Your faithful correspondent, Annalena, is always on the watch for something that looks interesting , easy and tasty. The three concepts, however, are not found together all that often. Indeed, she is reminded of an old slogan that was used at a biotech company: "good. fast. cheap. Choose two."
Think about it. Exclude men from your thoughts, but think about your own work product. See what Annalena means?
Now, it also may come as a surprise to you, but Annalena has her prejudices. She has her favorite, and not so favorite foods. She has her favorite, and not so favorite restaurants. And she has her favorite, and not so favorite, food writers.
Mark Bittman, "The Minimalist" for the New York Times, falls into the not so favorite category. In my opinion, his recipes are frequently not workable, or they produce a dish that is just not good. I also find him more than a bit full of himself when he presents on television. So when I read his column, I approach it with a modicum of salt.
A week ago, however, he wrote a piece on a culinary idea that I had seen before: "risotto" , but using another starch: pasta in this case. Annalena is familiar with orzotto, the version using broccoli, and at a restaurant this past weekend, was served a lentil risotto that was not a risotto. What it was is anyone's guess. It was ok, but risotto? NO.
And what, precisely, IS risotto? Well, I would have to check with Professor to be Jonathan, but the word sounds like "riso" and "sotto" combined. Riso is, of course, rice, and "sotto" is "under.' I guess, if my derivations are correct, because the rice is under liquid while you cook it. (PTB: can you check this, per favore? Grazie). However, one of the points of risotto is that it is NEVER completely submerged in liquid. If it is, you are doing something wrong, and may be on your way to pilaf. Not a bad thing, but not risotto.
Well, I have written about risotti before, and I shall refer you to those note. Mr. Bittman's recipe was appealing to me, as I was trying to come up with an appropriate starch to serve with my "should be legendary" roast chicken, and nothing was feeling right. As I went through his recipe, I simplified it. This is "bare bones." If you are familiar with risotto making, you will know precisely what to do to make it fancier. I used cooked squash because that's what I had on hand. He recommends cooked mushrooms. I can see that. He also uses chicken. I can't see that. I like these dishes as "contorni" rather than full meals.
You'll see reference to "small pasta" in the recipe. I used stelline: little stars, what we called "pastina" when I grew up. I believe, with no reason to back me up, that these smaller pastas have more starch and are creamier than the bigger ones. If all you have are big pasta, however, break them up. Indeed, this is what is done with the wonderful Mexican pasta dish "fideus," which is so satisfying baked in a casserole with crab. (Hmmmm.).
Now, the purist amongst you will see that the stock is not heated up. That is correct. I had my doubts, but it works. It really, truly does. Try it. I betcha you're gonna like it.
To begin, chop up two shallots (he used one), and a couple of gloves of garlic. Measure out half a pound of that small pasta I atlked about above. If you are so inclined, have half a cup of white wine ready, and you must also have about 3-4 cups of broth t here, too. Chicken is traditional, and to me, works the best. You could use others though. And for my version, a cup of cooked squash. Use a cup of another cooked vegetable if you like.
Now, time to have some fun. Get a wide pan, and add 2 tablespoons of olive oil and the shallot and garlic. Saute them just for a few minutes. Then add the pasta, together with a half teaspoon or so of salt. Stir the pasta in the cooked aromatics and the oil. It will glisten, and even pick up a bit of color. When that happens, toss in the wine and let it evaporate. If you are not using wine, start with half a cup of your stock.
Start adding the remaining stock, half a cup at a time. Stir while you're cooking, and when the liquid is almost gone, add the next half a cup. It will take about a minute/minute and a half after each addition. After you've added 2.5 cups of stock, taste the pasta for softness. It probably will be too hard and you should continue to cook. Mine was perfect after three cups of stock, but this is all dependent on the shape, the manufacturer, your pan, the height of the tide in the Bay of Fundy (I made that last one up, but you get the idea). Then, stir in the squash, and you are finished, except for tasting and correcting salt and pepper.
