Continuing to cheat Purgatory: baked fish with homemade bread crumbs

Ok, let's own it: we all have a cylinder of those bread crumbs: either unflavored or "Italian seasoning" varieties. We KNOW they're bad for us, we KNOW they're loaded with fake ingredients. And, let's face it again: every time we've tried the "good for you" ones, the organic bread crumbs, the holistic ones, they've tasted like, well, cardboard. Annalena has been there, but she won't be anymore.

Annalena does not pretend to be a saint, which is a good thing, because she wouldn't fool anyone. There are bad things in her kitchen. Not many, but some. That cylinder is one of them. Even though she knows she REALLY SHOULD make her own bread crumbs. And the reason that cylinder is there is that, for all of their simplicity and for all of the easy instructions for making breadcrumbs, making such that were not too much trouble, and tasted good, eluded Annalena. No longer.

Let's draw up a distinction here, ragazzi, one between fresh bread crumbs, and dry bread crumbs. I guess one could say that they're sort of like the difference between fresh and dry pasta, except that's not true. After trying, many times, to make and to use fresh bread crumbs, Annalena has given up. They simply do not do it for her. If you have a different point of view, please comment, as long as you're nice about it. Trying to make the dried ones turned out to be just that: trying. Until I figured out what I was doing wrong.

Most bread crumb "recipes" for making the dried stuff have you start with slices of stale bread. As I found out, this is a mistake. If you want to make GOOD dry bread crumbs, use only crust. I learned this when, after making the Zuni bread salad that I talked about earlier, I was left with a large pile of sesame semolina bread crusts. I always have crusts left over when I make a bread pudding, and I always plan to toast them and use them as big croutons. And I throw them out, every time. Buddha only knows what compelled me to try this this time, but I did. And it works. Here we go.

You need the crusts of a loaf of a bread that is good enough to eat as it is. Think of the principle of cooking with wine: you never cook with something you wouldn't drink. You can take the crusts off with a sharp knife. You don't have to be clinical about getting all of the crumb off of it. After you have those crusts, what you do is save them, until you've used your oven at some very high temperature: somewhere around 400 or higher. Have them ready on a baking sheet, and when you have finished baking whatever it is you're baking (or roasting), turn off the oven, and put the sheet of bread crusts in. Just leave it there for about half an hour, longer if you forget. The crusts will dry even more, and when they're cool, dump them in a food processor . If you don't have one, put them in a sturdy plastic bag, and get your rolling pan ready.

It's of course easy and fast to do this in a food processor. With the bag and rolling pin, I run the pin back and forth about a dozen times, and then I hit the broken bread, over and over, until I have the size I want - which is fairly tiny . (It's a good way to get out aggression). If you use the processor, stop every few seconds and check. Dump these out into an air and water tight container.

Or, use them right away, in this dish. Take about a cup or so of the crumbs and put them in a bowl. Melt 2-3 tablespoons of unsalted butter, and chop up about a tablespoon of your fresh herb of choice. Mix the stuff all together. Now, get a pound or so of fish fillets. I used striped bass, but use what you like. DO keep in mind, however, that the more pieces of fish you have, the more bread crumbs you will need. Something about surface area. (You can also stuff a whole fish with these goodies too). Put the fish in a buttered baking dish, sprinkle the crumbs over it, and bake at 400 for about 15 minutes per inch of fish. The crumbs will take on YET MORE toastiness, and give the fish a good flavor. If you like things a bit on the salty side, you can add some salt to the crumbs before you bake the dish. And there it is. It's not fancy, it's not complicated, but it sure is good. How about you make it this week?

Save the bones, for Henry Jones (and Annalena): bone in lamb shoulder

Unlike Henry Jones, who "don't eat no meat," Annalena does. Do any of you know, or remember that song? Annalena learned it from the Pointer Sisters, and then followed up and learned that the great Johnny Mercer wrote it. Not being much of an expert on this type of music, Annalena finds it a bit of an odd song for Johnny Mercer, and she'll have to check with her resident experts on the man to find out what it's all about. Indeed, she has such experts. Sometimes, life IS a cabaret.

OK, so the inspiration for the title cometh as follows: two weeks ago, as the weather turned more than a bit colder, Annalena's cooking thoughts turned to slow cook braises, and since the Guyman and I hadn't had a bit of lamb in a while, I checked with ovine Goddess Karen, looking for lamb shoulder. As it happened, Ms. Karen had lamb and mutton shoulder, both with bone in and bone out. Karen felt that the bone in lamb shoulder would make a perfect braise, and Annalena bought herself a 6.5 pound shoulder roast, thinking there would be no problem with finding a recipe for such a beast.

Annalena was decidedly incorrect. What she found was that we seem to have very much gotten away from cooking meat on the bone, if we can help it. If you look up, for example, leg of lamb, many of your recipes will call for butterflied, or boned leg. So, too with other cuts of meats and, as you may have suspected, she found nothing for a lamb shoulder on the bone. The closest she came was to a recipe that called for slicing the shoulder into extremely thick chops, and then dealing with them from there.

This of course led to musings. We do gnaw on bones when they are provided to us, in the privacy of our own home, and if there is someone out there who doesn't like osso bucco, I don't want to know him or her; however, it is part of both the daintifying of American eating, and also the extremely cautious approach we take to product liability, that has really taken bones out of the equation in our cooking. The Guyman and Annalena have friends who will not eat chicken breast on the bone (I kid thee not). People get the skeeves over fish on the bone. And that classic dish of Italian American cooking, chicken scarpariello, which is so named because when you eat it, the bones stick out of your mouth like a shoemaker with his nailes, is now made with boneless chicken breast.

Oh, dear. All this being said, it IS true that bones add flavor to a dish. They add depth, and they add a solidity that comes from the gelatin that is released from them. And if you happen to have a friendly dog as a neighbor, they make a treat for the creature that always seems glad to see you and treats you like royalty. Learn to like bones.

Confronted with the beast of a roast in front of her, Annalena had no choice but to exercise her butchering skills. And, to be honest, removing the bones from the roast was not difficult. Without pictures showing you, describing the process is not really feasible. Suffice it to say that, if you're patient, and do not fight the flow of the bones, removing most of them is ridiculously easy. There is one bone, down the center of the roast, that requires more work, and whether you like it or not, you wind up with a butterflied roast that you will either need to tie or treat as such, but I finished removing the bones in less than 20 minutes.

If you buy your meat from the farmers market, you will have to learn how to do this. As I say, it is not difficult. The farmers are not going to do it for you. If you buy your meat from a good butcher (as they disappear, becoming harder and harder to find), ask him or her to save the bones for you. You WILL be paying for them, because the roast is weighed with the bones. Take them. I am about to explain what to do with them.

So you have your lamb shoulder roast which weighed about 6-7 pounds with the bones, and the bones have now been removed. Deal with them first. They will have some meat on them. Rub the bones with salt and olive oil, and then roast them in a very hot oven (450-500) for an hour. Try to remember to turn them every fifteen minutes but if you don't, it is far from the end of the world. When they are done, let them cool.

Meanwhile, let your boned shoulder sit in the fridge, salted and peppered, like we do with all of our meat. And get out a good knife, or your food processor, and chop up three medium sized leeks, three carrots, three stalks of celery, two large stalks of rosemary, and three cloves of garlic)(we're coming back to garlic... wait).

Get a pot that is going to be big enough to hold the meat, bones and vegetables in it, and heat a few tablespoons of olive oil and butter (2 and 2 I think) until this is really hot. Then, sear the meat. Sear it GOOD. Six minutes a side is good, I think (it's what I did with ours). Then, move the meat to a plate, and pour off all but about two tablespoons of the fat. Save it for a minute, as you throw in those veggies, with a good teaspoon of salt. Stir them until you see that they are beginning to give up liquid, and the brown bits on the bottom of the pan are coming free. If you're having trouble with this, add a little of the reserved fat. When the vegetables have gone from that "vicious" sounding sizzle, to a quieter one, put the bones on top of them, and put the shoulder on top of the bones. Add one whole bulb of garlic, unpeeled (trust me here). And then add chicken stock to the point where it just touches the shoulder meat. It could be three cups, it could be a quart. It is difficult to say. Once that stock comes to a boil, cover the pot, and move the whole thing to a 300 degree oven.

I had planned to cook this for six hours, turning it over every hour and a half. After three hours, however, the meat had literally fallen from the bones, and the roast itself had disintegrated beautifully, into a luscious ragout. As I fished around, pulling out the bones, I looked for the bulb of garlic.

GONE. Annalena is serious. The entire bulb had dissolved right into the dish. There is, literally, not a trace of the critter anywhere, just its essence.

You will probably NOT need to add salt to this, but you should taste just to make sure. What you will have is about 2 quarts of incredibly succulent, melt in your mouth meat, that will go on pasta, polenta, potatoes, anything you like. Try not to pick at it constantly, as Annalena was doing. And it will keep well. If you refrigerate it, some fat may come to the surface which you can remove, or stir back into the meat. This is your choice.

