD lamb has a delicacy of flavor that will make you come back for more. I guarantee it. So go to a good quality vendor, get some good meat, and get to work.
This recipe is also a good example of how you can simplify a recipe and still get good results. Originally, the recipe called for sauteeing lamb bones and then putting them into the dish, probably to thicken it with the collagen and other goodies that come out of lamb. It also called for a full lamb shoulder. That's a 7.5 pound piece of meat. You can find it, but you can also use lamb shanks, and make some modifications. That's how I do it. Lamb shanks are one of those forgotten cuts of meat, that everyone loves when they see it in restaurants. No one cooks it at home, probably because it takes too long to do. Well, as Annalena frequently says, GET OVER IT.
You're going to need a good 1/3 of a cup of olive oil, and eight lamb shanks. Get smaller ones. Have a bag of flour ready. If you haven't presalted the shanks, put a good tablespoon of salt in with the flour. Then you'll also need a couple of yellow onions, that you'll chop up ahead of time. Also - and I'm not kidding, the cloves from two HEADS of garlic, peeled. Stop getting nervous. You really won't notice it, because when garlic is cooked, long and slow, it gets sweet. Also have ready a cup of red wine. DRY stuff. Not the 100 dollar bottle you got as a birthday present, and not a 6 buck bottle of swill, but something good. You also need two cups of chicken stock, and a cup of pomegranate juice. Don't bother with that expensive stuff that says "keep refrigerated." You can use the organic stuff in a glass bottle.
Incidentally, how DO they juice pomegranates. I tried once, and wound up looking like I had just taken a round from a gatlin gun.
Also have ready a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste, a couple of b rown sugar, and one of oregano. You also want a taspoon of cinnamon, and a teaspoon of allspice if you have it. If you don't, use ginger.
There is an option here at the end, using butter and flour to thicken the sauce. I'm not going to use it.
Okay, preheat your oven to 325 (seems I'm using that temperature a lot these days, doesn't it). Pour the olive oil into a broad pan. While it heats up, pat your shanks dry, and if you haven't done the usual "leave in the fridge with salt" technique I've been teaching you over and over again, salt them. Put them in the bag of flour and shake to coat them. When the oil is hot, brown the shanks all over. You may have to be a little clever here, because the shape of shanks is such that it's not always easy to get them down in the hot oil. Use your tongs, and do the best you can. It's going to take you about fifteen minutes to get them all done. Then move them over to a plate while you get the vegetables ready. Lower the heat, and add the onions and the garlic. The garlic cloves go in whole, but peeled. Cook them for about three minutes, and then add the lamb on top of the onions. Put in everything else and give it a good stir. Bring the liquid to a boil, and then cover the pot and move it to the oven.
Check the meat after 45 minutes and see how tender it is. Depending on how old the lamb was when it was butchered, this dish can take up to two hours. What you're looking for is a level of tenderness with the meat that makes you think "this is close to falling off of the bone." You don't want it so tender that it does go off the bone, but close. VERY close.
Ideally, you will have done this the day before you want to serve it, because you want the juices to cool so that the fat comes to the top, and you can remove it. If you don't have that kind of time, try to let it cool anyway, because you will be able to skim some of it off.
What I do next is to put the lamb shanks to the side, and then strain the liquid, so that any solids are removed. Then I bring the liquid to a boil, and cook it down, until I have about two cups. At the end, if it's not "zippy" enough, I will add an extra quarter cup of pomegranate juice. What you can ALSO do is boil the juices down, and in a separate pot, mix 1.5 tablespoons of butter and 1.5 tablespoons of flour together, until the flour just browns. Then pour the juices into that pot and stir until the stuff comes to the boil. This will give you a thicker, more "luscious" sauce, if you want it. You don't HAVE to do it, but it does coat the meat much better that way, and especially if you add more pomegranate juice, you will want that.
This goes great with mashed potatoes, or couscous, or that wonderful Sardinian pasta called fregola. Leftovers are terrific too. By the time you reheat it, the meat WILL fall off of the bone, and then you can use it as a sauce for pasta or something else.
Yes, it's time consuming, but let's face it: it's getting cold out. You don't really want to go out, do you? Call some people over, make a salad, get some ice cream, and you've got a party going on.
Get used to it gang. You're gonna see a LOT of braises in the future.
Lamb , or at least some cuts of lamb, is a superb candidate for slow cooking. I'm told that lamb is the least favorite meat of Americans. I think I understand why, and it comes back to the quality of food that we are confronted with in markets. Of all of the readily available meats, lamb has the strongest taste. And if lamb is not raised properly, that strong taste is REALLY strong. GOOD lamb has a delicacy of flavor that will make you come back for more. I guarantee it. So go to a good quality vendor, get some good meat, and get to work.
This recipe is also a good example of how you can simplify a recipe and still get good results. Originally, the recipe called for sauteeing lamb bones and then putting them into the dish, probably to thicken it with the collagen and other goodies that come out of lamb. It also called for a full lamb shoulder. That's a 7.5 pound piece of meat. You can find it, but you can also use lamb shanks, and make some modifications. That's how I do it. Lamb shanks are one of those forgotten cuts of meat, that everyone loves when they see it in restaurants. No one cooks it at home, probably because it takes too long to do. Well, as Annalena frequently says, GET OVER IT.
You're going to need a good 1/3 of a cup of olive oil, and eight lamb shanks. Get smaller ones. Have a bag of flour ready. If you haven't presalted the shanks, put a good tablespoon of salt in with the flour. Then you'll also need a couple of yellow onions, that you'll chop up ahead of time. Also - and I'm not kidding, the cloves from two HEADS of garlic, peeled. Stop getting nervous. You really won't notice it, because when garlic is cooked, long and slow, it gets sweet. Also have ready a cup of red wine. DRY stuff. Not the 100 dollar bottle you got as a birthday present, and not a 6 buck bottle of swill, but something good. You also need two cups of chicken stock, and a cup of pomegranate juice. Don't bother with that expensive stuff that says "keep refrigerated." You can use the organic stuff in a glass bottle.
Incidentally, how DO they juice pomegranates. I tried once, and wound up looking like I had just taken a round from a gatlin gun.
Also have ready a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste, a couple of b rown sugar, and one of oregano. You also want a taspoon of cinnamon, and a teaspoon of allspice if you have it. If you don't, use ginger.
There is an option here at the end, using butter and flour to thicken the sauce. I'm not going to use it.
