Ragazzi, you know, of course, of Annalena's fascination with food customs and food origins. "Regionalism" fascinates her: why are certain dishes common in one part of a state, for example, but not others? She has written of this, for example, with respect to concord grape pie. Annalena just does not understand why it does not have a widespread audience. Every time she makes it , the response is along the lines of "OH MY GOD. I've never had this before!" Yet, mention it to someone from the Finger Lakes Region of New York, and you'll get an answer like "yeah? So?" Who can figure?
Indeed, it seems our Upstate New York region has a fair number of "regionalisms" and perhaps even "micro" regionalisms. Buffalo, for example, is home to - NOT the ubiquitous buffalo wing, but a sandwich called "beef on dweck," which Annalena personally finds revolting, so she will speak no more of it here. Syracuse seems to be home to salt potatoes, which Annalena does enjoy, but not as much as her studly and former protege' Fred does. Mention "salt potatoes" to folks from outside of the region and you will get a look along the lines of "you've GOT to be kidding me."
On the micro regionalism level, on her visits to the Syracuse area from which the Guyman hails, Annalena was introduced to what she thinks of as a culinary atrocity: frozen carrots, cooked in tomato soup. Hot, or cold, sweet or savory, crinkle cut or normal. All forms are equally revolting to her. Yet, there it is. For those so inclined, here is a recipe, and go with God, or Buddha, or whomever:
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/marinated-carrots/
Ok, now back to the current state of affairs. Last week, Annalena and the Guyman paid a visit to the wonderful Union Square Cafe'. On the menu, as a side dish for one entree, was "Utica greens." Annalena turned to Guy and asked "do you know what this is?" The reply was a decided "No." So, Annalena began investigating.
The investigation reminded her of her initial forays into the world of cassoulet. Everybody KNOWS how to make it, except everybody makes it differently. She found at least two dozen versions of the dish, and so much culinary lore. "It's the test of a good restaurant. If they can't make a good plate of Utica greens, they're not worth patronizing." "OH, for a plate of my mom's utica greens." And so on , and so forth.
And as Annalena notes, all of the recipes were different. YET... they share similarities. And the similarities probably tell us the origin of the dish.
The recipes all contain the following:
cooked escarole
a cured pork product
garlic
hot peppers, usually sottaceto (under vinegar)
bread crumbs
grated cheese (asiago or pecorino).
olive oil
Now, who can tell Annalena the origins of this dish, based on the above? One gets NO partial credit for answering "Italy."
South Italy will get you credit, and "probably south Central Italy" will get you full credit. See, NO recipe called for parmesan, which is a cow's milk cheese, from the North. Asiago and pecorino are southern cheeses. The north of Italy does eat escarole, but usually raw, and as salad. COOKED escarole is the province of the south. Cured pork? Well, yes, it is all over Italy, but in the north, you will get specific types of pork mentioned. The hot peppers, under vinegar, and the bread crumbs are the final clue. This is food of Annalena's origins. And indeed, the Italian community which moved to Utica was, in fact, from south central Italy. While the dish bears no resemblance to anything that Annalena knows of "authentic" Italian cooking, note that no one says this is an Italian dish. It is American, it is "Utican", using Italian ingredients. And we're going to make it. It's wonderful.
Let's cook our escarole first. You can get escarole in large heads , or small ones. You'll need about two pounds of the raw stuff. Cut the bottom part of it off, so that it falls apart into leaves, and put them into boiling salted water, for about five minutes. Drain them, and let them cool. Indeed, do this ahead of time if you can.
When you are ready to cook the dish, turn your oven to the broil function, and grate 1/3-1/2 cup of cheese, and whatever quantity you grate, add an equal quantity of breadcrumbs to it. Don't get fancy with fresh here, the dried stuff in the cardboard box is fine.
Chop up about six cloves of garlic. To the pork: apparently, prosciutto is favored, but pancetta, or sausage could go here as well. If you use the prosciutto, don't go for the "top of the line" stuff. All good prosciutto is expensive, but use the "least expensive one." You'll need four ounces, and you'll need to chop it up. Annalena rolled her slices together, like a cigar, and cut long longitudinally. This gave her a lot of small, cylindrical slices, which in turn gave her some texture in her finished dish. Think about it.
Ok, now get your escarole, now cool (better be), and squeeze as much of the liquid out as you can. Chop it roughly. And your peppers: how many? How much heat do you like? Taste the pepper before you use them. The weight of authority seems to favor cherry peppers under vinegar, but you may use fresh hot peppers, or any variety. Annalena had a jar of Calabrian hot peppers, and they were HOT. She minced up three of them.
Let's cook. Put a slick of olive oil in a big pan, and add the garlic, and the prosciutto, (or whatever), in at the same time. Cook over low heat, until you see the ham beginning to crisp up. Trust your nose, and remember that the meat will continue to crisp. Essentially, when the pink color begins browning, you're ready to go on.
And going on means tossing the escarole and the peppers in with the prosciutton and garlic, and just stirring the stuff to equalize the meat throughout the greens. Take the pan off the heat, and add about 2/3 of the cheese/breadcrumb mixture, and stir it in . Pour everything into a glass or enamel baking dish, and shake the remaining cheese and crumbs over it. Put the thing in the oven, and broil for 3-4 minutes. Keep an eye on it, to make sure it doesn't burn.
Let it cool for five minutes or so, and serve it forth.
OH DEAR WAS THIS GOOD! Ananlena and the Guyman ate it as a side dish for Moroccan monkfish (recipe to follow, carini), but yes, she could see her Nana eating this, with bread, as a meal. So, too, could she see putting leftovers on pasta and making a meal of that. So, go forth, especially Utica girl, inammorata of the aformentioned Fred the Stud. And keep in mind, Ms. Utica, that if he needs disciplining, you can always send him Annalena's way. She'll take care of it.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Taking it "basque": fish in parsley garlic sauce
The astute reader will recall Annalena's affection for Spanish and Basque food. It is difficult to find the "good stuff" in New York, and since she is not real familiar with the techniques and styles of the cuisine, Annalena makes do with what she can. On her regular pilgrimages to San Francisco, she and the Guyman always eat at Piperade which is, to her knowledge, the only high end Basque restaurant in either San Francisco or New York. Of Spanish food? Well, NYC is in love with tapas. Annalena is not. She prefers a REAL plate of food: a good paella, for example. And as she said, this is somewhat difficult to find in NY. She used to inhabit a Spanish restaurant, called Solera, but as of late, it seems to have become a "continental with Spanish influences restaurant," and that simply will not do.
So when Annalena happened on a Basque recipe, read through it and thought "this is too good to be true," she of course fixed it to make it the way she wanted it. As a result, it is a hybrid of Basque, and Italian cuisine. Along the way, she will tell you how it is done authentically Basque, and how she did it. Then, you make it, however you like, but tell her, especially if you make it both ways.
What provoked this excursion, was the presence, and purchase of, hake at the local fishmonger. Hake, for as long as Annalena can remember, was a EUROPEAN fish. And indeed, when she researched this issue, Annalena learned that it is, still, essentially European, with about 1/3 of the consumption being in Spain. And indeed, Annalena remembered learning of this. Now, what she also learned, is that there are at l east five, maybe six different fish, which are named "hake." And some are endangered, some are not. And within the endangered species, some are mixed in the same geography - including the North Atlantic coast. So , when she reads "buy this type but don't buy that type," and receives no guidelines as to how to tell them apart when they are filleted... what is a girl to do?
Well, what she will tell you is this: the recipe adapts to any thick white fish, which is essentially what we can find locally this time of year. So, go forth, ragazzi, find yourself a nice piece of white fish, and make this. Here we go. And you will find, that indeed, it is easy.
