Tuesday, June 30, 2009

"soft" macaroni and cheese

Any of you who have taken time to go through these rantings know that one of the "food issues" that most interests me is the development of the culinary "canon." By that, I mean the "sacred dishes," the ones that everyone knows, wherever they are, the way there are certain saints in theology that everyone knows. Any Catholic knows St. Mary, St. Joseph, St. Patrick. Scratch a bit deeper though. Italian catholics will remember St. Rocco (my own patron). Irish, St. Brigit. French, St. Blaise. One can go regional, as well, and find saints known in the south of France, but not the north. Even in the United States: go to Boston and you'll find familiarity with saints that you won't hear about in NY (and NO, I am not talking about St. Carl Yaz. ). So, too, with food. Hamburgers. Chili. Hot dogs. Apple pie. All universals. All cooked differently wherever you go, but all known, wherever you go. Concord grape pie. WHA???? Picalilly. Whozat? Carrots in tomato soup (WHATEVER FOR? ). And then there are foods that don't go outside of their regions successfully. Bagels in Chicago? I don't think so. Fried peaches in Connecticut? Nope.

Well, these thoughts are promulgated by a discussion of macaroni and cheese I had some time ago. If you go through these blogs, you will find a recipe for the stuff, which is very dry, is baked, and is rather solid stuff. I happen to love it that way. But what I found , much to my surprise, is that most people like a softer, more liquid version of this dish. That surprised me because, let's face it, softer, more liquid dishes are harder to eat. You can't put them on a plate: they drip off, all over you. You can't really pick them up with your hands. I made mac and cheese for a party once, and I didn't have time to do the baking. So, I brought it wet, with bowls. I have NEVER had a version of this stuff disappear faster. I made it a few more times the same way. Always the same reaction. The "icing on the cake," or more appropriately the "cheese on the cheese" came when my official mac and cheese evaluator, Keith, came by for a plate of the softer stuff. The man nearly swooned, even after a plate of my incredible (if I do say so myself, and I do), pasta with octopus and tomato sauce. 'YOU HAVE GOT TO WRITE THIS DOWN" was one of his more printable comments.

On one level, I have to laugh. To me, this just isn't cooking. On another level, I have to smile. It is truly flattering when people lap up things that I regard as "lapses" in the kitchen. But, what can I say? The weight of authority cannot be wrong. I have made this for a handful of people beyond the Keithster, and they all reacted the same way. So, ok, folks. Here it is. Not too different from my basic recipe, but different enough to suggest printing it.

As always, start with the best ingredients you can find. Good quality, fresh pasta. Organic unsalted butter. Milk from a reputable source. Good quality extra sharp cheddar: half a pound of it.

To get ready, shred the cheese and keep it at the side. Pour out two cups of milk and reserve it. Make a light bechamel by melting a stick of butter with a quarter cup of flour. Stir it well, until the flour is well incorporated, even if you have what appear to be incorrigible lumps. Add some salt. Then, slowly pour in the milk and whisk it, until the lumps break apart and you just have a thick, white mass. Cook this slowly over low heat, and keep stirring it. When it thickens visibly, add the cheese. All of it. Stir it in until it melts. You can actually do this off the heat if you like. Cover the pot and put it aside. Now cook up the pasta as you normally would, and when you drain it, save out about 3/4 cup of the starchy water. Put the pasta back in the pot and add the cheese sauce. Stir this around. Usually, the residual water from the pasta will make this liquid enough: you don't want the sauce falling off of the pasta, but you want a sense of instability (in the pasta, not your kitchen. You know what I mean), and if you don't have it, add the water in small amounts until you get it. This, in pie making, is sometimes called "slice ooze." Actually, it's almost always called that in private. Do you really want someone looking at your pie and saying "DAMN. That's great slice ooze?" I didn't think so.

And there it is. UNLESS.... when I made this, I had some left over cooked chicken breast from sandwiches. I simply sliced it into chunks and put it in with the cheese sauce. Marvelous. And from one of the tv shows on cooking, I saw Hubert Keller, the great French chef do a version of mac and cheese where he added sliced prawns. Why the hell not? If you want to stay away from that kind of meat and cheese combo, maybe a cup of peas? (I know. It seems I work for the American pea council - well, the p ee council too, these days). Peas are blissfully in season now, and they're good, as well as good for you. Go for it.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Yet another theft, this time from Zuni cafe'

Ciao ragazzi. We're going to make some pasta today. Some wonderful pasta. Some pasta that will inspire your friends to the point where they will make it themselves. Some pasta that will make them love you even more than they do now. And a pasta dish which, ultimately, is so easy, and so subject to variation, that you will not believe it. This pasta dish will make you want to make it every week.
Don't believe me? Have I ever lied to you?
This pasta dish is inspired by two very similar dishes that I've had at Zuni Cafe'. They are, as are most wonderful plates of food, epitomes of simplicity. All you need are wonderful ingredients. One is a bit extravagant, but you don't need much of it, and you could leave it out. Try not to though.
This pasta dish involves a fresh vegetable. I make it with asparagus, but as the asparagus are getting ready to wave "goodbye" to us, I will be switching to peas for a while. Maybe even sugar snap peas. You will also need lemon peel. Not a lot of it, maybe a tablespoon or so. The extravagant ingredient you will need is truffle butter. WHITE truffle butter. Finally, you will need some mild white cheese. Something soft tasting, but firm. Not mozzarella, but something along those lines.
Now, of the truffle butter, my friend David says that he had seen someone on tv cook a similar recipe and said that if you didn't have truffle butter, you could get a similar effect with mushrooms, cooked in plain, unsalted butter. Ok, so try it if you like. It sounds good to me.