Okay, preheat your oven to 325 (seems I'm using that temperature a lot these days, doesn't it). Pour the olive oil into a broad pan. While it heats up, pat your shanks dry, and if you haven't done the usual "leave in the fridge with salt" technique I've been teaching you over and over again, salt them. Put them in the bag of flour and shake to coat them. When the oil is hot, brown the shanks all over. You may have to be a little clever here, because the shape of shanks is such that it's not always easy to get them down in the hot oil. Use your tongs, and do the best you can. It's going to take you about fifteen minutes to get them all done. Then move them over to a plate while you get the vegetables ready. Lower the heat, and add the onions and the garlic. The garlic cloves go in whole, but peeled. Cook them for about three minutes, and then add the lamb on top of the onions. Put in everything else and give it a good stir. Bring the liquid to a boil, and then cover the pot and move it to the oven.
Check the meat after 45 minutes and see how tender it is. Depending on how old the lamb was when it was butchered, this dish can take up to two hours. What you're looking for is a level of tenderness with the meat that makes you think "this is close to falling off of the bone." You don't want it so tender that it does go off the bone, but close. VERY close.
Ideally, you will have done this the day before you want to serve it, because you want the juices to cool so that the fat comes to the top, and you can remove it. If you don't have that kind of time, try to let it cool anyway, because you will be able to skim some of it off.
What I do next is to put the lamb shanks to the side, and then strain the liquid, so that any solids are removed. Then I bring the liquid to a boil, and cook it down, until I have about two cups. At the end, if it's not "zippy" enough, I will add an extra quarter cup of pomegranate juice. What you can ALSO do is boil the juices down, and in a separate pot, mix 1.5 tablespoons of butter and 1.5 tablespoons of flour together, until the flour just browns. Then pour the juices into that pot and stir until the stuff comes to the boil. This will give you a thicker, more "luscious" sauce, if you want it. You don't HAVE to do it, but it does coat the meat much better that way, and especially if you add more pomegranate juice, you will want that.
This goes great with mashed potatoes, or couscous, or that wonderful Sardinian pasta called fregola. Leftovers are terrific too. By the time you reheat it, the meat WILL fall off of the bone, and then you can use it as a sauce for pasta or something else.
Yes, it's time consuming, but let's face it: it's getting cold out. You don't really want to go out, do you? Call some people over, make a salad, get some ice cream, and you've got a party going on.
Get used to it gang. You're gonna see a LOT of braises in the future.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Pound cake: do you miss it?
When I was a very young kid, I remember a HUGE variety of small cakes that you used to be able to get for snacking. Not just twinkies and yodels, and things like that, but little cinnamon crumb cakes, and "snow balls " (my favorites): big dark chocolate cupcakes with creme filling and a pink marshmallow cover, with coconut on top, yankee doodles, and a whole lot of other kinds. But to me, the pinnacle of sophistication were the single slices of pound cake. They always looked so, well, "special" and grown up. They were ecru colored, with very pale crust, cut in long, rectangular slices.
And there was also a frozen pound cake, made by Mrs. Paul. I remember the ad campaign. A wife, in her shirtwaist, smiling at her husband and saying "LOOK Paul! A POUND of poundcake," because the Mrs. Paul variety came in a one pound size.
Recently I read the label on the frozen pound cake (the slices have long disappeared).
Oh, good heavens. Is there anything in there that doesn't properly belong in a chemistry lab?
When I was learning how to cook, pound cake was one of the first things I learned how to make. I was taught that it was called "pound cake" because, traditionally, the cake contained a pound of each ingredient: butter, flour, eggs, and sugar. That made two loaves of pound cake, but of course, you couldn't call them "HALF pound cakes " (especially since they were really TWO pound cakes if you added everything up and divided. I know, I know, I was an obnoxious child). What I DO remember is that in the days when everyone was turning to margarine, no less than the Joy of Cooking advised "NO SUBSTITUTES FOR THE BUTTER.'
That tells you where we were in terms of cooking in the 60s and 70s. If you could substitute margarine for the "less healthy" butter, you did it.
How many bad dishes were made in the name of good health? And we were wrong. But pound cake retained its pristine dignity and its high cholesterol count.
I CAN lay it on thick, can't I? But pound cake is something you should know how to make. If you have a mixer, it's very easy to do, it lasts forever, and honestly, it is so darn good, and it lets you do just about anything you want to it. I made one for our road trip that I anointed with lemon and peach syrup, and it was really good. The other one I make has rose geranium leaves in it. That one is a bit "fey" for most of us, even for me, but I make it anyway. Start with a plain one and look at some of the options below, and try them. I think you'll agree that this is a worthy addition to your repertoire.
At its simplest, you need 2.5 sticks of softened, unsalted butter, 1 1/3 cups of sugar, a big tablespoon of vanilla (my style), 2 2/3 cups of cake flour 6 eggs, a half teaspoon of salt, and a half teaspoon of cream of tartar.
This is "minimalist" pound cake. Classic ones call for mace, which almost no one has at home, other flavorings, like brandy or cognac, rose water, and so forth. Try it "straight up." When you use other flavorings IN the cake, you might cut back on the vanilla.
You will also notice cake flour. Yup, cake flour. For this recipe, you need it . This is a thick, heavy cake, leavened only by the eggs, and a teensy weensy bit of cream of tartar. Regular flour will give you pound BREAD. Trust me on this.
Preheat your oven to a low 325 degree oven. Then butter and flour a 9 inch spring form pan. Normally, I don't bother with flouring pans, but for this, you should. Now you're ready to start getting the cake together.
Beat the butter in a strong mixer for longer than you think you need. A good 7 minutes is not too much time. Look for it to aerate and get nice and white. When that happens, lower the power on the mixer, and add the sugar. You will want to get this light and fluffy again, and it will happen, but be patient. Then add the eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla.
What you do next with the dry ingredients is up to you. I like to fold them in by hand, with a big spoon. That takes time and eventually, some muscle. The mixer will do a good job too. Do it in four portions. Put the salt and cream of tartar in with the first one, and then add the others. Mix it until you dont have lose flour around.
You will have a very heavy, stiff batter. Spoon it in to your prepared pan, and do your best to smooth out the top. Then put the whole thing in the oven and bake for at least an hour. You will want to check the center, with a knife, to see if it's dry. If it is not, bake it for fifteen minutes more.
If you want, when it comes out of the oven, start spreading some kind of sweet syrup over the top of it. You can use something as "simple" as a simple sugar syrup, or maple syrup, or a lemon syrup or anything like that. While the cake is hot, it will suck up lots of the syrup so have plenty ready.