Try this. I think you will soon start joining Henry Jones at the table, and stealing some of his dinner.

The peck of peppers and homework from Annalena

Well, ragazzi, let's get the homework out of the way first. As you know, I have written often of my disagreements with the food writer Mark Bittman. Today, however, he has written a SUPERB article which, in Annalena's opinion, needs to be read, shared, discussed, and acted upon:

http://bittman.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/09/24/is-junk-food-really-cheaper/?scp=1&sq=%22mark%20bittman%22%20%20%22fast%20food%22&st=cse


What Annalena says of this is RIGHT ON MR. BITTMAN! He said it better than I could have, and this damn well ought to start debate on this topic. Annalena particularly loves the comparison to exercise : more is better than less, and some is better than none. To all of us, let's try to make an effort to cut out ONE item of junk food or fast food from our diets permanently.

Ok, to the cooking. Late summer and early fall is a time when, in Annalena's book, peppers rule. She is told that, ultimately, they are not very nourishing, give beautiful color to dishes, but are a so-called "trash vegetable" which does not belong in the hallowed camp of veggies like broccoli and spinach.

To which I answer "and your point is?" adding only that many of the foods we now regard as nutritious were not so considered, and vice versa. Peppers do have vitamin A and C in them. Not the quantity of strawberries or oranges, but again, more than a Big Mac.... The ripe ones (red, yellow, orange, which we are going to use in this recipe) do not cause the digestive issues that green ones do, so go ahead and do this.

One of Mr. Bittman's points is that it is a myth that cooking your own food is overly time consuming. He draws an apt analogy to how much time people spend watching television every day. It's appropriate here, because you can make this dish in a half hour, and it is filling, delicious, and I bet good for you.

Let's start with four medium-large bell peppers. If you can get mixed colors, fabulous. The dish will be that much prettier. If you can't, also wonderful. Cut the peppers into strips that are about half an inch wide, and then peel three large cloves of garlic, but don't cut them, chop them, or anything.

Peppers seem to work best when cooked with a little butter, so put about two tablespoons each of butter and olive oil into a frying pan, and melt the butter. Again, if you don't use or don't have butter, just double the olive oil. Add the garlic first. When it begins to sizzle, add the peppers, toss them in the fat, and then add a goodly pinch of salt. Peppers seem to need more salt than other vegetables, so don't stint. Now, add about a quarter cup of chopped fresh basil. Toss everything together, cover the pan, and lower the heat.

Fill your pasta pot with hot water, and get it going. When it comes to a boil, add some salt, like you always do for pasta, and add half a pound of one of the shaped pastas. You can use the long ones, like linguini, but it is difficult to pick up some of everything when you use the longer varieties. Check the peppers after a few minutes. They should be on the "tender" side of "tender crisp." If the pasta is just a little too aldente, that's what you want. Drain it, and put it in with the pepper/basil mix and toss it together.

Now, let's back up. If you've used all olive oil, and stopped here, you have a wonderful vegan dish. BUT.... if you want to make something that will really push this to the next level, before you add the pasta, and a quarter pound of soft cheese to the peppers, or a mix of cheese and creme fraiche. Stir it in until it melts, and when the pasta is ready , toss that in as well. As the pasta continues to cook, it will pick up some of the moisture that is in the pan, and this sauce, which will look ridiculously wet and loose, will come together nicely. Then, grate your favorite hard cheese into the dish, toss some more basil in at the last minute, and...

Wait for your guests to smile.

Fast food? Yes. Junk food? No. C'mon folks, let's start our own "fast food" movement, and within it, PASTA RULES!!!!

Cheating purgatory: Zuni's bread salad

There's an old saying amongst Italian (why do we always preface "saying" with "old?" Are there no NEW sayings?): "you spend one year in Purgatory for every crumb of bread you waste." Well, since Annalena is going to be doing at least a few eternities there, she doesn't want to add too many more years to her sentence with wasting bread. So today, she finally undertook something she should have done years ago: Zuni's bread salad.
Some background, ragazzi. Very early on, Annalena posted the recipe for Zuni roast chicken. At the restaurant, it may be the very best chicken ever. In your home, it is the best and easiest roast chicken you will make. Promesso. In the restaurant, it is always served with a bread salad. Keith, the "king of carbs," my buddy love, professes to like the bread salad better than the chicken, and he may be onto something there.
In any event, perhaps some celestial being knows why Annalena has not made this before. She certainly doesn't. But faced with the remnants of too much bread baking from week last, she pulled out the book, read the recipe and of course, modified it.

This is really good. In fact, it is TOO good. You should make it, but you really should not be around the kitchen with it, because, well...

Anyway, here we go. You need some good quality bread that has staled a bit. We had some of our left over whole wheat semolina bread. A bit more than half a pound of it, because you're going to take the crust off and make bread crumbs out of it (yes, you are. Promise me). Now cut the crust free bread into cubes, and toss them in a bowl with some olive oil, until you've got them nice and coated. Put them on a tray and run them under the broiler, for about two minutes. Then, protect your hands, turn them as best you can, and do it again, for a good minute or so. Some will char, and that is just fine. Dump them into a bowl, and mix a quarter cup of olive oil and about four tablespoons of white vinegar (or, champagne vinegar) with some salt, and pour that over the bread. Let it sit. It won't sog, mirabile dictu (my classical scholar friends will identify that immediately).

Get yourself about two tablespoons of currants... or raisins (I shall explain), and immerse them in some red or sherry vinegar. Let them plump for about an hour if you can.

The original recipe calls for currants. Annalena HAS currants in the house. She has currants all over the house. She saw them yesterday, but doesn't remember where. So she used golden raisins instead, which will be fine. But if you have and can find your currants, use them. And if you can find Annalena's, please tell her where they are.

Also, get about a quarter cup of pine nuts, and either toast them in a pan over a flame for about two minutes, or if you happen to be baking the chicken, or something else, do this in the oven. Toss the currants/raisins, the pine nuts and the red vinegar into the bread and taste. Taste every inch of the way here, and season as you go, because breads are different, vinegars are different, etc.

Up to now, I have followed the recipe of Zuni pretty much exactly. Now, however, we are going to diverge. If you happen to have some extra greens around the house (which we did. Another example of too big a set of eyes and too big a bag at the farmers market), saute' them in some olive oil, and when they're soft, toss them in with the bread as well. If you don't have them, or if like Ms. N of Texas and Michigan you can't stand greens, cook up some scallions and garlic and add them.

And really, now you have your salad. BUT... if you happen to be roasting the Zuni chicken when you make this, and you want to gild the lilly, you know those drippings on the bottom of the pan? You know that juice that pours out when you cut into the bird?

Yeah, you know where it's going. And you're going to do it, too.

Seriously, ragazzi, this "salad" is so wicked good, and you know there are times you have left over bread. Cut short your stay in Purgatory, and make this side dish. You'll come back to it, the same way you do the chicken.

You see this, Sue S? I KNOW you're gonna make this.

You take them where you find them: carmelized pork chops

You never know when you're going to get an inspiration for a recipe, or where. You may have had a few more adult beverages than absolutely necessary (and my readers will recognize that yes, there are times when adult beverages are NECESSARY), and a crazy idea comes to your head that turns out to be quite fine. Or, you'll see a billboard with a meal displayed on it (and someone explain to me why, in every billboard ad where a man and woman are eating together, HE's always having red meat and red wine, and SHE's always having chicken or fish and white wine? And where are the PC police on this one?). Or, as happened here, you will be reading a catalog, magazine, or something, and BAM. It comes to you.

Several evenings ago, I was planning on pork chops. In a "local stretch" for Annalena, I had come into some Becker Farms pork chops. These are usually available only to restaurants, but one of Annalena's fancy grocery sites had them available, so I tried them (good, but not good enough to justify not buying local. My bad). How was I going to cook them? I really had nothing much in mind, other than pan frying them, and putting some heirloom tomato jam on the side. And that would have been just fine.

Except.... the Williams Sonoma catalog was in front of me. As I leafed through their overpriced serving ware and glasses, there was a recipe for glazed pork chops, which was designed, I guess, to show off one of their new pans. I was not so interested in the pan, but pork chops... Hmmmm. And as I read through the ingredients: honey, thyme, balsamic vinegar, chicken stock, it became rather clear that yes, this was how dinner was going to go. And it did, and it was terrific.

A few words of warning/advice here, ragazzi. You are going to be working with very hot sweets, which burn. And stick. So be careful. And USE A NONSTICK PAN. The recipe called for four, one pound pork chops. Uh, the days of Annalena eating a one pound pork chop are long gone, although the Beckers I had weighed in at about 12 ounces. Seriously, a one pound chop is a BIG chop. You can use smaller ones. And keep in mind that, notwithstanding the pretty pictures you will see, getting four chops into a pan is not easy. You need a big one. And if you don't have a non-stick big enough for four , do this in two steps, as explained below. I did it with two.

