There MUST be at least one thing in that title that catches your attention. I hope more than that. And I promise that I will link them all together, although I make no claims to doing so without digressions.
It has been said, not without reason, that Annalena favors complex dishes. While I try to present simpler items here on this blog, the fact is, cooking takes time, and sometimes it takes a fair piece of work. Not everything, but some things. I can tell you until I am pink in the face that as you cook and get more proficient at what you're doing, it takes less time, but the fact, is COOKING TAKES TIME. If you are not inclined, as I am, to spend time in the kitchen on your off hours, you are going to look for simpler things to do. And I have one for you, and it comes from a pastry chef. Onto the second link.
David Lebovitz writes one of my favorite blogs, and he writes some of my favorite cookbooks. I recommend them all. He is a fabulous pastry chef. "Pastry" as they call it in the cooking world, includes baking, ice cream making, anything that is not "savory." I know few authors who have the art of presentation down as well as he does. His recipes are so clear, and so simple (to the extent they can be), that at least to this cook, they are a joy.
In the cooking world, however, there is a split: with almost no exceptions, savory chefs do not do pastry, and pastry chefs do not do savory. Patty Jackson is the one person I know who has pulled this off completely, and her dishes, from both ends of the menu, are fabulous. In fact, there are times I think that her savories are better, even though she is a trained pastry chef. Anita Lo has pulled it off too, to some extent. She has 3-4 pastry dishes that she keeps on her menu all the time. They are wonderful, but if your palate craves the new with each dessert, well...
So when a pastry chef presents a savory dish, I pay attention. I pay special attention when it is David Lebovitz. And I'm glad I did. You will be too. The amount of work in this dish is minimal. I think it took me six minutes to put it together. If you are new to chopping and mincing (food, not walking), it may take a little longer, but double the time then: 12 minutes of preparation. You can handle that. It takes more time to brew coffee. Then you put the thing in the oven for 40 minutes. So, if you step into the kitchen, you can have dinner for six people out in an hour. Doubt me? Go ahead and do this one.
Now, to the carbs: this is a minimalist dish. It's perfect for those of you whom Annalena is suspcious of, for not eating carbs. I guess one could argue about the sugar in the shallots, but then again, one could argue about anything, as Annalena so frequently does.
Ok, so let's start to cook. You need a cut up chicken, or the equivalent. For Annalena, that was either four whole chicken breasts, which I boned, or something like 8 chicken legs, whole. Whatever floats your boats. David's original recipe called for the cut up chicken. In my experience, you get uneven cooking when you mix types, so I stick to one type. Your call. You also need soy sauce, olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt, pepper and four shallots.
Now, David clearly says if you don't have shallots, AND YOU SHOULD, you could substitute onions. RIGHT ON MR LEBOVITZ. Annalena is never without a shallot or two. But if you don't have them, sigh.. alright. Do you have a leek? Double sigh. In any event, mince your shallot or oniony equivalent, while you are preheating an oven to 425. In all, you want about 3/4 to a cup of chopped shallot/onion/leek. It took me 3 minutes to do this.
Get a big roasting pan. One big enough to hold all the chicken in one layer. A 9x13 suited me just fine. Put 3 tablespoons of olive oil, 3 tablespoons of red wine vinegar, a tablespoon of soy sauce and the shallots in this, and mix them up together. Now, add your chicken pieces, and turn them in the mix until they are good and coated. Sprinkle on some salt and pepper.
Was that hard? Hmmmm? Turn the pieces so that the skin side faces up, get the pan in the oven and bake for 20 minutes. During this 20 minutes, your home is going to start smelling wonderful, as the vinegar vaporizes and the onions roast. It is truly a wonderful smelling dish.
After 20, turn the pieces and roast for another 20 minutes.
You're done. David advocates adding a big handful of chopped parsley, and I dissent from this. If you want, though, please feel free.
If you are of the carb lovers school, you will of course have noted that there is plenty of time to make a pot of rice, or pasta, or couscous or something. You will want that, espcially if you use chicken breasts, because there is a fair amount of liquid at the end. It's good. You should taste it.
I am thinking through variations of this . I suppose that any vinegar would work. Indeed, in the closest dish I can think of to this one, a French stew of vinegared chicken, I use white wine vinegar. Balsamic surely sounds good if you like the sweeter end of things. I think you might substitute the soy sauce with something like Worsteshire (I spelled that wrong), or Asian fish sauce, or any of other salty condiments you have. In fact, I'm thinking that ketchup might work as well.
This recipe is so easy and so much fun, and so good, that if this were a class, and Annalena were in the front of the room with a pointer, she would assign this as homework. She would require you to make the recipe as written, and then do a variation and report on it.
In fact, I shall ask you to treat it as such. Get to work.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Cleanout continues: pea soup with pesto
You know, it is beginning to amaze me as to how much food is in that damn freezer. I feel like I have been pulling stuff out for weeks, and there SHOULD be more room. But there ain't Blanche, there ain't. Now part of that may be because I keep putting things IN it. I couldn't resist some pork tenderloins. Or a skirt steak. And of course, more ice cream. Such is life. But this is one that I made that "killed 2 birds with one stone," as it were. I was working on using up the bulky items in the freezer, and in this case, that meant another bag of peas. BUT... I remembered that there are still cubes of pesto from my big pesto freeze last year.
When people think of pea soup, the "split" in front of it is assumed. It's supposed to be a thick , hearty soup ('that fog was as thick as pea soup'), usually with a ham component of some kind in it. Well, this one ain't. I think that basil gives things a smoky flavor, so there's where perhaps a "ham" component comes in here, but the soup is thick yet delicate. More to the point, this may very well be the easiest soup you will ever make. See if you spend more than thirty minutes doing it.
If, as I encourage you to do, you have your own frozen peas and pesto in the house, go to the front of the class. If you do not, oh well, buy some frozen organic peas, get some pesto (PLEASE READ THE LABEL AND MAKE SURE IT'S ALL NATURAL) and you'll have this on the table in half an hour. I mean it. Read through and you'll see.
You need an onion, on the small size, a carrot, also to the small end of things, and one celery rib. Slice the carrot and celery thinly, and chop the onion. You will also need 2 cups of chicken stock, or water, or vegetable stock as well as 2 cups of water in addition, if you use stock. You also need a good pound of peas. If you wind up with too many in your package, like an 18 ounce package or something like that, so what? Use em all. Finally, you need from 1/4 to 1/3 cup of pesto. I LOVE pesto, but in this soup, I would use the smaller amount.
Ready to cook? OK. Put the onion, carrot and celery in a pot and add the water and stock. Add 1/2 teaspoon of salt and, if you have fresh pepper around, a few grinds of it. Cover the pot, bring it to the simmer, and cok for about 6 minutes. Now add the peas, and another 1/2 teaspoon of salt.
Little "trick of the trade." I don't think anyone knows why, but salt helps peas to keep their green color. Keep the cover off the pot now, and let it cook for 3-4 minutes.
We're almost there. Let the stuff cool a bit, and then puree it all in a blender. I was surprised how well the pea skins pureed, but they did. Then, add the pesto. If you happen to have frozen pesto, heat the stuff up a bit, but if you're using it out of the jar, or, unlike Annalena, you had the foresight to thaw it, just stir it in.
And know what? You've got six cups of a beautiful green soup, that tastes so good, you'll want to make it again. And when you look at the work, or lack thereof (remember, Annalena is an attorney), that you spent on it, you will.
I really liked this one. I was surprised, but I did. It may very well become a regular on the menu. Make it yourself, and tell me how you like it.
And, by the way, don't cheat yourself. Have a nice, big piece of toasty garlic bread with this. Annalena approves
When people think of pea soup, the "split" in front of it is assumed. It's supposed to be a thick , hearty soup ('that fog was as thick as pea soup'), usually with a ham component of some kind in it. Well, this one ain't. I think that basil gives things a smoky flavor, so there's where perhaps a "ham" component comes in here, but the soup is thick yet delicate. More to the point, this may very well be the easiest soup you will ever make. See if you spend more than thirty minutes doing it.
If, as I encourage you to do, you have your own frozen peas and pesto in the house, go to the front of the class. If you do not, oh well, buy some frozen organic peas, get some pesto (PLEASE READ THE LABEL AND MAKE SURE IT'S ALL NATURAL) and you'll have this on the table in half an hour. I mean it. Read through and you'll see.
You need an onion, on the small size, a carrot, also to the small end of things, and one celery rib. Slice the carrot and celery thinly, and chop the onion. You will also need 2 cups of chicken stock, or water, or vegetable stock as well as 2 cups of water in addition, if you use stock. You also need a good pound of peas. If you wind up with too many in your package, like an 18 ounce package or something like that, so what? Use em all. Finally, you need from 1/4 to 1/3 cup of pesto. I LOVE pesto, but in this soup, I would use the smaller amount.
Ready to cook? OK. Put the onion, carrot and celery in a pot and add the water and stock. Add 1/2 teaspoon of salt and, if you have fresh pepper around, a few grinds of it. Cover the pot, bring it to the simmer, and cok for about 6 minutes. Now add the peas, and another 1/2 teaspoon of salt.
Little "trick of the trade." I don't think anyone knows why, but salt helps peas to keep their green color. Keep the cover off the pot now, and let it cook for 3-4 minutes.
We're almost there. Let the stuff cool a bit, and then puree it all in a blender. I was surprised how well the pea skins pureed, but they did. Then, add the pesto. If you happen to have frozen pesto, heat the stuff up a bit, but if you're using it out of the jar, or, unlike Annalena, you had the foresight to thaw it, just stir it in.
And know what? You've got six cups of a beautiful green soup, that tastes so good, you'll want to make it again. And when you look at the work, or lack thereof (remember, Annalena is an attorney), that you spent on it, you will.
I really liked this one. I was surprised, but I did. It may very well become a regular on the menu. Make it yourself, and tell me how you like it.