Now, ready for how easy this is? You take a pound of fresh pasta, and then two-three cups of your vegetable. In the case of asparagus, you should snip them into small pieces, and make sure you use the tips. For peas, pod them of course. For sugar snap peas, cut them in half or so, on a diagnonal. Essentially, use those ideas for other vegetables. And use a stubby pasta: penne, or something like that. Have your grated lemon peel ready. Also, cube up about a cup of the cheese.

Put your truffle butter into a bowl. If you are using the mushroom and plain butter combination, slice the mushrooms, and saute' them in melted butter until they begin to give off their liquid. Then move the butter, mushrooms, and liquid to that bowl.

Notice how I didn't specify the amount of butter? Not a mistake. You have to decide how much, based on what else you're serving.

Get a big pot of salted water going and toss in the pasta. It won't take long to cook. After about 4 minutes - which is when the pasta is nearly done - toss in your vegetables, and don't cook for more than three minutes. In the case of snap peas, in fact, I would suggest that you cook the pasta for six minutes, and then add the peas for the last minute.

Drain the pasta and vegetables, and pour it into the bowl with the butter. If you are using the truffle butter, you will be assailed with one of the most alluring scents that you will ever get in the kitchen. Guaranteed to make your guests begin to gather at the kitchen wondering "what is that?" They will await it eagerly. Toss all of this together, and then toss in the lemon peel. Plate , or rather "bowl" all of the servings, and then put a few tablespoons of the cheese on top of this.

When you play with this recipe, the one essential item is the lemon peel. There is something about it that ties all of the flavors together. It mutes in the mix, but you will miss it if it's not there.

The recipe also doubles, or even triples, beautifully. I like to serve three ounces of the pasta per serving when it's the first course of a meal. Guy thinks that's overly generous, but we never get leftover pasta back when we clear the plates.

So, how long do you think it took you to put that together? Less than half an hour, right? That's the kind of meals we like: fast , sophisticated, and taste good. Sort of like your author here.

Enjoy, ragazzi.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Stealing from Dana again: strawberry upside down cake

I have written before about one of my favoritististist cooks in the world: Dana Tommasino, who cooks at Woodward's Garden, the restaurant she co-owns with her partner, Margey. The relationship that Guy and I have with the ladies goes back a long time. Through some very bad times, through some very good times. And through it all, I've never found them anything but cheerful, friendly and delightful. Dana's taste in music can run a bit too wild for my taste (A mixed tape of Yma Sumac was not really the best help to eating a pork chop one visit, but I did learn about Gladys Knight's version of Joe Cocker's "Feelin alright," from Dana).
If you asked Dana to describe her style of cooking, she probably would tell you that she cooks what she would like to eat. I would describe it as inspired high heat (temperature), cooking, with an emphasis on big, bold flavors. If you ask about her influences, Dana will go on for a while on who she's learned from, who she's learning from and so forth.
And you know what? We're learning from her. The recipe I'm giving here is hers. Sort of. I made a few marginal changes. The basic cake recipe is one that Dana found in Lindsey Shere's incredible "Chez Panisse Desserts." Interestingly, I found the same recipe, but in the also indispensable "Room for Dessert" by David Lebovitz - who cooked under Lindsey Shere's supervision. So the cake recipe is out there. Dana's use of strawberries, to me, is brilliant. I had always assumed that anything with strawberries baked into it, would lose the evanescent flavor of strawberries. WRONG. This cake was like eating a wonderful piece of almond bread with fresh strawberry jam on it. Now that strawberries are either peaking or waning, depending on your point of view, if you've had enough of them fresh, make this cake. It is, I promise you, absurdly easy.
I made it at a dinner party for some of the people I love most in the world. It was a big hit. Perhaps too big a hit, even with me. When you serve it, I suggest you start with small portions, especially if you do what I did and serve it with three different ice creams (strawberry, kumquat and noyau). I can see Dana now, laughing and saying "good for you," when I tell her about it. She knows how to make all of the ice creams. And she'll probably come up with some lovely combination in each of them, to make them better.

So, this is for Dana. And it's also for Guy, Keith, David, Anthony, James, Michael and Matt. Love you all? NO. I ADORE you all. Every single one of you.

Let's start with the topping. If you make things like pineapple upside down cake, this is going to sound very familiar, except for the strawberries. You will need a LOT of them - perhaps as many as a quart and a half. The reason for this, is that during the baking process, strawberries shrink. You can get away with a quart of them, if you don't mind a cake that looks a little "bare" before you cut it. The flavor is just as good: the strawberries basically dissolve into the cake, but if you want "purty," use more of them. Prep the berries by stemming them, and then cutting them in halves. You want to use bigger berries here. Don't bother with quartering them. Put them aside for a few minutes (remember that if you have too many, strawberries are incredibly good for you ). Get your pan ready. A springform is really good for this. Nine inches is a good size (in pans too), but ten will work (in pans too), as will eight (yes, in pans, too). In a small saucepan, combine three tablespoons of butter and 3/4 cup of brown sugar - light or dark, don't much matter. Melt them together, and stir to make sure that the sugar is all broken up and smooth. Then, put some parchment paper on the bottom of the pan. It may help if you spray some cooking spray down before you put down the paper, solely to hold it in place. Now, pour the butter sugar mixture on the paper, and swirl the pan to distribute it as evenly as possible. Don't kill yourself about this. The heat will distribute it too. Then lay down the strawberries, in concentric circles, cut side up. Fill the pan really well, and don't be afraid to start a second layer of berries. Put that aside .

The cake portion is absurdly easy. You will need 1.25 cups of sugar , an 8 ounce can of almond paste (this is not marzipan, which has much more sugar in it than the paste), a stick of softened, unsalted butter, a pinch of vanilla, six large eggs, a cup of flour, 1.5 teaspoons of baking powder and a big pinch of salt.