Get your ingredients together: you need 2-3 healthy tablespoons of honey. You also need half a cup, EACH, of balsamic vinegar, and chicken stock. Now, the recipe called for sequential addition of these materials, which I found to be an absolutely ridiculous thing to do. So combine all of them in a large measuring cup and stir. Stir again. And stir a third time. It is difficult to dissolve honey in this mixture, but do it. And now put it aside.

Get a tablespoon (all you need, for each pair of chops) of olive oil very hot, in that nonstick pan. Add your chops, which.... you guessed it. You salted and let sit overnight, and sear them well. It's going to take a good three or four minutes per side, so plan accordingly. After you've browned all the chops, keeping them warm as you do them in pairs, get rid of the fat and add the liquid.

Remember how I stressed stirring the honey? It still blobbed out, didn't it? Think of what it would be like if you hadn't. So, stir it up again, lower the heat, and cook the liquid to the point where it is reduced by half. Add your chops, and cook them for three minutes per side. Now, bravely reduce that liquid again, to the point where you're getting a very thick, bubbly, almost caramel. Watch this carefully, because this will burn very easily. When it's reduced to about 1/4 of your original volume, put in the chops and turn them again and again, at 30 second intervals. You will see color take to the chops, as the sweet sauce sticks to them. After 3-4 turns to each side, you're done. If you have any left over reduction, pour it over the chops. You won't have much. But you worked on this, and you should use it. It's good.

One final note on this one: this is best done with a higher quality balsamic vinegar than you would normally use. For heaven's sakes, don't use the 100 year old stuff, but get a good bottle, and use that. And taste it. You'll be glad you did spend some money.

Practicing what she preaches: savory vegetable torte

You are all probably sick, or close to sick, of Annalena writing things like "all you need are a few techniques and you can do just about anything." The advice is directed toward cooking, but it's probably generally applicable (and she shall say nothing more). I bring this up this morning because, following her own advice, Annalena used some techniques to change a sweet recipe into a savory one, thinking about Ms. Patti Jackson all the time. (and she knows why).

Recently, you all saw me republish the simple summer fruit torte recipe. I know you liked it, because I learned that I can now follow "hits" on this site. It's up there with the recent favorites (although braciole continues to outdistance everythng by a factor of 8. Hmmmm). So, in thinking through the recipe, Annalena thought "I wonder if we can change this to savory." Perhaps the thinking was influenced subconsciously by the tomato upside down cake of about a month ago, but in any event, it happened, and it worked.

It seemed a logical thing to do. The ingredients: butter, flour, eggs, baking powder, are all there in just about any baked good. So, the question was: can you leave out the sugar, make something good, and will it rise with the denser vegetables in it?

In terms of the density of vegetables, I didn't really see a problem. If the veggie is dense, you can add less. And indeed, my first inclination was to use a can of those chopped green chili peppers you find in the "ethnic" section of the supermarket. As I looked in the fridge at the bags of vegetables that were not being eaten, however, I thought to myself "try broccoli. After all, broccoli quiche...," and indeed, the recipe was sounding to Annalena as if it were some kind of cross between a scone and a quiche. I knew that the vegetables would want "something," and that "something" was cheese. The cheese served both as a flavor agent, and also as something which would give bulk. There was one other change that I needed to make, as I found when I was mixing the thing together, and you'll see that below. Ok, gang, let's go make some food.

As with the fruit torte, preheat your oven to 350. Take that stick of unsalted butter you left out overnight to soften, and dump it into a bowl. Use the wrapper to butter an 8 or 9 inch cake pan. Shred about a generous cup of cheese . What kind of cheese? Well, think about the vegetable you're going to use. For example, had I used the chilis, I would probably have gone the way of monterey jack. Tomatoes? Oh, heavens, many things. Broccoli seemed to call out to cheddar, but I had a started piece of garrotxa cheese, and I used that. It tasted a bit bland to me, so after I shredded my cup of cheese, I grated a quarter cup of parmesan. This was a good thing.

Meanwhile, I steamed three cups of broccoli florets. I think the steaming was a good idea, but this would probably work if you used raw vegetables too. Don't be limited to broccoli: there were greenbeans, squash, and leafy greens in the fridge, and they all would have worked.

So you have your veggies and your cheese, and that lonesome stick of butter in the bowl, right? At this point, when you make the sweet version, you add the sugar. Well, now, you're going to add the cheese. Stir it all up and when you've got a gooey well mixed mass, add THREE large eggs, rather than the two for the sweet cake. I found that with the two eggs, I was getting a mass that looked really heavy. Three was a good choice. Now add the veggies, and then the cup of flour and the tablespoon of baking powder. Dump the whole thing into your cake pan, stick it in the oven, and bake for 45 minutes or so.

This smelled absolutely wonderful: like cheese muffins. Some of the cheese came to the top and browned, and it was so luscious looking that, had we not just polished off a very large dinner, Annalena would have helped herself.

There is no question about it, this is rich, with the cheese, the butter, the eggs, but remember: small portions and a salad on the side.

We are going to eat this after a performance of the Mahler 2nd in a couple days. It's the perfect thing for an easy meal, and I think it's what my farmers are gonna get for lunch this weekend.

Try it, and as you vary vegetable and cheese combinations, do let Annalena know. She will be very curious with what you turn out.

Simple and starch free: ricotta stuffed, baked tomatoes

Before we undertake the complexities of gateau basque (and they are complex!), or the multiple steps of paella (not difficult, but as Rupaul said, you better WORK), let's look at something a bit easier, adn why.

The regular reader of this blog knows that, comes September, the Guyman starts music rehearsal and that means late Monday dinners. As a rule, this means soup, pizza and salad, all home made. And this is all fine and dandy, and y'all have many of the recipes for these items in the blog.

Well, neither one of us are spring chickens anymore, and are probably even past stewing fowls. So when the soup is heavily starch laden (as is the wonderful corn soup, which we had last night, and for which you have a recipe repeat), and after a weekend where it seemed the theme was "pasta, pasta pasta," pizza with corn soup did not seem like the right choice. At 10pm, neither of us are looking for a lamb chop, or a steak, or even a sausage. I laugh because what we are looking for is a pizza, a calzone, or something along those lines. But it won't do. No no no. Hence Annalena was left to trying to devise something to go with the corn soup and green salad that would be tasty, filling but not too, and not involve starch.

A glance around the kitchen and into the fridge, and there it was. This is how you develop as a cook. You can come up with things like this, too, and you should.

We had a bowl of beefsteak tomatoes which were on the small side: let's say 4-5 to a pound. Tomatoes that size are idea for stuffing, because you can't fill them with TOO much, since they're not that big. Perfect. Stuffed with what? Well, on Saturday, Annalena's lovely and anonymous French friend had given her a bucket of sheep's milk ricotta for free. If someone ever gives you sheep's milk ricotta, take it.

You can see where I'm going, yes? There was also left over cheese from our Iberian extravaganza of the weekend, and... stuffed tomatoes were born. Or, at least this version. Here it comes. They're good. They're easy. They are starch free. C'mon folks. Andare nella cucina a preparare pomodori ripieni con ricotta e formaggion. (You can read that! See how much Italian you know?).

Ok, enough kidding, let's get to work. Preheat your oven to 375, and get a small, say 8x8 or 9x9 glass or ceramic baking dish and grease it. Then, get your tomatoes (and they don't have to be small). Cut the tops off, for about half an inch. Then, with a teaspoon or tablespoon, carefully spoon out the innards into a bowl. If you are so inclined, separate the tomato water and seeds, but you don't have to. Chop the tomatoes roughly. Now, get a pound of ricotta. Put that into the bowl with the chopped tomato innards, and then add about a quarter cup of a grated cheese with a strong flavor. Anything you like. Stir this all up. It will be thick, but don't thin it. Now, add some chopped, fresh herbs. Again, whatever you like. I had oregano, and that's what I used. I also had basil, but I didn't want to push it. Stir this all together, and fill the tomatoes. You can be generous here. If the filling extends over the top of the tomato, fine and dandy. Stand the critters up in your baking dish, put them in the oven AFTER you've drizzled a few tablespoons of oil over them, and bake for 30 minutes. If you are so inclined, you can broil them for a minute or two, but I didn't.

In the baking process, the tomatoes get very soft and, when you serve them, it is very easy to slip the skins off. I would encourage you and your guests to do so, as the baking toughens what is already a tough skin.

Any temperature is good for these, but nice and warm is best, in my view.


Now, how long do you think it will take you to make these, putting baking time aside? Easy one? So easy you know what? I'm sending it off to Lynn Goldberg. That's what I'm gonna do.

Revisiting an old one: corn soup

Annalena has been keeping this blog since 2007, and hesitates to repeat herself; however, she will do so in the cause of a good recipe. The readership of this blog seems to be fairly constant, and likes to look at "what's new." I imagine that if folks are wondering "has Annalena ever cooked..." they will use the search function (which isn't very good, let me tell you), but otherwise, I think you all check in, see what's on this evil mind, and look at the blog for ideas on what to cook.

Am I wrong? I didnt' think so. And it is with that spirit in mind, that I turn to a repeat of a favorite: corn soup.

