Bread. Yup, we're gonna make some bread today, but I'm gonna warn you ahead of time: this one is tough, it takes a long time, and it's messy. But it's worth it. I guarantee you that.
When we think of the breads we grew up with, I bet most of us have an image or taste memory of something soft, slightly sweet, buttery that lasted on the counter for a long, long time. You remember that bread that "built strong bodies 12 ways." Uh, it also filled us with a whole lot of nasty chemicals. That's part of how it built strong bodies 12 ways, if it ever did that. I haven't heard the ad campaign for it forever.
In the bread baking world, one speaks of "American" and "European" style breads. American style breads are richer, with fat in them, sometimes eggs, frequently more than a pinch of sugar, and they're softer. They have staying power, because of the fat. Fat helps to retain the moisture and the difference between "fresh" and "stale" bread is frequently just a case of how much moisture is in the loaves. European style breads, almost always, have no fat, and almost no sweetener. They are crunchier, and they do not last long.
Another fundamental difference between the two is that American breads, generally, are made with a lot more yeast than European style breads. They rise faster, and take less time to bake. The result is a loss of flavor, at least tom some palates, mine included. European breads are usually "sourdoughs," although not in the sense of an American, or San Francisco style, sourdough. In European bread making, traditionally, you saved a small piece of the bread dough that you made today, and used it to "start" the bread tomorrow. In the interval, the dough went "sour," as more yeast developed. Also, left to the environment, other critters would get in and add their own flavor to the mix.
That sounds kind of disgusting doesn't it? By "critters," I mean microbes. And the microbes and how long they stay will determine the flavor of your bread. Truly "wild type" sourdough starters will give you no hint as to how the bread is going to turn out. If you like surprises, this is for you. If not, well, a controlled sourdough is what you want, and that's what we're going to make now.
"Ciabatta" is an Italian word that means "slipper." By "slipper," as I learned not too long ago , we mean the kind of slipper you wear around the house, not the type that Cinderella (or, "Cenerentola," since we're talking Italian here) wore to the ball, lost one of, and found her prince charming.
Now, wouldn't it be great if we could all "accidentally" lose a shoe and find our prince charming? No, it doesn't work that way, so we need to learn how to cook. Trust me on this one gang: if you can bake bread, you have a lot of friends. If you can bake these "exotic" European breads, well... you got something going for you.
No one really knows the origin of ciabatta, and this is odd, because Italians are extremely protective about their "regional" breads. Panettone is Milanese. "Pane pugliese " is , well... There is Lake Como bread. But where originates ciabatta? No one knows,but we can make some guesses, based on its composition. This is a white flour recipe, which knocks out the south, where semolina and durum rule, and the breads are golden in color. There is salt in it, which eliminates Tuscany, which traditionally does not use salt in its bread (either because Tuscans are cheap, or because the food is so rich the bread doesn't need salt. You meet some Tuscans, eat some Tuscan food, and make your decision). It's not from TOO far north, because then it would have rye or corn flour in it. And finally, because it's PURE white flour, no whole wheat, it's probably from a wealthier region. But which one?
Who knows? But let's make it. And remember, I warned you.
First, we have to make a starter. I have seen this starter called biga, and I've seen it called poolsh. Combine a cup of water with 1/4 teaspoon of yeast, and a heaping 1.5 cups of all purpose flour. Mix this all together, put it in a container, and let it sit , unrefrigerated, for about 8 hours (overnight). You can refrigerate it if you want, but then let it come to room temperature for about three hours before you move on to the bread.
You're thinking "how hard or messy is that. WAIT. Now it gets interesting.
Put that biga/poolsh into a bowl, and add 2 cups of water, and a teaspoon of yeast. Mix it all up, preferably with a dough hook, and now add 4 cups of bread flour and a tablespoon of salt. Mix this all up for two minutes, then let the whole thing rest for 20.
Let's stop here and look at what we've got here. We've used 3 cups of water, and 5.5 cups of flour. This is important to note. The standard type of bread we buy for sandwiches is made with a ratio of one cup water to three cups flour. We've gone, from 1:3, to 3:5.5. Those of you who are mathetmatically inclined will see that we have a very wet product here. Indeed, we do. And this is going to be an important factor in what follows.
After the 20 minute rest, mix this batter (closer to that than a dough) for - ready for this - about 15-17 minutes with a dough hook. Your mixer will be fine because the dough is so loose. You will wonder, with good reason, is this going to work? It will look almost like flour soup. Worry not. Just be calm and patient. Cover the thing with a lid, and let it rise for an hour. After that hour, wet your hand (you need to. Trust me), punch it down, flip the thing over, and let it rise for another 45 minutes or so. In that time, preheat your oven, to 475.
After the second rise, get ready, because here's where things get messy. Get a baking sheet, and make sure it's well covered with parchment. Have parchment go up over the sides of the baking pan. Also, take a sheet and crumble it, into a long roll. Put about 1/2 cup of flour all over the parchment.
Now, dump about a solid cup and a half of flour onto a board, flour your hands, and pour the batter out onto the flour. It will pour easy, and it will look like a mess. With good reason. Start molding the stuff into one, long rectangle, about 10x18, with the smaller end facing away from you. Get a knife, a bench knife, or something like that, and cut it in half. Flour your hands again, and move each piece to the baking sheet, and put the crumbled paper in between them. Try to form the pieces into a sort of long elipse, with a rounded end at each end. Now leave this alone, covered, for another hour.
You'll need that time to clean up the mess you made, and you're still going to be doubting that this will work. Trust me, ragazzi, trust me. Just before the hour is over, take a small pan and put it at the bottom of your oven. Dump 3-4 ice cubes into it, and get a pot of water boiling. While the water is coming to a boil, get your sharpest knife, or a razor, and cut a long slit down each loaf. When you've done that, pour a cup of boiling water into that pan, put the bread loaves into the oven, shut the door, and go away for 3 minutes. Then come back and pour in another half a cup. Close the door, and check after 20 minutes. You may need to rotate the loaves if your oven heats unevenly. Let the loaves bake for a total of 45-50 minutes. You'll be a bit surprised how they rise.
When they're done, let them cool on racks, and brush as much of the extra flour off of them as you can.
These loaves will NOT keep for long, if you insist on fresh bread. If, however, you like croutons, crostini, panzanella, and all the other wonderful things Italians do with stale bread, you will not mind. Use them for wonderful sandwiches. This bread is absolutely fabulous with sausages, prosciutto , or any of the stronger flavored fillings you know of. I would not want to use it with cheese, it just doesn't taste the same, but if that's what you like, feel free. Or, just eat the bread as it is. That's what I would do...
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
YES, you CAN cook: stroganoff
There are a number of you out there who read these blogs for enjoyment, sort of as a voyeur because, as you have said to me "I CAN'T COOK" or "OH, it takes too much time." OK, before I call you out in public, (and you know I will...), I'm going to give you a recipe, more a "formula" that you CAN and you WILL make. From start to finish - and when I say start to finish, that includes getting the stuff out of my fridge, this recipe took me 32 minutes to make. I timed it. And a lot of that time is "do nothing time," so you can do something else.
Stroganoff. You all know it don't you? Or do you? If you are of a certain age, like Annalena, you remember the age of "the chafing dish," where everyone was looking for recipes that you could do, in the chafing dish, at the table, to impress your friends. It was always BEEF stroganoff, which is supposed to be Russian (although I have no idea why this is considered a Russian recipe. It seems more Austrian or German to me, but this is an area of cooking about which I know next to nothing).
Stroganoff seems to have many manifestations, but they all share a few things: an onion of some kind, a heavyweight dairy component of some kind, mushrooms, and meat. Beyond that, all bets are off. Frankly, so is the meat, as I have had plain mushroom stroganoff, green bean stroganoff, sweet potato stroganoff, and so on and so forth. Truth to be told, the sauce here is wonderful. You could put it on just about anything.
I made it today with veal. Again, if this brings in the "cute animal" issue with you, switch to classic beef. Or pork. Or perhaps boneless chicken thighs. Play with the protein component.
You will need half a cup of an onion variety of some type. Shallots are classic. I had bunches of spring onions, and I used those. You could use leeks, or a combination of these things as well. You will also need a pound of mushrooms, any kind. Classically, the good old button mushrooms are used. Use what you have and what you like, but don't leave them out. You also need 3/4 cup of a dairy ingredient: I grew up using sour cream, and that's what I used here. You can use heavy cream, or creme fraiche. PLEASE do not skimp on this with the low fat options. The sauce will not work. Even full fat yogurt will fail you, although perhaps the new Greek yogurts will work. I dunno. You also need a cup of stock of some kind, be it chicken or beef, and also, finally, 2 pounds of meat, cubed. Now, classically, we are told to use one of the better cuts of meat: tenderloin, or something along those lines. If the tenderness is important to you, fine, use it. Plain old stew meat is fine for me. Equipment wise, you need a big skilled. A BIG one.