And, by the way, don't cheat yourself. Have a nice, big piece of toasty garlic bread with this. Annalena approves
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Stealing from Raffaele, who stole from... Sicilian style cauliflower
The aforenamed Raffaele is one of my favorite chefs. He's the only one I refer to as "Monzu'" which is a very significant title. It's Sicilian, rather than Italian, and it sort of has the resonance, in a southern Italian kitchen, that "Sensei" used to have in Japanese. It is not to be thrown around lightly.
I met Raffaele when he tended bar at a restaurant that was a favorite. He then moved into the kitchen and, for reasons not important here, left to go to another restaurant. We tried his first place, but it just wasn't the same. The new place, however.... It's a fave. Try it. It's called "Palma" which is an odd word, meaning "roof tile." By coincidence, the restaurant is located in the very same building where Annalena's great grandmother moved to , when she left Boston because she would not agree to be una promessa sposa, and where the family line began.
One of the dishes that Raffaele always had on the menu at the first restaurant was a play on a Sicilian cauliflower dish. Sicilians eat a LOT of cauliflower. It goes into salads, it's fried, it goes into pasta sauces. Indeed, the recipe in question begins, as far as I can tell, as a pasta sauce: you use the florets of cauliflower, and boil them in the pasta water. You combine everything with pine nuts, currants, maybe some fennel, and something salty, like anchovies, or capers. You give the dish a final lashing of olive oil, and that's that.
When I have made this as a pasta dish, it is always one of the favorite things on the table. Raffaele did not serve it as pasta, however. His is a side dish, "un contorno" if you will. In his version, the cauliflower is not in the form of florets, but it is just about the size of the pine nuts and the currants. THAT SMALL. The resulting, larger surface area, allows it to pick up a lot more of the flavors of the dish, and because everything is the same size, you can get a mouthful of everything at once - not always possible with the pasta sauce version .
The dish is not on the menu of his new restaurant, but it's always there. I know because he always serves it to us. We never order from the menu with Raffaele; rather we send it back with the words "cooks choice." The food is always different, but there is always a version of lamb, and there is always his cauliflower.
I have tried for a long time to copy his cauliflower. I even asked him for the recipe. He laughed and said "come un Siciliano." And that was that.
Cazzino. (don't use that word). Well, the part of it that I couldn't figure out was getting the cauliflower that small. Cutting it didn't work. The stuff crumbled into an ill defined, ugly mess. Trying to break the pieces apart with my fingers almost drove Annalena madder than she already is.
The last time Raffaele served it to us, I paid VERY close attention to it - as much attention as one can spare after two martinis. And I recognized something that has allowed me to get VERY close.
Raffaele's cauliflower is very soft. That means he's cooked it already, before he does the combining with the other ingredients. And I began thinking: he's got uniform pieces. They're small, but they look like individual florets. What would happen if, instead of boiling it as florets, I boiled the whole thing and then took it apart.
BINGO. This gave me something that was very close to Raffaele's. Mine was less salty , because I did not use capers or anchovies, and less oily, because I did not add more oil at the end, but it WAS good. Now, I want to lay it out for you.
To make it as authentic as possible, you'll need salted capers, pine nuts and currants. The currants and capers will need soaking. I will not be able to give you precise amounts, but use half the volume of capers that you do of currants. Put them in separate bowls, and cover them with water. After ten minutes, drain the capers and do this again. You want them each to soak for about fifteen minutes.
While they're soaking, get about thee inches of salted water boiling, in a large pot. Then, add a medium sized cauliflower, whole, to the pot. Cover it, and let it cook. Every few minutes, check the softness of the center with a knife. It should be VERY soft: knife tender, so to speak.
While the cauliflower cooks, toast the same volume of pine nuts as you have currants, in a tablespoon of olive oil until they just begin to smell toasty. Put them, and the oil, in a bowl, with the drained currants, and the drained capers. Meanwhile, let the cauliflower cool down and then break it apart. You'll see: it falls apart like little tiny pieces of a stone. This is what you want, and you'll have lots of it. You won't be able to do that with the stems, only the florets. Save the stems for soup, if you like.
Now, get the pan where you toasted the pine nuts, and add two-three tablespoons of olive oil and get it warm. Toss everything together in the oil, for a couple of minutes, and you are really done. If you like, when you dump the stuff out of the pan, you can add some more olive oil.
You can use this as a pasta sauce, but for my money, it is the best thing in the world to serve alongside some simple roast lamb, just the way Raffaele does.
Monzu'. Yup, that's what he is.
I met Raffaele when he tended bar at a restaurant that was a favorite. He then moved into the kitchen and, for reasons not important here, left to go to another restaurant. We tried his first place, but it just wasn't the same. The new place, however.... It's a fave. Try it. It's called "Palma" which is an odd word, meaning "roof tile." By coincidence, the restaurant is located in the very same building where Annalena's great grandmother moved to , when she left Boston because she would not agree to be una promessa sposa, and where the family line began.
One of the dishes that Raffaele always had on the menu at the first restaurant was a play on a Sicilian cauliflower dish. Sicilians eat a LOT of cauliflower. It goes into salads, it's fried, it goes into pasta sauces. Indeed, the recipe in question begins, as far as I can tell, as a pasta sauce: you use the florets of cauliflower, and boil them in the pasta water. You combine everything with pine nuts, currants, maybe some fennel, and something salty, like anchovies, or capers. You give the dish a final lashing of olive oil, and that's that.
When I have made this as a pasta dish, it is always one of the favorite things on the table. Raffaele did not serve it as pasta, however. His is a side dish, "un contorno" if you will. In his version, the cauliflower is not in the form of florets, but it is just about the size of the pine nuts and the currants. THAT SMALL. The resulting, larger surface area, allows it to pick up a lot more of the flavors of the dish, and because everything is the same size, you can get a mouthful of everything at once - not always possible with the pasta sauce version .
The dish is not on the menu of his new restaurant, but it's always there. I know because he always serves it to us. We never order from the menu with Raffaele; rather we send it back with the words "cooks choice." The food is always different, but there is always a version of lamb, and there is always his cauliflower.
I have tried for a long time to copy his cauliflower. I even asked him for the recipe. He laughed and said "come un Siciliano." And that was that.
Cazzino. (don't use that word). Well, the part of it that I couldn't figure out was getting the cauliflower that small. Cutting it didn't work. The stuff crumbled into an ill defined, ugly mess. Trying to break the pieces apart with my fingers almost drove Annalena madder than she already is.
The last time Raffaele served it to us, I paid VERY close attention to it - as much attention as one can spare after two martinis. And I recognized something that has allowed me to get VERY close.
Raffaele's cauliflower is very soft. That means he's cooked it already, before he does the combining with the other ingredients. And I began thinking: he's got uniform pieces. They're small, but they look like individual florets. What would happen if, instead of boiling it as florets, I boiled the whole thing and then took it apart.
BINGO. This gave me something that was very close to Raffaele's. Mine was less salty , because I did not use capers or anchovies, and less oily, because I did not add more oil at the end, but it WAS good. Now, I want to lay it out for you.
To make it as authentic as possible, you'll need salted capers, pine nuts and currants. The currants and capers will need soaking. I will not be able to give you precise amounts, but use half the volume of capers that you do of currants. Put them in separate bowls, and cover them with water. After ten minutes, drain the capers and do this again. You want them each to soak for about fifteen minutes.
While they're soaking, get about thee inches of salted water boiling, in a large pot. Then, add a medium sized cauliflower, whole, to the pot. Cover it, and let it cook. Every few minutes, check the softness of the center with a knife. It should be VERY soft: knife tender, so to speak.
While the cauliflower cooks, toast the same volume of pine nuts as you have currants, in a tablespoon of olive oil until they just begin to smell toasty. Put them, and the oil, in a bowl, with the drained currants, and the drained capers. Meanwhile, let the cauliflower cool down and then break it apart. You'll see: it falls apart like little tiny pieces of a stone. This is what you want, and you'll have lots of it. You won't be able to do that with the stems, only the florets. Save the stems for soup, if you like.
Now, get the pan where you toasted the pine nuts, and add two-three tablespoons of olive oil and get it warm. Toss everything together in the oil, for a couple of minutes, and you are really done. If you like, when you dump the stuff out of the pan, you can add some more olive oil.
You can use this as a pasta sauce, but for my money, it is the best thing in the world to serve alongside some simple roast lamb, just the way Raffaele does.
Monzu'. Yup, that's what he is.
Friday, March 12, 2010
"The Law of Like": Stovetop sunchoks and artichokes
When Annalena was studying anthropology (yes, there WAS a stab at that), she came to the point where she had to wade her way through Sir Fraser's "The Golden Bough." Those of you who know this work will be smiling and shaking your heads. Yes, ALL of it. To those of you who don't, let's just say it's big and rough going - sort of like -
Ok, I'm not going there. In any event, early on, there is a discussion of a rule of magic, "the law of like." It says exactly what you'll think it does: things that are alike, have the same properties. Things that are alike go together, and so on, and so forth. It's the basis of the development of what we (well, not ALL of us), call simulacra, and things like that. I will not get more philosophical than that; rather, I'm just setting up for a theory about an oddity in cooking, that works.
Since I have started liking, and in fact loving, jerusalem artichokes (the "sunchokes" above), and looking for recipes, I find a lot of them where they are combined with plain old artichokes. Now, on a very basic level, this does not make any sense. Jerusalem artichoks are tubers. I have written about them before. They are the roots of sunflowers. They are firm, and hard and crispy, sort of like raw potatoes, and you treat them as such when you cook them. Artichokes you know. And, no, they are not related in any way, manner or form, other than their name, and no one knows where the "artichoke" part of jerusalem artichokes came from. I certainly don't, and I am NOT consulting Sir Fraser's tome to find out. I'm sure I won't either.
But, for all of that the two work together beautifuly in foods. I make, occasinally, a soup of the two of them that Alice Waters developed. I have seen a salad that I don't find particularly appealing. And then, not that long ago, this one. A recipe for the two, combined, in stove top/oven cooking, which is one of my favorite things.