Your ingredients are minimal: a pound of fish. Hake, cod, haddock, pollack, etc. A bunch of parsley. Four garlic cloves, a half cup of olive oil, and salt and pepper. Equipment? a non stick fry pan. Think you can handle that? Ok.
Now, to do this authentically, what you do is sear the fish in that olive oil. ALL of it. After you have chopped and sauteed your garlic until it's brown. And after you have seared one side, and turned it over, toss in one full bunch of chopped, flat leaf parsley.
Annalena lost you all, didn't she? Indeed, the recipe lost HER, so this is what she did. Parsley and garlic and olive oil, suggest pesto to Annalena. You must keep in mind that pesto does not necessarily require basil. "Pesto" means "paste," and you can make it with just about anything. And that is what Annalena did: she made a pesto, by peeling the garlic, and putting it in her processor, with the olive oil, a pinch of salt, and the chopped bunch of parsley. A somewhat thick, green paste followed.
Then, to the cooking. Again, salt and pepper the fish, put a bit of olive oil in a pan, and add it. Sear it on both sides, just like above, and at the end, pour in the sauce and let the thing warm up a bit, and you're done.
Now, what happens, ragazzi, and you do need to know this, is that when heated, the sauce will separate a bit. This did not bother Annalena, but if it bothers you, plate up your fish, and pour the sauce over it. Either way, have some potatoes or rice to eat with it. Both are terrific here. And if you are blanching at the amount of oil, well... TOUGH. Seriously, ragazzi, what you will find of the food of this region is that it is LOADED with olive oil. Yet, nothing tastes greasy or oily. The fish certainly didn't. And Annalena could eat more of it right now.
So, how much time do you think that will take you? Hmmmm. So, why are you waiting. Get in there and cook, as Annalena's beloved Richard Sax used to say.
So when Annalena happened on a Basque recipe, read through it and thought "this is too good to be true," she of course fixed it to make it the way she wanted it. As a result, it is a hybrid of Basque, and Italian cuisine. Along the way, she will tell you how it is done authentically Basque, and how she did it. Then, you make it, however you like, but tell her, especially if you make it both ways.
What provoked this excursion, was the presence, and purchase of, hake at the local fishmonger. Hake, for as long as Annalena can remember, was a EUROPEAN fish. And indeed, when she researched this issue, Annalena learned that it is, still, essentially European, with about 1/3 of the consumption being in Spain. And indeed, Annalena remembered learning of this. Now, what she also learned, is that there are at l east five, maybe six different fish, which are named "hake." And some are endangered, some are not. And within the endangered species, some are mixed in the same geography - including the North Atlantic coast. So , when she reads "buy this type but don't buy that type," and receives no guidelines as to how to tell them apart when they are filleted... what is a girl to do?
Well, what she will tell you is this: the recipe adapts to any thick white fish, which is essentially what we can find locally this time of year. So, go forth, ragazzi, find yourself a nice piece of white fish, and make this. Here we go. And you will find, that indeed, it is easy.
Your ingredients are minimal: a pound of fish. Hake, cod, haddock, pollack, etc. A bunch of parsley. Four garlic cloves, a half cup of olive oil, and salt and pepper. Equipment? a non stick fry pan. Think you can handle that? Ok.
Now, to do this authentically, what you do is sear the fish in that olive oil. ALL of it. After you have chopped and sauteed your garlic until it's brown. And after you have seared one side, and turned it over, toss in one full bunch of chopped, flat leaf parsley.
Annalena lost you all, didn't she? Indeed, the recipe lost HER, so this is what she did. Parsley and garlic and olive oil, suggest pesto to Annalena. You must keep in mind that pesto does not necessarily require basil. "Pesto" means "paste," and you can make it with just about anything. And that is what Annalena did: she made a pesto, by peeling the garlic, and putting it in her processor, with the olive oil, a pinch of salt, and the chopped bunch of parsley. A somewhat thick, green paste followed.
Then, to the cooking. Again, salt and pepper the fish, put a bit of olive oil in a pan, and add it. Sear it on both sides, just like above, and at the end, pour in the sauce and let the thing warm up a bit, and you're done.
Now, what happens, ragazzi, and you do need to know this, is that when heated, the sauce will separate a bit. This did not bother Annalena, but if it bothers you, plate up your fish, and pour the sauce over it. Either way, have some potatoes or rice to eat with it. Both are terrific here. And if you are blanching at the amount of oil, well... TOUGH. Seriously, ragazzi, what you will find of the food of this region is that it is LOADED with olive oil. Yet, nothing tastes greasy or oily. The fish certainly didn't. And Annalena could eat more of it right now.
So, how much time do you think that will take you? Hmmmm. So, why are you waiting. Get in there and cook, as Annalena's beloved Richard Sax used to say.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
If winter comes ... well it did : pasta with shrimp, peas and lemon
Annalena knows her army is a very erudite bunch. And so, she is testing their knowledge of poetry. Now, how many of you can fill in that line, without going to the internet? Ok... now how many of YOU can tell Annalena who wrote it? She bets that Stephanie can. You did, didn't you, ragazza? Annalena knew you would, and is smiling.
For the rest of you, the line ends "can spring be far behind?" Well, the answer, unfortunately, is yes. Or at least TOO far behind, however long it may be. There comes a point for the seasonal eater, where looking at another leaf of kale, or a parsley root, or a turnip, is going to make that eater scream. And yes, it has come, ragazzi. WHERE ARE THE FREAKING ASPARAGUS? Annalena has been known to cry out in her sleep. And they are coming, but not yet... not for another 2.5 or 3 months. So.. more turnips.. More kale.. More cabbage. More using of California produce.
UNLESS, heh heh heh, you have been clever enough to stash some of spring and summer's bounty away. Again, Annalena knows that Ms. Stephanie has. And perhaps Ms. Stephanie does in fact have some of the bounty discussed in this recipe, in her freezer. If not, and this applies to ALL of you, Annalena gives you leave to break your winter doldrums, by making something like this.
During the spring and summer, Annalena stashes bags of her and the Guyman's favorites into the freezer. So, there are peas (Guyman), fava beans (Annalena), corn (Guyman), rhubarb (both), berries (both) and some other odds and ends in there. Annalena used to freeze more than she did, but inevitably got to the point of saying "OH CRAP. I'm going to have to throw that stuff out." So, now she is more prudent (under the watchful eye of the Guyman), and comes late January, she starts to use the goodies.
Last Sunday was a particularly yucky day. Apart from that, Annalena was in fact having a case of the winter blues. So she didn't feel like much of anything. And she realized that she had forgotten to plan for Sunday lunch. Not in the mood for takeout Chinese or pizza, or dipping into the soup that she had made for Monday's dinner, she rooted about the freezer, and found a 2 pound bag of fresh shrimp she had forgotten about. And a bag of peas.
Well... the makings of a dish began to come to mind, because, not surprisingly, there is ALWAYS pasta in Annalena's house. And, since it is the time of the Citrus Bomb, there are lemons. Meyer lemons in fact. And of course, this being Annalena's home, there is always butter (There was actually one day a year or so ago, when there was actually no butter in the house. AS GOD IS HER WITNESS ANNALENA WILL NEVER BE WITHOUT BUTTER AGAIN!).
So, anyway, ragazzi, here's the result. You can cut the recipe back and make it for less. This made 5 large portions (Annalena and the Guyman shared), or 6 normal sized ones. Let us begin.
First, you will need one or two lemons. Decide on the number when you consider how much lemon flavor you would like in your dish, keeping in mind that the peel is strong (Annalena used one only). Now, get one of those gee gaws that strip peel in little strips, and denude the lemon. You can use the juice for other things, as you have learned here. Put t hat aside. Have about half a pound of frozen peas ready. No need to thaw them. You can use more if you don't want to split a package and put the rest back. And two pounds of cleaned, shelled shrimp, half a stick of unsalted butter, and a pound of a short, twisty type of pasta (fusilli, strozzapreti, penne, etc). On one burner, start a large pot of well salted water. At least four or five quarts of it. When the water comes to the boil, drop in the pasta, partially cover the pot, and let the pasta cook.