You could make this and finish it with butter and cheese, and when I make it that way, my buddy Keith is going to come over and make it with me (aintcha?). Would this work with non-wheat pasta? A good question. It would seem that it would work with rice pasta, shouldn't it? My buddy David is going to come over and make THAT one with me, (aintcha?).
I think you will be pleased. A good risotto is a think of true beauty and wonderful flavor. And so is this. So instead of going and buying a box of Stove Top stuffing, make a pastasotto. Have a friend over, and enjoy it. And let Annalena know if you liked it.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
A convert: Annalena learns to love brussels sprouts
Well, yes , it happened. A bit of background here. Given what the experts call my "food profile," whatever the hell that is, I should have always loved brussels sprouts. No question about it. However, the experts were wrong. I had never learned to like them. Tried, but couldn't. Actually, let me clarify that. There was one brussels sprouts dish that I had enjoyed: it had equal parts of shaved sprouts, pecans, and apples, was cooked as a pan fry in butter, and had honey added to the end.
GOOD. Brussels sprouts brittle. Don't really count, now, does it. So I would pass them up. If they came on a plate, I would ask for a substitute. Generally no problem, as Annlena loves many of the so-called "ucky" vegetables, and the kitchen would just make a swap.
So, what happened? Well, a few weeks ago, at one of our favorite restaurants, Barbuto, the chef sent out a freebie side dish. Brussels sprouts with fried pancetta. Ok, thinks I. I can't fairly sit here and pick out all the pancetta and let everyone else eat the sprouts (I'm really NOT that bad a person), and I certainly can't say to the server "Tell Ryan thanks, but no thanks."
Oh dear. So I bit into one. It was good. So was the second one. And the next one.
Let's jump forward a few weeks. I'm sitting in a restaurant with my sexy friend Brad, and he orders a side dish of brussels sprouts with chestnuts.
Again, thinks I, "I can't be rude, and say something like 'enjoy them, I hate them'". Out comes the sprouts, with the chestnuts, in a rich butter sauce. They were the smallest ones I had ever seen. Probably no bigger than some engorged nipples (I had to put that in to see if you were paying attention), and so well cooked, and so good, that it may very well be the case that Brad didn't get a single one (sorry if you didn't , Brad. I'll make it up to you. I promise).
So, with two favorable meetings with a veggie I hate, I had to reconsider this position. What was it about the two dishes that they s hared? Thinking about it, of course, there was all that fat. But the other thing was the texture. Both plates of sprouts were well cooked, almost to the point of being soft. And Annalena, being the food snob that she is, thought about what happens when she cooks cabbage, and the advice she gives: "cook it long, cook it soft." BS's are in the cabbage family. Maybe.... And chestnuts. Hmmmm. Nice color contrast. Fat? Butter sounded better than pork fat, although both sound good, don't they. Finally, size DOES matter. I liked the smaller ones better.
Off to the Greenmarket to create the dish. And so I did. You can too. You need half a jar of chestnuts, or one of those vacuum packs to give you about 6 ounces of dry chestnuts. Also, about a pound of the smallest BSs you can find. If you can only find big ones, quarter or half them lengthwise. Clean off the little dirty stub at the end. You also need about half a stick of butter.
Cook the sprouts in a big pot of well salted water. A tablespoon in a gallon of water is about right. When you have a rolling ball, add the sprouts and cook them. You don't want them firm. A knife should go through them very easily. When you're there, drain them, and get a big pan ready with the butter. Heat it at medium until it melts, and then add the chestnuts. Now, something that chestnuts do: they suck up that butter, sort of the way eggplant sucks up oil. If you are feeling like a calorie spendthrift, don't be concerned and just add more later on. If you are a bit concerned, just add the sprouts after about three minutes of cooking the chestnuts. If you want a moister dish, add a few tablespoons of water, but this isn't necessary. Just toss everything together for about two minutes, and then taste and add some salt. And you're done.
I thought, very seriously, of finishing this off with white truffle butter, and I'm glad I didn't. We served this at a dinner with our friend Adam, along with duck legs that I had braised in zinfandel (the recipe is in this blog, somewhere), and fregola pasta. I must say that there were no sprouts left at the end of the meal.