If you prefer a more internal flavor, when you're mixing up the batter, add some lemon peel, or some lime peel, or the aforementioned mace and/or cinnamon, or nutmeg, or almond flavoring or rose water...
My "fey" rose geranium cake takes a bunch of rose geranium leaves and puts them on the bottom of the pan, and then bakes it away. The leaves add a floral and grassy flavor to the cake, and impart an interesting pattern to the bottom of the cake. If you are so inclined, and I am sometimes, by all means do it.
But again, I stress the suggestion of trying a nice, simple, serious vanilla cake. Slice some fruit alongside of it, or put some chocolate syrup on it, and VOILA. You're a serious adult again, even if you really would like a snowball or a twinkie
And there was also a frozen pound cake, made by Mrs. Paul. I remember the ad campaign. A wife, in her shirtwaist, smiling at her husband and saying "LOOK Paul! A POUND of poundcake," because the Mrs. Paul variety came in a one pound size.
Recently I read the label on the frozen pound cake (the slices have long disappeared).
Oh, good heavens. Is there anything in there that doesn't properly belong in a chemistry lab?
When I was learning how to cook, pound cake was one of the first things I learned how to make. I was taught that it was called "pound cake" because, traditionally, the cake contained a pound of each ingredient: butter, flour, eggs, and sugar. That made two loaves of pound cake, but of course, you couldn't call them "HALF pound cakes " (especially since they were really TWO pound cakes if you added everything up and divided. I know, I know, I was an obnoxious child). What I DO remember is that in the days when everyone was turning to margarine, no less than the Joy of Cooking advised "NO SUBSTITUTES FOR THE BUTTER.'
That tells you where we were in terms of cooking in the 60s and 70s. If you could substitute margarine for the "less healthy" butter, you did it.
How many bad dishes were made in the name of good health? And we were wrong. But pound cake retained its pristine dignity and its high cholesterol count.
I CAN lay it on thick, can't I? But pound cake is something you should know how to make. If you have a mixer, it's very easy to do, it lasts forever, and honestly, it is so darn good, and it lets you do just about anything you want to it. I made one for our road trip that I anointed with lemon and peach syrup, and it was really good. The other one I make has rose geranium leaves in it. That one is a bit "fey" for most of us, even for me, but I make it anyway. Start with a plain one and look at some of the options below, and try them. I think you'll agree that this is a worthy addition to your repertoire.
At its simplest, you need 2.5 sticks of softened, unsalted butter, 1 1/3 cups of sugar, a big tablespoon of vanilla (my style), 2 2/3 cups of cake flour 6 eggs, a half teaspoon of salt, and a half teaspoon of cream of tartar.
This is "minimalist" pound cake. Classic ones call for mace, which almost no one has at home, other flavorings, like brandy or cognac, rose water, and so forth. Try it "straight up." When you use other flavorings IN the cake, you might cut back on the vanilla.
You will also notice cake flour. Yup, cake flour. For this recipe, you need it . This is a thick, heavy cake, leavened only by the eggs, and a teensy weensy bit of cream of tartar. Regular flour will give you pound BREAD. Trust me on this.
Preheat your oven to a low 325 degree oven. Then butter and flour a 9 inch spring form pan. Normally, I don't bother with flouring pans, but for this, you should. Now you're ready to start getting the cake together.
Beat the butter in a strong mixer for longer than you think you need. A good 7 minutes is not too much time. Look for it to aerate and get nice and white. When that happens, lower the power on the mixer, and add the sugar. You will want to get this light and fluffy again, and it will happen, but be patient. Then add the eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla.
What you do next with the dry ingredients is up to you. I like to fold them in by hand, with a big spoon. That takes time and eventually, some muscle. The mixer will do a good job too. Do it in four portions. Put the salt and cream of tartar in with the first one, and then add the others. Mix it until you dont have lose flour around.
You will have a very heavy, stiff batter. Spoon it in to your prepared pan, and do your best to smooth out the top. Then put the whole thing in the oven and bake for at least an hour. You will want to check the center, with a knife, to see if it's dry. If it is not, bake it for fifteen minutes more.
If you want, when it comes out of the oven, start spreading some kind of sweet syrup over the top of it. You can use something as "simple" as a simple sugar syrup, or maple syrup, or a lemon syrup or anything like that. While the cake is hot, it will suck up lots of the syrup so have plenty ready.
If you prefer a more internal flavor, when you're mixing up the batter, add some lemon peel, or some lime peel, or the aforementioned mace and/or cinnamon, or nutmeg, or almond flavoring or rose water...
My "fey" rose geranium cake takes a bunch of rose geranium leaves and puts them on the bottom of the pan, and then bakes it away. The leaves add a floral and grassy flavor to the cake, and impart an interesting pattern to the bottom of the cake. If you are so inclined, and I am sometimes, by all means do it.
But again, I stress the suggestion of trying a nice, simple, serious vanilla cake. Slice some fruit alongside of it, or put some chocolate syrup on it, and VOILA. You're a serious adult again, even if you really would like a snowball or a twinkie
Fruit tartlets
Annalena went on the most wonderful road trip this weekend. The puppies, feeling that a honeymoon of some sort was in order for Guy and I, arranged a trip up to New Hampshire to hear some folk music, to do some "leaf peeping," and to have a ball along the way. And we did all of that. It was absolutely wonderful. Yours truly felt, very much, like a balloon must feel when somehow, it is let go and just floats, blissfully and serenely, in a lovely sky, surrounded by light. That's what good friends can do for you. It was yet another bottle in my own collection of 'dandelion wine'. Not coincidentally, the pups were involved. They frequently are when someone other than Guy makes me feel special.
In planning for the trip, my mind of course turned to "what SHALL we eat?" I had some ideas, and I will share them in subsequent blogs, but I also turned to the pups to ask them what they wanted. One wanted macaroni salad. No problem. One, however, wanted a tart or pie.
Well, any of you who have tried to move a tart or pie long distances, or in a car, knows that this is fraught with danger. I cannot tell you how many tarts or pies have turned to cobblers and pan dowdies and Buddha only knows what else on the road to where they were going. But Annalena is NOT going to disappoint her pups. Oh no. So, while fruit TARTS are difficult to travel, fruit TARTLETS are not. They are easy to handle, package well, and ultimately, when you're eating on the go, something you can take in your hand and eat easily is a good thing.