This is a really good recipe, and, it's odd to say something like this in March, but jerusalem artichokes are "going out of season" soon, so get them while you can. They also use one of the few vegetables that I find acceptable, in purchased frozen form: the artichokes. This is one where I use them because, prepping the artichokes for this recipe would be too damn expensive, and too much work. So here goes.
You will need a pound of jerusalem artichokes. That's about 5 or 6 nice sized tubers. Also, a package of frozen artichoke hearts. They come quartered. Let them thaw. You also need a couple of good sized shallots, or half an onion, and then a quarter cup of white wine, and the juice of half a lemon. Two tablespoons of olive oil. Finally, two tablespoons of butter, the unsalted kind.
Let me digress for a minute here to explain my system of measurements here. This recipe originally called for 3 tablespoons of vermouth, and one tablespoon of lemon juice. You CAN measure these out and be precise about it; however, four tablespoons is a quarter cup. I find it easier to pour stuff into a measuring cup, from a large bottle, than into a tablespoon. Also, if you are going to squeeze fresh lemon juice until you get a tablespoon, well, you're going to get frustrated. I KNOW you are. Also, note the change from vermouth to white wine. Use vermouth if you have it,but most people don't have it around. They do have wine. Your call.
Now that you've collected the ingredients, preheat your oven to 400. Let's prep the jerusalem artichokes, by washing them to get any dirt off (remember , they're underground tubers), and then cut them into chunks.
Get a wide pan, that you know is safe for the oven (no nonsticks here). Get the olive oil shimmering hot. If you don't know what that means, then put the oil in the pan at medium heat, and watch it. Eventually, and it won't take long, you'll see almost a "wave" or ripple across the oil. Now you're ready.
Put the sunchokes into the oil, together with a double pinch of salt (note to the measurement minded: a pinch is an eight of a teaspoon. You want a quarter teaspoon here). Let the sunchoks cook away for about two minutes then turn them, and cook for another 2-3. You should see the start of browning . If you don't , cook a little more. Now add the artichokes, with another pinch of salt, stir everything together, and then put the pan in the oven, for twenty minutes.
When you come back, PROTECT YOUR HAND and take the pan out. There will be much more browning, and the dish will look beautiful. Now, we're going to do the finishing. Put the cooked veggies into a bowl, and then dump the shallots or onions into the pan. You may need to add the tiniest amount of oil here, and cook them until they just start to brown. MAYBE two minutes. Now add the wine, and stir, picking up the brown goodies in the pan. The wine will almost evaporate. For this next step, lower the heat as low as it can go. Then put in the lemon juice and add the butter, in small pieces (4 or 5 of them), waiting until each piece melts until you put in the next one (this helps with a little emulsification). When that's done, put the veggies in, stir it all together, and add some salt and pepper.
ALL DONE. One of the lovely features of this recipe, I have found, is that you can do it ahead of time and reheat it. Originally, it called for the addition of parsley and a little fresh tarragon. Tarragon and Annalena are not on good terms, but it does seem to show up in a lot of artichoke recipes, so if you're a fan, do not let me stop you.
Try this. It will not be long before we'll be eating ramps and fiddleheads and early spring tasties, and it will be time to bid a short farewell to sunchokes. You may be a convert, if you're not already, after you eat this.
Ok, I'm not going there. In any event, early on, there is a discussion of a rule of magic, "the law of like." It says exactly what you'll think it does: things that are alike, have the same properties. Things that are alike go together, and so on, and so forth. It's the basis of the development of what we (well, not ALL of us), call simulacra, and things like that. I will not get more philosophical than that; rather, I'm just setting up for a theory about an oddity in cooking, that works.
Since I have started liking, and in fact loving, jerusalem artichokes (the "sunchokes" above), and looking for recipes, I find a lot of them where they are combined with plain old artichokes. Now, on a very basic level, this does not make any sense. Jerusalem artichoks are tubers. I have written about them before. They are the roots of sunflowers. They are firm, and hard and crispy, sort of like raw potatoes, and you treat them as such when you cook them. Artichokes you know. And, no, they are not related in any way, manner or form, other than their name, and no one knows where the "artichoke" part of jerusalem artichokes came from. I certainly don't, and I am NOT consulting Sir Fraser's tome to find out. I'm sure I won't either.
But, for all of that the two work together beautifuly in foods. I make, occasinally, a soup of the two of them that Alice Waters developed. I have seen a salad that I don't find particularly appealing. And then, not that long ago, this one. A recipe for the two, combined, in stove top/oven cooking, which is one of my favorite things.
This is a really good recipe, and, it's odd to say something like this in March, but jerusalem artichokes are "going out of season" soon, so get them while you can. They also use one of the few vegetables that I find acceptable, in purchased frozen form: the artichokes. This is one where I use them because, prepping the artichokes for this recipe would be too damn expensive, and too much work. So here goes.
You will need a pound of jerusalem artichokes. That's about 5 or 6 nice sized tubers. Also, a package of frozen artichoke hearts. They come quartered. Let them thaw. You also need a couple of good sized shallots, or half an onion, and then a quarter cup of white wine, and the juice of half a lemon. Two tablespoons of olive oil. Finally, two tablespoons of butter, the unsalted kind.
Let me digress for a minute here to explain my system of measurements here. This recipe originally called for 3 tablespoons of vermouth, and one tablespoon of lemon juice. You CAN measure these out and be precise about it; however, four tablespoons is a quarter cup. I find it easier to pour stuff into a measuring cup, from a large bottle, than into a tablespoon. Also, if you are going to squeeze fresh lemon juice until you get a tablespoon, well, you're going to get frustrated. I KNOW you are. Also, note the change from vermouth to white wine. Use vermouth if you have it,but most people don't have it around. They do have wine. Your call.
Now that you've collected the ingredients, preheat your oven to 400. Let's prep the jerusalem artichokes, by washing them to get any dirt off (remember , they're underground tubers), and then cut them into chunks.
Get a wide pan, that you know is safe for the oven (no nonsticks here). Get the olive oil shimmering hot. If you don't know what that means, then put the oil in the pan at medium heat, and watch it. Eventually, and it won't take long, you'll see almost a "wave" or ripple across the oil. Now you're ready.
Put the sunchokes into the oil, together with a double pinch of salt (note to the measurement minded: a pinch is an eight of a teaspoon. You want a quarter teaspoon here). Let the sunchoks cook away for about two minutes then turn them, and cook for another 2-3. You should see the start of browning . If you don't , cook a little more. Now add the artichokes, with another pinch of salt, stir everything together, and then put the pan in the oven, for twenty minutes.
When you come back, PROTECT YOUR HAND and take the pan out. There will be much more browning, and the dish will look beautiful. Now, we're going to do the finishing. Put the cooked veggies into a bowl, and then dump the shallots or onions into the pan. You may need to add the tiniest amount of oil here, and cook them until they just start to brown. MAYBE two minutes. Now add the wine, and stir, picking up the brown goodies in the pan. The wine will almost evaporate. For this next step, lower the heat as low as it can go. Then put in the lemon juice and add the butter, in small pieces (4 or 5 of them), waiting until each piece melts until you put in the next one (this helps with a little emulsification). When that's done, put the veggies in, stir it all together, and add some salt and pepper.
ALL DONE. One of the lovely features of this recipe, I have found, is that you can do it ahead of time and reheat it. Originally, it called for the addition of parsley and a little fresh tarragon. Tarragon and Annalena are not on good terms, but it does seem to show up in a lot of artichoke recipes, so if you're a fan, do not let me stop you.
Try this. It will not be long before we'll be eating ramps and fiddleheads and early spring tasties, and it will be time to bid a short farewell to sunchokes. You may be a convert, if you're not already, after you eat this.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Crispy corn, or Annalena finds a way she likes it
Back to cleaning out the fridge. One of the things that always goes into the freezer when the stuff is in season, is corn. Corn, corn and more corn. Annalena's long suffering partner loves the stuff. Not one of my favorites. Ah, the things we do...
BUT... in working with a bag of the stuff not that long ago, I found a way of cooking it that I really liked.
"Caramel corn" , you know that sweet stuff yes? Well, caramel is really what makes everything brown. One of the more important chemical reactions Annalena studied when she was a pre-med student (you didn't know, did ya?), involved the so-called "Browning reacton, " which is kind of a cute name for it. So yes, she can go on at great length about what happens to cause food to brown, but she won't. Instead, she'll talk about this corn dish, which I think you will like.
It fits the "simplicity rule" of less than five ingredients. Indeed, there are but three if you do not count the salt: corn, oil or butter, and shallots. You can substitute the shallots with onions, or leeks or any member of that family, and you can mix the oil and butter, turning it into four ingredients. Use about 3-4 cups of kernel corn, and if it's still frozen, the dish won't mind.
Slice your onion ingredient thinly, until you have a scant cup or so. Then, put a few tablespoons of fat in a pan, and get it hot. Add the onions, and cook them until they just begin to soften. When that happens, add your corn, some salt, and turn down the heat.
Now, here's the most important part of the recipe and the one that people always have trouble with. LEAVE IT ALONE. Let it cook, without stirring, for 3-4 minutes. THEN turn it . You're going to get some corn sticking to the pan (that's a good thing), and you'll see the browning happening on those kernels. Cook for another 3-4 minutes and you're ALMOST done. Almost, because now, you're going to get that last bit of brown stuff.
Add a quarter cup of water . The pan will spatter in protest, but be brave, and start stirring. The water will evaporate, the brown stuff will come up and coat the corn, and you'll get something even tastier.
Caramel corn as a vegetable side dish. Ain't you clever?
BUT... in working with a bag of the stuff not that long ago, I found a way of cooking it that I really liked.
"Caramel corn" , you know that sweet stuff yes? Well, caramel is really what makes everything brown. One of the more important chemical reactions Annalena studied when she was a pre-med student (you didn't know, did ya?), involved the so-called "Browning reacton, " which is kind of a cute name for it. So yes, she can go on at great length about what happens to cause food to brown, but she won't. Instead, she'll talk about this corn dish, which I think you will like.