On the other burner, put a large pan - one large enough to hold the 2 pounds of shrimp - and melt the half stick of butter. Add the shrimp, and cook them GENTLY. No browning is all that necessary on the shrimp. Annalena cooked them by letting them sit for three minutes, and then stirring them up, and cooking again. Then, turn off the heat, and pour the frozen peas over them (Traditionally, you would add the frozen peas to the pasta and cook them together, however, Annalena finds that frequently, this overcooks the peas).
When the pasta is aldente (and you all BETTER know what that is), drain it, and get it back into the pot. Pour the shrimp and peas over the pasta, and stir it all together. Now.... remember that lemon peel? Toss it in, and stir that a bit too.
The lemon pretty much takes the place of cheese, because as we all know: WE DO NOT PUT CHEESE ON PASTA WITH SEAFOOD. Plate the stuff, and if you are so inclined, add a bit of chopped parsley.
The flavors of these three ingredients seem, at least to Annalena, to invoke sun. Not necessarily WARM sun, but bright, curing, purifying sun: like we get in spring.
If you are feeling the need, ragazzi, please make this dish. You will be SO happy afterwards, you may feel inclined to go to your roof, and recite Shelley's poem (See? She told you: "Ode to the Western Wind), to the wind itself. Please put on a coat, though.
When she returns, Annalena will be showing you a ridiculously simple basque dish that will warm your heart and belly. Promessa.
For the rest of you, the line ends "can spring be far behind?" Well, the answer, unfortunately, is yes. Or at least TOO far behind, however long it may be. There comes a point for the seasonal eater, where looking at another leaf of kale, or a parsley root, or a turnip, is going to make that eater scream. And yes, it has come, ragazzi. WHERE ARE THE FREAKING ASPARAGUS? Annalena has been known to cry out in her sleep. And they are coming, but not yet... not for another 2.5 or 3 months. So.. more turnips.. More kale.. More cabbage. More using of California produce.
UNLESS, heh heh heh, you have been clever enough to stash some of spring and summer's bounty away. Again, Annalena knows that Ms. Stephanie has. And perhaps Ms. Stephanie does in fact have some of the bounty discussed in this recipe, in her freezer. If not, and this applies to ALL of you, Annalena gives you leave to break your winter doldrums, by making something like this.
During the spring and summer, Annalena stashes bags of her and the Guyman's favorites into the freezer. So, there are peas (Guyman), fava beans (Annalena), corn (Guyman), rhubarb (both), berries (both) and some other odds and ends in there. Annalena used to freeze more than she did, but inevitably got to the point of saying "OH CRAP. I'm going to have to throw that stuff out." So, now she is more prudent (under the watchful eye of the Guyman), and comes late January, she starts to use the goodies.
Last Sunday was a particularly yucky day. Apart from that, Annalena was in fact having a case of the winter blues. So she didn't feel like much of anything. And she realized that she had forgotten to plan for Sunday lunch. Not in the mood for takeout Chinese or pizza, or dipping into the soup that she had made for Monday's dinner, she rooted about the freezer, and found a 2 pound bag of fresh shrimp she had forgotten about. And a bag of peas.
Well... the makings of a dish began to come to mind, because, not surprisingly, there is ALWAYS pasta in Annalena's house. And, since it is the time of the Citrus Bomb, there are lemons. Meyer lemons in fact. And of course, this being Annalena's home, there is always butter (There was actually one day a year or so ago, when there was actually no butter in the house. AS GOD IS HER WITNESS ANNALENA WILL NEVER BE WITHOUT BUTTER AGAIN!).
So, anyway, ragazzi, here's the result. You can cut the recipe back and make it for less. This made 5 large portions (Annalena and the Guyman shared), or 6 normal sized ones. Let us begin.
First, you will need one or two lemons. Decide on the number when you consider how much lemon flavor you would like in your dish, keeping in mind that the peel is strong (Annalena used one only). Now, get one of those gee gaws that strip peel in little strips, and denude the lemon. You can use the juice for other things, as you have learned here. Put t hat aside. Have about half a pound of frozen peas ready. No need to thaw them. You can use more if you don't want to split a package and put the rest back. And two pounds of cleaned, shelled shrimp, half a stick of unsalted butter, and a pound of a short, twisty type of pasta (fusilli, strozzapreti, penne, etc). On one burner, start a large pot of well salted water. At least four or five quarts of it. When the water comes to the boil, drop in the pasta, partially cover the pot, and let the pasta cook.
On the other burner, put a large pan - one large enough to hold the 2 pounds of shrimp - and melt the half stick of butter. Add the shrimp, and cook them GENTLY. No browning is all that necessary on the shrimp. Annalena cooked them by letting them sit for three minutes, and then stirring them up, and cooking again. Then, turn off the heat, and pour the frozen peas over them (Traditionally, you would add the frozen peas to the pasta and cook them together, however, Annalena finds that frequently, this overcooks the peas).
When the pasta is aldente (and you all BETTER know what that is), drain it, and get it back into the pot. Pour the shrimp and peas over the pasta, and stir it all together. Now.... remember that lemon peel? Toss it in, and stir that a bit too.
The lemon pretty much takes the place of cheese, because as we all know: WE DO NOT PUT CHEESE ON PASTA WITH SEAFOOD. Plate the stuff, and if you are so inclined, add a bit of chopped parsley.
The flavors of these three ingredients seem, at least to Annalena, to invoke sun. Not necessarily WARM sun, but bright, curing, purifying sun: like we get in spring.
If you are feeling the need, ragazzi, please make this dish. You will be SO happy afterwards, you may feel inclined to go to your roof, and recite Shelley's poem (See? She told you: "Ode to the Western Wind), to the wind itself. Please put on a coat, though.
When she returns, Annalena will be showing you a ridiculously simple basque dish that will warm your heart and belly. Promessa.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
You can't always get what you want: Veracruz style, red snapper FILLETs
Ragazzi, since Annalena has gotten into the habit of writing cryptic titles, she will explain the above.
Last week, she dutifully went to her farmers market to pick up fish for dinner on Tuesday. Unfortunately, the Karlin clan was not in evidence that week. "No problem, " she thought, "I'll pick up a whole fish from the market across the street from work." See, Annalena is favored by working across the street from Grand Central, where there is a market graced by not one, but TWO fish markets. And she had it in her mind to cook a whole fish .
Three visits, turned up no whole fish. And this is indeed something one has to expect, when you buy fish on a Monday. See, most boats do not go "out" on the weekend, so selections are limited. Also, many suppliers, will not ship on the weekend. Fish is delicate, one slip up along the way, and instead of delicious fish, you have rotting cat food. So, do keep that in mind when you shop for fish: on Mondays, prepare to settle.
Looking at what was available, Annalena found some red snapper fillets. Now, these are not local, for sure, but given the situation, she did with what she could (keep in mind that she had two pounds of frozen shrimp in the freezer which she had forgotten about. Welcome to the ravages of age). A substantial sum later, Annalena had a pound of these stashed away in her work refrigerator.
Ok, now what to do with them? Well, hmmmm. As it happened, Annalena had just gotten a box of goodies from Kim, the citrus bomb, which included her annual supply of Seville oranges. Some of you may know these as marmalade oranges: they are bitter, with very large seeds, and not at all something you can eat for a lunch fruit (as the Guyman once learned when Annalena accidentally put one in his lunch bag - and it WAS an accident. She wasn't angry at him that morning). They make superb marmalade, and they have other uses: as in Snapper Veracruz style.