Now, this is gonna be the ultimate in easy for you food processor owners (and the cake is worth buying a food processor for). Put the sugar and almond paste in the processor and pulse it until the stuff is really broken up and crumbly looking. Keep the processor going, and add the butter through the feed tube. Then the vanilla. Then the eggs, one at a time.
When you get to the dry stuff, you can either add it directly to the food processor, or you can dump everything out into a bowl and fold it in. The advantage of doing the latter is that you avoid any issues with a gummy batter. The disadvantage is, you dirty more dishes. Your call.

Now, pour that cake batter (it will be wet), over the strawberries, and park the whole thing on a baking sheet. Put it into a preheated, 325 degree oven, for - ready for this - 1.5 hours. It needs that time, trust me. It is going to look darker than you think it should, but don't fret. You'll be glad you let it go for the full length of time.

When you take it out of the oven, you should immediately run a knife around the perimeter, and then let it sit for longer than you think it should - it should sit for at least an hour, two hours is better. This is why you run the knife around the edge. If you don't, the sugar will harden, carmelize, and you won't get the cake out.

After the cooling period is over, release the sides on the pan. Put a big plate over the cake, and then with two hands and a very firm grip, flip it over. Pull away the parchment, and look at the ruby like production you have in front of you. A beautiful, lovely red cake. Some prefer it warm, I prefer it at room temperature.

Let me just comment on the cake for a minute. I have made this cake with plums as the fruit, with spiced quinces, and just plain. It's the perfect cake to have around for "unexpected company" or to treat yourself to something tasty. If you have a food processor, it takes all of five minutes to put together.

Make yourself one. And maybe try some different flavors? I'm waiting for sour cherry season to start, and do another one. Any other ideas? I think peaches would be swell, too.

Thanks Dana, and thanks boys. Let's do it again.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Well, she's baaaaaaaaaack with no excuses and a soup recipe

Ciao ragazzi. Annalena has been distinctly absent as of late, hasn't she? Mea culpa. You all have had those periods when you can't get anything done, haven't you? Ah, so it has been. And to think I had dreams of taking another class this summer. HAH. I am lucky these days to have time to peel a potato. And in fact, by the luck of coincidence, we are going to talk today about doing things when you don't have to peel the potato.



BUT FIRST. Some news. Annalena has won a cooking prize. A small one, but a prize nonetheless. One of her favorite purveyors (http://www.earthy.com/), had a contest to pick the best recipe using morel mushrooms. Well, Annalena entered her recipe for morel mushroom soup. When they announced the winner and posted the recipe, Annalena sighed and said "yes, indeed, it is better than mine." On Friday of last week, however, Annalena received word that she was the first runner up. No chat about how if the winner could not fulfill his duties or anything like that, just her choice of a tshirt or a coffee mug. Now, Annlena is a tshirt kinda girl, but wearing a tshirt that spells out "Earthy Delights" was not in the cards. So, I am now a proud owner of a chiles of the world coffee mug.



Now, back to what we do: cook. Recently, I wrote about fingerling potatoes. And this soup uses them; however, you could use any potato you like. This recipe is the result of circumstances: a bowl of fingerlings, beginning to sprout "eyes" and a need to make a pot of soup for Monday dinner (just one more of those, as Guy's rehearsals end).



Those of you who are of a soup like persuasion will immediately recognize parallels to vichissoyse, and indeed, that is the inspiration for this soup. It shows us all how a basic recipe can be modified to use what is available and make a lovely dish.



The recipe uses fingerling potatoes, green garlic (to review: the spring garlic that has not yet formed a bulb), vegetable stock and green peas. On the question of vegetable stock: if you are eating seasonally, you are now surrounded by things like asparagus, and pod peas. You are probably not using the very bottoms of the asparagus, as they are very tough. Store them, and when you have about two or three cups, make stock. It couldn't be easier. Put the asparagus pieces in a pot, with about six cups of water, and turn on the heat. When it comes to a boil, lower and simmer for ten minutes and then drain it off. You can do the same thing with peapods and make a lovely stock for something like risibisi, or risotto, or anything like that.



So, now you have that stock. While it is cooking, rub the sprouting eyes off of your potatoes if you were as foolish as moi, and then cut them into halves or thirds. You don't have to peel fingerlings, because the skin is so light, and if you do, you will lose most of the potato. New potatoes will work the same way, but if you use storage potatoes, do yourself a favor and peel them. Also, get two or three green garlics, peel off the tough stem, and chop them, all the way up to the point where the plant is getting very dark green. (Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the peas).



To me, butter and potatoes are a natural combo. BUT... you can burn butter so easily and ruin your dish, that I use two tablespoons of butter, unsalted, and two tablespoons of oil. Melt the butter in the oil, and then simmer the green garlic in it until it begins to soften. Now add your potatoes, toss them through the oil, and then add that vegetable stock - drain the asparagus pieces before you do- and taste the thing for salt. Let this bubble away for about half an hour, until the potatoes are ridiculously soft. It will take that long. Fingerlings are rather sturdy.



When you have it to the soft point, test the salt again. You can use this soup as it is, but if you want something more classic, it's time to puree it.



PUT THE BLENDER OR FOOD PROCESSOR AWAY NOW. Does anyone recall Annalena's warnings about potatoes and those instruments? It is true. You will get a very gummy soup. No, get out that old fashioned food mill and start pushing the stuff through that. It will keep some of the skin back, as well as bigger pieces of garlic, and give you a much more interesting texture. Of course, you could just go in with a spoon and smash the potatoes to a texture you like. I am told that an immersion blender is good here, but I do not have one.



I told you I didn't forget the peas. Now, put all that soup back into the pot, and add as many fresh green peas if you like. The soup will probably be hot enough to cook the peas to the point they should (not too much), and you have a lovely, filling dinner.