I make this recipe once a year, sometimes twice. It is one of the rare treatments of cob corn which Annalena can handle. I warn you ahead of time: this soup is SWEET in the way sweet corn is, only magnified. You may want to keep in mind something like bacon, or hot peppers, or that kind of thing to modify the sweetness.

It is in so many ways the apotheosis of the way I cook. The ingredients are minimalist to the point of "HUH???" Yet, you wind up with something that is so transcendantly good, you will not believe it. Come with me, and you will see.

Here is what you need: 10 ears of corn, three cups of water, and salt. There are your ingredients. I'm not kidding, that's it. You will also need a blender, and either a good colander, or a food mill. Now, let's get to work.

You need to get the kernels off of the corn, after you shuck it (now, let's review how to buy corn: do we tear open the husks at the market and toss aside what we don't like? NO... What we do is feel the corn, top to bottom, to make sure that it is full and even. Then, how do we bag our corn? We put it so that the cut end is up in the bag. Why? That end is sharp. You want to risk carrying a plastic bag with ten ears of corn in it tearing as you go home? Hmmmm?).

So you've shucked the corn and, as I have said, none of those kernel picking thingamajigs work. Get yourself a sharp knife and go down the corn. Do it slowly, to avoid the kernels hopping everywhere. After you've gotten the kernels off the cob, take the back of your knife, and run it up and down the cob. Look at all that white juice. Taste it. Pure corn sugar, huh? Now you know why you did it, and why it's going into the corn.

But first: take those cobs that you've shucked and taken the juice out of, and put them in a big pot with the water. Break the cobs in half if you need to (you probably will). Bring it to a boil, and let it simmer for fifteen minutes. Get rid of the cobs. Now, you have corn stock (you can do the same thing with pea pods by the way, getting peastock).

Put the kernels into this enriched liquid, and bring it to a slow boil, for about 10 minutes. Add some salt. Let it cool, and then puree it in batches in a blender. If it's looking too thick to you (it might), add more water.

What you have done is liberated the good stuff from the undigestable part of the corn. It's all still mixed together though, so now you pass it through the colander or food mill, and you have a slightly thick, lovely yellow (or white) soup that will be very, VERY sweet, but in a good way.

You will get a surprisingly small amount out of this. I got six cups of soup from mine. But it is an intense eat. I cannot imagine eating this any way but cold, but if you prefer, do warm it up.

The corn is still here, but for how much longer, we do not know. While the gettins' good, get yourself some corn, and make this soup. It may be your favorite soup, ever.

When the wolf comes to the door, sort of: tortilla espanola

I've never quite understood that expression: "when the wolf comes to the door." It means , I guess, that you're broke. Well, ok, but why would a wolf come knocking when you're poor, and probably starving? These are things which puzzle Annalena, but of which she has very little time to address or investigate. If you know, do tell. Otherwise, let's cook.

The Wolf at the door came to mind when making this recipe. We ate this often when Annalena was a youngster. The ingredients: olive oil, eggs, potatoes, and onions, are inexpensive.

Now, ragazzi, lest you raise your eyes at the olive oil, remember this was in the days before designer olive oils, extra virgin, artisanal, single olive pressings, etc, etc. Annalena's Nana bought her olive oil in huge two gallon tins. It was not very good olive oil, and the smell of it when Nana cooked would frequently make Annalena feel somewhat nauseous. She was not very fond of this dish either, which as I say, was on the table often - maybe once a week.

Learning, years later, that this was a classic of the Spanish tapas table, was interesting to Annalena. And to learn that people argue over the correct way to prepare it. Yes, I can see that: what type of potato. What type of onion. How many onions to use. How do you beat the eggs. Do you add seasonings?

Annalena's Nana would say "and when you fret, people get hungry." So, lest more wolves come to the door, let's make a tortilla espanola, or as you may want to call if if you are so inclined , potato omelet, or just "taters and eggs."

This recipe comes from a woman who was at least for a long time, the United States' greatest authority on Iberian food. And a homophobe. Annalena was shocked at her rudeness, her nastiness, her overall obnoxious behavior. As I have written, cooks are nice people. Cookbook writers are nice people. This "lady," was neither. The recipe is good. So, while you're waiting for the wolf to come to the door, separate the wheat from the chaff, take the recipe, and leave the witch behind.

Let us cook. You need half a cup of olive oil, a pound of potatoes, an onion, and 5 large eggs. Also, salt and pepper. Finally, and this is important, two frying pans. One should be rather wide, and the finish is irrelevant. The other should be non stick, and probably at least 8 inches across.

Peel the potatoes. I stick to my favorite yukon golds, but use any potato you have, even boilers. Cut them into slices about a quarter inch thick. Then, peel and slice your onion. Sprinkle salt on them.

Pour the olive oil into the wide pot - the one that need not be nonstick, and when it is hot, add the potatoes and onions, and lower the heat. Every three minutes or so, turn them carefully. The technique you are using here is similar to the one used when french fries are made, and you use a "first fry/second fry" method. You are flavoring the potatoes, but trying not to brown them.

In the interim, put the eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork. Put them aside while the potatoes cook.

When they are starting to get soft to a fork, move the potatoes and onions to the eggs. If you have any oil left (I did not have much), save it. Let the mix sit for fifteen minutes, and change pans to the nonstick one. Add a tablespoon or two of oil, either the first one, or clean oil, as you see fit.

Pour the mass into the pan, and at medium heat, cook them for about five minutes or so. Now, for the challenge (I am CERTAIN my Nana did NOT do this.). Get a plate large enough to cover the top of the frying pan. Put it on the top of the pan. Protect your hands with thick pot holders and now, flip it onto the plate. It's not done yet, and if it's a bit messy, worry not. Now, slide the thing back into the pan, cooked side up. Repeat this another two times, so each side cooks, two times. Then, move the mass to a plate and let it cool to room temperature, which is when this is best eaten.

I am told that, in Spain, this is cut into small cubes and served as a snack. We ate it as huge slices, or as sandwich fillings. However you do it, it's a way to keep the wolf from the door.

Provecho.

Straddling seasons, with raspberry sorbet

A warning for what's to follow, ragazzi. This is an EXPENSIVE recipe. Annalena feels you should do it once a year, however, and enjoy it. It is easy. REALLY easy.

Raspberries, I guess, are one of the fruits we associate with the heat of summer. Many of you have memories of picking wild ones, from brambles that are covered with thorns, and enduring it because it was worth it. Guyman has such memories. Annalena, being a city girl, does not. She always bought her raspberries from the store, and did not ever have to actually pick them for herself.

Having spoken to those who do, however, and aware of the extreme perishability of these little guys, Annalena is willing to pay what they cost. Ultimately, she feels that there is value here: a small container of rapsberries may very well give you flavor that you would not find in an equally costly slice of cake, and raspberries are extremely good for you. They are. If, for example, you are in need of extra fiber (and we all are at some point or another, let us face it), raspberries are about as pleasant a way to get it as you will find.

Enough clinical stuff. "Straddling seasons" because, those who are in the "know" of these things, speak of summer and fall raspberries. Indeed, raspberries are the last of the berries to bid "farewell" to us every year. Guyman and I had them at our wedding ceremony, in mid October, and they were local. My untrained eye says that the ones in spring are lighter colored, as compared to darker, almost purple raspberries in the fall. If I were diligent, I would find out what the different varieites are. Alas, this time around, I was not.

So, once a year, I make a quart of raspberry sorbet. This is the recipe, and it is again from one of my favorite sources of things dessert like, Claudia Fleming's book "The Last Course." I am told it is a collector's item now, and my copy of it is worth 400.00. My my, I would think the stains I brought to it would make it more valuable, but probably not.

So, why do I keep on speaking of expensive. Here's why. To make this, you need SEVEN clam shells of raspberries. SEVEN. Now, I bought mine at different times from Lisa, my favorite berry farmer. The first batch were 4 for 10 dollars, the second batch, 3 for ten dollars. So, there's 20 dollars worth of fruit, right there. (If you know a farmer who has berries, s/he may have "seconds." You can buy these for less money, but you must use them right away. They are on their way to spoilage very quickly. If you buy them in this fashion, ask for two quarts worth).

Put your berries in a big bowl, with six tablespoons of sugar. This is about 1/3 of a cup. Stir them together. Don't worry about damaging them. You will be damaging them pretty thoroughly very quickly. Let them sit for about an hour, while you make a syrup of 1/2 cup of water, and 3/4 cup of more sugar.

Annalena feels you need all this sugar in the dessert, because raspberries are tart. If, however, you are inclined to want a tarter sorbet, simply use less.

After you have allowed the raspberries to sit, pour the syrup over them, and then move the whole mass to a blender.

Please make sure your lid is on the blender. Else, you risk turning your kitchen into a scene out of "Texas Chain Saw Massacre," and who wants that?

Will it surprise you that you are now done with your cooking? You are, unless you want to really get fancy and strain out the seeds. If you do, you will need a filter/colander/food mill with REALLY TINY holes, and you will need to be very patient. You will also lose that much vaunted fiber. Your call. Annalena prefers a bit of grit with her dessert (as with her men). So, unfiltered (sort of like Annalena), you put this into your ice cream maker, and as the line goes "churn, churn, churn."