Ok, lets get to work. First, pat the meat dry, and then liberally sprinkle it with salt and pepper. Chop the onion element (don't be a surgeon here), and then slice the mushrooms nice and thick. Put two tablespoons of oil (I used olive oil, with veal, but you could use vegetable) in the skillet, and get it hot. Add the meat, without crowding the pan, and saute until you've got a nice brown color on all sides. It will not take you more than five minutes. I promise. Move the meet to a tray that will catch its juices. Keep the pan on the heat, and add the onions with two tablespoons of butter. Cook em for about two minutes, and add the mushrooms. Keep your eye on things here. For a few minutes, absolutely nothing will happen. Then, the mushrooms will begin to give up their water, and they will give up a LOT of water. Cook them until it pretty much evaporates, probably about five minutes. Now add the cup of stock. I also put a few tablespoons of marsala (the dry variety) in with it. You don't have to, but I had "veal marsala" on my mind). This will evaporate down into a thick brown sauce. Now, you add the sour cream and stir it all together and add a tablespoon of dijon mustard. Let it conmingle for a few minutes, and put the meat back into the pan, and stir it all together.
Know what? YOU ARE DONE!!!! Unless you want to add some fresh dill.
See what I mean about fast? You could do this for a weekday dinner, boiling up some starch as it cooks. What I like to do, though, is to put it together on the weekend, and then reheat it. It's better that way.
Noodles, rice, spaetzle (my favorite), polenta, whatever you like. Just get in there and cook it up.
And remember, I WILL call you folks out...
Stroganoff. You all know it don't you? Or do you? If you are of a certain age, like Annalena, you remember the age of "the chafing dish," where everyone was looking for recipes that you could do, in the chafing dish, at the table, to impress your friends. It was always BEEF stroganoff, which is supposed to be Russian (although I have no idea why this is considered a Russian recipe. It seems more Austrian or German to me, but this is an area of cooking about which I know next to nothing).
Stroganoff seems to have many manifestations, but they all share a few things: an onion of some kind, a heavyweight dairy component of some kind, mushrooms, and meat. Beyond that, all bets are off. Frankly, so is the meat, as I have had plain mushroom stroganoff, green bean stroganoff, sweet potato stroganoff, and so on and so forth. Truth to be told, the sauce here is wonderful. You could put it on just about anything.
I made it today with veal. Again, if this brings in the "cute animal" issue with you, switch to classic beef. Or pork. Or perhaps boneless chicken thighs. Play with the protein component.
You will need half a cup of an onion variety of some type. Shallots are classic. I had bunches of spring onions, and I used those. You could use leeks, or a combination of these things as well. You will also need a pound of mushrooms, any kind. Classically, the good old button mushrooms are used. Use what you have and what you like, but don't leave them out. You also need 3/4 cup of a dairy ingredient: I grew up using sour cream, and that's what I used here. You can use heavy cream, or creme fraiche. PLEASE do not skimp on this with the low fat options. The sauce will not work. Even full fat yogurt will fail you, although perhaps the new Greek yogurts will work. I dunno. You also need a cup of stock of some kind, be it chicken or beef, and also, finally, 2 pounds of meat, cubed. Now, classically, we are told to use one of the better cuts of meat: tenderloin, or something along those lines. If the tenderness is important to you, fine, use it. Plain old stew meat is fine for me. Equipment wise, you need a big skilled. A BIG one.
Ok, lets get to work. First, pat the meat dry, and then liberally sprinkle it with salt and pepper. Chop the onion element (don't be a surgeon here), and then slice the mushrooms nice and thick. Put two tablespoons of oil (I used olive oil, with veal, but you could use vegetable) in the skillet, and get it hot. Add the meat, without crowding the pan, and saute until you've got a nice brown color on all sides. It will not take you more than five minutes. I promise. Move the meet to a tray that will catch its juices. Keep the pan on the heat, and add the onions with two tablespoons of butter. Cook em for about two minutes, and add the mushrooms. Keep your eye on things here. For a few minutes, absolutely nothing will happen. Then, the mushrooms will begin to give up their water, and they will give up a LOT of water. Cook them until it pretty much evaporates, probably about five minutes. Now add the cup of stock. I also put a few tablespoons of marsala (the dry variety) in with it. You don't have to, but I had "veal marsala" on my mind). This will evaporate down into a thick brown sauce. Now, you add the sour cream and stir it all together and add a tablespoon of dijon mustard. Let it conmingle for a few minutes, and put the meat back into the pan, and stir it all together.
Know what? YOU ARE DONE!!!! Unless you want to add some fresh dill.
See what I mean about fast? You could do this for a weekday dinner, boiling up some starch as it cooks. What I like to do, though, is to put it together on the weekend, and then reheat it. It's better that way.
Noodles, rice, spaetzle (my favorite), polenta, whatever you like. Just get in there and cook it up.
And remember, I WILL call you folks out...
Thursday, June 17, 2010
La tagliata
No cutesy title here, just the name of what is truly one of the most wonderful classics I have ever eaten.
"Tagliata" means "cut" or sliced. You'd think it were just an adjective, but with the "La" in front of it, we're talking a noun. "Sliced steak" is what comes to mind, first, but that just does not do the dish justice, although when you get right down to it, that's what it is, in the same way "coq au vin" is chicken in red wine.
Tagliata is one of those dishes that every Italian knows how to make, even if they all make it differently. It is not an everyday dish. This one is going to cost a fair piece of money: plan on forking over about 100 bucks if you're going to serve six. It's a very easy dish to make, and very flavorful. I had forgotten it, until we had it at Zuni Cafe' during our recent visit. And here we go.
You need to buy higher end steaks for this: tenderloin, strip, rib eye, something that is very tender and very marbled. For four people, you need about 24 ounces, that is, about a pound and a half. In fact, you should not make this with anything that is less than a pound or so. The bigger the piece of beef you can get, the better. In Italy, they would use a 2.5 pound steak, something like a T-bone. American style T-bone won't really work here, because the animals are different. Get a really thick ribeye, or a couple of them, or strip, or a nice cut of tenderloin.
For a pound and a half, or for that matter, up to 2.5 pounds of beef, mix a quarter cup of balsamic vinegar (NOT the ancient stuff), with half as much olive oil, and then abundant, chopped rosemary (you can change the herbs if you like.). Put the beef into the mixture, turn it, and let it sit at room temperature for at least an hour, and no more than 3 (the tender cuts you're going to use will begin to disintegrate in the acid for more time than that). When you're ready to cook, heat up a stove top grill and also heat up your oven to 350. If you're using grassfed beef - and you should be at this point - don't ever go higher than that temperature. Rub the grill with olive oil, and also sprinkle a LOT of freshly ground pepper over the steak, on both sides (2 tablespoons is not too much), and a talespoon of salt. When the grill is hot, sear the meat on both sides. You'll need about 2-3 minutes per side. The vinegar carmelizes, the salt and pepper get into the meat, and it will look quite wonderful.
If, like yours truly, you like your steak "black and blue," you can eat it now, especially if the cut is one that weighs in at about a pound. If you like a more cooked meat, or the cut is bigger, you're going to need to roast it, for about 30 minutes. Instead of laying it down flat, lay it on its side. Again, if you're using more than one, smaller piece, lay THEM on their sides.
I would check the meat after 20 minutes, to make sure it isn't overcooking. If after 3, it's too red for you, cook it longer. It's that simple. In any event, when you've finished cooking it, let it rest for ten minutes, then...
YOU GUESSED IT. SLICE IT. Juices will run out and that's your sauce.
Plan on a starting portion of about 6 ounces per person, although you may find that you need less. This is very flavorful, and the mouthfeel is wonderful. It deserves a very good red wine with it.
You won't make this everyday, but if you have an "everyday celebration" coming up, this is one to go with.
"Tagliata" means "cut" or sliced. You'd think it were just an adjective, but with the "La" in front of it, we're talking a noun. "Sliced steak" is what comes to mind, first, but that just does not do the dish justice, although when you get right down to it, that's what it is, in the same way "coq au vin" is chicken in red wine.
Tagliata is one of those dishes that every Italian knows how to make, even if they all make it differently. It is not an everyday dish. This one is going to cost a fair piece of money: plan on forking over about 100 bucks if you're going to serve six. It's a very easy dish to make, and very flavorful. I had forgotten it, until we had it at Zuni Cafe' during our recent visit. And here we go.
You need to buy higher end steaks for this: tenderloin, strip, rib eye, something that is very tender and very marbled. For four people, you need about 24 ounces, that is, about a pound and a half. In fact, you should not make this with anything that is less than a pound or so. The bigger the piece of beef you can get, the better. In Italy, they would use a 2.5 pound steak, something like a T-bone. American style T-bone won't really work here, because the animals are different. Get a really thick ribeye, or a couple of them, or strip, or a nice cut of tenderloin.