It fits the "simplicity rule" of less than five ingredients. Indeed, there are but three if you do not count the salt: corn, oil or butter, and shallots. You can substitute the shallots with onions, or leeks or any member of that family, and you can mix the oil and butter, turning it into four ingredients. Use about 3-4 cups of kernel corn, and if it's still frozen, the dish won't mind.
Slice your onion ingredient thinly, until you have a scant cup or so. Then, put a few tablespoons of fat in a pan, and get it hot. Add the onions, and cook them until they just begin to soften. When that happens, add your corn, some salt, and turn down the heat.
Now, here's the most important part of the recipe and the one that people always have trouble with. LEAVE IT ALONE. Let it cook, without stirring, for 3-4 minutes. THEN turn it . You're going to get some corn sticking to the pan (that's a good thing), and you'll see the browning happening on those kernels. Cook for another 3-4 minutes and you're ALMOST done. Almost, because now, you're going to get that last bit of brown stuff.
Add a quarter cup of water . The pan will spatter in protest, but be brave, and start stirring. The water will evaporate, the brown stuff will come up and coat the corn, and you'll get something even tastier.
Caramel corn as a vegetable side dish. Ain't you clever?
Deconstruction to a side dish: asparagus wrapped in prosciutto
Taking a break from the freezer clean out here, but we'll be back... That I promise.
A couple of nights ago, while preparing dinner, Annalena was faced with the "problem" that she loves to be faced with. And it can happen to you too, if you keep your fridge and pantry well stocked. (Of course, one of the downsides of such a kitchen is that your cats are in there, constantly, looking for tasties. I just pulled a huge lambchop bone from the teeth of a very upset cat. Life is a bitch for all species).
Digressing again. Admit it, that's why you're here. Ok, onto the dish. We were having a meal of monkfish, asparagus, and rice . I had the components in front of me, and wanted to add "something more." Sitting in the fridge was some left over prosciutto di san daniele, and I thought right away of wrapping the fish in the ham, and cooking it that way. (Annalena is a big fan of anything wrapped in prosciutto. In an example of what is perhaps the ultimate in pork overkill, her friend Dana, in San Francisco, wraps a pork chop in the stuff before she cooks it. MORE MORE MORE).
Well, here's the thing about wrapping that fish: I was not sure I wanted that much prosciutto in the meal, and I wasn't sure I could cook it properly. BUT... those asparagus? Hmmmm. And I was thinking of a dish that I have had, as a lunch dish: polenta, with an overlay of asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, with fontina cheese melted over it.
Now THAT's overkill. So, I plunged ahead, and "deconstructed" that dish to get a side dish. And here it is. It's really good. I think you can make this as a larger portion and call it lunch, or you could just figure out the dish above and do that one yourself too.
This is one of the ultimate "now, why didn't I think of that? " dishes . Well, now you don't have to. Just make it.
Start with a pound of asparagus. I use the "snap test" for getting rid of inedible parts: I put the head in one set of fingers, the other end in the other set, and bend. Where it snaps, it snaps, and I dump the bottom part, or use it for stock.
Cook those asparagus in boiling salted water, for no more than 2-3 minutes. Drain em, and let them dry.
Meanwhile, get your prosciutto, of any type , or any thinly sliced ham ready. Wrap a thin slice around groups of 2 or 3 asparagus at a time. Since Annalena failed her holiday wrapping exams, this is not so easy. I have found it simpler to put one end of the ham in between the asparagus to hold it there, and then to just spin it around them.
When you're done, get a shallow pan ready and put a few tablespoons of oil, any kind, into it. When it's hot, add the asparagus and listen to the ham sizzle. When the sizzling gets a bit quieter, turn them around and cook the other side. It won't take more than five minutes. The ham will crisp up and the asparagus may brown a bit.
Drain the critters on paper towels, and then just put em on the plate with whatever else you're serving or just eat them right there.
I imagine you can do these with the white asparagus my friend Frank, the patron saint of tannins, truly adores. I am not a fan of them, and they are not that easy to find in fresh form anyway, but if you like, well, have at it. Indeed, I can imagine a combination of a thick white asparagus, and two green ones, with the pink ham around it for those of you with a truly visual sense of food. However you like them, Annalena just wants you to cook
A couple of nights ago, while preparing dinner, Annalena was faced with the "problem" that she loves to be faced with. And it can happen to you too, if you keep your fridge and pantry well stocked. (Of course, one of the downsides of such a kitchen is that your cats are in there, constantly, looking for tasties. I just pulled a huge lambchop bone from the teeth of a very upset cat. Life is a bitch for all species).
Digressing again. Admit it, that's why you're here. Ok, onto the dish. We were having a meal of monkfish, asparagus, and rice . I had the components in front of me, and wanted to add "something more." Sitting in the fridge was some left over prosciutto di san daniele, and I thought right away of wrapping the fish in the ham, and cooking it that way. (Annalena is a big fan of anything wrapped in prosciutto. In an example of what is perhaps the ultimate in pork overkill, her friend Dana, in San Francisco, wraps a pork chop in the stuff before she cooks it. MORE MORE MORE).
Well, here's the thing about wrapping that fish: I was not sure I wanted that much prosciutto in the meal, and I wasn't sure I could cook it properly. BUT... those asparagus? Hmmmm. And I was thinking of a dish that I have had, as a lunch dish: polenta, with an overlay of asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, with fontina cheese melted over it.
Now THAT's overkill. So, I plunged ahead, and "deconstructed" that dish to get a side dish. And here it is. It's really good. I think you can make this as a larger portion and call it lunch, or you could just figure out the dish above and do that one yourself too.
This is one of the ultimate "now, why didn't I think of that? " dishes . Well, now you don't have to. Just make it.
Start with a pound of asparagus. I use the "snap test" for getting rid of inedible parts: I put the head in one set of fingers, the other end in the other set, and bend. Where it snaps, it snaps, and I dump the bottom part, or use it for stock.
Cook those asparagus in boiling salted water, for no more than 2-3 minutes. Drain em, and let them dry.
Meanwhile, get your prosciutto, of any type , or any thinly sliced ham ready. Wrap a thin slice around groups of 2 or 3 asparagus at a time. Since Annalena failed her holiday wrapping exams, this is not so easy. I have found it simpler to put one end of the ham in between the asparagus to hold it there, and then to just spin it around them.
When you're done, get a shallow pan ready and put a few tablespoons of oil, any kind, into it. When it's hot, add the asparagus and listen to the ham sizzle. When the sizzling gets a bit quieter, turn them around and cook the other side. It won't take more than five minutes. The ham will crisp up and the asparagus may brown a bit.
Drain the critters on paper towels, and then just put em on the plate with whatever else you're serving or just eat them right there.
I imagine you can do these with the white asparagus my friend Frank, the patron saint of tannins, truly adores. I am not a fan of them, and they are not that easy to find in fresh form anyway, but if you like, well, have at it. Indeed, I can imagine a combination of a thick white asparagus, and two green ones, with the pink ham around it for those of you with a truly visual sense of food. However you like them, Annalena just wants you to cook
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
When you won't drink it: how to use that wine
One day at lunch I was speaking with my dear friend Jane, and I said "I have this GREAT recipe to use up leftover wine." She put up her hand. "Save it dear. We never have left over wine."
I believe it. My friend David and I could probably medal in the tandem wine drinking events (both sprints and long distance), but Jane and her novio would drink us under the table every single time.
Ok, that has nothing to do with the topic at hand, except that we're dealing with wine. You know the rule: never cook with anything you wouldn't drink.
Well, sometimes, you open a bottle and you don't say "this is really awful," but you also say "not on my table." That happened to me not that long ago. I had bought some chardonnay from a vineyard that makes SOME really good wines. Unfortunately, their chardonnay table wine, is not one of them (HINT: if you are looking at a wine that describes itself as "table wine," it probably isn't). So, while I gave it 2 or 3 tries, it wasn't making it. Frugality being the way of the world these days, however, I tried to think of what to do with it. And I found a way to deal with some of it.
It IS true that you should always use wine you would drink at table when you cook, but when it's just at the edge, if the sauce you are going to make is flavored with some other, strong ingredients, go girl go. And that's what this is about.
We were eating monkfish tonight, one of my favorite fish to cook. The texture of monkfish is so nice and dense and firm, that it is hard to overcook it. Use it if you're not comfortable cooking fish. But it is a bland fish. It needs something. And that's where the wine came in. Here we go.
First, take about a pound of monkfish. This is probably two nice sized chunks. Pat it dry and season it with salt and pepper. Meanwhile, bring your oven to 400. Put about two tablespoons of olive oil, in a non-stick pan. When the pan is hot, put the monkfish in. It will sizzle, and after five minutes or so, it will brown. Turn it so that the unbrowned side is on the pan surface, pour off the fat, and put the whole thing into the oven and let it cook for ten minutes.
After ten minutes, CAREFULLY take the pan out of the oven, and let the fish drain on some paper towel. Slice it vertically into big thick slices. You probably want 8-10 in all.
Now, for the sauce. Pour a cup of that wine into the pan, and turn on the heat. When the wine begins to boil, toss in a good slug of dijon mustard - maybe two tablespoons or so, maybe more - and then put the fish back in, spooning the sauce over it, as it reduces. The whole thing will reduce to a few tablespoons, and you will be done.
Plate the fish, and then pour the sauce over the fish. Maybe a squirt of lemon, maybe a grind of pepper, and maybe nothing at all.
We ate this with plain white rice (because I couldn't find the brown rice), and something I'll tell ya about tomorrow: asparagus wrapped in prosciutto.
To be continued....
I believe it. My friend David and I could probably medal in the tandem wine drinking events (both sprints and long distance), but Jane and her novio would drink us under the table every single time.
Ok, that has nothing to do with the topic at hand, except that we're dealing with wine. You know the rule: never cook with anything you wouldn't drink.