You will have a quart of intensely (VERY intensely) flavored, gorgeously red sorbet at the end. There is no fat in this, there are lots of antioxidants (remember, you didn't cook anything), and it is ridiculously refreshing.

Of course, you could spoil the whole "health food" fantasy about this dessert by eating it with ice cream, which we may very well do. I cannot think of a baked good with which this would go well, so either serve it on its own, put some whipped cream on it, layer it with ice cream, but for heaven's sakes children, make it once a year and savor it.

And a bit of "what's to come" with Annalena's kitchen. We will be revisiting a favorite soup: corn, corn corn soup. It's in here, but it's gotten neglected, and as our season ends, it's another one you should make once. We will be visiting a somewhat complicated dessert, the wonderful "gateau basque." And quite possibly, we shall be investigating paella. Now, on that one, let me hear from you: paella calls for a serious kitchen commitment, but it's worth it. Where are we on this, ragazzi? Shall we make it together? Thoughts?

Seasonal crossroads: Chicken dijon

Here at the blog, Annalena tries to put forth ideas for living and eating seasonally. We don't prepare asparagus in February, and we don't eat butternut squash in June, period. But there are certain recipes which, as a cook, you should have in your repertoire because they transcend seasons. They don't rely on seasonal ingredients, and to make them "seasonal" you add your own flare or side dishes. Such is what we will be investigating today, a recipe that is in that family of slow simmered French chicken dishes and makes even the die hard Italianophile that Annalena is to say "maybe the French got it right occasionally."
French cooking has tons of recipes of this type: you brown the chicken and hten you cook it slowly in some flavorful liquid, which either becomes, or is the base of, your sauce. You know at least one of these: coq au vin. You can probably think of others, too. Annalena, given her sour disposition, is particularly fond of one that involves vinegar as a braising liquid. This one is a dish she came across doing her monthly cooking magazine round up. Of course, she modified it a bit, which is in accordance with French country cooking. Her findings follow. You should make this. If you're organized, it will take you less than an hour to make and if you're not, about an hour and a quarter. It will serve four people, and you will be very happy with it.

You need one ingredient you may not have handy: coriander seeds. If you have made pickles in accordance with Annalena, you have plenty of these, but if you haven't, go get some. They're a great accent item. Once you taste one (crunch it between your teeth), you will think of ways to use it and, if not, they are also great breath fresheners just in case you need one (just sayin').

Ok, you need a tablespoon of them. The original recipe called for a teaspoon which is laughable. Toss them in a small pan over medium heat and shake them for about three minutes until they toast up. Let them cool. You're going to crush them at some point while you prep the other ingrdients, be it with a rolling pin, your old coffee mill, a mortar and pestle, whatever.

Also prep 4-6 garlic cloves by c hopping them, and also slice a whole onion into thin, half moons (NOT the minuscule quarter cup called for in the recipe. That, too, was laughable).

You will also need creme fraiche and whole seed mustard. If you don't have whole seed, you can use dijon, but don't use honey mustard. It throws the balance of the dish off, with its sweetness. You need 3 tablespoons of creme fraiche and 2 of the mustard. Mix them together in a small bowl. (Side bar: if you want to make your own creme fraiche, mix two tablespoons of full fat yogurt in a cup of heavy cream, shake it, cover it, and leave it on a counter top unrefrigerated for at least a full day. DONE).

Pour out a cup and a half of chicken stock and put it aside, and then get your chicken ready. My origingal recipe called for 8 chicken drumsticks. Hooray for Hollywood. I had four whole legs, and I split them (YOU CAN DO IT!) into the thighs and drumsticks. Or, use eight thighs. I am not a tremendous fan of drumsticks, but if you like them, please feel free. Sprinkle them with salt and pepper, overnight if you can.

Lets get to work. Pour a tablespoon and a half of olive oil into a pan that is wide enough to accommodate all your ingredients. When it's so hot you can see it begin to ripple, put the chicken, skin side down, and cook for about five minutes. DON'T MOVE THE CHICKEN. Then turn it over, and let them brown on the side. After ten minutes, add the onion and the garlic. There won't be much room in the pan, and that's ok, they will cook down from the heat. After three minutes, add the stock and the coriander. This will come to the boil, almost immediately, and then cover the pan, lower the heat, and leave it alone for 15 minutes.

After the fifteen minutes the chicken will be remarkably tender. If you wanted to, you could stop right here. BUT... we wont. Remember that mustard and creme fraiche? Ok, take the chicken out of the pan, put it aside in a place where it will stay warm, and pour in the creme fraiche/mustard. Stir it, and let it cook for about five minutes.

Here, you have to make a choice. The original recipe said "until it thickens." Annalena did not see it thicken. So, she reached for her trusty jar of corn starch, got a tablespoon, stirred it into about three tablespoons of water, and stirred it into the sauce. That did the trick. It's up to you. At the end, if you have some, add about a tablespoon of fresh herbs. The recipe called for tarragon. I was too lazy to go to the roof to get some, so I used the lavender I had bought that day at the farmers market. Worked like a charm.

Put the chicken back in the pan, and turn it a few times to coat it with the sauce and.... you're ready to eat.

Nothing in that recipe will signal to you that this is a dish of spring, summer, winter or fall, although some would say "it's winter," because you're using nothing seasonal. Fair enough. We had it with a dish of pan fried bell peppers and roasted baby turnips, which signals "late summer/early fall." Again, our original recipe calls for crusty bread. We used rice.

Put your own mark on this. And let Annalena know how you did it.

New and Improved! Tuna confit

Way back when, Annalena posted a recipe for slow cooked tuna: tuna confit. She said that it was one of her favorite recipes, and indeed it was, and is. If you read it, you will remember the laments about the amount of oil it used, which could not be reused, and if you MADE it (as Professor Bob and his lovely wife did), you probably then had to make a judgement call on whether or not to make it again, given how long it took.

Now, Annalena is not afraid of spending time in the kitchen, but as with all of us, if there is a quicker way to get to the same result: she's there. So when one of her favorite chefs, David Tanis, posted a recipe for "slow cooked albacore" she had to give it a second look. And a third. Then she made it. Boys and girls, strike the old, bring in the new, this one is terrific, as Annalena would expect, coming from the pen of Chef David.

My version is (surprise, surprise, surprise), just a bit different from his. And there are options that you can use, and I will present them, and also a bit of advise as to a possible issue that is not in his recipe. Anyway, here we go.

You can find the original at www.nytimes.com. For now, though, you start with one pound of tuna. Get the best you can, BUT DO NOT GET BLUEFIN TUNA. IF YOU DO I WILL PUT A CURSE ON YOU. Bluefin are the monsters of the sea and, if you have been living under a rock for a while, know they are being fished to extinction. Other varieites of tuna are available, they are delicious, and they are not nearly as endangered. And, having said that, if you are going to buy bluefin tuna to make tuna confit, well... I want to meet your trust fund. So, yellowfin, albacore, anything you can find. If you are buying local, it won't be an issue. I don't think any of the local fishermen are equipped to bring in the monsters, so you're going to be ok, but ASK.

Preheat your oven to 350, while you prep things. Chef Tanis suggests cutting the tuna into one inch slices. In Annalena's view, if you are going to cut that big, you may as well leave it in one piece. I went to slices that were about 1/2-1/3 inch wide. You may very well think you are slicing a steak which, in fact, you are.

Put those into a small baking dish. All of mine were occupied at the moment, so I used a ceramic pie pan. Metal is a taboo here. Salt and pepper the fish, both sides, and then prep your spices.

I followed his recommendation which was to take half a teaspoon each of fennel seeds and red pepper, and grind them in my spice mill (which is an old burr type coffee bean grinder). You should use what sounds good to you, but just a note: Italians have been combining fennel and pepper with tuna for thousands of years. Just sayin...

Ok, sprinkle this over the fish, crush three cloves of garlic and toss them in the dish and also add a sprig of rosemary. No need to de-stem it or anything, you're really just flavoring the oil, and it's not going to be cooking long enough to worry about woody tannin flavors. Now, here's the part that is so cool: only add enough oil to come aout half way up the fish: it won't be more than about half a cup.

Go check the old recipe. See what I mean?

Get this into the oven and bake for ten minutes. Then, protect your hands, take out the dish and turn the fish. Here's where you may have a bit of issue: the fish may stick a bit to the pan, notwithstanding all that oil. Do the best you can, and don't worry, because ultimately you'll crumble this stuff.

Bake for another ten minutes, and ragazzi, you are done. Just let the stuff cool and then store the fish, until you're ready to use it, but use it within a week.

Now, as another of Annalena's idols (Ina), would say, "how easy is that?" This is going together with some shell beans and Buddha only knows what later this week.

If you're in the kitchen, involved with doing something stovetop, this is something that can keep your oven occupied, and give you dinner for another day during the week.

I rarely say "out with the old, in with the new," but in this case, it is worth it.