You need to start with an excellent crust dough. I use the one that my friend Dana taught me to make. You combine 1.5 cups of all purpose flour, 1.5 sticks of unsalted butter, cut into cubes, a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt, in a food processor. Then you pulse until you have a rough mass, with the butter slightly larger than peas. It's only about 20 pulses. Have some ice water ready, and pulse it in, tablespoon by tablespoon , until you get something that looks like the texture of wet sand. I needed four tablespoons for mine. Then dump all of this out on a surface and work it together into a circular mass. Wrap it, and let it refrigerate. You can get away with two hours, but I like to leave this overnight.
Next day, take your dough out and let it come to room temperature. Preheat your oven to 400 and select your fruit. You are not going to need an awful lot. We're going to be making 12 tartlets, and you'll need the equivalent of four medium sized nectarines. You can use berries, but remember you will only need a tablespoon or so of them for each tartlet. I suggest using two or even three different kinds of fruit, so everyone can find his or her favorite. If you are using small fruit, like berries, toss them in a bowl with a few tablespoons of sugar. If you are using peachs, or plums, or apples, or pears, slice them and do the same. Spice or not? You decide. Think about the fruit you have. I used nectarines (I can still get them) and raspberries (probably the last of the season), and I thought the flavors were so clean that adding spice was a no-no.
Roll out your dough, on a fairly heavily floured surface, and cut out three inch circles. I used the top of a measuring cup for doing this. When you have 12, line them up on a baking sheet, and brush them with a beaten egg (I did NOT do this and my tartlets were fine. Using the egg would have made them more secure). Then spoon your fruit onto the center of each circle. I cannot overestimate how important it is to restrain your tendency to be generous. These are small, and the pastry is very tasty. You don't need a tremendous amount of fruit.
Cut out more circles from your dough. If you find that you cannot get twelve, take the scraps and roll them again and cut. Not all of them wil be uniform in thickness, and that is just fine. This is homemade tartlets, remember. Lay these on top of the fruit and pinch the edges closed. The egg will help to "glue" them. Then brush the tops with more egg, cut a slit or hole in each, and sprinkle them heavily with sugar. Bake them for twenty minutes at 400, Check the color. If they are not brown enough for you, let them bake another ten minutes.
Let them cool. These travel really well, as they are very sturdy. And they are GOOD. I can honestly say that I could easily have eaten the whole batch with some good coffee.
I also believe that if you have savory stuff around, say chicken or something like that, you might very well be able to make the equivalent of a "pasty" as the Brits in Cornwall call them, doing exactly the same thing.
And if you have your own puppies, or dear friends whom you refer to by other names, make these, or make two batches, and ask them what their favorite fruit types are. Love comes back to you magnified. Trust me on this. I wouldn't lie about something as important as good food
In planning for the trip, my mind of course turned to "what SHALL we eat?" I had some ideas, and I will share them in subsequent blogs, but I also turned to the pups to ask them what they wanted. One wanted macaroni salad. No problem. One, however, wanted a tart or pie.
Well, any of you who have tried to move a tart or pie long distances, or in a car, knows that this is fraught with danger. I cannot tell you how many tarts or pies have turned to cobblers and pan dowdies and Buddha only knows what else on the road to where they were going. But Annalena is NOT going to disappoint her pups. Oh no. So, while fruit TARTS are difficult to travel, fruit TARTLETS are not. They are easy to handle, package well, and ultimately, when you're eating on the go, something you can take in your hand and eat easily is a good thing.
You need to start with an excellent crust dough. I use the one that my friend Dana taught me to make. You combine 1.5 cups of all purpose flour, 1.5 sticks of unsalted butter, cut into cubes, a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt, in a food processor. Then you pulse until you have a rough mass, with the butter slightly larger than peas. It's only about 20 pulses. Have some ice water ready, and pulse it in, tablespoon by tablespoon , until you get something that looks like the texture of wet sand. I needed four tablespoons for mine. Then dump all of this out on a surface and work it together into a circular mass. Wrap it, and let it refrigerate. You can get away with two hours, but I like to leave this overnight.
Next day, take your dough out and let it come to room temperature. Preheat your oven to 400 and select your fruit. You are not going to need an awful lot. We're going to be making 12 tartlets, and you'll need the equivalent of four medium sized nectarines. You can use berries, but remember you will only need a tablespoon or so of them for each tartlet. I suggest using two or even three different kinds of fruit, so everyone can find his or her favorite. If you are using small fruit, like berries, toss them in a bowl with a few tablespoons of sugar. If you are using peachs, or plums, or apples, or pears, slice them and do the same. Spice or not? You decide. Think about the fruit you have. I used nectarines (I can still get them) and raspberries (probably the last of the season), and I thought the flavors were so clean that adding spice was a no-no.
Roll out your dough, on a fairly heavily floured surface, and cut out three inch circles. I used the top of a measuring cup for doing this. When you have 12, line them up on a baking sheet, and brush them with a beaten egg (I did NOT do this and my tartlets were fine. Using the egg would have made them more secure). Then spoon your fruit onto the center of each circle. I cannot overestimate how important it is to restrain your tendency to be generous. These are small, and the pastry is very tasty. You don't need a tremendous amount of fruit.
Cut out more circles from your dough. If you find that you cannot get twelve, take the scraps and roll them again and cut. Not all of them wil be uniform in thickness, and that is just fine. This is homemade tartlets, remember. Lay these on top of the fruit and pinch the edges closed. The egg will help to "glue" them. Then brush the tops with more egg, cut a slit or hole in each, and sprinkle them heavily with sugar. Bake them for twenty minutes at 400, Check the color. If they are not brown enough for you, let them bake another ten minutes.
Let them cool. These travel really well, as they are very sturdy. And they are GOOD. I can honestly say that I could easily have eaten the whole batch with some good coffee.
I also believe that if you have savory stuff around, say chicken or something like that, you might very well be able to make the equivalent of a "pasty" as the Brits in Cornwall call them, doing exactly the same thing.
And if you have your own puppies, or dear friends whom you refer to by other names, make these, or make two batches, and ask them what their favorite fruit types are. Love comes back to you magnified. Trust me on this. I wouldn't lie about something as important as good food
She's back and she's roasting
Hello again all my dear ones. Did you miss me? I should explain, to those of you who may have been wondering: where has Annalena gone?