Well, sometimes, you open a bottle and you don't say "this is really awful," but you also say "not on my table." That happened to me not that long ago. I had bought some chardonnay from a vineyard that makes SOME really good wines. Unfortunately, their chardonnay table wine, is not one of them (HINT: if you are looking at a wine that describes itself as "table wine," it probably isn't). So, while I gave it 2 or 3 tries, it wasn't making it. Frugality being the way of the world these days, however, I tried to think of what to do with it. And I found a way to deal with some of it.
It IS true that you should always use wine you would drink at table when you cook, but when it's just at the edge, if the sauce you are going to make is flavored with some other, strong ingredients, go girl go. And that's what this is about.
We were eating monkfish tonight, one of my favorite fish to cook. The texture of monkfish is so nice and dense and firm, that it is hard to overcook it. Use it if you're not comfortable cooking fish. But it is a bland fish. It needs something. And that's where the wine came in. Here we go.
First, take about a pound of monkfish. This is probably two nice sized chunks. Pat it dry and season it with salt and pepper. Meanwhile, bring your oven to 400. Put about two tablespoons of olive oil, in a non-stick pan. When the pan is hot, put the monkfish in. It will sizzle, and after five minutes or so, it will brown. Turn it so that the unbrowned side is on the pan surface, pour off the fat, and put the whole thing into the oven and let it cook for ten minutes.
After ten minutes, CAREFULLY take the pan out of the oven, and let the fish drain on some paper towel. Slice it vertically into big thick slices. You probably want 8-10 in all.
Now, for the sauce. Pour a cup of that wine into the pan, and turn on the heat. When the wine begins to boil, toss in a good slug of dijon mustard - maybe two tablespoons or so, maybe more - and then put the fish back in, spooning the sauce over it, as it reduces. The whole thing will reduce to a few tablespoons, and you will be done.
Plate the fish, and then pour the sauce over the fish. Maybe a squirt of lemon, maybe a grind of pepper, and maybe nothing at all.
We ate this with plain white rice (because I couldn't find the brown rice), and something I'll tell ya about tomorrow: asparagus wrapped in prosciutto.
To be continued....
Sunday, March 7, 2010
The freezer cleanout continues: fava bean soup
Before proceeding, ragazzi, Annalena wants to thank everyone for the unanimity of support for her approach to these entries and recipes. Everyone who commented, and there were many of you, were flattering to a point where Annalena nearly blushed - something she doesn't do often. It is both wonderful to know you're out there, following these words, and that you agree with this approach. Thank you all very much.
As you have been reading over the last week or so, I am deeply involved in emptying the freezer, so that I can refill it again once harvest starts. There is a rhubarb and cherry pie destined for a dinner party tonight, peas are appearing on the dinner menu with some frequency, and now, the fava beans.
Fava beans may very well be one of the most discouraging vegetables to work with. Some people complain about artichokes, but compared to fava beans, artichokes are, well, easy. Favas come in those huge, puffy pods that are inedible. There is nothing you can do with them but compost them. Then, the beans themselves are wrapped in a skin which, unless you are fortunate enough to get very small ones from California, have to be peeled, before you can get to the very tasty bean. It can be disheartening to sit there, beginning with a shopping bag sized pile of the things, and wind up with a small bowl of green goodness. All that work, for THIS????
Well, I cannot make removing them from the pods easier for you, but I CAN teach you a trick for peeling them. I was sure that I had invented this, but then I read an article in which the great Paula Wolfert described the same technique. So I will give credit to her, but I DID think of it independently (I swear). After you have podded the beans, freeze them. Then, defrost them and pop the beans out of the skin. Nothing could be easier, and you avoid injuring your fingertips with the standard techniques, or burning them from beans you have parboiled and started peeling too soon, because you couldn't wait until they cooled off.
If you have fava beans in your freezer, you can make this now. If you don't, save it for spring. Or, substitute peas for the fava beans. They are just about always interchangeable, and if you don't have your own stock of frozen peas, do what I suggested, a few recipes down.
Get yourself two cups of peeled fava beans. Also, peel and chop fine a pound of potatoes. Any kind will do, as long as you don't use the pink or blue fleshed ones. They are lovely to eat, but in a soup like this, the color is not good. You will also need about a half cup of thinly sliced shallots, or onions, or leeks, whatever you have available. Finally, chicken stock, water, and olive oil.
Cover a soup pot with olive oil, and when it warms, add the shallots or onions or leeks with a teaspoon of salt, and cook until they begin to soften. Add the potatoes, and toss with the onion family member, and another teaspoon of salt. (The gradual adding of the salt, incidentally, is to help the vegetables "open up" in the cooking.). Cook this for about two minutes, and then add one quart of stock, 2 cups of water, and the fava beans. Turn the heat to low, and then cook until the potatoes are tender enough for you. Different folks will like different degrees of softness, so proceed as you like.
Taste this, and then correct for the seasonings.
It's easy, and like I say, you can use peas if you have no favas. But plan on having them when the season begins. They are good for you, and you will love them.
As you have been reading over the last week or so, I am deeply involved in emptying the freezer, so that I can refill it again once harvest starts. There is a rhubarb and cherry pie destined for a dinner party tonight, peas are appearing on the dinner menu with some frequency, and now, the fava beans.
Fava beans may very well be one of the most discouraging vegetables to work with. Some people complain about artichokes, but compared to fava beans, artichokes are, well, easy. Favas come in those huge, puffy pods that are inedible. There is nothing you can do with them but compost them. Then, the beans themselves are wrapped in a skin which, unless you are fortunate enough to get very small ones from California, have to be peeled, before you can get to the very tasty bean. It can be disheartening to sit there, beginning with a shopping bag sized pile of the things, and wind up with a small bowl of green goodness. All that work, for THIS????
Well, I cannot make removing them from the pods easier for you, but I CAN teach you a trick for peeling them. I was sure that I had invented this, but then I read an article in which the great Paula Wolfert described the same technique. So I will give credit to her, but I DID think of it independently (I swear). After you have podded the beans, freeze them. Then, defrost them and pop the beans out of the skin. Nothing could be easier, and you avoid injuring your fingertips with the standard techniques, or burning them from beans you have parboiled and started peeling too soon, because you couldn't wait until they cooled off.
If you have fava beans in your freezer, you can make this now. If you don't, save it for spring. Or, substitute peas for the fava beans. They are just about always interchangeable, and if you don't have your own stock of frozen peas, do what I suggested, a few recipes down.
Get yourself two cups of peeled fava beans. Also, peel and chop fine a pound of potatoes. Any kind will do, as long as you don't use the pink or blue fleshed ones. They are lovely to eat, but in a soup like this, the color is not good. You will also need about a half cup of thinly sliced shallots, or onions, or leeks, whatever you have available. Finally, chicken stock, water, and olive oil.
Cover a soup pot with olive oil, and when it warms, add the shallots or onions or leeks with a teaspoon of salt, and cook until they begin to soften. Add the potatoes, and toss with the onion family member, and another teaspoon of salt. (The gradual adding of the salt, incidentally, is to help the vegetables "open up" in the cooking.). Cook this for about two minutes, and then add one quart of stock, 2 cups of water, and the fava beans. Turn the heat to low, and then cook until the potatoes are tender enough for you. Different folks will like different degrees of softness, so proceed as you like.
Taste this, and then correct for the seasonings.
It's easy, and like I say, you can use peas if you have no favas. But plan on having them when the season begins. They are good for you, and you will love them.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
SHE FIGURED IT OUT! Fried polenta and veggies
I have written about how polenta is not a food with which I grew up. As southern Italians, my grandmother had no patience for corn products: "that's for Northerners and pigs" was her categorical reply to any request for polenta. It sort of still sticks with me for corn on the cop, or even kernel corn. Not my favorite food. But Nana, "mi dispiace, ma mi piace polenta." I have sort of mastered SOFT polenta, but the crispy fried batons of polenta that you can get at Italian restaurants like my beloved Barbuto? Nope. Until today. YES. Annalena did it. And it was one of those "OF COURSE" moments, as Annalena saw, in a grain of sand (alright, a grain of polenta) many of her teachings to you coming together. I made it with a mix of vegetables and cheese, and I'll describe it, because GEEZ it was good, but you can make it any which what way you like. In fact, I bet most of you make something like this already.
For the polenta: This was so obvious I should have figured it out long ago. If the ratio for soft polenta is 4 parts liquid to one part polenta, cut down the liquid.That, in fact, is what I did. I used 3 parts and got a thick, heavy polenta, that I then poured onto a greased baking sheet. There was no fear of it spreading too thin. This stuff , like a good child (or a good man), stayed where you put it. I just evened it out, so that it was a nice rectangle, and let it sit, at room temperature, for two hours.
When I came back to it, it was firm and easy to cut into squares. YAY. First battle won.
The other problem I have always had is that the polenta has stuck to the pan when I fried it, even when using non stick. Well, I covered a non stick pan with a mix of butter and olive oil. When it got nice and hot, I added the slices of polenta... and saw defeat again.
PATIENCE I told myself "What do you always tell people about browning things? " So I set a timer, for three minutes, and went about doing something else. I could see a browning taking place, going up the sides of the polenta slices. When I flipped them...
SUCCESS!!!!! Yes. Annalena had fried polenta successfully. All was well, and I moved the slices to a paper towel to drain, because these suckers take up a lot of oil (incidentally, have someone watch you, or make more than you think you will need. These are too tempting not to steal and eat, even though they are very hot, and retain their heat for a while).
Now, for the veggie mix. Here's mine. I had a pint of grape tomatoes that were wrinkling up and giving me dirty looks. So I put them into a big pan with a swig of olive oil, and got them hot and sizzly. They began to break up from the heat, and adding some salt helped that along. I then added some cooked chopped spinach. I had boiled up two bunches of it the day before, and I just drained out all the water. So, this was cooked, and it only needed to be blended in with the tomatoes. Finally, about a third of a pound of fontina cheese, in small chunks, into the veggies, with the heat turned off.