For a pound and a half, or for that matter, up to 2.5 pounds of beef, mix a quarter cup of balsamic vinegar (NOT the ancient stuff), with half as much olive oil, and then abundant, chopped rosemary (you can change the herbs if you like.). Put the beef into the mixture, turn it, and let it sit at room temperature for at least an hour, and no more than 3 (the tender cuts you're going to use will begin to disintegrate in the acid for more time than that). When you're ready to cook, heat up a stove top grill and also heat up your oven to 350. If you're using grassfed beef - and you should be at this point - don't ever go higher than that temperature. Rub the grill with olive oil, and also sprinkle a LOT of freshly ground pepper over the steak, on both sides (2 tablespoons is not too much), and a talespoon of salt. When the grill is hot, sear the meat on both sides. You'll need about 2-3 minutes per side. The vinegar carmelizes, the salt and pepper get into the meat, and it will look quite wonderful.
If, like yours truly, you like your steak "black and blue," you can eat it now, especially if the cut is one that weighs in at about a pound. If you like a more cooked meat, or the cut is bigger, you're going to need to roast it, for about 30 minutes. Instead of laying it down flat, lay it on its side. Again, if you're using more than one, smaller piece, lay THEM on their sides.
I would check the meat after 20 minutes, to make sure it isn't overcooking. If after 3, it's too red for you, cook it longer. It's that simple. In any event, when you've finished cooking it, let it rest for ten minutes, then...
YOU GUESSED IT. SLICE IT. Juices will run out and that's your sauce.
Plan on a starting portion of about 6 ounces per person, although you may find that you need less. This is very flavorful, and the mouthfeel is wonderful. It deserves a very good red wine with it.
You won't make this everyday, but if you have an "everyday celebration" coming up, this is one to go with.
"Braisin in the grass"
I know, I know. The references to songs from the 60s and 70s can get a bit wearisome can't it? Well, get over it. They're cute, admit it.
Yesterday, I wrote on braising chicken. I hope some of you ran out and got the ingredients and made the dish immediately, but I haven't gotten any cards and letters, so I guess not. Oh well. Here's another one, this time using vegetables.
We ALL know that we are supposed to eat more leafy greens. What always irks me about those "public service" announcements is that they simply assume that you know how to cook the things you're supposed to eat more of. AND, you're supposd to know how to shop for them. I will tell you right here: if you buy leafy greens that aren't good, or if they are cooked poorly, you will never eat them again. Let's face it, these are not "convenience foods." A bunch of leafy greens takes up a LOT of space when you're trying to carry them home. One bunch of leafy greens, however big the bunch is going to be, is not going to cook to much of anything. The amount of water they lose is enormous. Finally, for many of them, you have to forget all that you learned about quick cooking vegetables and cook them for a relatively long time. You get NONE of this in all of the official posts about how good they are for you. Well, Annalena is here to help. She really is. Trust her.
First, toss out everything that you've read about portion size with leafy greens. Annalena's rule is that one bunch serves one generously, or two with small portions. If you love your veggies, you have to plan big with these. So, bite the bullet and bring a very large bag with you to shop. And since we're talking about leafy greens generally here, Annalena has a tip about buying them. If you are worried about spending too much money, think beet greens.
Why? Well, first of all, if you shop at your farmers market, they come with the beets. There may be someone asking you if you want the tops off. Don't do that. Second, since most people DO, and just take the beetroot home, that vendor probably has a huge crate of beet greens under the table. If you just ask "do you have any greens I can take from you?" you will probably wind up with as much as you want.. for free. I know this for a fact. I've done it, and I've watched people do it. Just DON'T go to the vendor, buy nothing and ask for free stuff. You will be ridiculed in public.
So, whatever greens you buy, it's time to cook them in a way that someone has referred to as "Italian style." It is somewhat of a myth that Italians cook their vegetables quickly, and leave them crisp. Nope. Italians have learned that most vegetables need time to cook, to bring out their flavor. They will sacrifice a bit of green color for something tasty. Sometimes, the sacrifice of color is rather extreme. Beet greens, when you cook them this way, are positively drab when you're done. Somewhere between brown and dark green. Close your eyes and taste them if you're that repelled by the color.
Now, to cook them. You will have to get rid of the big stems at the end of any of the greens you may buy, but for a slow cook like this, you don't have to worry about getting the leafy part off of the stemmy part. You'll use it all. Get the biggest pot you have, and fill it about 1/3 to 1/2 way full of water, with a good spoon of salt in it. When it comes to a boil, start adding the greens. You'll have a large volume, even if you're cooking just for two, but you don't have to add them all at once. Let the first bunch cook down, and then add the rest, and keep it up, until you've cooked the stuff down. This step, you do quickly. It will probably take five minutes or so to do three bunches.
Drain them, and let them sit to cool down a bit, while you chop up onions and garlic. I used a big bunch of spring onions, and a head of green garlic. I think these are essential, but as with the chicken braise, if what you have is head garlic, use that, and use a lot. This time, though, peel the garlic cloves, although I wouldn't bother chopping them.
The greens will be a little cooler, but not much, so be careful of your hands. Put them back in the pot you cooked them in, the first time, with the onions and garlic, all stirred together. Add about 4 tablespoons of olive oil, and half as much water. Put a tight cover on the pot, put the heat down as low as you can, and let the mix cook for fifteen minutes, or even longer.
After fifteen minutes, taste them. If you feel like they are tender enough, then you're done. If not, let them cook longer. When this is all done, if you like - and it is far from required - add a teaspoon or two of vinegar.
This type of cooking actually releases more nutrients than it removes. It is true that whatever Vitamin C there was will be gone. So eat some srawberries, nature's way of saying "no more oranges, but you need your vitamins", but other minerals and vitamins will be released.
And as I say, you'll need about a bunch of greens per person. When I cooked the veggies this way, there were three of us. I used three bunches of beet greens, while I was baking the roots in the oven to use for salad that night.
I think you'll come back to this one. It's a good simple recipe, and the greens will go with everything. Or just use them on their own, as a pasta sauce. Enjoy!
Yesterday, I wrote on braising chicken. I hope some of you ran out and got the ingredients and made the dish immediately, but I haven't gotten any cards and letters, so I guess not. Oh well. Here's another one, this time using vegetables.
We ALL know that we are supposed to eat more leafy greens. What always irks me about those "public service" announcements is that they simply assume that you know how to cook the things you're supposed to eat more of. AND, you're supposd to know how to shop for them. I will tell you right here: if you buy leafy greens that aren't good, or if they are cooked poorly, you will never eat them again. Let's face it, these are not "convenience foods." A bunch of leafy greens takes up a LOT of space when you're trying to carry them home. One bunch of leafy greens, however big the bunch is going to be, is not going to cook to much of anything. The amount of water they lose is enormous. Finally, for many of them, you have to forget all that you learned about quick cooking vegetables and cook them for a relatively long time. You get NONE of this in all of the official posts about how good they are for you. Well, Annalena is here to help. She really is. Trust her.
First, toss out everything that you've read about portion size with leafy greens. Annalena's rule is that one bunch serves one generously, or two with small portions. If you love your veggies, you have to plan big with these. So, bite the bullet and bring a very large bag with you to shop. And since we're talking about leafy greens generally here, Annalena has a tip about buying them. If you are worried about spending too much money, think beet greens.
Why? Well, first of all, if you shop at your farmers market, they come with the beets. There may be someone asking you if you want the tops off. Don't do that. Second, since most people DO, and just take the beetroot home, that vendor probably has a huge crate of beet greens under the table. If you just ask "do you have any greens I can take from you?" you will probably wind up with as much as you want.. for free. I know this for a fact. I've done it, and I've watched people do it. Just DON'T go to the vendor, buy nothing and ask for free stuff. You will be ridiculed in public.
So, whatever greens you buy, it's time to cook them in a way that someone has referred to as "Italian style." It is somewhat of a myth that Italians cook their vegetables quickly, and leave them crisp. Nope. Italians have learned that most vegetables need time to cook, to bring out their flavor. They will sacrifice a bit of green color for something tasty. Sometimes, the sacrifice of color is rather extreme. Beet greens, when you cook them this way, are positively drab when you're done. Somewhere between brown and dark green. Close your eyes and taste them if you're that repelled by the color.
Now, to cook them. You will have to get rid of the big stems at the end of any of the greens you may buy, but for a slow cook like this, you don't have to worry about getting the leafy part off of the stemmy part. You'll use it all. Get the biggest pot you have, and fill it about 1/3 to 1/2 way full of water, with a good spoon of salt in it. When it comes to a boil, start adding the greens. You'll have a large volume, even if you're cooking just for two, but you don't have to add them all at once. Let the first bunch cook down, and then add the rest, and keep it up, until you've cooked the stuff down. This step, you do quickly. It will probably take five minutes or so to do three bunches.
Drain them, and let them sit to cool down a bit, while you chop up onions and garlic. I used a big bunch of spring onions, and a head of green garlic. I think these are essential, but as with the chicken braise, if what you have is head garlic, use that, and use a lot. This time, though, peel the garlic cloves, although I wouldn't bother chopping them.
The greens will be a little cooler, but not much, so be careful of your hands. Put them back in the pot you cooked them in, the first time, with the onions and garlic, all stirred together. Add about 4 tablespoons of olive oil, and half as much water. Put a tight cover on the pot, put the heat down as low as you can, and let the mix cook for fifteen minutes, or even longer.