You can put some grated cheese on top of this, but I wouldn't. What you may want to do is dilute it further. You may find the pureed potatoes just too thick to feel comfortable serving it forth as soup. That is your call. For those of us who like it thick, it is wonderful just like this.



Enjoy. I will be back soon with some new recipes, including a wonderful strawberry upside down cake from my friend Dana, a creamy macaroni and cheese, a wonderful springtime pasta dish, and Buddha only knows what else.



Annalena is a silver medal winner. How cool is that?

Friday, June 12, 2009

Jammed up: strawberry jam

"NEVER AGAIN." You've used it, haven't you? I know I have. Of relevance here is the time I said it in 1994 - yes, when Annalena had not even turned 40. That was the year I decided that rather than spend money and turn Christmas into a commercial event, I would MAKE people their holiday gifts. And, since anything worth doing is worth overdoing, in Annalena's book, I decided that I would make people selections of jam. And I would start, as soon as fruit began coming into season. I WAS using the farmers' market at that time, at least for some things, and as the fruit came in, I bought SCADS of it. I bought a complete kit for making jam: a canning kettle, tongs, 8000 jars, the whole nine yards.
I should have heeded when my friend Peg said one word about the project. After a not so pregnant pause, she said:

"why?"

See, Peg had preserved because she HAD to. I was doing it because "it'll be fun, it'll be great, it'll be an adventure and I'll save so much money!"

I think I may have heard Peg whisper "right." But maybe not. In any event, it was surely an adventure.
We now speak at home of "the great preserve fiasco of 1994." It included the miracle of the expanding raspberries, the exploding brandied cherries , the "you truly are a flame, but please put your sweater out" adventure, and of course the "what flavor is this jam? Oh, just label it as purple"
All true. I swear. And I said, "never again. '

Right.

Last winter, faced with a surplus of seville oranges, I made marmalade. I made a SMALL amount of marmalade: eight cups worth or something like that. It was good. So , this spring when the vegetable goddess Nevia said "I have a hundred pounds of frozen strawberries, can you take some of them?" I IMMEDIATELY decided to make s trawberry jam.

why?

don't ask.

Well, truth to be told, if you're going to make just a few jars, and make what they call "refrigerator jam," because you don't seal it, and you have to eat it quickly and refrigerate it, it's not quite so bad.

I swear. I mean it. I really do. It is not difficult. It IS time consuming. OH LORD, is it time consuming. But you know what? I really like the jam I made. And I may make some more. See, I have friends who did not get a jar of this stuff, and there does seem to be interest in it. So, perhaps if I get to it, I'll do it again. Maybe this time I will avoid the great strawberry fiasco of 2009 (let's just say that, with the taxi fares , note the plural, involved in getting these berries, this jam may be the world's most expensive strawberry jam ever. Hopefully, you will do better.)

This recipe made nine cups for me. Here we go. You start with five pounds of strawberries. Mine were frozen, but if you get fresh, great. Either way, stem the berries. If they're frozen, you're going to leave them out overnight, in a BIGGER pot than you think you'll ever need (I am NOT kidding. This is going to boil up big time. Use a BIG BIG BIG pot. Or you will be scraping burnt sugar and carmelized strawberry juice off of your stove for the entire weekend. ). Some would say you have to cut the berries up, but I don't think so. I find that they cook down to a very nice texture if you leave them whole. Whether you use frozen or fresh, mix 3 pounds of sugar with them (this is a bit more than standard. The "rule" for jam making is one part sugar to two parts fruit). Mix them together, and let them sit overnight.

The next day, the fresh berries will have exuded juice, and the frozen ones will have thawed. Stir everything together once, and turn the heat on under the berries at LOW.

Oi, is this important. If you raise the heat too high, you will be scraping burnt sugar and carmelized strawberry juice off of the bottom of your pot for the entire weekend. You will be astonished how quickly this comes to a boil. You will be equally astonished as to how long it takes to go from boiling point, 212, to 220. It took over an hour for me. Closer to two. You need that temperature to form a soft gel, so get a candy thermometer or an instant read one, or something like that.

At 220, the jam is done. I stirred a hefty pint of whole berries into my cooked stuff, and they really were beautiful. Also, in the style of June Taylor, lovely lady that she is, I put a rose geranium leaf in each jar (remember, I'm gay. This kind of stuff comes naturally to our people. If you can't come up with a creative combination, consult your local 'mo). The jars were the one cup size, and I filled them to the top, while the jam was still hot. Then I sealed the lids, simply by closing them tight.

I always loved, and still do love, the sound as the jam cools, the lids contract, and you hear a "pop" as the lid closes down.

And you are done. You have gifts for 8 people, and one for yourself, or lots of jam for toast and cakes and pies and other things like that. But DO try to give some away. Maybe someone will even make some for you. And then you can eventually get your own collection, and maybe make a Christmas gift out of it.

Cherries come into season soon. Hmmmm.....

Fascinating fingerlings

Ok, it's a stupid title. I know it. But bear with me. It's early, I've been out jogging or running, depending up on your point of view, it's raining, and I'm looking at working on stuff today that is not at all appealing. And then... any thoughts of an early Friday departure are dispelled by a 3pm conference call. Still... there's lunch with Dylan. YAY!!!!. In any event, my mind is functioning not so well this morning (perhaps from the fumes of 2 quarts of strawberry jam I made last night. Why do I do this? Why do I do these NUTSY things. And do you want the recipe?).

Enough digression: to the matter at hand. Let's review. Remember yesterday when I told you potatoes have a season? Well, let me amplify on that. Potatoes are edible over the course of a LONG season, but you will find different types of potatoes, as they mature. Now, as the weather is just warming up, is the time when you will find the smaller potatoes, the young ones, that are called, sometimes, "fingerlings."