This wonderfully stringly, messy dish of red and green vegetables resulted, which went divinely with the polenta.
You could leave out the cheese here, or you could substitute some beans instead, or you could use whatever vegetables you like. I think it might be really good to make sure to have something green and leafy in the dish, for moisture and nutrition, since you're probably eating more fat in this healthy dish than is permitted by any diet in the world. So, have a small portion like I did.
Ok, I lied about that. But I ran four miles today. I gotta get some calories back, right :)
For the polenta: This was so obvious I should have figured it out long ago. If the ratio for soft polenta is 4 parts liquid to one part polenta, cut down the liquid.That, in fact, is what I did. I used 3 parts and got a thick, heavy polenta, that I then poured onto a greased baking sheet. There was no fear of it spreading too thin. This stuff , like a good child (or a good man), stayed where you put it. I just evened it out, so that it was a nice rectangle, and let it sit, at room temperature, for two hours.
When I came back to it, it was firm and easy to cut into squares. YAY. First battle won.
The other problem I have always had is that the polenta has stuck to the pan when I fried it, even when using non stick. Well, I covered a non stick pan with a mix of butter and olive oil. When it got nice and hot, I added the slices of polenta... and saw defeat again.
PATIENCE I told myself "What do you always tell people about browning things? " So I set a timer, for three minutes, and went about doing something else. I could see a browning taking place, going up the sides of the polenta slices. When I flipped them...
SUCCESS!!!!! Yes. Annalena had fried polenta successfully. All was well, and I moved the slices to a paper towel to drain, because these suckers take up a lot of oil (incidentally, have someone watch you, or make more than you think you will need. These are too tempting not to steal and eat, even though they are very hot, and retain their heat for a while).
Now, for the veggie mix. Here's mine. I had a pint of grape tomatoes that were wrinkling up and giving me dirty looks. So I put them into a big pan with a swig of olive oil, and got them hot and sizzly. They began to break up from the heat, and adding some salt helped that along. I then added some cooked chopped spinach. I had boiled up two bunches of it the day before, and I just drained out all the water. So, this was cooked, and it only needed to be blended in with the tomatoes. Finally, about a third of a pound of fontina cheese, in small chunks, into the veggies, with the heat turned off.
This wonderfully stringly, messy dish of red and green vegetables resulted, which went divinely with the polenta.
You could leave out the cheese here, or you could substitute some beans instead, or you could use whatever vegetables you like. I think it might be really good to make sure to have something green and leafy in the dish, for moisture and nutrition, since you're probably eating more fat in this healthy dish than is permitted by any diet in the world. So, have a small portion like I did.
Ok, I lied about that. But I ran four miles today. I gotta get some calories back, right :)
Impulse buying: veal stew with carrots and chestnuts
Let's have a show of hands: how many of you have NEVER bought something on impulse?
LIAR. You KNOW who you are, and you KNOW you're lying. OF COURSE you've bought something on impulse , we all do. In fact, I probably do at least once a day. Even my Nana, who was as frugal as the day is long, would impulse buy. She would justify it by saying "well, someday we'll use it , and you'll never see it at that price again. "
Sure Nana, anything you say.
I do it with food all the time. I see something and HAVE TO HAVE IT. So what if I don't have any idea what to do with it? This probably explains the quart bottle of agave sweetener stuck (literally as well as figuratively), in the back of my cupboard, attracting the attention of various six legged creatures, and occasionally weeping onto a box of rice. It's not so bad with stuff like agave, which will keep. when I find that huge bunch of cardoons, that takes of 3/4 of the fridge, however, well, now we got problems.
Some time ago, I did an impulse buy on veal. Now, this is what happened. One of the farms from which I buy cheese had to deal with the inevitable: they had too many boy calves. On a milk farm, well, you know... And so, they dispatched the calves. I think there were only 2 (it's a small farm), and they immediately let their customers know that they had a small stash of grass fed veal.
Annalena was THERE. Immediately, I picked up 3 pounds of ground, and 3 pounds of stew meat. Ground meat, I can do just about anything with. I ASSUMED I would know what to do with the stew meat.
OOPS. Not so fast, Annalena. So, 3 pounds of stew meat went into the freezer "for when I figure out what to do with it."
Now, normally, that's the kiss of death for what goes into the freezer. Not this time. As I began cleaning out the freezer, so I could fill it again, I found the veal, and began thinking: "veal stroganoff." Yup, that's where it was going to go.
But somehow, veal and sour cream were not working for me as a combination (at this point my most faithful of the faithful, Sue, is saying out loud "what the heck is WRONG with you?"). What can I say, it wasn't happening. So I went looking, and found this one. I like it. I think you will too.
What I have found with stews of this type is that pork, veal and beef are generally interchangeable with each other. What is NOT interchangeable are cuts. For example, if you find yourself with a large piece of veal for scallopini, for heaven's sake DON'T slow cook it. And shanks will take too long to cook in this recipe. But pork shoulder, veal shoulder, beef stew meat, maybe even lamb, would all work this way. Try it. It's easy, and it's good.
You start with a can or package of chestnuts. If you use the can, drain them. (The original recipe has you roasting and peeling fresh chestnuts. Screw that). Put them aside. You also need 4 tablespoons of olive oil, and 3 pounds of veal stew meat. In addition, chop up two medium onions, a bay leaf, and about 4 cloves of garlic. Then, you also need 3 cups or so of chicken stock and 3/4 cup of white wine. These liquids can be modified. Use beef stock if you like, or use just chicken or beef stock, or use red wine instead of white. Finally, clean up six medium carrots, and slice them into half moons.
Now, let's get to work. Dry off that veal, really good. I let it sit on paper towels exposed to the air for an hour, and then salt and pepper it. Heat half the oil in a big pot, and when it's hot, add the veal, to cover the bottom of the pan. Brown the pieces nicely, and TAKE YOUR TIME. Don't crowd the veal either: do it in batches. Put it aside as it cooks.
Pour off any fat that is left (there won't be much), and add the remaining oil. Add the onions, the g arlic and the bay leaf. Lower the heat, cover the pot, and let them sweat for five minutes or so. Take off the cover, and add your liquids, and bring them to a boil. Now add the meat, bring it back to a boil and cover the pot. Turn the heat to low, and cook for 45 minutes.
We didn't forget the carrots. At the end of 45 minutes, uncover the pot, and add them. Cook everything for another 45 minutes. The carrots should be tender, and the liquid very reduced. Stir in the chestnuts, breaking them up if they are big. Taste it, and adjust the seasonings.
Like any stew, this is gonna taste better the second day, so try to make it ahead of time. If you can't, oh well. Just pour yourself a glass of whatever wine you used in the dish, if you used wine, or drink something better. All you really need with this is a salad of some kind of bitter greens, but I can't imagine polenta not making this a real feast. And I love green beans with veal, or peas, or something "verdant."
If you are not anti-veal, make this. It's good and relative to what veal costs generally, it's cheap. You'll be a happy person.
LIAR. You KNOW who you are, and you KNOW you're lying. OF COURSE you've bought something on impulse , we all do. In fact, I probably do at least once a day. Even my Nana, who was as frugal as the day is long, would impulse buy. She would justify it by saying "well, someday we'll use it , and you'll never see it at that price again. "
Sure Nana, anything you say.
I do it with food all the time. I see something and HAVE TO HAVE IT. So what if I don't have any idea what to do with it? This probably explains the quart bottle of agave sweetener stuck (literally as well as figuratively), in the back of my cupboard, attracting the attention of various six legged creatures, and occasionally weeping onto a box of rice. It's not so bad with stuff like agave, which will keep. when I find that huge bunch of cardoons, that takes of 3/4 of the fridge, however, well, now we got problems.
Some time ago, I did an impulse buy on veal. Now, this is what happened. One of the farms from which I buy cheese had to deal with the inevitable: they had too many boy calves. On a milk farm, well, you know... And so, they dispatched the calves. I think there were only 2 (it's a small farm), and they immediately let their customers know that they had a small stash of grass fed veal.
Annalena was THERE. Immediately, I picked up 3 pounds of ground, and 3 pounds of stew meat. Ground meat, I can do just about anything with. I ASSUMED I would know what to do with the stew meat.
OOPS. Not so fast, Annalena. So, 3 pounds of stew meat went into the freezer "for when I figure out what to do with it."
Now, normally, that's the kiss of death for what goes into the freezer. Not this time. As I began cleaning out the freezer, so I could fill it again, I found the veal, and began thinking: "veal stroganoff." Yup, that's where it was going to go.
But somehow, veal and sour cream were not working for me as a combination (at this point my most faithful of the faithful, Sue, is saying out loud "what the heck is WRONG with you?"). What can I say, it wasn't happening. So I went looking, and found this one. I like it. I think you will too.
What I have found with stews of this type is that pork, veal and beef are generally interchangeable with each other. What is NOT interchangeable are cuts. For example, if you find yourself with a large piece of veal for scallopini, for heaven's sake DON'T slow cook it. And shanks will take too long to cook in this recipe. But pork shoulder, veal shoulder, beef stew meat, maybe even lamb, would all work this way. Try it. It's easy, and it's good.
You start with a can or package of chestnuts. If you use the can, drain them. (The original recipe has you roasting and peeling fresh chestnuts. Screw that). Put them aside. You also need 4 tablespoons of olive oil, and 3 pounds of veal stew meat. In addition, chop up two medium onions, a bay leaf, and about 4 cloves of garlic. Then, you also need 3 cups or so of chicken stock and 3/4 cup of white wine. These liquids can be modified. Use beef stock if you like, or use just chicken or beef stock, or use red wine instead of white. Finally, clean up six medium carrots, and slice them into half moons.
Now, let's get to work. Dry off that veal, really good. I let it sit on paper towels exposed to the air for an hour, and then salt and pepper it. Heat half the oil in a big pot, and when it's hot, add the veal, to cover the bottom of the pan. Brown the pieces nicely, and TAKE YOUR TIME. Don't crowd the veal either: do it in batches. Put it aside as it cooks.