After fifteen minutes, taste them. If you feel like they are tender enough, then you're done. If not, let them cook longer. When this is all done, if you like - and it is far from required - add a teaspoon or two of vinegar.
This type of cooking actually releases more nutrients than it removes. It is true that whatever Vitamin C there was will be gone. So eat some srawberries, nature's way of saying "no more oranges, but you need your vitamins", but other minerals and vitamins will be released.
And as I say, you'll need about a bunch of greens per person. When I cooked the veggies this way, there were three of us. I used three bunches of beet greens, while I was baking the roots in the oven to use for salad that night.
I think you'll come back to this one. It's a good simple recipe, and the greens will go with everything. Or just use them on their own, as a pasta sauce. Enjoy!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
A simple squash salad
One of the things I find most enjoyable about eating in restaurants, is thinking through the food that is served, and determining if I can make it at home, and what modifications I would need to do so. Such is the case with this lovely little side dish.
During our recent trip to San Francisco, one dish that we ate at Zuni Cafe' was merquez sausage, served with a raw salad of shredded heirloom squash, with lime and marash pepper. It was delightful, especially the langniappe (look it up), of the lamb spare rib that came with the dish, "because we had a few of them around." When I tasted that salad, I knew I had to try it, and it made an appearance at our latest dinner party.
Here's where the modifications begin. First, the particular variety of squash that Zuni used, is not grown on the East Coast. No problem, we have lots of variety in our squash. Second, however, is the fact that Zuni has about a dozen and a half happy sous chefs, working away at the dishes. So, if an order comes in that calls for that salad, the chef in charge grates the squash, seasons it, and out it comes.
TRY to do raw food salads to order, when you are a guest, host and cook at your own party. I dare you. And if, like me, you can never find the ingredient you HAD to have, (where the hell IS that jar of marash pepper?), you know you have to learn to roll with the punches.
So, grating squash at the last minute, was out of the question. BUT.... if you break down vegetable tissue just a bit, an acid can get in and flavor it rather easily. Squash is very soft and watery, so how do you break it down, while keeping its integrity? Any guesses.
A very quick drop into boiling salted water. When I saw quick, I mean 45 seconds. With very thin slices. You can do this. Yes, you can.
I used baby patty pan squash, which were a lovely pale green, almost like a luna moth's wings (perhaps not the best comparison, I admit), together with very small, standard yellow zucchini. I sliced the patty pans very thin, to show off their frilly ridges. The zucchini, I cut into little batons. I boiled them separately, the yellow first, so that the colors did not mix. I squeezed three limes, for about a pound of the squash, and instead of marash pepper (it's there SOMEWHERE), used pimenton. The spicy variety.
After you cook the squash, drain them as well as you can to get the boiling water off. Add the lime juice to them immediately. This "fixes" the color and starts the passage into the tissue. Then add the pepper. How much? Just keep on tasting until you get a faint flavor of smokiness. Put more if you like a stronger flavor, but keep balance in mind.
And you're done. Now, I hope you can see room for variation here. No limes? Use lemon. No pimenton or "it's here SOMEWHERE," use paprika. Or cayenne pepper (but use less). See what I mean?
This brightened up the rabbit dish just fine. The lack of any fat in the salad helped to cut the prosciutto's richness, and every plate was clean.
Perhaps the biggest compliment came when Matthew, the squash king, cleaned his plate of the vegetable before he finished his rabbit. I know you did, Matt. I was sitting next to you.
Try it. I think this may be one of the vegetable discoveries of this spring and summer period.
During our recent trip to San Francisco, one dish that we ate at Zuni Cafe' was merquez sausage, served with a raw salad of shredded heirloom squash, with lime and marash pepper. It was delightful, especially the langniappe (look it up), of the lamb spare rib that came with the dish, "because we had a few of them around." When I tasted that salad, I knew I had to try it, and it made an appearance at our latest dinner party.
Here's where the modifications begin. First, the particular variety of squash that Zuni used, is not grown on the East Coast. No problem, we have lots of variety in our squash. Second, however, is the fact that Zuni has about a dozen and a half happy sous chefs, working away at the dishes. So, if an order comes in that calls for that salad, the chef in charge grates the squash, seasons it, and out it comes.
TRY to do raw food salads to order, when you are a guest, host and cook at your own party. I dare you. And if, like me, you can never find the ingredient you HAD to have, (where the hell IS that jar of marash pepper?), you know you have to learn to roll with the punches.
So, grating squash at the last minute, was out of the question. BUT.... if you break down vegetable tissue just a bit, an acid can get in and flavor it rather easily. Squash is very soft and watery, so how do you break it down, while keeping its integrity? Any guesses.
A very quick drop into boiling salted water. When I saw quick, I mean 45 seconds. With very thin slices. You can do this. Yes, you can.
I used baby patty pan squash, which were a lovely pale green, almost like a luna moth's wings (perhaps not the best comparison, I admit), together with very small, standard yellow zucchini. I sliced the patty pans very thin, to show off their frilly ridges. The zucchini, I cut into little batons. I boiled them separately, the yellow first, so that the colors did not mix. I squeezed three limes, for about a pound of the squash, and instead of marash pepper (it's there SOMEWHERE), used pimenton. The spicy variety.
After you cook the squash, drain them as well as you can to get the boiling water off. Add the lime juice to them immediately. This "fixes" the color and starts the passage into the tissue. Then add the pepper. How much? Just keep on tasting until you get a faint flavor of smokiness. Put more if you like a stronger flavor, but keep balance in mind.
And you're done. Now, I hope you can see room for variation here. No limes? Use lemon. No pimenton or "it's here SOMEWHERE," use paprika. Or cayenne pepper (but use less). See what I mean?
This brightened up the rabbit dish just fine. The lack of any fat in the salad helped to cut the prosciutto's richness, and every plate was clean.
Perhaps the biggest compliment came when Matthew, the squash king, cleaned his plate of the vegetable before he finished his rabbit. I know you did, Matt. I was sitting next to you.
Try it. I think this may be one of the vegetable discoveries of this spring and summer period.
Rabbit Test
Now, again, I'm separating the young from the not so young, like myself.
"In the old days," when someone spoke of "the rabbit test," it meant that she (it was always a she), was going to the doctor to see if she was pregnant. I am not all that sure as to how the test worked, but to come home and say "The rabbit died," meant that you were pregnant (if of course you were the one being tested). No more bunnies give their lives in the pursuit of families, as far as Annalena knows. We have fought, and continue to fight, the cruelty with cosmetic fights with rabbits as the poster children, and let's all 'fess up to it: we grew up with Bugs Bunny, the Easter Bunny, and we all have that soft spot in our hearts for the critters.
Right up front, let me say that Annalena will not tolerate cruelty to animals, period. It's a slippery slope, when one eats meat, because there can always be the argument that killing the animal is the ultimate act of cruelty. We begin to dance on the head of a pin with these arguments, it is true. We all make a distinction between what we regard as cruel, and not. And it is hard to separate the "OH, but it's so CUTE" monniker from an animal that also serves as food. I have one friend, for example, who won't eat "cute" animals, but will eat beef and pork. Well, what can I say?
It is interesting, in the case of rabbits, that in cultures where there is no "Bugs Bunny" and no "Easter Bunny," the sense of cuteness about rabbits simply does not exist. My German teacher, who used to eat rabbit regularly, told me that when he was a child, and those cartoons first became available in what used to be East Germany, they were a failure because the region from where he's from, a farming community, regarded them merely as pests who ate the vegetables. There is nothing cute about getting up in the morning and finding that every cabbage has been chewed up by a lagomorph (one of my favorite words). So, with all of this in mind, let me say that I am aware of the issues, just as I am with veal, with farm raised fish, and so forth. And we move on.
I have enjoyed rabbit for about 5 years now. Before that, I was somewhat repulsed by it. For Annalena, the defining issue was: it's a rodent. Like mice. Or rats. Or squirrels. I could not get pass that issue. Then in food crazed SF, when I saw that restaurants sold out of rabbit everywhere we went, it was time to take the plunge. It was good. It was VERY good. After 3 years or so, I made my first foray into rabbit meat, using it in a paella. And now, I have prepared it, for the first time, on its own.
Some thoughts right up front: rabbit is somewhat like fowl, in that the legs are very tough and very sinewy. You need to braise them, or do some other form of cooking that takes a long time. We will not work with that type of meat in this entry. Indeed, try to find rabbit legs separate from the whole animal. Betcha you won't. The loin or saddle, which is what I prepared, is very tender, and very mild. "It tastes just like chicken" may have come to your mind. Well, no, I don't think so. It certainly does not taste strong, but it does not remind me of chicken.
It is very easy to cook, if you can get over the sentiment of the "cute little critter." This is a riff on a dish that I ate in Oakland. I think it is quite delicious. A bit involved, but delicious.
Now, I will also give you some advice. When you buy the rabbit meat, make sure you know what you are getting. I was convinced I was getting "dressed" rabbit. This does NOT mean it was wearing a suit and tie or blouse and skirt, but that it is cleaned and boned.