Except that dish calls for a whole fish. So... working with what she had, Annalena adapted. And know what? This is good. This is really, REALLY good. Make it. If you don't have red snapper, using something like black bass fillets - something in the bass or grouper family will work. Look for something with firm white flesh, and edible skin. Stay away from striped bass which is really a bit too strong for this preparation. And if you don't have the bitter oranges (which you SHOULD be able to find..), you can substitute lime juice. Ok, here we go.
Get enough juice from the oranges or the limes, to measure a half cup (and after you squeeze half a cup of lime juice, you WILL look for those oranges. Trust Annalena on this). You also need some chili powder (we'll use it in two places here), chopped onions to measure a cup, a couple of cloves of minced garlic, a can (15 ounces here), of whole tomatoes, drained of the juice, and cilantro. If you don't care for cilantro, well.. .in this case, make something else. It's necessary to the flavor here.
Rub your snapper fillets with salt, pepper, and about a teaspoon of chili powder, whatever level of heat you like. Put them, skin side down , in a shallow bowl, and pour the orange or lime juice over them, and let them sit while you prep the rest of your food. (if you think of it, turn the fillets every now and then).
Put two tablespoons of olive oil in a nonstick pan (to do this authentically, you would use lard, but you won't, so use the olive oil), and add a cup of minced onions. Cook them over medium heat until they begin to soften, and then add a hefty tablespoon of minced garlic. Cook this all for another minute. Now, add about a half cup of chopped fresh cilantro, the tomatoes, and another teaspoon of chili powder. Mix this all together, lower the heat, and let it cook for about ten minutes.
After that's done, take the fish and put it, skin side down, right on top of the sauce. Lower the heat, cover the pan, and let it cook for about ten minutes. You may need less time if your fillets are very thin. You can check the fish by slipping a small knife into a fillet at the center, and determining if it's cooked through.
When it is, move each fillet to a plate CAREFULLY (use a flipper for this), and then spoon some of the sauce on top. Finish it up, if you like, with some more fresh cilantro. Again, even non-cilantro likers seem to like it, in this dish. And if you are so inclined, squeeze some more seville orange juice over this.
You can have your dinner in about 30 minutes, and you won't even miss the absence of the fish head or the spine, or the tail. So, perhaps this is for those of you out there, who go EWWWWW at the thought of dealing with a fish head.
Next time around: remember those shrimp Annalena mentioned up top? Well, we're going to bring spring into the home, in the depths of winter, with a lemony pasta dish that has the earmarks... of spring.
Last week, she dutifully went to her farmers market to pick up fish for dinner on Tuesday. Unfortunately, the Karlin clan was not in evidence that week. "No problem, " she thought, "I'll pick up a whole fish from the market across the street from work." See, Annalena is favored by working across the street from Grand Central, where there is a market graced by not one, but TWO fish markets. And she had it in her mind to cook a whole fish .
Three visits, turned up no whole fish. And this is indeed something one has to expect, when you buy fish on a Monday. See, most boats do not go "out" on the weekend, so selections are limited. Also, many suppliers, will not ship on the weekend. Fish is delicate, one slip up along the way, and instead of delicious fish, you have rotting cat food. So, do keep that in mind when you shop for fish: on Mondays, prepare to settle.
Looking at what was available, Annalena found some red snapper fillets. Now, these are not local, for sure, but given the situation, she did with what she could (keep in mind that she had two pounds of frozen shrimp in the freezer which she had forgotten about. Welcome to the ravages of age). A substantial sum later, Annalena had a pound of these stashed away in her work refrigerator.
Ok, now what to do with them? Well, hmmmm. As it happened, Annalena had just gotten a box of goodies from Kim, the citrus bomb, which included her annual supply of Seville oranges. Some of you may know these as marmalade oranges: they are bitter, with very large seeds, and not at all something you can eat for a lunch fruit (as the Guyman once learned when Annalena accidentally put one in his lunch bag - and it WAS an accident. She wasn't angry at him that morning). They make superb marmalade, and they have other uses: as in Snapper Veracruz style.
Except that dish calls for a whole fish. So... working with what she had, Annalena adapted. And know what? This is good. This is really, REALLY good. Make it. If you don't have red snapper, using something like black bass fillets - something in the bass or grouper family will work. Look for something with firm white flesh, and edible skin. Stay away from striped bass which is really a bit too strong for this preparation. And if you don't have the bitter oranges (which you SHOULD be able to find..), you can substitute lime juice. Ok, here we go.
Get enough juice from the oranges or the limes, to measure a half cup (and after you squeeze half a cup of lime juice, you WILL look for those oranges. Trust Annalena on this). You also need some chili powder (we'll use it in two places here), chopped onions to measure a cup, a couple of cloves of minced garlic, a can (15 ounces here), of whole tomatoes, drained of the juice, and cilantro. If you don't care for cilantro, well.. .in this case, make something else. It's necessary to the flavor here.
Rub your snapper fillets with salt, pepper, and about a teaspoon of chili powder, whatever level of heat you like. Put them, skin side down , in a shallow bowl, and pour the orange or lime juice over them, and let them sit while you prep the rest of your food. (if you think of it, turn the fillets every now and then).
Put two tablespoons of olive oil in a nonstick pan (to do this authentically, you would use lard, but you won't, so use the olive oil), and add a cup of minced onions. Cook them over medium heat until they begin to soften, and then add a hefty tablespoon of minced garlic. Cook this all for another minute. Now, add about a half cup of chopped fresh cilantro, the tomatoes, and another teaspoon of chili powder. Mix this all together, lower the heat, and let it cook for about ten minutes.
After that's done, take the fish and put it, skin side down, right on top of the sauce. Lower the heat, cover the pan, and let it cook for about ten minutes. You may need less time if your fillets are very thin. You can check the fish by slipping a small knife into a fillet at the center, and determining if it's cooked through.
When it is, move each fillet to a plate CAREFULLY (use a flipper for this), and then spoon some of the sauce on top. Finish it up, if you like, with some more fresh cilantro. Again, even non-cilantro likers seem to like it, in this dish. And if you are so inclined, squeeze some more seville orange juice over this.
You can have your dinner in about 30 minutes, and you won't even miss the absence of the fish head or the spine, or the tail. So, perhaps this is for those of you out there, who go EWWWWW at the thought of dealing with a fish head.
Next time around: remember those shrimp Annalena mentioned up top? Well, we're going to bring spring into the home, in the depths of winter, with a lemony pasta dish that has the earmarks... of spring.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
What you take away, you put back: oven fried chicken using homemade aioli
Ah, ragazzi, this is one that brought back memories to Annalena, even if it were the first time she made it. Spiegero (I shall explain).
Many years ago, when they were young (yes, THAT many years ago), Annalena and the Guyman were privileged to stay at the Nantucket home of their friends, Bill and Bill. Now, Bill and Bill are no longer with us, but let us say they were loaded, and a bucket of contradictions. For example: at their home in Nantucket (they also had one in Greenwich Village. A town house. On Bank Street), they once wanted to extend their garden by 3 feet. To do this, they (i) bought the property next door (ii) had the property lines redrawn and (iii) resold the house at the price they paid for it. Let us just say that a significant amount of cash was involved. On the other hand, one of the Bills once chastised Annalena for recommending a book to him that was still in hard back. "I never pay THAT kind of money for a book."
See what Annalena means, ragazzi? Well, anyway, on that trip, Bill (yes, it gets confusing. Let's call him Bill C, to differentiate him from Bill S), was making baked fish for dinner. Prior to breading it, he dipped it in mayonnaise. Now, this was something that Annalena had never seen or heard of, and she was convinced that she would hate it.