If you think back to the different kind of potatoes you see in the market, you may recall that some are round, and some are elongated. The ones that are round, when young, are sometimes sold as "butterballs" or some equally silly name like that. Younger versions of the longer potatoes, like Idahos, are called "fingerlings," allegedly because they look like a small (or large ) finger.

Honestly, I try not to think about that image. Remember, Annalena was a biologist at a prior point in his/her life. I try to think of them, simply, as young potatoes.

As I said yesterday, you cook these differently from the big ones. I'm going to provide you with my favorite way.

These are potatoes you don't want to peel. They are so small - generally no bigger than an ounce or so - that if you peel them, you wind up with nothing. What I do is I give them a quick rinse with plain water, and then put them into a pot, whole. I don't slice them - yet- because they are so small that they will cook quickly. Then I add a tablespoon of salt, for two pounds of fingerlings, and like with the mashed potatoes, I barely cover them with water. Again, like the bigger potatoes, I boil them, BUT... instead of boiling them to soft, I boil them to "aldente." This is a judgement call. I want a knife to go through them, but not easily. When they get "there" (ala Oleta Adams), I dump them into a colander, and let them cool.

This may be the most important thing to keep in mind: "LET THEM COOL." More people have blistered fingers from working with potatoes that are too hot. Starch holds heat. A dense product like a potato holds it for a while. What I try to do to make sure that they will cool completely, is to cook them the morning of a day I will need them for lunch or dinner. Then, with a small, sharp knife ( one of those hollow cheese knives is ideal for this), I slice them in half, lengthwise.

I get a big pan - the widest one I can find, and put a good amount of oil in. Don't fret, ragazzi. If you get the oil hot enough, you are going to be fine. I do NOT salt the p otatoes at this time, but I have salt ready. Why? Because salt draws water. If water is on the surface of your potatoes, they will not brown. when the oil is hot, put the potatoes, cut size down and let them sizzle away. This is going to take longer than you think: but it won't take more than 7 minutes or so. Check. Every pot, like every one of us, has its "hot spots," and some will brown much faster than others. Move them around. Have paper towels ready, and when they're as brown as you like (some like them darker than others....DON'T GO THERE YOU PIGS), put them on the paper towel to drain, and salt them liberally, IMMEDIATELY. There is something in this step that seems to make the salt stick better.

Now, if you happen to have some young, green garlic around (and at this time of year, you should), have a bulb or two of it chopped up nice and fine. Remove all but about two tablespoons of the oil, and toss in the garlic, at a medium low heat. Just cook it till it breaks down and softens, then add the potatoes back and stir them together .

How much of this should you make? Well... let's put it this way. If I make a pound of these, the two of us will eat all of them. If I make a pound and a half of them, we'll eat them all. They are THAT good.

There are so many ways you can use fingerlings. One way I saw them used was to boil red, white and blue ones, and then use color coordinated fillings, after someone had gone in and scooped out the cooked potato flesh, then put a tray of them out for fourth of july. Glad that that lady has time on her hands. Let's not go that far.

You could forego the browning, by the way, and make a pretty damn good soup of these potatoes with that green garlic, and perhaps some peas.

Hmmmm. I was looking for a soup recipe this weekend. Hmmmm....

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Potatoes, two or more ways

I suppose there is someone out there who doesn't like potatoes. Granted, there are versions of potatoes that some of us may not care for , but is there anyone who doesn't like them generally?

In terms of the "starch" component of a meal, potatoes take longer to make than just about anything else. Couscous is ready in five minutes, rice takes twenty, pasta takes about fifteen, and potatoes? Well, if you bake them, it can take a while. But... well, they are good.

Yesterday, I posted a recipe for making meatloaf. Now, if you want to make meatloaf, you're not going to think twice about the time it takes (by the way, it was DAMN good). In the time that the meatloaf is cooking, you can make up a batch of really good mashed potatoes. In fact, you can make up more than one batch of truly good mashed potatoes. As we did. Lemme 'splain.

Just about everyone who cooks makes mashed potatoes. And no one makes them the same way. The wonderful Union Square Cafe', for a while, had about seven different variations on how to make them. And when you talk to people, you'll get different recipes. Ultimately though, they all start the same way: and if you think I'm going to say "you have to boil the potatoes, " well, WRONG. That's the second step.

The first step is buying the potatoes. Not as easy a task as you might think. Potatoes are available all year round, but don't let that fool you into thinking that potatoes do not have a season: they do. Now, in spring, you'll see the fingerlings: the wonderful little ones. These are great in another recipe I will give you, but if you try to use fingerlings for mashed potatoes, you will curse like a sailor. They are TOO MUCH DAMN WORK. The potatoes that you will find, later in the year, the big, bulky ones and the ones that weigh about 4 ounces each, are the ideal size for mashed. Just about any variety will do EXCEPT the red skinned ones. That is a very big generalization, but it works for me. Most red skinned potatoes have a starch composition that makes them better as boilers, and slicers for potato salad. If you try to mash them, you will "smash" them, and they are really good, but you will not get a true mash. My favorites are yukon golds, but if you use "idahos" or anything like that , you'll be fine. If you really feel creative and want to use the newer, (to us), Peruvian "blue" potatoes, by all means. I like them, but I admit to not being able to get over that color on my plate.

People will argue over the very next step, which is prepping them for boiling. True health food afficionados will tell you to wash them, get rid of any eyes (and if there are eyes on the potatoes, you shouldn't have bought them), and don't peel them. They will tell you about nutrients in the skin, the fiber you add, and all that. It's all true.