If , like my friend Chris, you love this vegetable, you won't need convincing. If you don't care for them, try it anyway, and if I'm wrong (I never am. Ask Guy), I'll make you a chocolate chip cookie
GOOD. Brussels sprouts brittle. Don't really count, now, does it. So I would pass them up. If they came on a plate, I would ask for a substitute. Generally no problem, as Annlena loves many of the so-called "ucky" vegetables, and the kitchen would just make a swap.
So, what happened? Well, a few weeks ago, at one of our favorite restaurants, Barbuto, the chef sent out a freebie side dish. Brussels sprouts with fried pancetta. Ok, thinks I. I can't fairly sit here and pick out all the pancetta and let everyone else eat the sprouts (I'm really NOT that bad a person), and I certainly can't say to the server "Tell Ryan thanks, but no thanks."
Oh dear. So I bit into one. It was good. So was the second one. And the next one.
Let's jump forward a few weeks. I'm sitting in a restaurant with my sexy friend Brad, and he orders a side dish of brussels sprouts with chestnuts.
Again, thinks I, "I can't be rude, and say something like 'enjoy them, I hate them'". Out comes the sprouts, with the chestnuts, in a rich butter sauce. They were the smallest ones I had ever seen. Probably no bigger than some engorged nipples (I had to put that in to see if you were paying attention), and so well cooked, and so good, that it may very well be the case that Brad didn't get a single one (sorry if you didn't , Brad. I'll make it up to you. I promise).
So, with two favorable meetings with a veggie I hate, I had to reconsider this position. What was it about the two dishes that they s hared? Thinking about it, of course, there was all that fat. But the other thing was the texture. Both plates of sprouts were well cooked, almost to the point of being soft. And Annalena, being the food snob that she is, thought about what happens when she cooks cabbage, and the advice she gives: "cook it long, cook it soft." BS's are in the cabbage family. Maybe.... And chestnuts. Hmmmm. Nice color contrast. Fat? Butter sounded better than pork fat, although both sound good, don't they. Finally, size DOES matter. I liked the smaller ones better.
Off to the Greenmarket to create the dish. And so I did. You can too. You need half a jar of chestnuts, or one of those vacuum packs to give you about 6 ounces of dry chestnuts. Also, about a pound of the smallest BSs you can find. If you can only find big ones, quarter or half them lengthwise. Clean off the little dirty stub at the end. You also need about half a stick of butter.
Cook the sprouts in a big pot of well salted water. A tablespoon in a gallon of water is about right. When you have a rolling ball, add the sprouts and cook them. You don't want them firm. A knife should go through them very easily. When you're there, drain them, and get a big pan ready with the butter. Heat it at medium until it melts, and then add the chestnuts. Now, something that chestnuts do: they suck up that butter, sort of the way eggplant sucks up oil. If you are feeling like a calorie spendthrift, don't be concerned and just add more later on. If you are a bit concerned, just add the sprouts after about three minutes of cooking the chestnuts. If you want a moister dish, add a few tablespoons of water, but this isn't necessary. Just toss everything together for about two minutes, and then taste and add some salt. And you're done.
I thought, very seriously, of finishing this off with white truffle butter, and I'm glad I didn't. We served this at a dinner with our friend Adam, along with duck legs that I had braised in zinfandel (the recipe is in this blog, somewhere), and fregola pasta. I must say that there were no sprouts left at the end of the meal.
If , like my friend Chris, you love this vegetable, you won't need convincing. If you don't care for them, try it anyway, and if I'm wrong (I never am. Ask Guy), I'll make you a chocolate chip cookie
Thursday, December 10, 2009
A flourless cookie: almond marmalade cookies
Ah, now here is where Annalena shows you how you can break away from what you think is standard, and wind up with a recipe that is quite tasty, unusual, fun, and easy.
Doesn't that describe, pretty much, the perfect date for all of us?