Nope. It was GOOD. It was VERY good. The mayonnaise essentially melted into the crumbs and made a crispy, slightly tangy coating . And it allowed the fish to bake for what Annalena thought was an excessively long time (30 minutes). Nonetheless, the fish was juicy and tasty. And far worse on that trip was the headache she got, because the Bills did not drink caffeinated coffee. After three days, she broke down and bought a jar of instant.
Later, she learned that the mayonnaise coating on fish, was fairly standard in New England, where Bill C had grown up, in the early-mid 1900s. It isn't done with regularity anymore, as far as Annalena can tell, but it's something that we really should not forget.
Hence, when Annalena saw a recipe for oven fried chicken, where the chicken was dipped in an aioli, she could not help but think "everything old is new again." See, ultimately, ragazzi, aioli is simply mayonnaise with garlic in it. Oh, excuse Annalena here. It is HOMEMADE mayonnaise, with garlic in it, and there is the rub, bambini. To make this dish work, you do have to make the mayonnaise yourself.
DON'T GO AWAY IT IS NOT THAT DIFFICULT. We are going to walk through this, and you are going to make your own mayonnaise. French women have been doing it for years, it is a basic of cooking school classes, and you are smart enough, and brave enough to do it.
We didn't lose many of you, did we? Ok, let's continue with this. To make the mayonnaise, separate the yolk of one large egg, at room temperature. Combine it with a teaspoon of dijon mustard, a quarter teaspoon of salt, and a tablespoon of a flavorless oil. Whisk this all together.
Now, prepare yourself a cup of oil by mixing half a cup of a good quality extra virgin olive oil, with a neutral flavored vegetable oil. If you wanted to be extremely European, you CAN use all olive oil, but your product will be very, VERY strong. Don't use all neutral oil: you may as well buy it in the jar if you do.
Now, here's where the only tricky part comes in, and the trick, ragazzi, is PAZIENZA. The mixing above, should be in a heavy bowl, that is not going to move very much as you do the next step. With one hand, work the whisk as fast as you can, and begin adding the oil... a quarter teaspoon at a time. Wait until the oil vanishes before adding the next one. You'll need to add about 3 full teaspoons of oil before you move on. You move on by continuing to whisk, and lifting the cup of oil so that it slowly, VERY slowly streams into your mix. Keep an eye on it. You should continue to see the oil disappear into what is becoming a heavier, and heavier cream. If at any time this is not happening - the oil is lying on top of things - stop adding the oil, and get back to whisking. If all else fails, you can add another teaspoon of mustard and one of water, and that should fix the trick. Continue to add the oil, MORE SLOWLY if you have the problem.
At the end, you will have a VERY thick mayonnaise, and you can be very proud of yourself . You will never be without mayonnaise again if you have those ingredients around. But now, let's go forward. Mince three cloves of garlic very fine, and add them to the mayonnaise. Now, squeeze a few limes: 2-3 , depending on how tart you like things, and stir that into the mayonnaise. This will loosen it substantially, and that's ok, because you're not using it in potato salad or anything like that. You could also grate lime peel into this, but that's an option.
You have lime garlic aioli. Taste it, and add as much salt as you feel it needs. Now, get another bowl, and fill it with breadcrumbs. Annalena used storebought for this, but you could use panko, or homemade, whatever you have.
Next, get three pounds of chicken legs. If you have drumsticks and thighs, fine, or if you have full legs, also fine. Whatever the cut with which you are working, dip each piece in the aioli, and let excess drip off. Then, coat the piece with bread crumbs, and put it on a baking sheet. You will proably want to wash your fingers after each piece, or every other piece, as the crumbs will adhere and make it difficult to work. You should have sufficient aioli to coat six legs worth of chicken. How many crumbs you will need, is up to the thickness of your coating.
Now, put that tray in the oven, and bake the chicken at 350, for 30-45 minutes. The length of time depends on how big the pieces of chicken are. Annalena was using parts that seem to have come from Birdzilla (each leg weighed a pound), so she used the full 45. If you are using separate drumsticks and thighs, from normal sized birds, you'll need less time. (Keep in mind that you can, of course, use all thighs or all drumsticks too).
Your kitchen is going to smell wonderful as this bakes. And the chicken will taste terrific too.
And so, we reduce the calories by baking instead of frying, but we give them back in the mayonnaise. It is all about t radeoffs. Ananlena also suggests that you grate some peel into some honey, warm it up, and brush it over the chicken as it comes out of the oven.
Do try this. You will feel SO proud of yourself when you make the mayonnaise, Annalena bets you will call people in to see, as you brag about your new found technique. Your friends and family may mutter something about how you need a life, but they will eat every drop of the chicken. So, too, when you make the potato salad at the next picnic and everyone is raving about how beautiful and tasty it is.
Those of us who live for this kind of thing know better, dont we?
Next time around, Annalena is going to explain how to modify what may look like a time consuming, long cooking fish recipe, and make it simpler. Come back.
Baci.
Many years ago, when they were young (yes, THAT many years ago), Annalena and the Guyman were privileged to stay at the Nantucket home of their friends, Bill and Bill. Now, Bill and Bill are no longer with us, but let us say they were loaded, and a bucket of contradictions. For example: at their home in Nantucket (they also had one in Greenwich Village. A town house. On Bank Street), they once wanted to extend their garden by 3 feet. To do this, they (i) bought the property next door (ii) had the property lines redrawn and (iii) resold the house at the price they paid for it. Let us just say that a significant amount of cash was involved. On the other hand, one of the Bills once chastised Annalena for recommending a book to him that was still in hard back. "I never pay THAT kind of money for a book."
See what Annalena means, ragazzi? Well, anyway, on that trip, Bill (yes, it gets confusing. Let's call him Bill C, to differentiate him from Bill S), was making baked fish for dinner. Prior to breading it, he dipped it in mayonnaise. Now, this was something that Annalena had never seen or heard of, and she was convinced that she would hate it.
Nope. It was GOOD. It was VERY good. The mayonnaise essentially melted into the crumbs and made a crispy, slightly tangy coating . And it allowed the fish to bake for what Annalena thought was an excessively long time (30 minutes). Nonetheless, the fish was juicy and tasty. And far worse on that trip was the headache she got, because the Bills did not drink caffeinated coffee. After three days, she broke down and bought a jar of instant.
Later, she learned that the mayonnaise coating on fish, was fairly standard in New England, where Bill C had grown up, in the early-mid 1900s. It isn't done with regularity anymore, as far as Annalena can tell, but it's something that we really should not forget.
Hence, when Annalena saw a recipe for oven fried chicken, where the chicken was dipped in an aioli, she could not help but think "everything old is new again." See, ultimately, ragazzi, aioli is simply mayonnaise with garlic in it. Oh, excuse Annalena here. It is HOMEMADE mayonnaise, with garlic in it, and there is the rub, bambini. To make this dish work, you do have to make the mayonnaise yourself.
DON'T GO AWAY IT IS NOT THAT DIFFICULT. We are going to walk through this, and you are going to make your own mayonnaise. French women have been doing it for years, it is a basic of cooking school classes, and you are smart enough, and brave enough to do it.
We didn't lose many of you, did we? Ok, let's continue with this. To make the mayonnaise, separate the yolk of one large egg, at room temperature. Combine it with a teaspoon of dijon mustard, a quarter teaspoon of salt, and a tablespoon of a flavorless oil. Whisk this all together.
Now, prepare yourself a cup of oil by mixing half a cup of a good quality extra virgin olive oil, with a neutral flavored vegetable oil. If you wanted to be extremely European, you CAN use all olive oil, but your product will be very, VERY strong. Don't use all neutral oil: you may as well buy it in the jar if you do.