Uh, no. When I opened the package, first I found the backbone and ribs were still in the meat. And then... yup, the offal . Still attached to the body. Now, boning meat is a skill, but removing internal organs is a bit more involved. There are surprises. For example, if you hack away at a liver, you may very well sever a bile gland and wind up spoiling the entire thing. Annalena happens to still have her dissection skills from her days as a premed student intact, and with some patience and a sharp knife, those organs were removed, with no damage to the meat itself. Getting the bones out was a more involved process. The bones of a rabbit are very small, and very fragile. They break easily. If you have to bone the rabbit, I guarantee you you will not get them all out. So, the bottom line? Spend a few more bucks and get the cleaned, boned rabbit. It will be called the loin, or the saddle, but ASK.
Now, here's my recipe. It is "sort of" boned rabbit, stuffed with walnut pesto, and wrapped in prosciutto. First, let's make some pesto. Get a cup of toasted walnuts (350 in the oven for 10 minutes), and put them in a blender . Pulse them a few times. Then slowly add olive oil , with the machine running, until you get a thick paste. Taste it, and correct for salt. Believe me, you will want it to be somewhat salty. Put this aside, and get some good quality prosciutto ready. I used my favorite kind, San Daniele. You will need two slices or so for each loin or saddle. Lay the slices down, next to each other, slightly overlapping. Put the rabbit meat on it. It will be somewhat rectangular, and you want to place it so that the shorter sides are perpendicular to you, the long sides, parallel. Put a few tablespoons of the pesto on the meat and then roll it up, using the prosciutto to push it along. It doesn't have to be picture perfect. The ham is sticky enough so that it will keep the package intact. Do this with all of the rabbit meat, and if you have the time, let this refrigerate for an hour. If not, keep going.
Preheat your oven to 350, and also put a slick of olive oil into a big skillet. When it's hot, add the rabbit rolls. Fry them until the ham crisps, and then turn to crisp the whole package. When you're done, drain them a little bit to take off the excess fat and then put them into the oven for 15 minutes. That will cook the rabbit through, completely. Let it rest for five minutes or so, and either serve them as whole pieces, or, in a nicer presentation, slice each roll into three large sections and plate it, with some veggies (the squash salad that will follow, for example).
Everyone draws the line in the sand somewhere, and if the idea of eating rabbit has crossed your line, Annalena apologizes, and suggests you not make the recipe. If, however, you've always been curious about cooking and eating rabbit, here you go. Time to give it a try. I did, I liked it, and I'll do it again.
I DO think, though, that serving it with carrots, would push my buttons.
"In the old days," when someone spoke of "the rabbit test," it meant that she (it was always a she), was going to the doctor to see if she was pregnant. I am not all that sure as to how the test worked, but to come home and say "The rabbit died," meant that you were pregnant (if of course you were the one being tested). No more bunnies give their lives in the pursuit of families, as far as Annalena knows. We have fought, and continue to fight, the cruelty with cosmetic fights with rabbits as the poster children, and let's all 'fess up to it: we grew up with Bugs Bunny, the Easter Bunny, and we all have that soft spot in our hearts for the critters.
Right up front, let me say that Annalena will not tolerate cruelty to animals, period. It's a slippery slope, when one eats meat, because there can always be the argument that killing the animal is the ultimate act of cruelty. We begin to dance on the head of a pin with these arguments, it is true. We all make a distinction between what we regard as cruel, and not. And it is hard to separate the "OH, but it's so CUTE" monniker from an animal that also serves as food. I have one friend, for example, who won't eat "cute" animals, but will eat beef and pork. Well, what can I say?
It is interesting, in the case of rabbits, that in cultures where there is no "Bugs Bunny" and no "Easter Bunny," the sense of cuteness about rabbits simply does not exist. My German teacher, who used to eat rabbit regularly, told me that when he was a child, and those cartoons first became available in what used to be East Germany, they were a failure because the region from where he's from, a farming community, regarded them merely as pests who ate the vegetables. There is nothing cute about getting up in the morning and finding that every cabbage has been chewed up by a lagomorph (one of my favorite words). So, with all of this in mind, let me say that I am aware of the issues, just as I am with veal, with farm raised fish, and so forth. And we move on.
I have enjoyed rabbit for about 5 years now. Before that, I was somewhat repulsed by it. For Annalena, the defining issue was: it's a rodent. Like mice. Or rats. Or squirrels. I could not get pass that issue. Then in food crazed SF, when I saw that restaurants sold out of rabbit everywhere we went, it was time to take the plunge. It was good. It was VERY good. After 3 years or so, I made my first foray into rabbit meat, using it in a paella. And now, I have prepared it, for the first time, on its own.
Some thoughts right up front: rabbit is somewhat like fowl, in that the legs are very tough and very sinewy. You need to braise them, or do some other form of cooking that takes a long time. We will not work with that type of meat in this entry. Indeed, try to find rabbit legs separate from the whole animal. Betcha you won't. The loin or saddle, which is what I prepared, is very tender, and very mild. "It tastes just like chicken" may have come to your mind. Well, no, I don't think so. It certainly does not taste strong, but it does not remind me of chicken.
It is very easy to cook, if you can get over the sentiment of the "cute little critter." This is a riff on a dish that I ate in Oakland. I think it is quite delicious. A bit involved, but delicious.
Now, I will also give you some advice. When you buy the rabbit meat, make sure you know what you are getting. I was convinced I was getting "dressed" rabbit. This does NOT mean it was wearing a suit and tie or blouse and skirt, but that it is cleaned and boned.
Uh, no. When I opened the package, first I found the backbone and ribs were still in the meat. And then... yup, the offal . Still attached to the body. Now, boning meat is a skill, but removing internal organs is a bit more involved. There are surprises. For example, if you hack away at a liver, you may very well sever a bile gland and wind up spoiling the entire thing. Annalena happens to still have her dissection skills from her days as a premed student intact, and with some patience and a sharp knife, those organs were removed, with no damage to the meat itself. Getting the bones out was a more involved process. The bones of a rabbit are very small, and very fragile. They break easily. If you have to bone the rabbit, I guarantee you you will not get them all out. So, the bottom line? Spend a few more bucks and get the cleaned, boned rabbit. It will be called the loin, or the saddle, but ASK.
Now, here's my recipe. It is "sort of" boned rabbit, stuffed with walnut pesto, and wrapped in prosciutto. First, let's make some pesto. Get a cup of toasted walnuts (350 in the oven for 10 minutes), and put them in a blender . Pulse them a few times. Then slowly add olive oil , with the machine running, until you get a thick paste. Taste it, and correct for salt. Believe me, you will want it to be somewhat salty. Put this aside, and get some good quality prosciutto ready. I used my favorite kind, San Daniele. You will need two slices or so for each loin or saddle. Lay the slices down, next to each other, slightly overlapping. Put the rabbit meat on it. It will be somewhat rectangular, and you want to place it so that the shorter sides are perpendicular to you, the long sides, parallel. Put a few tablespoons of the pesto on the meat and then roll it up, using the prosciutto to push it along. It doesn't have to be picture perfect. The ham is sticky enough so that it will keep the package intact. Do this with all of the rabbit meat, and if you have the time, let this refrigerate for an hour. If not, keep going.
Preheat your oven to 350, and also put a slick of olive oil into a big skillet. When it's hot, add the rabbit rolls. Fry them until the ham crisps, and then turn to crisp the whole package. When you're done, drain them a little bit to take off the excess fat and then put them into the oven for 15 minutes. That will cook the rabbit through, completely. Let it rest for five minutes or so, and either serve them as whole pieces, or, in a nicer presentation, slice each roll into three large sections and plate it, with some veggies (the squash salad that will follow, for example).
Everyone draws the line in the sand somewhere, and if the idea of eating rabbit has crossed your line, Annalena apologizes, and suggests you not make the recipe. If, however, you've always been curious about cooking and eating rabbit, here you go. Time to give it a try. I did, I liked it, and I'll do it again.
I DO think, though, that serving it with carrots, would push my buttons.
Summer Braise
"Makes me feel fine. Running through the jasmine in my mind." Remember that song? Sure you do. Seals and Croft, although of course it was called "Summer Breeze." It was a seminal song for Annalena's youth, and she is somewhat surprised that she still remembers it. Must be the jasmine in her mind. They were an odd pair: used to be called "The Champs," and those of you who dance, MUST remember their hit "Tequila." Well, somewhere along the line they discovered religion: Ba'hai to be precise. And they also sang a number of songs that all of we progressive children listened to. "Ruby Jean and Billy Lee" was the one that was the eye catcher. The title and the lyrics were not revelatory, but it was about something that was still shocking back then: it was a song about the relationship between one of the pair, and his wife, who is a woman of color. Now, those of you who are children of the new millenium will probably say "so?", but in the 70s, this was still a novelty. So much a novelty that the band members parents did not approve of the relationship and were very vocal about it. Well, Ba'hai places very high importance on the relationship between parent and child and, essentially, the songwriter was telling everyone in the song that, while he loved Ruby Jean if his parents continued to disapprove, he would not marry her.