I peel them. I like it better that way. It's your choice. In any event, cut the potatoes into chunks. You don't have to dice to the point of a fine mirepoix or something like that, but do cut them into smallish chunks . I never make less than 2 pounds of mashed potatoes, because otherwise, it looks like you're being chintzy. You don't want that.

Ok, so whether you peel em or not, put them in a pot and JUST cover them with water. In my experience, this is a place where people make a major mistake. There is a belief that you have to cover the potatoes with "ample" water. You can use lots of water, but if you do that, the subtle flavor of the potato "per se" will get diluted in the water. You don't need all that water. All you have to do is just cover them. Use COLD water. Then , for 2 pounds of potatoes, add a tablespoon of salt. Bring the pot to a boil, uncovered, and then simmer the potatoes. For how long? Ah, this is something you just have to test. You want the potatoes nice and soft. So soft that a knife will go through like butter. When you have that, take about a cup of the water and put it to the side. If you like to bake, or if you're going to make soup in the near future, drain the water and save it. Potato water gets bread to rise in a way plain water doesn't. And that salty, starchy liquid makes a great vegetable stock. "Waste not, want not,' if ya know what I mean.

After you've drained off the potatoes, you have to break them down. You can do this by putting them through a ricer, and if you have one, by all means use it. While I have one , I can never find it. Also, this is one of those kitchen utensils that is not versatile. You can use it for ricing potatoes, and nothing else. And it's a fairly big piece of equipment. You don't need it.

What you will need to do at this point is decide how you're going to flavor your potatoes, if you are going to flavor them at all. Truth to be told, Guy and I LOVE unflavored, plain mashed potatoes, with perhaps a sprinkle of pepper over them, or some herbs incorporated into them. However, if you want something richer, well, here's where you have some fun.

Over a low heat, put the potatoes back in the pot. Get a heavy blunt object, like a meat tenderizer or a potato masher (I don't have one of these), and just break up the potatoes. It will be easier than you think. At this point, I like to add a little of the potato water, and keep mashing. When you do this, you'll see the potatoes come together and begin to look like, well, mashed potatoes as you know them. But... the fun part is now. If you are in a dairy mood, put in dairy. To my taste, the dairy component is more important than butter, but most people like a milk/cream/half and half/buttermilk/sour cream/yogurt with some butter. You should add these, and taste as you go along. Everyone has a different point of view as to what is creamy and what is too rich, and you will have to find your way here, grasshopper.

An alternative, for those who don't want the animal fat, is to add a dollop of GOOD extra virgin olive oil (and if anyone other than Rachel Ray is actually saying "EVOO," stop reading this blog). I add black pepper here, but again, this is a personal preference.

You've got two, basic mashed potato preps there. There have been times when I've worked sundried tomatoes, or tomato paste into the potatoes, or basil, or cooked mushrooms. Ultimately, though, the three ways I like them the best are as above: plain, butter/cream, and olive oil and black pepper. You should treat this as a "semi blank" canvas to play with. Sort of a paint by numbers, but without numbers, and make yourself some mashed potatoes.

Now, what do you do with the leftovers? AH. I KNOW that at this point Sue has her hand up and is saying "Shephard's pie," (and she's spelling it correctly too). Well done, but especially if you've been noble and done them plain, well, how about some croquettes?

Now THAT got Sue to sit up and take notice. When your left over mashed potatoes are cold, you will need to add some ingredients to bind them. For two cups of cold potatoes, I add two eggs, and a quarter cup of flour, and stir the thing together. I get a good amount of vegetable oil in a nonstick pan hot, as I form little pillows of potatoes and dip them in bread crumbs. You can dip them in egg, too, before the bread crumbs, if you like. Then you fry them, a few at a time (don't crowd the pan), until they are browned nicely on one side. Then flip and finish them off.

These are terrific with salsa, or mushroom gravy, or just about anything you want.

One thing I didn't tell you and before I forget. Some people do consider putting their potatoes into a food processor or a blender to prep them for mashed. On the food processor, DONT. The blades of the processor cut open the potato cells to the point where a gummy starch is released and it is NOT pleasant. If you try it in your blender, you will burn out your blender.

I do not have an immersion blender, but there are friends of mine who swear by them for mashed potatoes. If that works for you, be my guest. I like using the meat tenderizer, I guess.

So there it is. Now you know what we ate with the meatloaf. Classic combination. They were BOTH good.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

down home cooking: meatloaf

Meatloaf is one of the dishes that I honestly thought I would never tackle. Let's face it: it's more iconically American, even, than hamburger. Think about it for a minute: we associate hamburgers, for the most part, either with going out, or with grilling and barbecues and backyard parties. We associate hamburgers, with DAD. Show of hands here: how many think of "the wonderful hamburgers MOM made?" I would bet not many. But just about everyone has a story about "mom's meatloaf." Usually they're good, but not always. I know of many people of my generation for whom meatloaf was a "once a week" dinner. It was inexpensive, and you got enough out of it to make sandwiches with the leftovers (and who didn't like the sandwiches more than the actual meatloaf? Hmmmm???). Even in an Italian home, where we ate meatballs a lot, we got meatloaf. I have to say that Nana's was of a "type," that you see occasionally, but not often anymore. Hers was crispy: she would bake it until the outside was almost black. She also used a lot of onion in hers, and frequently green pepper. It was good, but honestly, I think now that it was Nana's attempt to assimilate her family, to make us Americans. Her meatballs were much better.

I'm not sure if it's the mashed potatoes that everyone associates with meat loaf that makes peole "like" meatloaf, or if it's the meatloaf itself. GOOD meatloaf is well worth eating, even without the potatoes. My favorite way of having it, to be honest, is with rice. And spinach. But that's you know who being difficult again. The key though, is getting a GOOD meatloaf. And, sometimes, you get the good stuff in places you wouldn't expect. Diners make superb meatloaf. I can't even begin to guess why, but they do. Order it in a fancy place, and expect to be disappointed.