A new start? mustard bread

Ok, so it's time to take a deep breath, and move on, without losing our memories, and whatever feelings came out of the weekend past. Annalena did spend some time in hiding, taking it all in, spending very little kitchen time, and when she was in there, making her basic pasta recipes. Now, she's back, with a request, maybe even a plea.

Ragazzi, promise to try to bake your own bread. At least once in a while. Annalena promises you that, once you get the hang of it, you will wonder why you didn't do it sooner, and you will make SUCH GOOD BREAD. She is serious, you will almost never fail, once you get some good recipes and techniques down.

I turn to the recipes from one of my favorite and, in my view, underappreciated food writers, Martha Rose Schulman. Unlike writes like Madhur Jaffrey, whom we associate with Indian cooking, or Marcella Hazan, with Italian, and so on, Ms. Schulman writes extensively, on many things. I knew her works first, when the Guyman and I were vegetarians. Then she moved on to other things, including Provencal cooking, and her bread book. It is entitled, simply "Great Breads" and almost without exception, they ARE great breads. For any of you who are terrified of "sourdough," once you make hers, you will have a whole field demystified. And once you make those breads and see how they work, you will start making your own. I make a sourdough bread nearly every week, and it is almost never the same as any that preceded it, and they are always good.

We are starting today, however, with a so-called "straight" bread, which is a yeast bread, rather than a sourdough. Yes, sourdough uses yeast, but the process of making a sourdough, with a risen starter, is different from these so-called straight breads. These are the ones you are used to from basic bread making. If you were fortunate enough to grow up in a home where Mom or Aunt or Grandma made bread, this is the type that she probably made.

I stress repetition and making breads, over and over again because eventually you learn what you can and cannot leave out. This bread, for example, is minimalist as compared to the original recipe, which is unquestionably delicious. The original has cheese and onions in it, and is almsot a meal in itself. But I needed a bread for our grilled cheese sandwiches tonight (we're having that roasted tomato soup), and I really did not want to double dose the cheese.

I mean it: this is easy. Follow through here, and you'll see what I mean.

You start by mixing a tablespoon of yeast (or, one packet of the stuff you buy in the foil packets at the store), with 1/2 a cup of water (use tap cold water), and 1/2 cup of dairy. Ms Schulman calls for milk, I use yogurt. You could use buttermilk, you could use 2% milk, and so forth. And I do not warm it as she suggests, because I find it is not necessary, at least not in a warm, NY apartment. Now add a tablespoon of olive oil, and a large egg. She also adds a tablespoon of honey, which I leave out.

Now, the mustard: measure out 1/2 cup of dijon or whatever you have. I like the organic "Annie's" mustard, but I have made this with hot dog mustard, and it's good. If you're timid, lower the amount of mustard to as little as 1/4, but trust me, the half cup is not that strong. Mix all of that together, either with a spoon, or the paddle of your mixer.

Now add a cup of whole wheat flour, 2 cups of white flour, and a hefty teaspoon of salt. If you make bread by hand, you need to stir this together, and then dump it on a board, with a half to 3/4 cup of flour by your side. If you use the mixer, use the dough hook, and have the same flour along side of you.

This is a very wet dough, but how much additional flour you will need depends on a multitude of factors. Add the excess flour by kneading it in, or by adding it to the mixer, until you begin to get something that doesn't look quite like mud. It will never shape up to a really solid loaf. Don't worry.

If you are kneading by hand, remember the business letter technique: put it in front of you, fold a third over from the top. Then do the same from the bottom. Turn 90 degrees, and repeat. Keep going until it's nice and smooth. Again, keep that flour at your side, but please don't be tempted to make this too firm.

Grease an 8x4 inch pan (remember from lesson 1: NOT a 9x5. That's a quick bread pan). Dump the dough - which is again going to be very close to a batter into the pan, cover it, and let it rise for a good 2 hours. It's not going to rise much and you will be convinced you did something wrong. If you followed Annalena's guidance, however, you did not.

Close to the end of the two hours, heat the oven to 350, and then slip the pan into the oven and bake away for forty five minutes. This is one that is going to give you a wonderful smell in your kitchen - like those panini stores, but without the sort of rancid fat you sometimes smell.

When it's done, you may need to run a soft knife around the edges - a butter knife, and then dump it out on a surface. Let it cool on a rack.

You can add the oil, the cheese, and maybe sesame seeds, or poppy seeds to the top, if you like. You can also rub an egg wash over the top to make it shiny. Lots of possibilities here. But start with something basic, and make a grilled cheese sandwich.

Now, doesn't that sound good, just about now?

Remembering September 11, 2001

It was a difficult decision to write this post. Should I have just gone on, with business as usual, and posted a recipe? Or, just stay silent? In the kitchen this morning, however, listening to music and hearing recollections, it all came back. And here it is.
Annalena had not been born yet. Recall that her birthday is October 7, 2007. And the blog followed. But in 2001, no such. I was on my way to work - primary day in Manhattan - planning to vote that afternoon after work. To say the day was gorgeous would be an understatement. And work began, business as usual.

Sometime around 9:15, my colleague Leon came to my office "Norman, did you hear anything about something happening downtown?" I hadn't. And then, more people started talking about it: something HORRIBLE had happened. There were words about planes, bombs, the towers. We got a tv, and then we saw it all. None of us knew how to react. I think we all went into a state of conscious shock.

They sent us home, but the subways were closed. My secretary Annette could not get to Brooklyn, nor could her sister. So she and I started off, on foot, to get her sister. And the Guyman, who was working temp in midtown. I remember so clearly that I wished I had worn better shoes that day, because my feet were hurting. We all started the walk to our home- 2 miles or so. People in the street, all too stunned, too shocked, to really take in what had happened. Even when we got home, and turned on the television, or looked out our bedroom window, which had a view of the towers - No, it couldn't be. It wasn't real. I think we were all in more than shock. I pulled the shades down, and they didn't go back up for a month.

The phone calls. The Guyman's sister, calling from JAPAN, in the middle of a typhoon. Were we alright and could we check on her son, our nephew, who lived two blocks from us?

We had no idea. If there is good that came from that day, this is one place it did. We connected to Terran and Amy and then, of course, to their son.

Our sister in law Christel, sobbing from Pennsylvania, that it was just like Germany in World War II. And so it went.

One of the things that people don't mention, but all shake their heads at when reminded, is that one thing that makes us comfortable, or makes us feel safe when this happens, is eating and drinking. It seemed that was all we could do, and we went off to our then favorite watering hole, Nadines. We weren't the only one. The place was packed. Our buddy Angela was waiting tables that day. Just her, and the lunch cooking staff. She, too, stunned, and shocked, and not knowing what had happened. But she got it, probably before any of us did. I know: I was there. I saw her climb up on the bar countertop and announce "Ladies and Gentlemen, put your wallets away, your money is no good here today." So we drank. And we ate. And when we were too tired to do anything else, we went home. The subways were back, for a limited time, so we put Annette and her sister on the train, and went back home and watched the news and tried to make sense of it.

We passed St. Vincent's, where people had lined up to donate blood, before we learned there would be no need for it. Three full circles around the block, including a 90 year old woman who said "I did it for WWII, I did it for Korea and I'll do it NOW." Yet another reason why I love living in the Village.

Many will write better accounts of the day than I can. I remember the after. The smell. The dust. The wondering "will they deliver the mail today?" I remember the first farmers market after it, with the farmers grabbing me, hugging, crying "thank God, you're alive and ok. Is Guy?" I think things changed that day, in ways that words cannot express.

Ruth Reichl, who was then editor of "Gourmet," wrote a memorable piece. This is an excerpt from it:


Here at Gourmet, we cooked. It was what we knew how to do. [Though the Conde Nast Building was closed], the thought of those eight test kitchens sitting empty was unbearable--rescue workers were laboring around the clock, and we wanted to feed them....We cooked, knowing that we were doing it as much for ourselves as for the workers, out of a strong desire...to be of use in a terrible time.

On the third day of the disaster, we made lasagna, chili, and apple crisps. And we carried the food right into "ground zero," where the smell of chili triumphed momentarily over the smell of smoke.

Is the chili hot?" asked one fireman. He sat down in the debris and wearily picked up a spoon. "Tastes like my wife's," he said, closing his eyes. "You've brought me a little bit of home."

Relief efforts sprang up, right away. I remember the telethon. Sting. Tom Cruise. Alec Baldwin. Many others, answering phones as we all donated money.

And we cooked here, too. Lots of pasta, for a lot of people. But not for the first few nights. I almost couldn't move, and for one of the few times in my life, I could not face the kitchen. But people needed to eat, and the restaurant, the food community, responded. Judy Rodgers, of Zuni in San Francisco, wrote of how the only thing that kept the restaurant opened after that day, was their 5.00 bowl of polenta. Yeah, I get that. We all ate a lot of starch and wondered what would happen next.

They told us "go on with your life," and we tried. God, did we try. My friend Terry couldn't. She left the United States and moved to Germany with her boyfriend. Other people did similar things. Guyman and I went on. And we formed stronger bonds with our friends. And we didn't forget, ever.