Pour off any fat that is left (there won't be much), and add the remaining oil. Add the onions, the g arlic and the bay leaf. Lower the heat, cover the pot, and let them sweat for five minutes or so. Take off the cover, and add your liquids, and bring them to a boil. Now add the meat, bring it back to a boil and cover the pot. Turn the heat to low, and cook for 45 minutes.
We didn't forget the carrots. At the end of 45 minutes, uncover the pot, and add them. Cook everything for another 45 minutes. The carrots should be tender, and the liquid very reduced. Stir in the chestnuts, breaking them up if they are big. Taste it, and adjust the seasonings.
Like any stew, this is gonna taste better the second day, so try to make it ahead of time. If you can't, oh well. Just pour yourself a glass of whatever wine you used in the dish, if you used wine, or drink something better. All you really need with this is a salad of some kind of bitter greens, but I can't imagine polenta not making this a real feast. And I love green beans with veal, or peas, or something "verdant."
If you are not anti-veal, make this. It's good and relative to what veal costs generally, it's cheap. You'll be a happy person.
If winter's here... Pasta with peas and rock shrimp
Anyone , anywhere , who tries to eat locally and seasonally, gets to a point, especially in winter and early spring, where this lifestyle can just begin to get oppressive. Here in NYC, I checked a website to see what is "in season" in NY in March. The list included carrots, potatoes, turnips and apples. All in storage, and that was it.
Try to make meals of that. Even in a place such as Northern California, where we think of a cornucopia of seasonal produce, the same phenomenon happens. One year, in San Francisco, in the midst of May, a waiter at Zuni steered us away from asparagus because "we've all had enough of those already." Well, maybe in SF, but in NY, where the first sprig had not shown its pretty head yet, no, we had NOT had enough of them. It is all relative.
So, what you find happening, as is the case in Annalena's kitchen, is that you wind up granting yourself an exemption to your own rules, so that you can cook.
One wonders if it's a true exemption, or "cheating," if you use produce that you've "put by" earlier. It was always traditional to "put up" beets, green beans, peaches, and so forth, and then eat them during the winter. Some of you have lived through those canning ordeals. Is storing things in a freezer any different? We can debate the point endlessly, but in any event, this is the time of year when I start taking the bags and bags and bags of stuff out of the freezer and using them. So, ragazzi, you wil be seeing recipes in days to come involving corn, peas, fava beans, cherries, other berries, rhubarb, and so forth. If you are wondering "has Annalena sold out?" that may answer your question. And here comes the first one.
Green peas are one of the vegetables that freezes extremely well. Some feel that the frozen peas you can buy are actually better than fresh, because frozen food technology allows for better sorting by size and sugar levels, than you could do by eye. Annalena disagrees, but if you find yourself in a situation where you did not freeze peas during their season, and you can find frozen ones that are not crammed full of unpronounceable compounds, make this dish. It is very easy.
You will need a pound of shelled shrimp (again, an exemption. Shrimp are not indigenous to NY waters. I used rock shrimp, from Florida). If they are very large, cut them into smaller pieces. The shrimp should be a mouthful, not more. You also need two cups of peas, frozen is fine and two tablespoons of butter. Finally, 3/4 pound of pasta. I like to make this with multicolored, fresh short pasta, but use whatever you like. It works better with the stubby varieties, because the peas and shrimp have that kind of shape.
Start a big pot of water boiling, and when it comes to the boil, add two tablespoons of salt, and the pasta. As the pasta cooks, melt two tablespoons of butter in a skillet, and add the shrimp. It will not take long for them to cook. Then add the peas. Again, this will take not long to cook. You will probably have your "sauce" done in less than six minutes.
If you have used fresh pasta, that is probably all the time you will need for it to cook. If dried, you'll need more, but you know how to tell when it's done to your liking.
Drain the pasta, put it back in the pasta pot over low heat, and then add the shrimp and peas. Toss it together, and lunch or dinner is done.
The crafty amongst you will be seeing substitutions right away. Scallops will substitute for shrimp just about everywhere, and they will work here. Similarly, you could use other vegetables, like cut green beans, or tomatoes, or anything with some color and some kind of contrasting sweetness.
Do make Annalena one promise: don't put cheese into this. PLEEEEEEASE? After all, it's fish, and unless she's making scallops in cream sauce with parmesan for her buddy Keiff, Annalena abjures that combination
Try to make meals of that. Even in a place such as Northern California, where we think of a cornucopia of seasonal produce, the same phenomenon happens. One year, in San Francisco, in the midst of May, a waiter at Zuni steered us away from asparagus because "we've all had enough of those already." Well, maybe in SF, but in NY, where the first sprig had not shown its pretty head yet, no, we had NOT had enough of them. It is all relative.
So, what you find happening, as is the case in Annalena's kitchen, is that you wind up granting yourself an exemption to your own rules, so that you can cook.
One wonders if it's a true exemption, or "cheating," if you use produce that you've "put by" earlier. It was always traditional to "put up" beets, green beans, peaches, and so forth, and then eat them during the winter. Some of you have lived through those canning ordeals. Is storing things in a freezer any different? We can debate the point endlessly, but in any event, this is the time of year when I start taking the bags and bags and bags of stuff out of the freezer and using them. So, ragazzi, you wil be seeing recipes in days to come involving corn, peas, fava beans, cherries, other berries, rhubarb, and so forth. If you are wondering "has Annalena sold out?" that may answer your question. And here comes the first one.
Green peas are one of the vegetables that freezes extremely well. Some feel that the frozen peas you can buy are actually better than fresh, because frozen food technology allows for better sorting by size and sugar levels, than you could do by eye. Annalena disagrees, but if you find yourself in a situation where you did not freeze peas during their season, and you can find frozen ones that are not crammed full of unpronounceable compounds, make this dish. It is very easy.
You will need a pound of shelled shrimp (again, an exemption. Shrimp are not indigenous to NY waters. I used rock shrimp, from Florida). If they are very large, cut them into smaller pieces. The shrimp should be a mouthful, not more. You also need two cups of peas, frozen is fine and two tablespoons of butter. Finally, 3/4 pound of pasta. I like to make this with multicolored, fresh short pasta, but use whatever you like. It works better with the stubby varieties, because the peas and shrimp have that kind of shape.
Start a big pot of water boiling, and when it comes to the boil, add two tablespoons of salt, and the pasta. As the pasta cooks, melt two tablespoons of butter in a skillet, and add the shrimp. It will not take long for them to cook. Then add the peas. Again, this will take not long to cook. You will probably have your "sauce" done in less than six minutes.
If you have used fresh pasta, that is probably all the time you will need for it to cook. If dried, you'll need more, but you know how to tell when it's done to your liking.
Drain the pasta, put it back in the pasta pot over low heat, and then add the shrimp and peas. Toss it together, and lunch or dinner is done.
The crafty amongst you will be seeing substitutions right away. Scallops will substitute for shrimp just about everywhere, and they will work here. Similarly, you could use other vegetables, like cut green beans, or tomatoes, or anything with some color and some kind of contrasting sweetness.
Do make Annalena one promise: don't put cheese into this. PLEEEEEEASE? After all, it's fish, and unless she's making scallops in cream sauce with parmesan for her buddy Keiff, Annalena abjures that combination
Monday, March 1, 2010
Roll up your sleeves: beef bourguignon
But first, a comment from Annalena on something that is irking her. Annalena is peeved. SERIOUSLY peeved. Let me explain.
It is clearer to no one other than yours truly, that the format of these "recipes" is less that traditional, in the modern sense. Two comments are in order. First, Annalena does not regard these entries as "recipes" only. Recipes instruct. I hope, indeed I PRAY, that you are not only taught, but are entertained by what you read here. And I hope you do not regard this blog as a collection only of recipes. If that is what you want, many books do it better than I do.
Second, to call the presentation of the recipes not traditional, is a misnomer. When Annalena was learning to cook, she read recipes that are set out exactly as she presents them here. The great food writers of the past: Elizabeth David, Jane Grigson, MFK Fisher, all wrote in this style, albeit better than I. In more contemporary times, Laurie Colwin and Alice Waters, to name two, presented recipes in this way. For the first ten years or so of my "Gourmet" subscription, that "Bible" of high cooking used the same style. This is how I learned. I am comfortable using this style.
Some of you prefer what is considered the modern approach to recipes. With no apologies, I say you will not find that approach taken here. You are all intelligent human beings. You can re-do the recipe portions of these entries in the standard form you like. Please feel free to do so. But please, do NOT tell Annalena that the modern cook cannot follow this style. That demeans everyone. And do NOT tell Annalena to present the recipe portion in a style with which she is uncomfortable. It shall not happen.
Yes, there is background here, but we will leave it out and proceed to food.
Beef bourguignon has been called "a classic of French cooking, " as well as "Beef stew that went to Paris." I believe Julia Child said both of those things (and I bet she learned from narrative recipes). I believe it is both. Well made beef bourguignon is one of the most miraculous and wonderful of dishes. Contrary to Annalena's minimalist ingredient style, it uses many. And in my opinion, the flavors do not muddle. Rather, you get a truly harmonious dish that is well worth the effort - and effort there is - in making it. So, without further ado, let's get started.
You are going to need a quarter pound of pancetta, or a slab of bacon in one piece, that you then cut into small dice. You also need 3 pounds of boneless beef stew. Try to get chuck, and try to get grass fed beef. It will be an expensive dish, worth every penny. You also will need a third cup of flour, combined with a teaspoon of salt and half as much fresh pepper. Put the flour, salt and pepper in a doubled plastic bag.
Now, get a very large pot, and cover the bottom of it with vegetable oil. No olive oil here, just plain old vegetable oil. When it's hot, cook that pancetta or bacon, until it is crisp. Stir it to keep it from sticking, and when you have it crispy, pull it out and put it on some paper to drain.