Well, of course they came around and everyone lived happily after, except for Seals and Crofts fans, because they then issued another album about a core section of their religious beliefs. The album was called "Unborn Child," and (I swear), the album had a picture of a fetus in a uterus on it. And, as you might guess, they were opposed to abortion. So, notwithstanding the lovely songs, including "King of Nothing" (look it up, it's quite lovely and you've all felt that way, I know you have).
So, thank you for indulging that discretion. Now, let's move to food. Braising. You all think of it as a winter technique, right? Well, it is. If you cook with something heavy. And you all know that I am not adverse to heavy food in the summer, you just cut back on what you eat of it. But braising something like chicken is really a perfect thing to have when the weather is warming up. You only use high heat for about ten minutes, and then the temperature of everything goes down. You can do it in the morning, when it's cooler, and the stuff will keep very well. And you have enormous latitude in how you cook it, as I will try to get across to you here.
This recipe is inspired by something similar I ate at Chez Panisse, during our recent SF visit there. It isn't their recipe exactly, but it sure is good.
You start with 3-4 pounds of chicken. Use legs, either whole, or drumsticks and thighs. Why? Because this stuff does not admit to easy, quick cooking. The legs are better if they are slow cooked, and you can treat that as a rule for every bird. If you can remember, salt them and leave them exposed in the fridge overnight. If not, salt them when you're getting ready to cook.
You're going to need 1.5-2 cups of liquid. At least half of that should be chicken stock. The other half could be anything you want, and in this case, I used sherry. You can use white wine. You can use red wine, you can use marsala, you can use more chicken stock. Don't dilute it with water, though. Please use something flavorful.
You will also need garlic. How much? Well, how much do you like garlic? I used a whole head of spring garlic that I chopped up, but I could have used more. If you use bulb garlic, I would say at least 6 cloves, and don't peel them. Why not? Well, they are going to get nice and soft, and if you leave them in the skin, you can squirt the sweet goodness out when you're done. Use lots more if you like. The dish won't mind.
You also need fresh herbs. I used oregano, but you can use any of the "tougher" herbs. Thyme, rosemary, sage, marjoram all come to mind. Marjoram would probably be better, and I think savory would be good too.
Finally, you are going to need oil. This dish proceeds in two steps. First, put about 3 tablespoons of oil in a skillet, and get it really hot. Put as much chicken as you can in the pan , without crowding it, and brown it. How brown? At least five minutes. Maybe longer. I like the longer browning, but the dish in Berkeley was with very lightly cooked chicken. You do have to do some browning, though, otherwise, you get boiled chicken. Turn the pieces and brown on the other side. Just keep doing this until you have all the chicken cooked.
Now, in a large, heavy pot, pour in the liquids, with half the garlic, and half the herbs. Put in half the chicken, and finish off the herbs and garlic here, then put in the rest of the chicken. Cover the pot tightly, and cook this at a very gentle, low heat. After 20 minutes or so, move the chicken out, and move the top pieces to the bottom and bottom to top. Cook for another twenty and then check. This is plenty cooked for me, but if you like the meat softer, go for another 20 minutes or so.
After the 40minutes-hour, pull out the chicken and bring the sauce up to a boil and reduce it a little. You can stop here, or you can do, what I did, and dissolve a couple of tablespoons of cornstarch in cold chicken stock, and add that to the pot and stir. The sauce will thicken immediately. Taste it, and you'll probably want to add salt. Put the chicken back in, stir it all gently, and you're ready.
This is great the night you make it, even better warmed up a day or so later.
In many ways, it is a very close cousin of that French classic, coq au vin. It's not as complex, but it doesn't need to be. Give it a try. I think you'll be pleased.
Well, of course they came around and everyone lived happily after, except for Seals and Crofts fans, because they then issued another album about a core section of their religious beliefs. The album was called "Unborn Child," and (I swear), the album had a picture of a fetus in a uterus on it. And, as you might guess, they were opposed to abortion. So, notwithstanding the lovely songs, including "King of Nothing" (look it up, it's quite lovely and you've all felt that way, I know you have).
So, thank you for indulging that discretion. Now, let's move to food. Braising. You all think of it as a winter technique, right? Well, it is. If you cook with something heavy. And you all know that I am not adverse to heavy food in the summer, you just cut back on what you eat of it. But braising something like chicken is really a perfect thing to have when the weather is warming up. You only use high heat for about ten minutes, and then the temperature of everything goes down. You can do it in the morning, when it's cooler, and the stuff will keep very well. And you have enormous latitude in how you cook it, as I will try to get across to you here.
This recipe is inspired by something similar I ate at Chez Panisse, during our recent SF visit there. It isn't their recipe exactly, but it sure is good.
You start with 3-4 pounds of chicken. Use legs, either whole, or drumsticks and thighs. Why? Because this stuff does not admit to easy, quick cooking. The legs are better if they are slow cooked, and you can treat that as a rule for every bird. If you can remember, salt them and leave them exposed in the fridge overnight. If not, salt them when you're getting ready to cook.
You're going to need 1.5-2 cups of liquid. At least half of that should be chicken stock. The other half could be anything you want, and in this case, I used sherry. You can use white wine. You can use red wine, you can use marsala, you can use more chicken stock. Don't dilute it with water, though. Please use something flavorful.
You will also need garlic. How much? Well, how much do you like garlic? I used a whole head of spring garlic that I chopped up, but I could have used more. If you use bulb garlic, I would say at least 6 cloves, and don't peel them. Why not? Well, they are going to get nice and soft, and if you leave them in the skin, you can squirt the sweet goodness out when you're done. Use lots more if you like. The dish won't mind.
You also need fresh herbs. I used oregano, but you can use any of the "tougher" herbs. Thyme, rosemary, sage, marjoram all come to mind. Marjoram would probably be better, and I think savory would be good too.
Finally, you are going to need oil. This dish proceeds in two steps. First, put about 3 tablespoons of oil in a skillet, and get it really hot. Put as much chicken as you can in the pan , without crowding it, and brown it. How brown? At least five minutes. Maybe longer. I like the longer browning, but the dish in Berkeley was with very lightly cooked chicken. You do have to do some browning, though, otherwise, you get boiled chicken. Turn the pieces and brown on the other side. Just keep doing this until you have all the chicken cooked.
Now, in a large, heavy pot, pour in the liquids, with half the garlic, and half the herbs. Put in half the chicken, and finish off the herbs and garlic here, then put in the rest of the chicken. Cover the pot tightly, and cook this at a very gentle, low heat. After 20 minutes or so, move the chicken out, and move the top pieces to the bottom and bottom to top. Cook for another twenty and then check. This is plenty cooked for me, but if you like the meat softer, go for another 20 minutes or so.
After the 40minutes-hour, pull out the chicken and bring the sauce up to a boil and reduce it a little. You can stop here, or you can do, what I did, and dissolve a couple of tablespoons of cornstarch in cold chicken stock, and add that to the pot and stir. The sauce will thicken immediately. Taste it, and you'll probably want to add salt. Put the chicken back in, stir it all gently, and you're ready.
This is great the night you make it, even better warmed up a day or so later.
In many ways, it is a very close cousin of that French classic, coq au vin. It's not as complex, but it doesn't need to be. Give it a try. I think you'll be pleased.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Yet more citrus: scallops with navel oranges
Now this dish is typical of what goes on in this household. Sort of a cross between a situation comedy, random chaos, and a science lab.
Maybe that's not all that odd a combination as I think of it. Ok, here's the story.
To start, last week, I got a huge box of citrus from the Reedey gang. I immediately tried to fit it all in the fridge and ... no good.
This is not a problem when it's 20 degrees out and we're wearing sweaters in the house, but this week, it's 90, the humidity is ridiculous, blinking is making me sweat, and those untreated oranges are going to go bad. I have to think of ways to use them.
Ok, that's factoid one. Now, here comes factoid 2. I was planning a menu for friends tomorrow. The first course, after many forays into the three above mentioned areas, became pappa al pomodoro (you want that one?), the wonderful tomato soup, thickened with bread, with sauteed scallops.
Then the phone call came. One of the guys doesn't eat shellfish. In fact, he is allergic to it. "But don't worry. He'll be fine without them."
Yeah, but Annalena won't be. So, she immediately came up with another idea (duck rilettes. Don't you hate her?), and the scallops were earmarked for Sunday lunch.
My approach to cooking scallops is very simple and somewhat traditional. I put them in a bag with seasoned flour , shake to coat, and then dump them in a colander to get rid of the extra flour. Then I cook them in a nonstick pan with half olive oil, half butter, until they get a nice dark sear on both sides. I then finish the dish by taking out the scallops and adding some wine to loosen up the goodies, and pour it over the scallops.
Sounds good, huh? Well, now let's make it better.
Yup, navel oranges. This was inspired by a dish that I saw on a menu, where red grapefruit slices were added to fish. Sure looked pretty. And since I'm getting better at supreming (NOT imitating the group. I have that down pat), what the hell.