Back when I was much younger - a LONG time ago - there used to be a cookie available called an "Oriental almond cookie." Now, we're not allowed to use "oriental" anymore, although I must confess that, taken out of context, it is a beautiful word. "Oriental" means "rising," from Latin "orire," so the context is the rising of the sun. I wish we could disabuse the word of its signifier meaning, and use it in other contexts, but alas, that is not to happen.
But as usual, I digress. Back from linguistics, to cooking. Anyway, these cookies were big, soft, buttery (Yes, really typical of "oriental" cooking), and had the faintest taste of almond. They also had a nice big piece of almond in the center of them. Sometimes they would come in take out food, and sometimes not. Today, you never see them. Stella d'oro made a version of them, but they just weren't the same. Dunno why: maybe the ones in take out food were stale and I liked that quality, but who can tell?
So, several years ago, as I did my usual search and annoy mission for cookie recipes, I found this one. I clipped it, because the title was "almond cookies," and then when I read it, I put it aside. It did not seem workable. Then, when trying to make "one more cookie" for the annual display of excess that is Guy and my cookie collections, I looked at it again.
This recipe is sinfully easy. It's even easier if you start with almond flour, which you can buy from most health food stores. King Arthur sells it in toasted and untoasted varieties, and I like using half and half. It all goes in the food processor, and there's no flour. Here we go.
you need to start with about a pound and a half of ground almonds. Thats 4 cups or so. Put that into a food processor, with a cup of regular sugar, the rind of a lemon or and orange, grated (team it to your marmalade), and a half teaspoon of baking powder. Pulse that to mix. Now, add two egg whites. Contrary to the original recipe, you do NOT have to beat them ahead of time. Add a tablespoon of honey if you have it handy, and the most important thing, a half cup of a good marmalade. Use whatever you like. I used seville orange marmalade, and I was happy with it.
Put the food processor back on, and mix it all until you get a dough. T his is gonna be s ticky and you're better off wetting your hands for the next part.
Line baking sheets with parchment. You'll probably need three. Form small balls of the stuff, and after you have them laid out, get some whole, toasted almonds, and press one into each cookie. This will act to flatten them a bit too, which is what you want. Then, bake them for 20 minutes or so in an oven preheated to 325. You can cut it to 18, or go to 20. The shorter time gives you a cookie close to a macaroon, which is a good t hing. The longer time gives you a d arker, crispy cookie, also a good thing. (I think the softer ones are better). DO keep an eye on them. The honey and marmalade cause the cookies to darken substantially. For those of you who don't mind dark bottoms, this is certainly not a problem. Nor is it a problem if you like stronger tastes. BUt if that's an issue. USE 18 MINUTES.
When these babies come out of the oven, let them cool completely. The marmalade tends to make them stick to your parchment. Much easier to remove them when totally cool.
In a tin, these are extremely good keeping cookies. On a plate with some coffee or lemon verbena tea, they are really wonderful, as they are in an assortment with other almond or citrus based cookies.
Tis the holidays. Make some more.
OK, Annalena has given you some holiday treats. Next time , we investigate "what I did for brussels sprouts."
Doesn't that describe, pretty much, the perfect date for all of us?
Back when I was much younger - a LONG time ago - there used to be a cookie available called an "Oriental almond cookie." Now, we're not allowed to use "oriental" anymore, although I must confess that, taken out of context, it is a beautiful word. "Oriental" means "rising," from Latin "orire," so the context is the rising of the sun. I wish we could disabuse the word of its signifier meaning, and use it in other contexts, but alas, that is not to happen.
But as usual, I digress. Back from linguistics, to cooking. Anyway, these cookies were big, soft, buttery (Yes, really typical of "oriental" cooking), and had the faintest taste of almond. They also had a nice big piece of almond in the center of them. Sometimes they would come in take out food, and sometimes not. Today, you never see them. Stella d'oro made a version of them, but they just weren't the same. Dunno why: maybe the ones in take out food were stale and I liked that quality, but who can tell?