Well, after four and twenty years, Guy and I got married. Yup, full smells and bells, or more to the point FULL SMELLS AND BELLS. If you were at the ceremony and the party afterward, you know what I mean. We had a wonderful, grand old time. But I will give some advice to anyone who is thinking about doing this in the future: plan ahead, plan well, and plan to plan more than you thought you would. Our ceremony was on October 12, and rest assured that for all the time I was gone, I was getting ready for the ceremony. And recovering from the thereafter. This is not a simple undertaking, lovelies. And it is not a cheap one. Think long and hard before you do it, and then do it. I guarantee, you will not regret it, although it WILL hurt along the way.
But now, we're back in the kitchen, and we have some catching up to do. I would LOVE to make 300 entries before the end of the year, and then decide: shall we do another year, or shall we close up shop? There are SO many things, so many recipes, I would like you all to know about. And I DO have fun with this blog. But do you like it? Do you read it? I hear from so few of you that it is hard to tell. Perhaps you can take some time from your busy lives and let Annalena know what you think.
So, to turn to the topic at hand, which is roasting, roast beef in particular. For how many of us, was the "sunday roast" an important part of our growing up? Those big hunks of wonderful smelling meat, that provided dinner on Sunday, and then wonderful sandwiches for the days ahead. Remember them?
Chances are, you're misremembering. The truth is, roasting a large hunk of meat, like a roast beef, as we know it, is fraught with problems. Roasts are not uniform in size, and it is inevitable that some of it will be overcooked, some undercooked. Seasoning a roast is no easy task, as they are so large, and so thick, that it is next to impossible to get seasoning INTO the meat. The only way to do it with a large roast, is with a larding needle (something very few of us have, myself included), or by puncturing the meat and shoving the flavorings inside. This, of course, means that the juices of the roast will run out. You may get the makings of wonderful gravy, but you will NOT have tasty, succulent meat. In fact, you will probably have meat that NEEDS the gravy in order to be edible. And while excellent beef gravy is a thing of wonder and beauty, shouldn't we all be focusing on the meat?
Indeed, we should. And I am going to let you in on some of my secrets for making what I think is excellent roast beef.
First, start with the right cut, and the right TYPE of meat. I have told you all so many times of the importance of using grass fed meat, and I will repeat that. It will be more expensive, but it should be. Remember? SUNDAY roast? A roast is something special.
Now, to the cut. If you trust your meat man (or woman) s/he will ask you questions about how you like your roast beef and make an appropriate suggestion. I happen to love the eye round cut, which many people do NOT favor. Ask for help, explain what flavors you like in beef, and the good meat seller will guide you. I, however, will put in a plug for eye round.
Now, to a point that may be heresy. We all grew up with HUGE roasts, that weighed about five to seven pounds. This is why our moms and grandmoms were in the kitchen all day. A roast this size takes forever to cook, and has to be watched. The temperature needs to be regulated to make sure it cooks properly, etc, etc.
I suggest that you cook a SMALLER roast - no more than three pounds. If you have a lot of people to cook for, get two small ones. They will cook more evenly and quickly, and the chances of getting a more uniform, final product, are much higher.
As with all meat, start the night before by salting it. You will NOT regret this step with a beef roast. In fact, if you want more seasonings, now is the time to apply them and let the meat sit in the fridge, overnight.
A well cooked beef roast needs a lower temperature to cook it all the way through, and to retain the juices. This is more important still, with grass fed beef, which is so lean. But a roast cooked at a low temperature, will not take on that dark, caramely like crust that we all love. So, how do you solve it? Any hands up out there?
AH. I knew Sue would get it. Yes, you're right. Sue has been paying attention, and she knows how I cook. What you do is you heat up some oil - in this case, I prefer olive oil, and then sear the meat for a few minutes on all sides. I can't tell you how long. You have to be the judge of how dark you want that outside crust. I like it REALLY dark and crispy. So I take 3-4 minutes before I move it to an uncooked position.
When you have it, or them, nice and brown, place them in a baking or roasting pan (I honestly don't know what the difference is). If you have one roast, try to use a pan that gives it some room, but doesn't swallow it up in space. If you have two, space them to provide as much room as possible between them, to let the heat distribute properly. Else, you may wind up with steamed meat instead of roast meat.
Then, put the roast in the oven, preheated to 325 (a VERY low temperature), and go away. After about 90 minutes, do something rather scary to many people: make a cut in the center, and take a look: how far from cooked to the degree you want it, is it? If it's close, then turn off the oven, and let it sit there for another 20 minutes or so. If it is not, then let it cook for another twenty minutes before you check.
When you're done, let the roast cool at room temperature for another twenty minutes. You will read how this allows the juices and seasonings to redistribute, and that is true. It alos lets the muscle relax, so that you can cut it more easily.
Like with london broil, try to cut across the grain. Thin slices or thick, depending on how you like it. I prefer thinner slices. A good sharp knife is needed for thin slices. You should have one.
You will get more meat out of this than you may think. Certainly enough for dinner for six, or for lots and lots and lots of sandwiches. Or, for a handful of sandwiches, and some good eating as snacks and other things.
You may very well miss your family roast. But I bet that, at this point in your life, you have your own family and they probably miss theirs too. Reawaken those memories, have a family meal with your chosen family, as I did with part of mine this past weekend with a roast of this type, used to make sandwiches and to feed a very hungry young man, and have a lovely time.
Yes, I'm back. And I'm not going away.
Well, after four and twenty years, Guy and I got married. Yup, full smells and bells, or more to the point FULL SMELLS AND BELLS. If you were at the ceremony and the party afterward, you know what I mean. We had a wonderful, grand old time. But I will give some advice to anyone who is thinking about doing this in the future: plan ahead, plan well, and plan to plan more than you thought you would. Our ceremony was on October 12, and rest assured that for all the time I was gone, I was getting ready for the ceremony. And recovering from the thereafter. This is not a simple undertaking, lovelies. And it is not a cheap one. Think long and hard before you do it, and then do it. I guarantee, you will not regret it, although it WILL hurt along the way.
But now, we're back in the kitchen, and we have some catching up to do. I would LOVE to make 300 entries before the end of the year, and then decide: shall we do another year, or shall we close up shop? There are SO many things, so many recipes, I would like you all to know about. And I DO have fun with this blog. But do you like it? Do you read it? I hear from so few of you that it is hard to tell. Perhaps you can take some time from your busy lives and let Annalena know what you think.
So, to turn to the topic at hand, which is roasting, roast beef in particular. For how many of us, was the "sunday roast" an important part of our growing up? Those big hunks of wonderful smelling meat, that provided dinner on Sunday, and then wonderful sandwiches for the days ahead. Remember them?