So, follow the recipe above, and before you start sauteeing, peel and slice two navel oranges. Supreme em if you know what that is and you can do it without an enormous amount of hassle. If you can't, don't worry, and just make slices , either vertical or horizontal. When you get to the point where you would add the wine, add the oranges first, and stir them through the goodies. Then add the wine.
The oranges will carmelize just a bit, and they add a lovely little "tang" against the sweet scallops.
Want more tang? Add some orange peel at the end, or use some lemon juice, or something like that. But use em. Use them as much as you can, before they're gone.
Make your own substitutions too. Betcha red grapefruit would look pretty here too.
Maybe that's not all that odd a combination as I think of it. Ok, here's the story.
To start, last week, I got a huge box of citrus from the Reedey gang. I immediately tried to fit it all in the fridge and ... no good.
This is not a problem when it's 20 degrees out and we're wearing sweaters in the house, but this week, it's 90, the humidity is ridiculous, blinking is making me sweat, and those untreated oranges are going to go bad. I have to think of ways to use them.
Ok, that's factoid one. Now, here comes factoid 2. I was planning a menu for friends tomorrow. The first course, after many forays into the three above mentioned areas, became pappa al pomodoro (you want that one?), the wonderful tomato soup, thickened with bread, with sauteed scallops.
Then the phone call came. One of the guys doesn't eat shellfish. In fact, he is allergic to it. "But don't worry. He'll be fine without them."
Yeah, but Annalena won't be. So, she immediately came up with another idea (duck rilettes. Don't you hate her?), and the scallops were earmarked for Sunday lunch.
My approach to cooking scallops is very simple and somewhat traditional. I put them in a bag with seasoned flour , shake to coat, and then dump them in a colander to get rid of the extra flour. Then I cook them in a nonstick pan with half olive oil, half butter, until they get a nice dark sear on both sides. I then finish the dish by taking out the scallops and adding some wine to loosen up the goodies, and pour it over the scallops.
Sounds good, huh? Well, now let's make it better.
Yup, navel oranges. This was inspired by a dish that I saw on a menu, where red grapefruit slices were added to fish. Sure looked pretty. And since I'm getting better at supreming (NOT imitating the group. I have that down pat), what the hell.
So, follow the recipe above, and before you start sauteeing, peel and slice two navel oranges. Supreme em if you know what that is and you can do it without an enormous amount of hassle. If you can't, don't worry, and just make slices , either vertical or horizontal. When you get to the point where you would add the wine, add the oranges first, and stir them through the goodies. Then add the wine.
The oranges will carmelize just a bit, and they add a lovely little "tang" against the sweet scallops.
Want more tang? Add some orange peel at the end, or use some lemon juice, or something like that. But use em. Use them as much as you can, before they're gone.
Make your own substitutions too. Betcha red grapefruit would look pretty here too.
And the seasons, they go round and round: candied kumquats
Trying to leave seasonally can sometimes be difficult. If you really like a particular ingredient, a vegetable, a fruit, etc, when it's gone, it's gone. I never quite get enough asparagus, for example, and since I won't cook the stuff from South America, when "Jersey grass" is finished, it's over until next year. And so it goes with many things.
It's getting there with citrus. As Kim the citrus bomb once put it "I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad when the phone stops ringing off the walls." I know that the peak of the season has been reached when there are no more blood oranges (Kim always sends the last box to me: sort of like saving the last dance. Well, sort of). And when the kumquats come in, it's about time to say "sayonara." I've got another box from the Citrus Bomb, the Citrus stud, and the Artichoke Queen, and there are kumquats in it.
I have written before about the embarrassment the word can cause people. Don't let that get in the way of enjoying these guys. I have a new way to make a candied kumquat, that comes out of one of my indispensable dessert cookbooks, Claudia Fleming's "The Last Course."
Sometimes, I candy kumquats whole. That's great for some applications. But this one , I think, may become the paradigm. They are STUNNING. Like little orange jewels. And is this easy. You should make these immediately, store them in your fridge, and keep them on hand for when you have a simple dessert, like vanilla ice cream, or a cupcake, etc.
Make a simple syrup of 2.5 cups of sugar and 1.5 cups of water. Just blend them together and bring it to a slow simmer. While that's happening, get a VERY sharp knife, and slice up kumquats (slice them vertically), until you have two cups of them. Toss those into the syrup, and turn down the heat. Let them simmer for about 8-10 minutes. Take them off the heat. Look at the intensification of the color. Taste the syrup. Now, pour that off and save it for drinks. Or mix it with the strawberry syrup from the roasted strawberries you made from my other recipe.
If you can keep yourself from picking off the slices of kumquat, one by one (NOT easy for me), these will keep forever. And you will be able to have a little starbright of citrus long after the season is over.
Enjoy em. And thanks Reedey gang. I love you much
It's getting there with citrus. As Kim the citrus bomb once put it "I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad when the phone stops ringing off the walls." I know that the peak of the season has been reached when there are no more blood oranges (Kim always sends the last box to me: sort of like saving the last dance. Well, sort of). And when the kumquats come in, it's about time to say "sayonara." I've got another box from the Citrus Bomb, the Citrus stud, and the Artichoke Queen, and there are kumquats in it.
I have written before about the embarrassment the word can cause people. Don't let that get in the way of enjoying these guys. I have a new way to make a candied kumquat, that comes out of one of my indispensable dessert cookbooks, Claudia Fleming's "The Last Course."
Sometimes, I candy kumquats whole. That's great for some applications. But this one , I think, may become the paradigm. They are STUNNING. Like little orange jewels. And is this easy. You should make these immediately, store them in your fridge, and keep them on hand for when you have a simple dessert, like vanilla ice cream, or a cupcake, etc.
Make a simple syrup of 2.5 cups of sugar and 1.5 cups of water. Just blend them together and bring it to a slow simmer. While that's happening, get a VERY sharp knife, and slice up kumquats (slice them vertically), until you have two cups of them. Toss those into the syrup, and turn down the heat. Let them simmer for about 8-10 minutes. Take them off the heat. Look at the intensification of the color. Taste the syrup. Now, pour that off and save it for drinks. Or mix it with the strawberry syrup from the roasted strawberries you made from my other recipe.
If you can keep yourself from picking off the slices of kumquat, one by one (NOT easy for me), these will keep forever. And you will be able to have a little starbright of citrus long after the season is over.
Enjoy em. And thanks Reedey gang. I love you much
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Butter ice cream? YOU BET
Well, actually, BROWN butter ice cream. Or, if you wanna be fancy "beurre noisette" ice cream. I would never have thought of it. Here's the story.
Traditionally, our last restaurant meal every trip in San Francisco is at Woodward's Garden. I've written about our friends Margey and Dana before, and I comment all of you to their website, and even moreso, to their restaurant if you are in San Francisco. Tell them I sent you.
On the dessert menu the night we were there, was brown butter ice cream with fresh strawberries. Now, to be honest, this did not "ring my chimes" dessert wise, as I instead went for apricot tart (and we can debate the issue of whether I made the right choice or not forever. In my mind, I did). The ice cream was very good. To the others at the table, it was something verging on orgasmic. I have had requests to make it. In fact, I had requests at the table to make it.
So, I went to Dana, who handles the cooking and asked where she got the recipe. She flashed me her big golden smile and said "the idea came from John (her sous chef). He used to work at Greens, and they made it there."
Well, I never had it at Greens, so when John freed up later that night I asked him.
I SWEAR, he disavowed any knowledge of it. He said "yeah, I heard of it and I told Dana, and that's all I know."
Now, I am not a conspiracy theorist, but....
So, with the power of the internet, I got to work. There were more than a few recipes for 'brown butter ice cream' around. In reading them, it was clear that many of them were ghastly. (Trust yourself when you read a recipe, by the way. If it sounds like it will be awful, it probably will be). I found one, that was combined with peanut brittle, that sounded pretty good. I made it, leaving out the peanut brittle.
It is very good ice cream. Again, this is not something that I am going to ask for, but the people I love, have. So here it is.
And it looks like it marks an interesting passing in Annalena's ice cream making. In season, my ice creams have been based on different fruits: strawberry, blueberry, apricot, peach, and so forth. It now looks, however, as if I will be moving toward more "white" ice creams: ricotta, yogurt, this one, and so forth, with different fruit toppings. You saw the roasted strawberry recipe preceding this one. Well, I'm thinking apricots in camomile for this one too. Or candied kumquats. Or rhubarb compote. Or....
Here it is. I had to modify the sweetness to make up for the lack of peanut brittle, but it was an easy switch. If you've got an ice cream maker, go for it.
Start with 3/4 of a stick of unsalted butter. Put it in a pot, and bring it to medium low heat, and let it cook, for six minutes. That's all it will take. You'll get a lovely amber type of color, with some dark brown sediment at the bottom. IF you like, strain the butter from the sediment. I don't, because there's flavor there, and if you can put up with vanilla bean in your ice cream, you can put up with this. Anyway, get it off the heat by pouring it into a small bowl.