One year later, September 11, 2002, I remember empty streets, as my colleague Jane, her husband, Roger, Guy and I walk empty streets to Grand Central Station for dinner, before a program of short works, written to remember the event. I recall Julia Margolies, and her monologue "hands," about a fireman's hands. And weeping. And the very last work: one about Petit's travelling across the towers, in a world that seems so far away now.

It's ten years later. Annette has gone somewhere else, I don't know where. Leon is at another law firm, as am I. Angela is a mom, with triplets. Our nephew and his wife live in Washington state, and we keep in touch. Nadine's is closed. Jane and Roger's daughters, so young then, are now young women, in college and finishing high school. And we go on. We remember. And I have never forgotten Ms. Reichl's piece.

Transitions, changes, reconnecting and Ina: Roast Tomato soup

Now that's a very hefty title there isn't it? Sort of lots of concepts about. Well, Annalena shall elucidate while trying not to stray from her appointed rounds: teaching you a new soup.
Labor Day weekend has come and gone. We are celebrating (if that is the right word. Maybe remembering is better), the 10th anniversary of the attack on the Twin touwers (which Annalena watched from her window, sobbing silently), and there is a definite sense that things are changing.
Much happens in early September. We have our annual trip to Chuck and Kevin's lovely home in Southhampton (the inspiration for this soup), the Guyman goes back to choral rehearsal. Annalena begins casting about to see if there is a class she wants to take. And the market changes. This may very well be the time of year when summer and fall meet, for a few, glorious weeks, and you can have your pick of berries, peaches, pears, plums, apples, cabbage, tomatoes, hard and soft squash, corn, shell beans, and everything you want. It is overwhelming. And you should sit yourself down in it and enjoy it. I am serious about this: take a day off from work and cook, because in three weeks, things will change dramatically, and the summer things you love... will start bidding farewell till next year. Get your fill, but don't ignore the cauliflowers, the broccoli, the cabbages, that are as sweet as they will be. (I will tell you that you can ignore the brussel sprouts). Turnips are back. Beets are back, and so is lettuce. Oh, such a wonderful, wonderful time.

And with Guyman going back to rehearsal, our eating schedule changes. Now it is soup and "something" on Mondays, fish on Tuesdays unless we have company and then it is fish on Wednesdays. So, ragazzi, you will be seeing many soup recipes for the next few months. And some new bread recipes too. Anyone interested in mustard bread? It's good.

So, to the soup. At the home of Kevin and Chuck, they brought forth roasted tomato soup. Chuck had made it. I knew, without asking, if the recipe came from Ina Garten. Chuck loves her recipes, with good reason. And, folks, if you find an author who seems to "get you," and vice versa, stick with them. I feel that way about Martha Rose Schulman, who is the source of the bread recipe you're going to get tomorrow, as well as others.

So, we had the soup, and it was really good. And as I was thinking through what soup to make for the inaugural rehearsal, I went back to it. See, soup making should be as seasonal as your other cooking. There will be plenty of time to make a wonderful chicken noodle soup, one that crosses all seasons. There will be time to make hearty lentil soup, when everything fresh is a thing of the past. For now, let us work on tomatoes, corn, eggplants, peppers. OH, I want to go back into the kitchen and make them all.

Back to Ina Garten. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting her, in Berkeley, at Chez Panisse. One of those chance encounters. We were eating at a table two down from her. She and her husband were having pizza, and somehow, it just seemed right. Her throaty mezzo carried, and I LOVED the sound of it. They declined dessert, but were served cherries and ice cream on the house: desserts from the formal dining room. She insisted on paying. I like that in a person.

So, as they were getting up to leave, I screwed up all my courage, put out my hand and said "Ms Garten, I just couldn't pass up the chance to thank you for your books. I have learned so much and the recipes are wonderful." She smiled and said "Well, if you use my books, my name is Ina, not Ms. Garten." Class. She then asked "so, when you make my recipes, do you change them?" Sheepishly, I added, "sometimes." She reached into her bag, pulled out a notepad and said "tell me your favorites and how you change them." I thought of a few. She took notes. Of one she said "that sounds REALLY good. Give me your name, because if it goes in a book, I want to give you credit." We shook hands, gave European cheek kisses, and off they went.

An encounter to remember. INA I LOVE YOU. And I'm about to change your recipe.

In the past, I have written of how roasting vegetables changes their flavor. Such is the case here, although I would say in a subtle way. The tomatoes maintain their bright flavor, but there is a depth, from the carmelization, that is really appealing.

This is an easy soup to make. It takes a while, but you do very little work. And you get at least six cups out of it. Let's go.

Start with about 4-5 pounds of tomatoes, which isn't really a lot. Try to go for plum tomatoes, and try to use heirlooms. If you are not sure, tell your farmers market vendor you want soup tomatoes. You'll get the meatier ones. When you get home, turn your oven to 400. Then, slice the tomatoes in half, lengthwise, and toss them with a heaping TABLESPOON of salt, and 1/3 cup of extra virgin olive oil. Lay them out on a baking sheet, or more preferably, TWO baking sheets (give them room), cut side down, and roast them for forty five minutes. Your kitchen, and your home, with be overwhelmed with the scent. It is wonderful.

While that is happening, dissolve two tablespoons of unsalted butter in a big pot. Chop up two cups of yellow onions. I had one, massive onion that did the trick. And also chop up six garlic cloves. Also, get yourself a few sprigs of thyme.

Put the butter, aromatics, and thyme into the pot, and stir and cook. Ina suggests browning them, which doesn't appeal to me. Soften them, and when they're done to a soft point, add either a quart of chicken stock (my choice), tomato juice (hers), or water. The tomatoes, when they are ready, come out of the oven and , PROTECTING YOUR HANDS, scrape them into the pot. Add the leaves of half a bunch of basil. Taste. You'll probably need more salt. Then, cook at a simmer, for 45 minutes. Your house will smell wonderful, yet again.

At this point, you could finish, and have a delicious, but not too attractive soup. you could also put it into your food processor, in batches, and chop it up somewhat. I believe that is how we had it. Or, you can put it the food mill, which is what she recommends, and I did, at the coarsest hole. You'll wind up with six cups or so of wonderful soup. (Make sure you scrape the holes of the food mill every now and then. That's where the good stuff is).

You can serve this cold, or hot (the way I like it), and I strongly recommend you put the rest of the basil, chopped, into the soup, just before you serve it.

Now, doesn't this just cry out for a grilled cheese sandwich? Well, yes it does. And that calls for a special bread. Tomorrow, we'll learn how to make Martha Rose Schulman's mustard whole wheat bread, and you will be glad to know how to do this. It may become a mainstay of your bread repertoire.

What? You don't have a bread repertoire. You know that's not going to do...

At the risk of repeating myself: summer fruit torte

I've posted this recipe before. With some remarks that, as I reread them, remain valid. So, if you want to see the original, go and look at Annalena's post of September 4, 2008.

This is one of those recipes that not only deserve, but NEED to belong in any cook's repertoire. Even if you don't consider yourself a cook, you NEED to be able to make this. I'm serious, you really, REALLY do, because at some point in your life, you are going to need or want to make a dessert. And you can make this without equipment, beyond a cake pan. The size is almost irrelevant. The ingredients are those you will have around the house. Flour. Butter. Eggs. Sugar. Fruit. AND THAT'S IT.

Still nervous about it? Ragazzi, I have made this cake with confirmed, non-cooks. Ask my friend Bobby. He made it. In fact, he made TWO. And when I see him again, even though it's winter, he's gonna make it again. And he may very well be making THREE.

I just made two of these for a weekend away, and then made another one for the dinner at which I made the pasta cacio e pepe. Many farmers were very happy the next day. So, make this. Make some people happy.

Here's what you need. A stick of unsalted butter, very soft. In 2008, I suggested leaving it out overnight. You could also pull it out of the fridge in the morning and leave it for the evening. Now, you need 3/4 cup of sugar. Also, a scant cup of flour. Don't be over generous here. And a tablespoon - yup a tablespoon - of baking powder. Put it in with the flour. And two large eggs. We'll get to the fruit in a minute.

Ready? Put the stick of butter in a big bowl, and then butter an 8 or 9 ( or even 10) inch cake pan, with the paper that wrapped the butter. Preheat your oven to 350.

Take a big spoon to the butter, and stir it until it's nice and soft, and looking like quite a mess. Now, pour in the sugar, and incorporate it. Next, the eggs, one at a time. You'll have a wet, greasy mess. GOOD. (I've known a few wet, greasy messes in my life, but that's not for this blog, kids). Stir in the flour/baking powder mixture, just until you don't see loose flour.

Think you can handle that? Now, pour it out into that baking pan, and spread it out, but don't get overly compulsive about it.