So, several years ago, as I did my usual search and annoy mission for cookie recipes, I found this one. I clipped it, because the title was "almond cookies," and then when I read it, I put it aside. It did not seem workable. Then, when trying to make "one more cookie" for the annual display of excess that is Guy and my cookie collections, I looked at it again.
This recipe is sinfully easy. It's even easier if you start with almond flour, which you can buy from most health food stores. King Arthur sells it in toasted and untoasted varieties, and I like using half and half. It all goes in the food processor, and there's no flour. Here we go.
you need to start with about a pound and a half of ground almonds. Thats 4 cups or so. Put that into a food processor, with a cup of regular sugar, the rind of a lemon or and orange, grated (team it to your marmalade), and a half teaspoon of baking powder. Pulse that to mix. Now, add two egg whites. Contrary to the original recipe, you do NOT have to beat them ahead of time. Add a tablespoon of honey if you have it handy, and the most important thing, a half cup of a good marmalade. Use whatever you like. I used seville orange marmalade, and I was happy with it.
Put the food processor back on, and mix it all until you get a dough. T his is gonna be s ticky and you're better off wetting your hands for the next part.
Line baking sheets with parchment. You'll probably need three. Form small balls of the stuff, and after you have them laid out, get some whole, toasted almonds, and press one into each cookie. This will act to flatten them a bit too, which is what you want. Then, bake them for 20 minutes or so in an oven preheated to 325. You can cut it to 18, or go to 20. The shorter time gives you a cookie close to a macaroon, which is a good t hing. The longer time gives you a d arker, crispy cookie, also a good thing. (I think the softer ones are better). DO keep an eye on them. The honey and marmalade cause the cookies to darken substantially. For those of you who don't mind dark bottoms, this is certainly not a problem. Nor is it a problem if you like stronger tastes. BUt if that's an issue. USE 18 MINUTES.
When these babies come out of the oven, let them cool completely. The marmalade tends to make them stick to your parchment. Much easier to remove them when totally cool.
In a tin, these are extremely good keeping cookies. On a plate with some coffee or lemon verbena tea, they are really wonderful, as they are in an assortment with other almond or citrus based cookies.
Tis the holidays. Make some more.
OK, Annalena has given you some holiday treats. Next time , we investigate "what I did for brussels sprouts."
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
A holiday cookie with some crunch: potato chip pecan sandies
Yes, it is that time isn't it? The days are darker, danker, and there does seem to be the feel of "finality" about us, as the year is drawing to a close. For me, it is usually a rather melancholy period, interspersed with as much fun time as I can fit in. Parties, concerts, celebrations, and an attempt to bring in BRIGHT colors, like citrussy oranges and yellows (from Kim , the Citrus Bomb, and Sandra, the artichoke Queen, of course). It's also the time of year when Annalena's baking bug takes over, she goes on automatic pilot, and creates in the vicinity of 40-50 different types of cookies. Crazy woman, she is, isn't she?
Well, this is one of the favorites. I had seen a demo of cookies with potato chips in them, on television, many years ago, and thought of them as just an amusing aside. Then, I found this recipe. It's essentially a pecan sandy, made more crispy by the addition of the chips. And it's really good. I truly love pecan sandy cookies. I don't eat many of them, and if Emily found out I ate one, it probably means ten more crunches, but here they are.
You start with two sticks of unsalted butter, that you let get soft. I tend to leave them out overnight, because I know they'll be soft that way, but if your apartment is especially warm, you won't need that much time. Also, collect a half cup of granulated sugar, and then put some more in a b owl. You also need - NEED is a good word - a teaspoon of vanilla extract. Use the good stuff, none of this vanillin crap. Also 2 cups of all purposes flour and a half cup of ground pecans. You can buy these. If you are going to grind them yourself, here's a tip: put the half cup of pecans in the food processor with the flour, and pulse. That keeps them from getting too oily, and you're going to mix them together anyway.
AH, the chips. You need to make enough potato chip crumbs, to fill half a cup. You can do that in the food processor (after you've taken the flour/nuts out) or in a p lastic bag that you pound, pound pound. Dont' go crazy with them. Too many chips makes an oily cookie.