In the same pot, make a custard by combining 2 cups of heavy cream, 1 cup of milk, 6 large egg yolks, 1/3 cup of brown sugar (I used dark brown), and 2/3 cup of white sugar. (You should feel free to vary those ratios by the way). If you like, add a quarter teaspoon of salt. Make the custard the way I've described making custards for ice creams before: medium heat, stirring constantly to first break up the egg, and then until you get something thick enough to coat a spoon.
Off the heat, pour the brown butter into the custard, and let the whole thing cool. Then put it in your ice cream maker, and let it whirl.
You'll get a quart of this. Let me suggest you err on the smaller side of portions here. Egg yolks, cream, butter, whole milk. Awfully rich, huh? The strawberries? Almost no calories.
You know what you gotta do, ragazzi.
Traditionally, our last restaurant meal every trip in San Francisco is at Woodward's Garden. I've written about our friends Margey and Dana before, and I comment all of you to their website, and even moreso, to their restaurant if you are in San Francisco. Tell them I sent you.
On the dessert menu the night we were there, was brown butter ice cream with fresh strawberries. Now, to be honest, this did not "ring my chimes" dessert wise, as I instead went for apricot tart (and we can debate the issue of whether I made the right choice or not forever. In my mind, I did). The ice cream was very good. To the others at the table, it was something verging on orgasmic. I have had requests to make it. In fact, I had requests at the table to make it.
So, I went to Dana, who handles the cooking and asked where she got the recipe. She flashed me her big golden smile and said "the idea came from John (her sous chef). He used to work at Greens, and they made it there."
Well, I never had it at Greens, so when John freed up later that night I asked him.
I SWEAR, he disavowed any knowledge of it. He said "yeah, I heard of it and I told Dana, and that's all I know."
Now, I am not a conspiracy theorist, but....
So, with the power of the internet, I got to work. There were more than a few recipes for 'brown butter ice cream' around. In reading them, it was clear that many of them were ghastly. (Trust yourself when you read a recipe, by the way. If it sounds like it will be awful, it probably will be). I found one, that was combined with peanut brittle, that sounded pretty good. I made it, leaving out the peanut brittle.
It is very good ice cream. Again, this is not something that I am going to ask for, but the people I love, have. So here it is.
And it looks like it marks an interesting passing in Annalena's ice cream making. In season, my ice creams have been based on different fruits: strawberry, blueberry, apricot, peach, and so forth. It now looks, however, as if I will be moving toward more "white" ice creams: ricotta, yogurt, this one, and so forth, with different fruit toppings. You saw the roasted strawberry recipe preceding this one. Well, I'm thinking apricots in camomile for this one too. Or candied kumquats. Or rhubarb compote. Or....
Here it is. I had to modify the sweetness to make up for the lack of peanut brittle, but it was an easy switch. If you've got an ice cream maker, go for it.
Start with 3/4 of a stick of unsalted butter. Put it in a pot, and bring it to medium low heat, and let it cook, for six minutes. That's all it will take. You'll get a lovely amber type of color, with some dark brown sediment at the bottom. IF you like, strain the butter from the sediment. I don't, because there's flavor there, and if you can put up with vanilla bean in your ice cream, you can put up with this. Anyway, get it off the heat by pouring it into a small bowl.
In the same pot, make a custard by combining 2 cups of heavy cream, 1 cup of milk, 6 large egg yolks, 1/3 cup of brown sugar (I used dark brown), and 2/3 cup of white sugar. (You should feel free to vary those ratios by the way). If you like, add a quarter teaspoon of salt. Make the custard the way I've described making custards for ice creams before: medium heat, stirring constantly to first break up the egg, and then until you get something thick enough to coat a spoon.
Off the heat, pour the brown butter into the custard, and let the whole thing cool. Then put it in your ice cream maker, and let it whirl.
You'll get a quart of this. Let me suggest you err on the smaller side of portions here. Egg yolks, cream, butter, whole milk. Awfully rich, huh? The strawberries? Almost no calories.
You know what you gotta do, ragazzi.
Didja think of this one? Roasted strawberries
Hello everyone. I'm back again. Trying hard to keep up with the world, the work, everything. I was in San Francisco for my annual "mental clean up" and to get in touch with some really good food and some really good friends. You'll be seeing some of the food experiences reflected in this blog, in days to come.
Just before I left, I downloaded a recipe from one of my many food sites. It was a recipe for something I had not considered before: roasted strawberries. Now, Annalena roasts fruit a lot. As cherries are coming into season, I roast them to serve with grilled meat. Roasted peaches and apricots? OH YEAH. So, too, plums. But I had never thought about strawberries.
The recipe was interesting, but vague. For example, it called for "1 basket of strawberries."
Now, COME ON. What the hell does that mean? I sure don't know. And when I made it, the first time, I found that the cooking time was incredibly off. Normally, I would have been able to fix that, as underroasting is simple to fix. You just keep roasting. But there wasn't time. So, I wound up with a very wet product, something like a cross between stewed tomatoes (one of my least favorite things in the world), and thawed frozen strawberries. Tastewise, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. They were ok, but I wound up feeling "all that time, for THIS?"
Well, having looked at the recipe, and having considered it from start to finish, I did it again, my way. And this time, it was very successful.
You will not need to do much work here. The work is done in about 10 minutes. But you will have to wait: 4 hours in fact. Yup, four hours. Now, those of you who have made my quince paste recipe will think of this as a sprint. But the thought of cooking strawberries for 4 hours may raise an eyebrow or two.
Trust me. I promise. Let's get going.
First, preheat your oven to 200 degrees. Yes, you will have to preheat to that temperature, as the pilot light keeps your oven at a lower temperature. While that is happening, fill a 9x9 glass baking dish (DO NOT USE METAL) with strawberries. You should have enough so that they are a snug fit. Try to use smaller ones, but unless they're gigantic, you should be fine. Get that little green thingy out of the top of all of them, and if you have really big ones, cut them in half. Otherwise, leave them as is. Put them in a bowl with a quarter cup of sugar, and toss them gently. Then put em all back into that baking dish.
Put the baking dish into the oven, and leave it alone for four hours.
The berries are going to shrink a lot. Probably to about half to one third their original volume. And you're going to get a really nice little portion of thick, sweet strawberry syrup. Taste what you've got. This is NOT what a thawed frozen strawberry tastes like. Let's just put it this way: is there anyone who can eat 2 strawberries and be full? Well, you can with these.
I'm going to put mine on top of some vanilla ice cream, or perhaps some brown butter ice cream (recipe to follow). You should think along these lines when using them. Dessert topping or something to fill your mouth with sweet tart flavor ( I did say that, didn't I?). I think you'll be pleased. Just be patient.
Just before I left, I downloaded a recipe from one of my many food sites. It was a recipe for something I had not considered before: roasted strawberries. Now, Annalena roasts fruit a lot. As cherries are coming into season, I roast them to serve with grilled meat. Roasted peaches and apricots? OH YEAH. So, too, plums. But I had never thought about strawberries.
The recipe was interesting, but vague. For example, it called for "1 basket of strawberries."
Now, COME ON. What the hell does that mean? I sure don't know. And when I made it, the first time, I found that the cooking time was incredibly off. Normally, I would have been able to fix that, as underroasting is simple to fix. You just keep roasting. But there wasn't time. So, I wound up with a very wet product, something like a cross between stewed tomatoes (one of my least favorite things in the world), and thawed frozen strawberries. Tastewise, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. They were ok, but I wound up feeling "all that time, for THIS?"
Well, having looked at the recipe, and having considered it from start to finish, I did it again, my way. And this time, it was very successful.
You will not need to do much work here. The work is done in about 10 minutes. But you will have to wait: 4 hours in fact. Yup, four hours. Now, those of you who have made my quince paste recipe will think of this as a sprint. But the thought of cooking strawberries for 4 hours may raise an eyebrow or two.
Trust me. I promise. Let's get going.
First, preheat your oven to 200 degrees. Yes, you will have to preheat to that temperature, as the pilot light keeps your oven at a lower temperature. While that is happening, fill a 9x9 glass baking dish (DO NOT USE METAL) with strawberries. You should have enough so that they are a snug fit. Try to use smaller ones, but unless they're gigantic, you should be fine. Get that little green thingy out of the top of all of them, and if you have really big ones, cut them in half. Otherwise, leave them as is. Put them in a bowl with a quarter cup of sugar, and toss them gently. Then put em all back into that baking dish.
Put the baking dish into the oven, and leave it alone for four hours.
The berries are going to shrink a lot. Probably to about half to one third their original volume. And you're going to get a really nice little portion of thick, sweet strawberry syrup. Taste what you've got. This is NOT what a thawed frozen strawberry tastes like. Let's just put it this way: is there anyone who can eat 2 strawberries and be full? Well, you can with these.
I'm going to put mine on top of some vanilla ice cream, or perhaps some brown butter ice cream (recipe to follow). You should think along these lines when using them. Dessert topping or something to fill your mouth with sweet tart flavor ( I did say that, didn't I?). I think you'll be pleased. Just be patient.
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