Now, here's where the only tricky part comes in, and the trick, ragazzi, is PAZIENZA. The mixing above, should be in a heavy bowl, that is not going to move very much as you do the next step. With one hand, work the whisk as fast as you can, and begin adding the oil... a quarter teaspoon at a time. Wait until the oil vanishes before adding the next one. You'll need to add about 3 full teaspoons of oil before you move on. You move on by continuing to whisk, and lifting the cup of oil so that it slowly, VERY slowly streams into your mix. Keep an eye on it. You should continue to see the oil disappear into what is becoming a heavier, and heavier cream. If at any time this is not happening - the oil is lying on top of things - stop adding the oil, and get back to whisking. If all else fails, you can add another teaspoon of mustard and one of water, and that should fix the trick. Continue to add the oil, MORE SLOWLY if you have the problem.
At the end, you will have a VERY thick mayonnaise, and you can be very proud of yourself . You will never be without mayonnaise again if you have those ingredients around. But now, let's go forward. Mince three cloves of garlic very fine, and add them to the mayonnaise. Now, squeeze a few limes: 2-3 , depending on how tart you like things, and stir that into the mayonnaise. This will loosen it substantially, and that's ok, because you're not using it in potato salad or anything like that. You could also grate lime peel into this, but that's an option.
You have lime garlic aioli. Taste it, and add as much salt as you feel it needs. Now, get another bowl, and fill it with breadcrumbs. Annalena used storebought for this, but you could use panko, or homemade, whatever you have.
Next, get three pounds of chicken legs. If you have drumsticks and thighs, fine, or if you have full legs, also fine. Whatever the cut with which you are working, dip each piece in the aioli, and let excess drip off. Then, coat the piece with bread crumbs, and put it on a baking sheet. You will proably want to wash your fingers after each piece, or every other piece, as the crumbs will adhere and make it difficult to work. You should have sufficient aioli to coat six legs worth of chicken. How many crumbs you will need, is up to the thickness of your coating.
Now, put that tray in the oven, and bake the chicken at 350, for 30-45 minutes. The length of time depends on how big the pieces of chicken are. Annalena was using parts that seem to have come from Birdzilla (each leg weighed a pound), so she used the full 45. If you are using separate drumsticks and thighs, from normal sized birds, you'll need less time. (Keep in mind that you can, of course, use all thighs or all drumsticks too).
Your kitchen is going to smell wonderful as this bakes. And the chicken will taste terrific too.
And so, we reduce the calories by baking instead of frying, but we give them back in the mayonnaise. It is all about t radeoffs. Ananlena also suggests that you grate some peel into some honey, warm it up, and brush it over the chicken as it comes out of the oven.
Do try this. You will feel SO proud of yourself when you make the mayonnaise, Annalena bets you will call people in to see, as you brag about your new found technique. Your friends and family may mutter something about how you need a life, but they will eat every drop of the chicken. So, too, when you make the potato salad at the next picnic and everyone is raving about how beautiful and tasty it is.
Those of us who live for this kind of thing know better, dont we?
Next time around, Annalena is going to explain how to modify what may look like a time consuming, long cooking fish recipe, and make it simpler. Come back.
Baci.
Monday, January 7, 2013
So nice, you cook it twice: ribollita
Ragazzi, occasionally , we get a little bit of a cultural anthropology lesson in these posts, whether we like them or not. Well, get out your note pads, because we're gonna learn a LOT today, about a soup that is just right for this kind of year.
In Annalena's mother tongue (Italian for those of you who are snits), there are two words for soup: minestra (you all know that one from minestrone: BIG soup), and zuppa, as in "zuppa di pesce." If you are a purist, like Annalena, these terms are NOT interchangeable, for Italian cuisine, notwithstanding its reputation for a freewheeling nature, has very strict rules about this kind of thing. "Minestra" is a soup that is very liquid. You may have a lot of stuff in it, but ultimately, it is brothy, (pieno di brodo), and it "feels" like soup. Think chicken noodle, if you must.
Now "zuppa" is something that is much more solid. It has liquid in it, but you are reminded, more of the solids than anything else. So, "zuppa di pesce," if made properly (it almost never is), has a bit of liquid in it, but the dish is about the solids. And, perhaps key, and where we will be focusing today, is that bread is a requirement for these soups. When you get zuppa di pesce, there is, inevitably, a garlic toast in the soup. Traditionally done, it is put at the bottom of the bowl. These days, you get it at the side, more often than not, but that's a modern conceit. If you want a parallel to the chicken noodle we mentioned above, think potato leek or butternut squash soup.
Ok, so now we move on to some MORE anthropology. When do we use one or the other? Well, soup in the form of "minestra," is considered a first course. It alternates, with pasta, or polenta, and so forth. In some, formal settings, a very light minestra precedes the starch, but that is very high level cooking, of the sort written of in "Il Gattopardo" (The Leopard), which Annalena INSISTS all of you read. It is truly a marvel of 20th century literature. Zuppa is usually served, on its own, as a light meal. It can be your lunch for example. And that makes sense, does it not? Sometimes, in modern cuisine, it becomes the meal in and of itself. Now for those of you who say "I could make a meal of soup and bread just on its own," indeed, minestre with bread can be a meal. Again, however, you have the option. You can leave the bread out. In zuppa, it's already there.
"Ribollita" means "boiled twice" in Italian, and it is an example of the crafty way Italians have of eating. Its origins fascinate Annalena. Let us consider a meal, on day 1. The cook makes a big pot of minestra for the first course. As with all soups, s/he makes more than s/he needs for the meal. It is served, with bread. There are leftovers, just as there are of bread.
Well, on day 2, the minestra goes back on the pot... and in goes the left over bread. It is boiled again, and you have: ZUPPA. Ribollita.
To Annalena's taste, ribollita is much more than the sum of its parts. It is a wonderful dish. As we make it today, it may seem complicated and time consuming. Truly, ragazzi, it is not. Yes, you will have to do some shopping, and yes, you will have to do a lot of chopping, but you wind up with three quarts of magnificent, filling, cuddle you in its arms, "zuppa." Here we go.
The version presented here, is Tuscan. And how do we know that? Well, some more anthropology. Italians insult each other the way Americans do, only it can be much more virulent. Tuscans are called, among other things "mangiafagioli:" bean eaters. If a soup does not have beans in it, it is not Tuscan. Also, they are sometimes called "mangiafoglie," or "leaf eaters," although you will not hear that very often these days. "Foglie" in this instance, are leafy greens, and they include that wonderful vegetable "cavolo nero," or black cabbage, or Tuscan kale, or dinosaur kale. Crinkly, dark, scary looking, it is delicious. You MUST use it for this recipe. No ifs, ands or buts.
And here we go. First, let's make our beans. If you must use canned, well.... ok, get two, one pound cans, drain them, wash them, and be ashamed of yourself. Otherwise, put half a pound of dried beans in a pot with a handful of sage leaves, and five or six garlic cloves, sliced. Cover this with 2 quarts of water, and let it cook away, on low heat for about 2 , maybe 2.5 hours.
What kind of beans? AH. Annalena is SO glad someone asked that, even if it was she herself. For truly Tuscan soup, cannelinis, or another small, white bean. You may want to use tarantais if you are French and "slumming" with Italian , but anything other than black or kidney would do. (black and kidney WILL do, but they will make the soup very dark and unappealing looking, because we will be using the cooking water.
You may want to do these beans ahead of time, and that is terrific. Keep them in the cooking water.
Now, the elbow grease, as we prepare our veggies. You will need an onion, a big one, chopped. If you have a food processor, do this separately from the other veggies, which can all go in together. Then chop up about four cloves of garlic. They are a couple of stalks of celery, a carrot, about 6 ounces of unpeeled potato, about four ounces of a fennel bulb. Annalena pulses these in her food processor, and chops the onion by hand. After you've chopped them, just toss in a few stalks of thyme with the veggie mix.