Well, here's how I got on a meatloaf kick. I used to buy prepared meatloaves, and cook them for big parties, because people liked them. After a few of these, though, my friend Steve took me aside one day and said "they eat them because of your potatoes. The meatloaf is awful."

OOPS. So I started on a trek to make GOOD meatloaf. It took a while, I must say. I tried so many different things. But... like with most things, I found that a simpler preparation was the best. You didn't ask for it, but you're getting it anyway.

Key ingredients to meatloaf are, DUH, chopped meat, a starch stretcher, eggs, and seasoning. Big categories, huh? What I found, is that a meatloaf made entirely of ground beef, is just about as dry and tasteless as you can get. I like to use ground beef, pork and veal, in equal proportions. If you have an issue with veal, then I would suggest you use two parts beef and one part pork. And I always make more meatloaf than I think I will need, because I always need more. So, for this recipe, plan on a pound each of the ground meats (if you can, by the way, taste each meat, raw, to see what it's bringing to the mix. It's a good exercise).

Now, the stretcher. Again, there is widespread variation here. The one I encountered the most, was oatmeal. Nana used to use whatever she had around: rice, pastina (I kid you not), cubed bread, bread crumbs, whatever. I had used breadcrumbs, and found the resulting loaf ok, but not great. Then.... I read somewhere about soaking the crumbs in milk.

BINGO. Much better. And I remembered a trend from the 60s, when folks added evaporated milk to meatloaves to make them creamier and softer. Hmmmm. "Everything old is new again." So, for every pound of meat, use a half cup of bread crumbs - fresh if you have them, dried if you don't (but don't use the flavored ones), and cover the crumbs with about half an inch of milk and just let it sit. The crumbs will soak up at least most of it, maybe all of it. Add that to the meat, in a big bowl, and add an egg for each pound of meat. Finally chop half an onion. Just half, and work that in. Now, get your hands into that bowl, and mix it around until you begin to get something uniform. Taste it. You're going to want salt and pepper. How much is up to you. I avoid other seasonings in the meat for reasons you will soon see....

When you have the meat seasoned the way you like, GENTLY pat it into two loaves, about 10x6, on a baking sheet that you have lined with parchment. You need to be gentle, because patting it tightly will make a very tight , chewy loaf. Trust me on this.

Now.... Annalena's secret ingredient. Ketchup. For each meat loaf, you need half a cup of good quality ketchup (Heinz is good, but I use an organic one that my bff June Taylor makes in Berkeley. I LOVE her ketchup. I could eat it right out of the bottle). Paint the loaves generously with the stuff. If you don't like ketchup, you could use some tomato based sauce of another kind (there were times when Nana would water tomato paste and use that). After you've painted the meatloaves, get them into a preheated, 350 oven, and bake them for 45minutes to an hour. The baking time will depend on how you like the meatloaf. You'll get medium/rare at 45 minutes, complete cooked in an hour. I like it more completely cooked, so I do it for an hour.

It IS better the second day, so make plenty. You'll be glad you did.

Mashed potatoes anyone?

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Taking ideas from Dana: grilled escarole

Ok, I'm not going to offer any excuses other than I've been lazy. Here I am, promising you tons of new recipes, and then not showing up for a week. What a bad person I am.
But look, let's face it: how many of you have cooked anything that I've listed in the last month? Hmmmmm.

Just as I thought.... So, let's share the blame.

I have not been feeling well, and I have also been trying to accommodate all the changes in my life - no easy task, let me tell you. I mean, go ahead, YOU try to go running every day, take an Italian class, take a guitar class, try to read all of Thomas Hardy (I was supposed to be finished by Memorial Day. Guess what? Ain't gonna happen), deal with the various idiosyncracies of my human menagerie (where I love all the animals), and then try to write a recipe every day.

No excuse, right? Ah, no rest for the weary. So here's an easy one.

When we were in California, my friend Dana Tommasina (who has her own blog by the way), cooked up an incredible pork chop, wrapped in prosciutto for me. My cholesterol probably went up three points after eating it, but it was worth it. And she had, as a side dish, grilled escarole.

Dana is a cook who is not afraid of high heat, or of browning things. There is nothing subtle about her cooking. Like yours truly, it is "in your face," all the time. Those of you who feel that the perfect meal would be poached filet of sole with peeled grapes, would not like this cooking. But if you're a person who smiles when that blast of salt, toasted nuts, and roasted peppers hits you when you put some romesco sauce in your mouth, get a reservation to Dana's restaurant (Woodward's Garden, in SF), IMMEDIATELY.

This is an attempt to copy her recipe for that escarole. We ate it last night with quick grilled tuna, and basmati rice. Guy had actually suggested it. We had a whole bunch of nice veggies to choose from, and he thought the balance of sweet and bitter would play off of the fish, and he was right.

Like I said, this is very easy to do. I promise.

You will need a large head of escarole. Don't put one down because you think you won't finish it. You will. It is going to cook down a lot. Now, check inside the leaves, because escarole can be dirty. IF it is, you're going to have to wash it, and here's a hint: you're going to have to cut the head of escarole into at least quarters, so do it before you wash it. Washing the smaller pieces is easier. I had a head of it that was just over a pound in size, and quarters were the right size. If your escarole is bigger, make more pieces. By the way, don't try this with baby escarole, which deserves a place in soups or with strongly dressed salads.

After you have cleaned and cut (or, cut and cleaned), the escarole, drop the quarters into a pot of salted, boiling water. Greens like this take a very short time to cook. Escarole is pretty sturdy, so you don't have to worry about overcooking, as long as you don't go for more than, say 3-4 minutes. Have a colander ready, fish out the greens, and let them drain and cool. When they're cool enough to handle, pat them as dry as you can.