Chances are, you're misremembering. The truth is, roasting a large hunk of meat, like a roast beef, as we know it, is fraught with problems. Roasts are not uniform in size, and it is inevitable that some of it will be overcooked, some undercooked. Seasoning a roast is no easy task, as they are so large, and so thick, that it is next to impossible to get seasoning INTO the meat. The only way to do it with a large roast, is with a larding needle (something very few of us have, myself included), or by puncturing the meat and shoving the flavorings inside. This, of course, means that the juices of the roast will run out. You may get the makings of wonderful gravy, but you will NOT have tasty, succulent meat. In fact, you will probably have meat that NEEDS the gravy in order to be edible. And while excellent beef gravy is a thing of wonder and beauty, shouldn't we all be focusing on the meat?
Indeed, we should. And I am going to let you in on some of my secrets for making what I think is excellent roast beef.
First, start with the right cut, and the right TYPE of meat. I have told you all so many times of the importance of using grass fed meat, and I will repeat that. It will be more expensive, but it should be. Remember? SUNDAY roast? A roast is something special.
Now, to the cut. If you trust your meat man (or woman) s/he will ask you questions about how you like your roast beef and make an appropriate suggestion. I happen to love the eye round cut, which many people do NOT favor. Ask for help, explain what flavors you like in beef, and the good meat seller will guide you. I, however, will put in a plug for eye round.
Now, to a point that may be heresy. We all grew up with HUGE roasts, that weighed about five to seven pounds. This is why our moms and grandmoms were in the kitchen all day. A roast this size takes forever to cook, and has to be watched. The temperature needs to be regulated to make sure it cooks properly, etc, etc.
I suggest that you cook a SMALLER roast - no more than three pounds. If you have a lot of people to cook for, get two small ones. They will cook more evenly and quickly, and the chances of getting a more uniform, final product, are much higher.
As with all meat, start the night before by salting it. You will NOT regret this step with a beef roast. In fact, if you want more seasonings, now is the time to apply them and let the meat sit in the fridge, overnight.
A well cooked beef roast needs a lower temperature to cook it all the way through, and to retain the juices. This is more important still, with grass fed beef, which is so lean. But a roast cooked at a low temperature, will not take on that dark, caramely like crust that we all love. So, how do you solve it? Any hands up out there?
AH. I knew Sue would get it. Yes, you're right. Sue has been paying attention, and she knows how I cook. What you do is you heat up some oil - in this case, I prefer olive oil, and then sear the meat for a few minutes on all sides. I can't tell you how long. You have to be the judge of how dark you want that outside crust. I like it REALLY dark and crispy. So I take 3-4 minutes before I move it to an uncooked position.
When you have it, or them, nice and brown, place them in a baking or roasting pan (I honestly don't know what the difference is). If you have one roast, try to use a pan that gives it some room, but doesn't swallow it up in space. If you have two, space them to provide as much room as possible between them, to let the heat distribute properly. Else, you may wind up with steamed meat instead of roast meat.
Then, put the roast in the oven, preheated to 325 (a VERY low temperature), and go away. After about 90 minutes, do something rather scary to many people: make a cut in the center, and take a look: how far from cooked to the degree you want it, is it? If it's close, then turn off the oven, and let it sit there for another 20 minutes or so. If it is not, then let it cook for another twenty minutes before you check.
When you're done, let the roast cool at room temperature for another twenty minutes. You will read how this allows the juices and seasonings to redistribute, and that is true. It alos lets the muscle relax, so that you can cut it more easily.
Like with london broil, try to cut across the grain. Thin slices or thick, depending on how you like it. I prefer thinner slices. A good sharp knife is needed for thin slices. You should have one.
You will get more meat out of this than you may think. Certainly enough for dinner for six, or for lots and lots and lots of sandwiches. Or, for a handful of sandwiches, and some good eating as snacks and other things.
You may very well miss your family roast. But I bet that, at this point in your life, you have your own family and they probably miss theirs too. Reawaken those memories, have a family meal with your chosen family, as I did with part of mine this past weekend with a roast of this type, used to make sandwiches and to feed a very hungry young man, and have a lovely time.
Yes, I'm back. And I'm not going away.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
apple, apple applesauce, applesauce, applesauce
One of my former colleagues has a daughter, and she came home from preschool one day, all excited about making applesauce and the song she learned while they were making it. The song is above.
Well, I made applesauce today, too, and I'm excited about it too.
I put applesauce in the same category of foods that I do peanut butter, and grilled cheese, and foods like that. We ate them as kids all the time. We LOVED them. And then we stopped. Why? Today, I think we consider applesauce something for children, and also for elderly who can't handle anything solid. And as a result, what you can buy in the store, unfortunately, even at the organic level, is truly awful. And you shouldn't buy it, because you can make it yourself in half an hour. And you can make it the way you like it.
All you need for applesauce, really, is apples and a little bit of water. Spices , especially a cinnamon stick, are nice, as are things like quinces (a MUST for me). Sugar too if your apples are tart or you like the applesauce sweet. And because it's so easy, you can do it any way you like.
BUT... if you're going to make applesauce, you really can' t make it with less than three, and preferably at least five, pounds of apples. The reason for this is that the apples are going to shrink down markedly. You will be astounded how little you have left. But it's worth it. You can use it just as it is (it is a MIGHTY fine thing to sit there and eat, feeling comforted). My friend David E, combines it with cottage cheese. I'll leave that to him. I like it with some cherry preserves stirred in, or on top of a very thickly buttered slice of dark bread. So make it, and you'll see how fast you use it. Don't forget the apple sauce cakes, and as a sauce for meet, and other thing.
So how do you do it? Okay, let's start with a three pound bag of apples, and know that for five, it's the same. Quarter them, after you've washed them. Don't bother peeling them or seeding them. Just dump them all into a big heavy pot. If you're using quinces, shred them. You want to shred the quinces because they take longer to cook than apples, and if you quartered them, it would take forever. Mix these all together, with whatever spices you like. I like a stick of cinnamon in mine. You may prefer cloves, or nutmeg, or anything like that. Feel free to play. Stir in half a cup of water and cover the pot tightly and put it on low heat. After ten minutes, open the pot and smell... FALL. Press the fruit down and you'll see how it falls apart. Stir it up, cover it and cook it for another ten minutes, and, guess what? You are ALMOST finished.