To our greens: you will need half of a small head of savoy cabbage, chopped up. Also, one bunch of Swiss chard, leaves only, chopped into ribbons. And the Tuscan kale: two small, or one large bunch, also chopped the way the chard was. The kale can be of different sizes. The larger it gets, the tougher the stems. If the stems seem soft and edible (nibble one), you can use them. Else, tear the leaves from the stems.
You will also want one 15 ounce can of tomatoes. You should break these up with your hands.
FINALLY... a few pieces of parmesan cheese rind. Now, with this, you have changed the soup from vegan to vegetarian. Annalena does NOT see leaving them out as an option, because your base here, is water, and the rind makes a very good flavor. You may want to have a discussion with your vegan friends over just how much cheese REALLY gets in (not much).
NOW, we can cook. Heat up 3-4 tablespoons of olive oil in the largest pot you have, and cook the onions to translucence, over medium heat. Follow that with the garlic for a minute or two. Now add the chopped vegetables and the thyme, and a good hefty pinch of salt. You wish to cook these for about 15 minutes, until you start seeing brown spots, on your veggies, and/or on the bottom of your pan. If it looks TOO brown, add some water.
NOW add all those leafy greens, the cheese rind, the tomatoes, and five cups of water, together with a big teaspoon of salt. The liquid will seem to disappear in all that foliage, but it's there. When you see bubbles, cover the pot, lower the flame to as low as it can go, and go away for an hour and a half.
When you come back... you have minestra! Taste it. Does it need more salt? Add it if you are at all unsure, because we are going to be adding another starchy element which may not have much or any salt at all (remember?....). Now, add the beans, and two more cups of water.
You leave this overnight, if you can. You CAN eat some of it, of course, it is up to you. But the next day... get about half a pound of country bread. This means the white stuff, with a good crust. If you are being totally authentic, you will use pane toscano, which is tuscan bread, and which has no salt on it. (Incidentally, there are two competing stories on why tuscan bread has no salt in it. One, from non-Tuscans, says that they left the salt out of the bread to avoid the taxes, because Tuscans are cheap. The other, from Tuscans, says their food is so well seasoned that to season bread would be to take away from the food. The truth lies in between ragazzi. Trust Annalena here). Rip the stuff into chunks. Crust and all. Put it into the minestra, and bring the heat to medium. When it comes to a boil, stop. Leave it alone, and watch it become this thick, MARVELOUS..... ZUPPA!
When you eat this, pour on a bit of your best olive oil, again, to be authentic, a Tuscan one, but use the one you want.
Yes, we spent a fair amount of time on this, ragazzi, but you have 3 quarts of soup, and look at the ingredients: three tablespoons of olive oil, for three quarts of soup. One tablespoon of vegetable fat for a quart of soup? Don't complain.
Ragazzi, it is winter. It IS the time for soup making. Get out your pots, buy some veggies (and note how inexpensive these ingredients are!). Ribollita. You will love it. And you will NEVER pay 12 dollars a bowl for it in a restaurant again.
In Annalena's mother tongue (Italian for those of you who are snits), there are two words for soup: minestra (you all know that one from minestrone: BIG soup), and zuppa, as in "zuppa di pesce." If you are a purist, like Annalena, these terms are NOT interchangeable, for Italian cuisine, notwithstanding its reputation for a freewheeling nature, has very strict rules about this kind of thing. "Minestra" is a soup that is very liquid. You may have a lot of stuff in it, but ultimately, it is brothy, (pieno di brodo), and it "feels" like soup. Think chicken noodle, if you must.
Now "zuppa" is something that is much more solid. It has liquid in it, but you are reminded, more of the solids than anything else. So, "zuppa di pesce," if made properly (it almost never is), has a bit of liquid in it, but the dish is about the solids. And, perhaps key, and where we will be focusing today, is that bread is a requirement for these soups. When you get zuppa di pesce, there is, inevitably, a garlic toast in the soup. Traditionally done, it is put at the bottom of the bowl. These days, you get it at the side, more often than not, but that's a modern conceit. If you want a parallel to the chicken noodle we mentioned above, think potato leek or butternut squash soup.
Ok, so now we move on to some MORE anthropology. When do we use one or the other? Well, soup in the form of "minestra," is considered a first course. It alternates, with pasta, or polenta, and so forth. In some, formal settings, a very light minestra precedes the starch, but that is very high level cooking, of the sort written of in "Il Gattopardo" (The Leopard), which Annalena INSISTS all of you read. It is truly a marvel of 20th century literature. Zuppa is usually served, on its own, as a light meal. It can be your lunch for example. And that makes sense, does it not? Sometimes, in modern cuisine, it becomes the meal in and of itself. Now for those of you who say "I could make a meal of soup and bread just on its own," indeed, minestre with bread can be a meal. Again, however, you have the option. You can leave the bread out. In zuppa, it's already there.
"Ribollita" means "boiled twice" in Italian, and it is an example of the crafty way Italians have of eating. Its origins fascinate Annalena. Let us consider a meal, on day 1. The cook makes a big pot of minestra for the first course. As with all soups, s/he makes more than s/he needs for the meal. It is served, with bread. There are leftovers, just as there are of bread.
Well, on day 2, the minestra goes back on the pot... and in goes the left over bread. It is boiled again, and you have: ZUPPA. Ribollita.
To Annalena's taste, ribollita is much more than the sum of its parts. It is a wonderful dish. As we make it today, it may seem complicated and time consuming. Truly, ragazzi, it is not. Yes, you will have to do some shopping, and yes, you will have to do a lot of chopping, but you wind up with three quarts of magnificent, filling, cuddle you in its arms, "zuppa." Here we go.
The version presented here, is Tuscan. And how do we know that? Well, some more anthropology. Italians insult each other the way Americans do, only it can be much more virulent. Tuscans are called, among other things "mangiafagioli:" bean eaters. If a soup does not have beans in it, it is not Tuscan. Also, they are sometimes called "mangiafoglie," or "leaf eaters," although you will not hear that very often these days. "Foglie" in this instance, are leafy greens, and they include that wonderful vegetable "cavolo nero," or black cabbage, or Tuscan kale, or dinosaur kale. Crinkly, dark, scary looking, it is delicious. You MUST use it for this recipe. No ifs, ands or buts.
And here we go. First, let's make our beans. If you must use canned, well.... ok, get two, one pound cans, drain them, wash them, and be ashamed of yourself. Otherwise, put half a pound of dried beans in a pot with a handful of sage leaves, and five or six garlic cloves, sliced. Cover this with 2 quarts of water, and let it cook away, on low heat for about 2 , maybe 2.5 hours.
What kind of beans? AH. Annalena is SO glad someone asked that, even if it was she herself. For truly Tuscan soup, cannelinis, or another small, white bean. You may want to use tarantais if you are French and "slumming" with Italian , but anything other than black or kidney would do. (black and kidney WILL do, but they will make the soup very dark and unappealing looking, because we will be using the cooking water.
You may want to do these beans ahead of time, and that is terrific. Keep them in the cooking water.
Now, the elbow grease, as we prepare our veggies. You will need an onion, a big one, chopped. If you have a food processor, do this separately from the other veggies, which can all go in together. Then chop up about four cloves of garlic. They are a couple of stalks of celery, a carrot, about 6 ounces of unpeeled potato, about four ounces of a fennel bulb. Annalena pulses these in her food processor, and chops the onion by hand. After you've chopped them, just toss in a few stalks of thyme with the veggie mix.
To our greens: you will need half of a small head of savoy cabbage, chopped up. Also, one bunch of Swiss chard, leaves only, chopped into ribbons. And the Tuscan kale: two small, or one large bunch, also chopped the way the chard was. The kale can be of different sizes. The larger it gets, the tougher the stems. If the stems seem soft and edible (nibble one), you can use them. Else, tear the leaves from the stems.