While the bacon/pancetta is cooking, shake the meat in the seasoned flour and then dump it all into a colander, to eliminate the extra flour. Shake it very well. Fry the meat in the flavored fat, and don't stir it around to much. Let it get a sear, and brown it on both sides. Don't put all the meat in the pan at one time, if it won't fit in a single layer. Do it in batches. If you crowd it, the meat will sweat, and not get any really good color. As you finish cooking the beef, move it to a bowl. Turn off the heat, because we're going to get the other ingredients together - LOTS of them.
Pour out half a cup of brandy, and if you're thirsty, a second bit for yourself. Then, take a small piece of celery, and stab two or three cloves into it. Combine that with some parsley stems, if you have them, a few sprigs of thyme, and two bayleaves. Put all of these in some cheesecloth, and tie them together to make a sachet. You know how to do this. Tie it together. Put atha side now, and get the vegetables ready.
Peel and chop towo onions, 3 large cloves of garlic, and 2 large carrots. Separately, measure out a tablespoon of tomato paste (good to have the stuff in a tube here), and either half (if they are small), or quarter (if they are large) a pound of mushrooms. I prefer creminis, but use the plain white ones if you like. They are fine.
You are also going to need a pound of pearl onions, but we'll get back to this.
And a whole bottle of red wine. How good a wine? Something good enough that you wouldn't be ashamed to put it on the table for your guests to drink, but not something so expensive that it made you cry when you bought it.
Ok, now we're going to get going. Pour off the extra fat from the pan, and pour in the brandy. Turn on the heat, and let the brandy boil, for a minute, stirring all the time. Add a tablespoon of butter, and add back the bacon, and the carrots, onions, garlic and stir. Cook for about 3-5 minutes, then add in the tomato paste, and stir for a minute. Now, put the meat into the pot, the sachet you made, and open the wine and pour that over everything. When it comes to a boil, lower the heat as low as you can, cover the pot, and let it cook away, for at least 3.5 hours, preferably longer.
While this cooking is going on, bring a small pot of water to the boil, and add the onions. Bring it back to the boil for a minute, then drain the onions and let them dry. Peel them. The skins will almost rub off your into your hands.
In that dry pot, add another tablespoon of butter (getting pretty rich here, aren't we? It's worth it). Put in the onions, and shake every now and then, until you get brownish spots from cooking on them. Add two cups of water, and cook for 20 minutes or so. Let the liquid bowl away to a glaze. Reserve the onions.
FINALLY, use yet another pot,and another couple of tablespoons of butter. Add the mushrooms. You may want to add some salt here. Cook them and watch the water release, and then evaporate away. In about 6-8 minutes, your mushrooms will be done.
Combine the onions and mushrooms and start cleaning up your mess, because you HAVE made one. After 3.5 hours or so, add the onions and mushrooms to the beef, and let them continue to cook. When you uncover the pot, you will be amazed. You will have a thick, brown, wonderfully aromatic sauce and some really rather tender and delicious beef. The carrots will have kept their shape too. After the cooking time is over (you can go as long as 4.5 hours if you like), take out the sachet, and taste the sauce, and correc tthe seasoning.
And you're done. With enough food to feed at least ten. If you make this ahead of time, and reheat it, it will be even better.
I like to cross borders and serve this with polenta, although I'm told the ONLY way to serve it is to serve it with baguettes. Then again, I've been told my style is too difficult to follow (exuse me, ragazzi. I am very upset about this criticism).
I am sure you can make this in a pressure cooker, and I'm sure it will be wonderful. DO brown the meat first, however, as well as the bacon.
You will have to , as I say "roll up your sleeves" for this one, but I think you owe it to yourself, and those you love, to do something wonderfully, wickedly complex, every now and then.
If you can talk yourself into making a tarte tatin as well, that's even better.
Enjoy it, ragazzi, and better yet, make it and share it.
It is clearer to no one other than yours truly, that the format of these "recipes" is less that traditional, in the modern sense. Two comments are in order. First, Annalena does not regard these entries as "recipes" only. Recipes instruct. I hope, indeed I PRAY, that you are not only taught, but are entertained by what you read here. And I hope you do not regard this blog as a collection only of recipes. If that is what you want, many books do it better than I do.
Second, to call the presentation of the recipes not traditional, is a misnomer. When Annalena was learning to cook, she read recipes that are set out exactly as she presents them here. The great food writers of the past: Elizabeth David, Jane Grigson, MFK Fisher, all wrote in this style, albeit better than I. In more contemporary times, Laurie Colwin and Alice Waters, to name two, presented recipes in this way. For the first ten years or so of my "Gourmet" subscription, that "Bible" of high cooking used the same style. This is how I learned. I am comfortable using this style.
Some of you prefer what is considered the modern approach to recipes. With no apologies, I say you will not find that approach taken here. You are all intelligent human beings. You can re-do the recipe portions of these entries in the standard form you like. Please feel free to do so. But please, do NOT tell Annalena that the modern cook cannot follow this style. That demeans everyone. And do NOT tell Annalena to present the recipe portion in a style with which she is uncomfortable. It shall not happen.
Yes, there is background here, but we will leave it out and proceed to food.
Beef bourguignon has been called "a classic of French cooking, " as well as "Beef stew that went to Paris." I believe Julia Child said both of those things (and I bet she learned from narrative recipes). I believe it is both. Well made beef bourguignon is one of the most miraculous and wonderful of dishes. Contrary to Annalena's minimalist ingredient style, it uses many. And in my opinion, the flavors do not muddle. Rather, you get a truly harmonious dish that is well worth the effort - and effort there is - in making it. So, without further ado, let's get started.
You are going to need a quarter pound of pancetta, or a slab of bacon in one piece, that you then cut into small dice. You also need 3 pounds of boneless beef stew. Try to get chuck, and try to get grass fed beef. It will be an expensive dish, worth every penny. You also will need a third cup of flour, combined with a teaspoon of salt and half as much fresh pepper. Put the flour, salt and pepper in a doubled plastic bag.
Now, get a very large pot, and cover the bottom of it with vegetable oil. No olive oil here, just plain old vegetable oil. When it's hot, cook that pancetta or bacon, until it is crisp. Stir it to keep it from sticking, and when you have it crispy, pull it out and put it on some paper to drain.
While the bacon/pancetta is cooking, shake the meat in the seasoned flour and then dump it all into a colander, to eliminate the extra flour. Shake it very well. Fry the meat in the flavored fat, and don't stir it around to much. Let it get a sear, and brown it on both sides. Don't put all the meat in the pan at one time, if it won't fit in a single layer. Do it in batches. If you crowd it, the meat will sweat, and not get any really good color. As you finish cooking the beef, move it to a bowl. Turn off the heat, because we're going to get the other ingredients together - LOTS of them.
Pour out half a cup of brandy, and if you're thirsty, a second bit for yourself. Then, take a small piece of celery, and stab two or three cloves into it. Combine that with some parsley stems, if you have them, a few sprigs of thyme, and two bayleaves. Put all of these in some cheesecloth, and tie them together to make a sachet. You know how to do this. Tie it together. Put atha side now, and get the vegetables ready.
Peel and chop towo onions, 3 large cloves of garlic, and 2 large carrots. Separately, measure out a tablespoon of tomato paste (good to have the stuff in a tube here), and either half (if they are small), or quarter (if they are large) a pound of mushrooms. I prefer creminis, but use the plain white ones if you like. They are fine.
You are also going to need a pound of pearl onions, but we'll get back to this.
And a whole bottle of red wine. How good a wine? Something good enough that you wouldn't be ashamed to put it on the table for your guests to drink, but not something so expensive that it made you cry when you bought it.
Ok, now we're going to get going. Pour off the extra fat from the pan, and pour in the brandy. Turn on the heat, and let the brandy boil, for a minute, stirring all the time. Add a tablespoon of butter, and add back the bacon, and the carrots, onions, garlic and stir. Cook for about 3-5 minutes, then add in the tomato paste, and stir for a minute. Now, put the meat into the pot, the sachet you made, and open the wine and pour that over everything. When it comes to a boil, lower the heat as low as you can, cover the pot, and let it cook away, for at least 3.5 hours, preferably longer.
While this cooking is going on, bring a small pot of water to the boil, and add the onions. Bring it back to the boil for a minute, then drain the onions and let them dry. Peel them. The skins will almost rub off your into your hands.
In that dry pot, add another tablespoon of butter (getting pretty rich here, aren't we? It's worth it). Put in the onions, and shake every now and then, until you get brownish spots from cooking on them. Add two cups of water, and cook for 20 minutes or so. Let the liquid bowl away to a glaze. Reserve the onions.
FINALLY, use yet another pot,and another couple of tablespoons of butter. Add the mushrooms. You may want to add some salt here. Cook them and watch the water release, and then evaporate away. In about 6-8 minutes, your mushrooms will be done.
Combine the onions and mushrooms and start cleaning up your mess, because you HAVE made one. After 3.5 hours or so, add the onions and mushrooms to the beef, and let them continue to cook. When you uncover the pot, you will be amazed. You will have a thick, brown, wonderfully aromatic sauce and some really rather tender and delicious beef. The carrots will have kept their shape too. After the cooking time is over (you can go as long as 4.5 hours if you like), take out the sachet, and taste the sauce, and correc tthe seasoning.
And you're done. With enough food to feed at least ten. If you make this ahead of time, and reheat it, it will be even better.
I like to cross borders and serve this with polenta, although I'm told the ONLY way to serve it is to serve it with baguettes. Then again, I've been told my style is too difficult to follow (exuse me, ragazzi. I am very upset about this criticism).
I am sure you can make this in a pressure cooker, and I'm sure it will be wonderful. DO brown the meat first, however, as well as the bacon.
You will have to , as I say "roll up your sleeves" for this one, but I think you owe it to yourself, and those you love, to do something wonderfully, wickedly complex, every now and then.
If you can talk yourself into making a tarte tatin as well, that's even better.
Enjoy it, ragazzi, and better yet, make it and share it.
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