Almost, because you have all those pits and skin in there. I put mine through a food mill, but you can use a collander too. Just press all the sauce through it, and leave the junk behind. And you have your applesauce. Taste it, and add as much sugar as you want, or don't add any at all.
Depending on your apple variety, you will either get a greenish yellow, pink, or pale red finished product. For heaven's sakes, DONT add food coloring.
I prefer to use single varieties of apples when I make applesauce. I feel that mixing diminishes the flavor of each variety, and I shall have much more to say about different varieities of apples as autumn goes forward.
You will love yourself for this simple dish. And if you have it in the fridge, and you find a recipe for applesauce cake, well, you don't have to worry about not being able to make it.
And applesauce cake is GOOD.... You'll see..
Well, I made applesauce today, too, and I'm excited about it too.
I put applesauce in the same category of foods that I do peanut butter, and grilled cheese, and foods like that. We ate them as kids all the time. We LOVED them. And then we stopped. Why? Today, I think we consider applesauce something for children, and also for elderly who can't handle anything solid. And as a result, what you can buy in the store, unfortunately, even at the organic level, is truly awful. And you shouldn't buy it, because you can make it yourself in half an hour. And you can make it the way you like it.
All you need for applesauce, really, is apples and a little bit of water. Spices , especially a cinnamon stick, are nice, as are things like quinces (a MUST for me). Sugar too if your apples are tart or you like the applesauce sweet. And because it's so easy, you can do it any way you like.
BUT... if you're going to make applesauce, you really can' t make it with less than three, and preferably at least five, pounds of apples. The reason for this is that the apples are going to shrink down markedly. You will be astounded how little you have left. But it's worth it. You can use it just as it is (it is a MIGHTY fine thing to sit there and eat, feeling comforted). My friend David E, combines it with cottage cheese. I'll leave that to him. I like it with some cherry preserves stirred in, or on top of a very thickly buttered slice of dark bread. So make it, and you'll see how fast you use it. Don't forget the apple sauce cakes, and as a sauce for meet, and other thing.
So how do you do it? Okay, let's start with a three pound bag of apples, and know that for five, it's the same. Quarter them, after you've washed them. Don't bother peeling them or seeding them. Just dump them all into a big heavy pot. If you're using quinces, shred them. You want to shred the quinces because they take longer to cook than apples, and if you quartered them, it would take forever. Mix these all together, with whatever spices you like. I like a stick of cinnamon in mine. You may prefer cloves, or nutmeg, or anything like that. Feel free to play. Stir in half a cup of water and cover the pot tightly and put it on low heat. After ten minutes, open the pot and smell... FALL. Press the fruit down and you'll see how it falls apart. Stir it up, cover it and cook it for another ten minutes, and, guess what? You are ALMOST finished.
Almost, because you have all those pits and skin in there. I put mine through a food mill, but you can use a collander too. Just press all the sauce through it, and leave the junk behind. And you have your applesauce. Taste it, and add as much sugar as you want, or don't add any at all.
Depending on your apple variety, you will either get a greenish yellow, pink, or pale red finished product. For heaven's sakes, DONT add food coloring.
I prefer to use single varieties of apples when I make applesauce. I feel that mixing diminishes the flavor of each variety, and I shall have much more to say about different varieities of apples as autumn goes forward.
You will love yourself for this simple dish. And if you have it in the fridge, and you find a recipe for applesauce cake, well, you don't have to worry about not being able to make it.
And applesauce cake is GOOD.... You'll see..
"Intimacy"
Now, there's a loaded word, isn't it? What, precisely, does it mean? Damned if I know. Advertising uses it, all the time, for describing things like lingerie, or what we used to call " private dainties."
To me, that's only part of it. "Being intimate" can mean sharing a part of you that makes you vulnerable. Not "has the potential to" but MAKES you vulnerable. I have been thinking about this concept over the past few days, after being invited to watch my dear friend in a vocal coaching session. Performers, of any kind, are proud of what they do. When they do it, we expect them to make it look effortless. Who wants to see the strain on a gymnast's face when he or she is doing a difficult maneuver, or hear a dancer curse when s/he's doing some difficult leap? No, we don't want that. We want to see it done perfectly, easily, and without any visible sign of strain. We want to feel "gee, that looks easy."
Well, getting to that point clearly is NOT easy, and that's where the vulnerability, and the intimacy comes, in sharing how you "get there "with someone. It's a level of exposure that other performers have told me is akin to someone stripping naked in front of you. To invite a non-performer in, to see this very private kind of thing is an honor. My UPEX boys have done it, my friend has done it. I am moved and terrified by it, at the same time. I have described my feelings about it as trying to hold onto a comet (a strong image from Ovid's Metamorphosis, which I've been rereading. Go to the last story and read about how Venus tried to hold her son, Julius Ceaser's soul, after he had been assasinated. Ovid described it better than I could). And try as I might to hold onto that feeling, that "comet, it's best let go, so that I can "watch it," at least in the sky of my mind's eye. Every time I have been in these situations, I haven't wanted them to end. And at the same time, I get to a point where I know it's time to let the comet go.
So, what does this rumination have to do with cooking? Well, now that's the loaded question of the day, isn't it? I have been thinking a lot lately about the relationship between cooking (which I view as a craft), to things like dance and singing (which I view as arts). Parallels can be drawn, but they are attenuated. I was telling some friends about a dance performance I saw that I loved it because it reminded me of the way I cook. I will try to articulate that in writing in the future. It's not a good parallel, but it's a partial one. So, too, with the exposure and vulnerability of a singer, and then cooking. When you invite someone into your home, and feed them, you want everything to be perfect. You want it to look like you never sweated a drop. But when you trust someone intimately, you ask them into your KITCHEN. You let them see you work. You let them see how you sweat, how you don't get everything right, how there are faults along the way. And you keep on going. And if you're as fortunate as I am, you have truly good friends who are also performers and who "get it." And if you miss a note - the soup is too salty, the fish isn't brown enough - they say nothing and you enjoy being with each other, even though YOU, as the cook, the "perfomer du jour" know that it wasn't quite right. And that's just fine. Because now you know where you have work to do, and because you've shared a part of you that isn't really something for public consumption.
So that's where my thoughts on the parallels between cooking, art and intimacy come together. And I want to post a recipe for my friends who showed me this. You all know who you are.
One of the things that I have found, in chatting and eating with you guys, is you're all afraid of CARBS!!!! Oi. If Annalena could not have her carbs, she'd be more of a mess than she is. But anyway, yesterday, I made a recipe with such a minimal amount of carbs in it, that I have to share it with you boys. There are breadcrumbs in it. Leave them out if you don't want that two tablespoons of it in the whole dish, which is a savory cheesecake.