You will also want one 15 ounce can of tomatoes. You should break these up with your hands.
FINALLY... a few pieces of parmesan cheese rind. Now, with this, you have changed the soup from vegan to vegetarian. Annalena does NOT see leaving them out as an option, because your base here, is water, and the rind makes a very good flavor. You may want to have a discussion with your vegan friends over just how much cheese REALLY gets in (not much).
NOW, we can cook. Heat up 3-4 tablespoons of olive oil in the largest pot you have, and cook the onions to translucence, over medium heat. Follow that with the garlic for a minute or two. Now add the chopped vegetables and the thyme, and a good hefty pinch of salt. You wish to cook these for about 15 minutes, until you start seeing brown spots, on your veggies, and/or on the bottom of your pan. If it looks TOO brown, add some water.
NOW add all those leafy greens, the cheese rind, the tomatoes, and five cups of water, together with a big teaspoon of salt. The liquid will seem to disappear in all that foliage, but it's there. When you see bubbles, cover the pot, lower the flame to as low as it can go, and go away for an hour and a half.
When you come back... you have minestra! Taste it. Does it need more salt? Add it if you are at all unsure, because we are going to be adding another starchy element which may not have much or any salt at all (remember?....). Now, add the beans, and two more cups of water.
You leave this overnight, if you can. You CAN eat some of it, of course, it is up to you. But the next day... get about half a pound of country bread. This means the white stuff, with a good crust. If you are being totally authentic, you will use pane toscano, which is tuscan bread, and which has no salt on it. (Incidentally, there are two competing stories on why tuscan bread has no salt in it. One, from non-Tuscans, says that they left the salt out of the bread to avoid the taxes, because Tuscans are cheap. The other, from Tuscans, says their food is so well seasoned that to season bread would be to take away from the food. The truth lies in between ragazzi. Trust Annalena here). Rip the stuff into chunks. Crust and all. Put it into the minestra, and bring the heat to medium. When it comes to a boil, stop. Leave it alone, and watch it become this thick, MARVELOUS..... ZUPPA!
When you eat this, pour on a bit of your best olive oil, again, to be authentic, a Tuscan one, but use the one you want.
Yes, we spent a fair amount of time on this, ragazzi, but you have 3 quarts of soup, and look at the ingredients: three tablespoons of olive oil, for three quarts of soup. One tablespoon of vegetable fat for a quart of soup? Don't complain.
Ragazzi, it is winter. It IS the time for soup making. Get out your pots, buy some veggies (and note how inexpensive these ingredients are!). Ribollita. You will love it. And you will NEVER pay 12 dollars a bowl for it in a restaurant again.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Rice pudding - vegan style
And Buon capo d'anno to all of i ragazzi. Ananlena hopes that you all started the New Year in pleasant spirits, beginning as you wished to. The Guyman and Annalena actually DID see in 2013 (the first time we've been awake that long in YEARS), and then had our annual massive salute to gluttony. We included a singalong (the SUPREMES this year, and she does not mean Justice Scalia), and a wonderful door prize raffle. The fun of it all. And by 7, all were gone. Just the cleanup. Thank heavens for the Guyman.
In the past, Annalena has started the year with recipes that reflect what Nigella Lawson calls her "Temple Days." These are the days when you make up for excess, with repentant food. Those of you who have read such posts know that Annalena is far from interested in ashes and sack cloth. No, ragazzi, if we feel a need to repent, let us repent, GENTLY.
Hence this recipe. Annalena is NOT becoming vegan; however, she made this rice pudding for her New Year's repast, and carissimi, let her say this: it is better than "the real stuff." Seriously, it really, really is. It is cholesterol free (vegan food, by defnitition, is cholesterol free), it is easy to make, although it does take attention, and it admits to variation. So, let us begin. You need very few ingredients.
We start with a cup and a half of sushi rice. This is important: sushi rice is short and thick, and has the right starch qualities to make a good rice pudding (Italian arborio rice, or its cousins, may work as well. There is an experiment in the future here). Next, you need a third of a cup of sugar, which you may want to switch out for honey, or, if you are a rigorous vegan, rice syrup or something like that. You will also need a half gallon of almond milk, unflavored (while you might suspect that flavored almond milk will give you a good taste at the end, you are cooking it for so long in this recipe, it might get nasty). And finally, some fruit preserves. Annalena used a mixed berry concoction and amarena cherries, but use what you like, and as much as you like.
Put the rice and the sugar, together with a cup of the milk, in a large, heavy pot. Turn your heat to medium low, and stir. You'll be stirring a lot here, ragazzi. Those of you who have made risotto in the past will feel right at home here. When the cup of milk has pretty much been incorporated and has disappeared, add another half cup. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Until you have used up six cups of milk. It will take a while, perhaps 30 minutes. Taste along the way. You will know when you are getting "there," as the rice gets tender (it takes a while). When it's done, add one more cup of the almond milk, and don't heat it. Just let it sit. It serves as almost a sauce for the rice pudding. Let it cool to room temperature, and add your preserves. Stir them in, or let them sit on top, as you like.
This rice pudding is terrific, when it's right out of the pot. It's even better at room temperature, BUT... to Annalena's taste, it becomes celestial when eaten cold. She and the Guyman have a quart of it left from their party, and Annalena came close to eating all of it this morning, instead of her healthy, fat free yogurt.
That rice pudding does NOT have long to live. Ragazzi, try this one yourself. Please. You will be amazed at just how good, vegan cooking can be.
In the past, Annalena has started the year with recipes that reflect what Nigella Lawson calls her "Temple Days." These are the days when you make up for excess, with repentant food. Those of you who have read such posts know that Annalena is far from interested in ashes and sack cloth. No, ragazzi, if we feel a need to repent, let us repent, GENTLY.
Hence this recipe. Annalena is NOT becoming vegan; however, she made this rice pudding for her New Year's repast, and carissimi, let her say this: it is better than "the real stuff." Seriously, it really, really is. It is cholesterol free (vegan food, by defnitition, is cholesterol free), it is easy to make, although it does take attention, and it admits to variation. So, let us begin. You need very few ingredients.
We start with a cup and a half of sushi rice. This is important: sushi rice is short and thick, and has the right starch qualities to make a good rice pudding (Italian arborio rice, or its cousins, may work as well. There is an experiment in the future here). Next, you need a third of a cup of sugar, which you may want to switch out for honey, or, if you are a rigorous vegan, rice syrup or something like that. You will also need a half gallon of almond milk, unflavored (while you might suspect that flavored almond milk will give you a good taste at the end, you are cooking it for so long in this recipe, it might get nasty). And finally, some fruit preserves. Annalena used a mixed berry concoction and amarena cherries, but use what you like, and as much as you like.
Put the rice and the sugar, together with a cup of the milk, in a large, heavy pot. Turn your heat to medium low, and stir. You'll be stirring a lot here, ragazzi. Those of you who have made risotto in the past will feel right at home here. When the cup of milk has pretty much been incorporated and has disappeared, add another half cup. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Until you have used up six cups of milk. It will take a while, perhaps 30 minutes. Taste along the way. You will know when you are getting "there," as the rice gets tender (it takes a while). When it's done, add one more cup of the almond milk, and don't heat it. Just let it sit. It serves as almost a sauce for the rice pudding. Let it cool to room temperature, and add your preserves. Stir them in, or let them sit on top, as you like.
This rice pudding is terrific, when it's right out of the pot. It's even better at room temperature, BUT... to Annalena's taste, it becomes celestial when eaten cold. She and the Guyman have a quart of it left from their party, and Annalena came close to eating all of it this morning, instead of her healthy, fat free yogurt.
That rice pudding does NOT have long to live. Ragazzi, try this one yourself. Please. You will be amazed at just how good, vegan cooking can be.
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