Now, the mixing. I use a stand mixer, but you can do this by hand. Beat the sugar and butter together, until the are really REALLY creamy. The color will lighten. Plan on five minutes for this. Then add the vanilla, then the flour, the pecans and the chips, and just stir them together. I like to add half a teaspoon of salt, but you don't have to.
Now, preheat your oven to 350, and start shaping little balls of dough onto parchment lined bakingsheets. I try to make em small, and I wind up with lots of sheets of the stuff. Maybe 24 to a baking sheet, six rows of four. Then, put each ball of dough into that bowl of sugar to get some on it, and press each one down, slightly, with the bottom of a glass.
Bake the guys for about 12 minutes. If you do two sheets at a time, know that one part of your oven is hotter than the other, and if you know which part it is (you'll find out soon enough), you should put another sheet under the cookie sheet to protect it. After 6 minutes, rotate the sheets. Put the bottom tray on the top shelf, and vice versa, and also rotate so the back becomes the front.
They won't get very brown - they're not supposed to (sandies never do). Get em out of the oven and leave em alone until they cool fully. It will take about half an hour.
If you make them small, you'll get nearly 60 cookies. That's a good haul, when you're making a lot of cookies, and you want people to have an assortment. Of course, as one friend told me, small ones are good for putting in a cereal bowl and eating with milk .
Whatever. Make some cookies. 'Tis the season
Well, this is one of the favorites. I had seen a demo of cookies with potato chips in them, on television, many years ago, and thought of them as just an amusing aside. Then, I found this recipe. It's essentially a pecan sandy, made more crispy by the addition of the chips. And it's really good. I truly love pecan sandy cookies. I don't eat many of them, and if Emily found out I ate one, it probably means ten more crunches, but here they are.
You start with two sticks of unsalted butter, that you let get soft. I tend to leave them out overnight, because I know they'll be soft that way, but if your apartment is especially warm, you won't need that much time. Also, collect a half cup of granulated sugar, and then put some more in a b owl. You also need - NEED is a good word - a teaspoon of vanilla extract. Use the good stuff, none of this vanillin crap. Also 2 cups of all purposes flour and a half cup of ground pecans. You can buy these. If you are going to grind them yourself, here's a tip: put the half cup of pecans in the food processor with the flour, and pulse. That keeps them from getting too oily, and you're going to mix them together anyway.
AH, the chips. You need to make enough potato chip crumbs, to fill half a cup. You can do that in the food processor (after you've taken the flour/nuts out) or in a p lastic bag that you pound, pound pound. Dont' go crazy with them. Too many chips makes an oily cookie.
Now, the mixing. I use a stand mixer, but you can do this by hand. Beat the sugar and butter together, until the are really REALLY creamy. The color will lighten. Plan on five minutes for this. Then add the vanilla, then the flour, the pecans and the chips, and just stir them together. I like to add half a teaspoon of salt, but you don't have to.
Now, preheat your oven to 350, and start shaping little balls of dough onto parchment lined bakingsheets. I try to make em small, and I wind up with lots of sheets of the stuff. Maybe 24 to a baking sheet, six rows of four. Then, put each ball of dough into that bowl of sugar to get some on it, and press each one down, slightly, with the bottom of a glass.
Bake the guys for about 12 minutes. If you do two sheets at a time, know that one part of your oven is hotter than the other, and if you know which part it is (you'll find out soon enough), you should put another sheet under the cookie sheet to protect it. After 6 minutes, rotate the sheets. Put the bottom tray on the top shelf, and vice versa, and also rotate so the back becomes the front.
They won't get very brown - they're not supposed to (sandies never do). Get em out of the oven and leave em alone until they cool fully. It will take about half an hour.
If you make them small, you'll get nearly 60 cookies. That's a good haul, when you're making a lot of cookies, and you want people to have an assortment. Of course, as one friend told me, small ones are good for putting in a cereal bowl and eating with milk .
Whatever. Make some cookies. 'Tis the season
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