If you are going to grill, or fry, the greens in a flat pan, coat it with oil. If, on the other hand, you're using a ridged pan, rub the greens with oil. The reason for the difference is that you want to prevent sticking, and on a ridged pan, the greens will stick because it's harder to keep the ridges oiled. Whatever pan you use, get it really hot.

When it's hot, carefully put the greens in. You have to be careful here, because the greens will still be wet. They will sizzle , and more than just about anything that Annalena has told you about listening to food, these will tell you when they're ready. The water will go off, and you will have almost a silent pan. Take a look at the surface of the greens. If they are dark enough for you, turn em over and do it again. If not, let them wait a bit more, and then do it.

THERE! They are all done. And you will enjoy this. Escarole has a pleasantly bitter taste, like all chicories, and the carmelization is very pleasant.

You can do this with radicchio, with endive, any of the veggies that fall in the chicory family. If you don't know what they are - LOOK IT UP.

I will be coming back to you with some new recipes. By request, I am making meatloaf later this week. When was the last time you had good meatloaf? Mine is REALLY good, and I'm gonna give you proportions to make enough to have for several meals and sandwiches. You will love me for it. And, by special request, you will also have my recipe for fried potatoes with new garlic. STAY TUNED!!!!

Monday, June 1, 2009

Italian spring time vegetable stew: scafatta

When I was growing up, we ate a lot of somewhat creative mixes of vegetables. Nana would frequently toss things together, cook them until they were soft and then put them on the plate, sometimes with meat, sometimes with bread, and sometimes just as they were. I remember her calling it something like "Jombott" Later, I learned that this was dialect for ciambotta. It was not unlike ratatouille, but there was no eggplant in it. Potatoes would find their way into the stew, as would onions, peppers, and just about anything else. I learned, later on, that there were as many variations on this dish as there were Italian grandmothers. Everyone made it differently, and it was, at its heart, a truly southern Italian dish, made from the vegetables that you really do associate with southern Italy: tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant (never in Nana's), potatoes, and everything else. Very filling, very nutritious, it was and is, really, a dish out of necessity: if you don't have enough zucchini to make zucchini, and you don't have enough potatoes to make potatoes, combine them. We always loved it.

But there was another stew, that we didn't have all that often. I remember that one being pronounced as something like 'shkavatt" (sounds Russian, doesn't it?). I thought about this the other night because Patti Jackson (an Italian name for ya if there ever was one), at her underrated restaurant "Centovini," was serving "scaffatta" as a side dish with some of the entrees. AH. It all came back to me. "shkavatt" was for rich people, it was "northern stew," and it was "spring stew." Indeed, the veggies in scaffatta, which can vary, are those that you associate with spring. Classically roman, it's got the "holy trio" of Roman vegetables in it: artichokes, fava beans, and green peas, all of which are in season at the same time in Rome. Butter and oil go into it, and the vegetables, which are boiled first, are then braised in the fat until they take on a brown tinge. You lose the bright green color of the peas, and if you can get by that, you get a level of flavor that you don't find in regular peas. It's a tough call, but once in a while, it's great.
Except... here in NY, artichokes and peas are NEVER in season at the same time. We get our artichokes late. You can get favas and peas at the same time, but you don't have that "bulky" vegetable, the artichoke,until the fall.
Stews of this type are, by their nature, improvs. So when the peas and local favas come in, I'll be using zucchini instead of artichokes. For now, I have artichokes from our trip to california. And fava beans. Third vegetable stumped me for a bit, until.... Asparagus. Now, this takes a bit of planning, because while artichokes and favas can take some serious long cooking, asparagus can't. Not unless you want the most disgusting vegetable you can imagine. So heed the timings, ragazzi e ragazze. This is good. It's good for you. And it's a lot of work.

First, we have to address the artichoke question. Nature's answer to people who don't have enough to do. Get a dozen small, or a half dozen big, artichokes. Pull away all of the tough leaves, and when you're down to the tender ones, cut the leaves away, leaving the heart. If the artichokes are small, cut them in half. If big, quarters. Cover them with salted water, squeeze in half a lemon, and simmer them until a knife can enter, with a bit of resistance.

Prep the fava beans. Nature's other answer to people who don't have enough to do. Get the beans out of the pods, and then drop them into a second pot of boiling salted water, for about five minutes. Drain them, and put them into ice water and let them cool. Then peel the skins away. Prepare to have aching fingernails. For the amount of artichokes above, plan on two pounds of fava beans.

Now, slice up a small onion, and cook it in a mix of half butter, and half olive oil. When it begins to soften, add some salt, and then the artichokes and favas. Stir them to coat them with the fat. Turn down the heat and add about a quarter cup of water, and cook slowly, while you prep the asparagus.
Here, you need about a half pound or so of medium thickness asparagus. Snap them to remove the tough end (use that for stock), and then cut the tender part into one inch pieces. Keep them aside, and cook the favas and artichokes until they are really tender. This could take a while, or it could be over really quickly. When they get to the point of tenderness, add the asparagus, and take the pot off of the heat. The asparagus will cook enough from the heat to be fine. Taste and correct the salt. If you like, this is good with a little diced lemon peel in it, but you don't have to add that.

This is one of those versatile dishes where, if you felt so inclined, you could put some raw shrimp on top of it, and they would cook through. You might also work some cooked chicken into it (and as I think about it, there's some left over roast chicken in the fridge. Hmmmm). You should let your imagination flow here. DO try to follow the "rule" of three vegetables.

Incidentally, you can also puree these vegetables with some stock and make an incredible soup. There is a Roman version of it, and the name escapes me, but this is spring time tonic at its best.

GO play with your food! Annalena so commands!!!!!