You need a springform pan for this. Nine inches. Measure. You are also going to need a pound and a half of cream cheese. Low fat is ok, non fat is not. Also, about a cup of grated cheddar cheese, the strongest you can find. A half cup of cream - HEAVY cream. Three eggs, too. And finally, a pint of some kind of salsa or relish. Now, this is one where the no carbs rule can fail. I know that there are many vegetables that the non-carb eater can't have. But there are also others that you can, and you know what they are. I used a mushroom onion apple relish, but use what works for you.
Preheat your oven to 325. Then, put the cream cheese in a bowl and with a mixer, work it until it's soft. Then blend in the cream, then the eggs, one at a time. Now add in half of your grated cheese. Finally, blend in that pint of relish or salsa or whatever you like (you could probably even use 2 cups of a chopped up or cooked vegetable, now that I think of it. Spinach anyone?). Taste it. If it needs salt, add it now.
Get your springform pan, and grease it, with butter (preferably), or oil, or whatever you use for these things. Breadcrumbs make this easier but you dont have to use them, so if you do, sprinkle some breadcrumbs in the pan, shake it around, and coat the pan with them. Then dump all of that stuff into the pan, and then sprinkle the rest of the grated cheese on top of it.
Put this into the oven for an hour and a quarter. It will darken, the cheese will crisp up, and your kitchen is going to smell wonderful. Take it out of the oven and let it cool down completely. Dishes like this need to sit, to solidify and become "whole. " It's rich, so eat it in small portions, maybe with salad if you can.
Boys, I love you all so dearly. I don't have much to offer in return. Hope you like this, and I'll make it for you anytime you like
To me, that's only part of it. "Being intimate" can mean sharing a part of you that makes you vulnerable. Not "has the potential to" but MAKES you vulnerable. I have been thinking about this concept over the past few days, after being invited to watch my dear friend in a vocal coaching session. Performers, of any kind, are proud of what they do. When they do it, we expect them to make it look effortless. Who wants to see the strain on a gymnast's face when he or she is doing a difficult maneuver, or hear a dancer curse when s/he's doing some difficult leap? No, we don't want that. We want to see it done perfectly, easily, and without any visible sign of strain. We want to feel "gee, that looks easy."
Well, getting to that point clearly is NOT easy, and that's where the vulnerability, and the intimacy comes, in sharing how you "get there "with someone. It's a level of exposure that other performers have told me is akin to someone stripping naked in front of you. To invite a non-performer in, to see this very private kind of thing is an honor. My UPEX boys have done it, my friend has done it. I am moved and terrified by it, at the same time. I have described my feelings about it as trying to hold onto a comet (a strong image from Ovid's Metamorphosis, which I've been rereading. Go to the last story and read about how Venus tried to hold her son, Julius Ceaser's soul, after he had been assasinated. Ovid described it better than I could). And try as I might to hold onto that feeling, that "comet, it's best let go, so that I can "watch it," at least in the sky of my mind's eye. Every time I have been in these situations, I haven't wanted them to end. And at the same time, I get to a point where I know it's time to let the comet go.
So, what does this rumination have to do with cooking? Well, now that's the loaded question of the day, isn't it? I have been thinking a lot lately about the relationship between cooking (which I view as a craft), to things like dance and singing (which I view as arts). Parallels can be drawn, but they are attenuated. I was telling some friends about a dance performance I saw that I loved it because it reminded me of the way I cook. I will try to articulate that in writing in the future. It's not a good parallel, but it's a partial one. So, too, with the exposure and vulnerability of a singer, and then cooking. When you invite someone into your home, and feed them, you want everything to be perfect. You want it to look like you never sweated a drop. But when you trust someone intimately, you ask them into your KITCHEN. You let them see you work. You let them see how you sweat, how you don't get everything right, how there are faults along the way. And you keep on going. And if you're as fortunate as I am, you have truly good friends who are also performers and who "get it." And if you miss a note - the soup is too salty, the fish isn't brown enough - they say nothing and you enjoy being with each other, even though YOU, as the cook, the "perfomer du jour" know that it wasn't quite right. And that's just fine. Because now you know where you have work to do, and because you've shared a part of you that isn't really something for public consumption.
So that's where my thoughts on the parallels between cooking, art and intimacy come together. And I want to post a recipe for my friends who showed me this. You all know who you are.
One of the things that I have found, in chatting and eating with you guys, is you're all afraid of CARBS!!!! Oi. If Annalena could not have her carbs, she'd be more of a mess than she is. But anyway, yesterday, I made a recipe with such a minimal amount of carbs in it, that I have to share it with you boys. There are breadcrumbs in it. Leave them out if you don't want that two tablespoons of it in the whole dish, which is a savory cheesecake.
You need a springform pan for this. Nine inches. Measure. You are also going to need a pound and a half of cream cheese. Low fat is ok, non fat is not. Also, about a cup of grated cheddar cheese, the strongest you can find. A half cup of cream - HEAVY cream. Three eggs, too. And finally, a pint of some kind of salsa or relish. Now, this is one where the no carbs rule can fail. I know that there are many vegetables that the non-carb eater can't have. But there are also others that you can, and you know what they are. I used a mushroom onion apple relish, but use what works for you.
Preheat your oven to 325. Then, put the cream cheese in a bowl and with a mixer, work it until it's soft. Then blend in the cream, then the eggs, one at a time. Now add in half of your grated cheese. Finally, blend in that pint of relish or salsa or whatever you like (you could probably even use 2 cups of a chopped up or cooked vegetable, now that I think of it. Spinach anyone?). Taste it. If it needs salt, add it now.
Get your springform pan, and grease it, with butter (preferably), or oil, or whatever you use for these things. Breadcrumbs make this easier but you dont have to use them, so if you do, sprinkle some breadcrumbs in the pan, shake it around, and coat the pan with them. Then dump all of that stuff into the pan, and then sprinkle the rest of the grated cheese on top of it.
Put this into the oven for an hour and a quarter. It will darken, the cheese will crisp up, and your kitchen is going to smell wonderful. Take it out of the oven and let it cool down completely. Dishes like this need to sit, to solidify and become "whole. " It's rich, so eat it in small portions, maybe with salad if you can.
Boys, I love you all so dearly. I don't have much to offer in return. Hope you like this, and I'll make it for you anytime you like
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