Now... the fruit. The first time this recipe was presented, it called for 12 Italian prune plums, cut in half. By all means, do that. BUT... THIS IS YOUR CAKE. BE CREATIVE. And try to use two different ones. This past weekend, I made one with peaches and blueberries, and one with pears and blackberries. I liked the second one better, but they were both good. If you use a stone fruit, like peaches, nectarines, plums, or a fruit like pears or apples, cut the fruit into slices. If you are bothered by the peel on apples, peel them first. Otherwise, don't bother. Put the fruit slices in however you like. Then, add your second fruit. Berries are good here, as you can tell. So are cranberries with apples or pears. So are raisins for that matter, or dried cranberries, or dried cherries. Don't get too nuts: two pears/peaches/plums/nectarines, or one large apple, are enough of the one, and the berries just fill in spaces.

Put this in your oven for 45 minutes. You'll have something that is somewhere in between a cake and a very thick fruit pancake, but more importantly, you'll have something that does in fact transcend its ingredients. You will be a hero. You will be loved. And you will make a whole cake for yourself sometime after that (NOT that I speak from experience....).

As I said in 2008, don't refrigerate this cake, but IF by some chance there is some left after 3 days, toss it. This keeps well, for about 72 hours. Then it gets NASTEEE.

Go for it, gang. You'll thank me for this. Trust me...

Of simplicity and complexity: pasta cacio e pepe

Last night, Annalena was watching a television program (on the food network, of course), and someone said the following: "just because it's complex doesn't mean it tastes good."

RIGHT ON LADY. Complex dishes CAN BE delicious, but frequently, I get the feeling that a cook will make a dish complex just to hide some perceived deficiency in it. When dishes are simple, there is no way to hide that deficiency, and it is by way of that discussion that we move to the recipe of the blog, pasta cacio e pepe.

To start, a bit of an Italian lesson. Most of you will know, or have heard, the word "formaggio" as the Italian word for cheese, and indeed, that is correct. BUT.... before "formaggio," and still today, in some parts of Italy, "cacio" means cheese. It is an old word, coming almost directly out of Latin. Linguistic disputants will say that one uses "cacio" for younger cheeses, and formaggio for older harder ones. So be it, if you like.
To complicate this, there is a family of cheeses that are called, "cacio." Sheep's milk cheeses, Annalena likes to refer to them as pecorino's younger brother. You don't see them often, and sometimes you don't see them at all. Annalena remembers making this dish with a new friend, in Upstate New York. He was from Argentina, of Italian parents. When I pulled out the piece of "cacio di roma," his eyes got REALLY big. He had never seen it before, but knew of it. If you are fortunate to have a good cheese monger (and Annalena has such, at Murray's cheese. She buys it from Lauren who wears a tshirt saying "what a friend we have in cheeses." Indeed, we do), get some, and try it.

Ok, so we have cacio. But if you can't find it, remember that pecorino is, as I have said, the older brother. Use a pecorino cheese, preferably romano, and if you don't have that, then parmagiano reggiano will do fine. Do know that both of these cheeses are stronger, and they will make a saltier dish.

"Pepe." You know what that is, don't you? Black pepper. Now, I bet many of you don't know that there are different grades and types of black pepper. Again, get to know a good purveyor, at a spices shop. Again, Annalena is fortunate enough to work with the folks at Penzey's, and gets telcherry peppercorns. You need whole ones for this dish, no question about it.

Finally, pasta and water. This is one where dried pasta is really necessary. By the time you finish the dish, if you were to use fresh pasta, it would be a mess. You need the resiliency of dried pasta, and a long one: spaghetti, fettucine, tagliatelle, something like that.

There's your list of ingredients: cheese, pepper, pasta, water. No way to hide behind that, so get the best you can.

Now, here we go. Plan on 3-4 ounces of dried pasta per person, and probably 2-3 ounces of cheese. Pepper? For 2-4 people, I would say a scant two tablespoons of peppercorns, but if you like the stuff, use more.

Grate the cheese while the pasta is cooking in a pot of rapidly boiling salted water, keeping in mind, as Lidia says "pasta needs to dance." Crush the peppercorns with the back of a heavy object, like a meat pounder, or a rolling pin, something like that. IF you have time and the inclination, toast them in some hot olive oil for about two minutes and drain them before you do the crushing step.

Have a large pan ready, and when the pasta is not quite done, pull out a cup of the hot pasta water, and pour it into the pan. Reserve another cup, just in case. Now, drain the pasts, and toss it into that pan, and put it over a low flame. Start adding the cheese, and stir the stuff until the cheese melts.

It is quite likely that the cheese will clump up before it dissolves. That's fine. You didn't do anything wrong. Just be patient. It will dissolve into a very creamy sauce. When you've incorporated it all, add the pepper, stir it together and... you're done.

When you serve this to people, if you have used truly good ingredients, you will have a dish that tastes like it's got much more in it than it does. The cheese gives off nutty overtones, and the pepper, some fruity ones. So it will taste as if some very complex spicing has gone on. You don't have to tell anyone what you did if you don't want to.

Last thing here, ragazzi. This dish was intended for a dinner guest who did not show up. Fessing up to you all, Annalena was about to make something different.

That's the wrong idea: always keep this in mind: if you would serve it to company, you'd better be willing to make it for yourself or your significant other. Treat yourself. It's an easy, wonderful dish, it doesn't take much time and know what? You deserve it.

Ice cream without eggs: blueberry cheesecake ice cream

Well, I took a bit of a hiatus, ragazzi. Recovering from a little fatigue, filled with worry about the storm that wasn't (at least for NYC), and also, a very big point here, which I make occasionally: if you try to live and eat seasonally, you will be repeating yourself. You develop dishes that you really like and, if you're only going to use things when they are local and in season , it's now or never. So, many of Annalena's cooking is already on this blog. I don't think any of you want a blog that says "tonight we ate the eggplant that I wrote about in 2008. Go look it up." Nah, you don't want that.

Anyway, we're at a transition phase, season wise. The apricots , in a puff, are gone. Just like that. One day there were plenty. The next day, there weren't that many and then, gone... Next year. Cherries are of course gone, and I'm told blueberries are about to make their final appearance. Peas have been gone for a while and shell beans are coming in. Cabbage has appeared, and cauliflower. Grapes. Plums are in ascendance and today, Annalena bought her first pears of the year. And so it goes. The wheels turn.

Running back to the blueberries, since it is almost time to say goodbye for another year, Annalena was looking at things to do with them. To me, blueberries are really two different fruits, depending on whether you eat them raw (sassy, spicy and very fresh tasting ) or cooked (dark, almost mysterious, and almost too intense). I have tried, often, to get blueberry flavoring into an ice cream, and have not done very well at it. Raw blueberries give you no taste in the finished product. COOKED blueberries do, but somehow, when used alone, they lose their "blueberriness." Trying to beef it up with vanilla or lemon, I got blue ice cream that tasted of vanilla or lemon.

Undaunted, Annalena turned to her ice cream god, David Lebovitz and found a WONDERFUL ice cream: blueberry cheesecake.

I have written, in the past, of how I consider cheesecake to be more of a light meal than a dessert. I have received nearly universal scorn over that, but stand pat on that. Now, ice cream? Another matter.

I looked at this recipe and found everything good about it, except for one thing: it originally called for sour cream. As I have written, we almost never have sour cream in the hosue. We DID have mascarpone, but with the other ingredients, it seemed to be way too much. But... YOGURT. And as it happened, Annalena had Greek yogurt in the fridge, which is richer than regular yogurt (even at 2%. Try it). And the ice cream - which is egg free - is absolutely rich and sinful.

Incidentally, there are more than a couple of recipes in Mr. Lebovitz' book that use the layering technique described here. Do it. It's well worth it.

Let's start with the blueberries, which are cooked. You need one pint container - those are the big ones you get at the farmers market. Put them in a pot with 1/4 cup of sugar and heat them gently. While you're doing that, mix half a tablespoon (which is 1.5 teaspoons) of cornstarch, with a tablespoon of cold water, and the juice of half a lemon. Stir this all together.

Combine the corn starch mix with the blueberries, and cook them just until they start to boil. Done.

To the ice cream. Oh, is this easy. You will SO thank me for this. Cut up 8 ounces of full fat cream cheese. Annalena does favor Philadelphia here. Put it in a food processor with the rind of one lemon. Use your zester. Then add a cup of yogurt, and half a cup of heavy cream, and 1/2-2/3 cup of sugar, depending on how sweet you like your cheesecake.

Turn on the processor and process until it's smooth.

Know what? That's your custard. Yes, indeed it is. Taste it. Tastes like cheesecake, huh? Hmmm? Yes it does.

You now have to wait until the blueberry sauce is nice and cold, because what you're going to do is freeze the ice cream base, as per normal. When it's done, get a container and alternate spoonfuls of the ice cream, and the blueberry sauce. You'll get this interesting, pretty pattern, and it WILL taste like blueberry cheesecake. There is no liquor in the fruit, so it will harden with the ice cream, but if you wanted to add cassis, or something like that , Annalena will not get in your way.

This is a very rich, and very rich tasting, ice cream. You may want to get some graham crackers, and make "pseudo cheesecake" by sandwiching it between the wafers. Or not. But make it while the berries are here. Of course, if you've been a good ant, and froze some, you can make it all year.