Annalena's kitchen

Pasta with mushroom cream sauce: and thoughts on Paula Deen

2012-01-17T11:54:00.000-08:00

Before we plunge into this delicious recipe, ragazzi, Annalena has to comment on something that is bothering her. TRULY bothering her.

We learned, last week, that Paula Deen has Type 2 diabetes. The comments, almost universally, have been along the lines of "GEE WHIZ. I am NOT surprised." To say they have been cutting, nasty, sarcastic, and mean, would understate the case. And, interestingly, no one can comment on what Ms. Deen eats or does or ate or did, to "deserve" diabetes (and the sense is clearly that she does in fact DESERVE this!!!!), but rather, the comments are directed to her cookbooks, her television shows, etc, which "encourage us" to eat unhealthily.

Annalena is going to switch to all caps. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE? ARE YOU FOIE GRAS GEESE BEING FORCED TO OVEREAT BAD FOOD? If Ms. Deen presents fattening unhealthy food recipes, then you are presented with a choice: you may eat them, or you may choose not to. You may choose to read them as entertainment, or you may decide to eat them every night. This is the reader's call. None of Ms. Deen or her handsome sons are standing over anyone, with a gun, saying "eat that butter stick right now," anymore than anyone is pointing a gun at anyone who finishes a meal at MacDonalds. You know better. You make your choices. The recipe which follows is far from healthy and Annalena does not recommend eating it every night, or even every week. But it IS good food. Enjoy it once in a while.

AND LEAVE THE SOUTHERN LADY ALONE!

Very well, truly unhappy rant over, let us return to the kitchen, for what is unquestionably a rich, rich RICH dish, that is also delicious. It is worth making from time to time. Do try to eat some lean things with it, or to limit how much of it you do eat. It is difficult, Annalena knows. Repent the next day if you must. Balance and reason are everything.

You will need to spend some money and buy a pound of wild mushrooms. Now, it is getting very difficult to distinguish between wild and cultivated mushrooms these days. During the time, when the available mushrooms were white button, and everything else, the distinction was clearer. Portobello mushrooms, cremini mushrooms, etc, are not wild mushrooms. And if you are living in a climate where the ground freezes, any local mushrooms, are not wild mushrooms. Do keep this in mind. You can buy wild mushrooms from other geographies. You may also want to substitute the wild mushrooms with a flavorful, cultivated one. Ask your merchant: s/he will know which one is the strongest tasting, and that is what you should use. But in no event does Annalena counsel mixing different kinds of mushrooms. She finds that such medleys result in the loss of identity of any individual mushroom. So, stick with one kind and, as noted, a pound.

You are going to cook this with twelve ounces of FRESH pasta, and the shape of that pasta is going to determine how you slice the mushrooms. For example, when Annalena made this, she had linguini. Hence, she sliced her mushrooms (chanterelles), into long strips. Were she working with penne, or radiatori, or other, stubby pasta, she would have cut chunks. That is how this works.

You will also want one, small red onion. Cut it in half horizontally, and then cut the halves into half moons, as thin as you can. Finally, you are going to want some salt, some pepper, and equal amounts (three tablespoons each) of olive oil and butter. And, finally.... one cup of heavy cream.

Oh yes, the calories are going to mount up here. Put the oil and butter into a very large frying pan, and when the butter begins to bubble, add the onions, and a pinch of salt. Cook just until they soften, and then add the mushrooms. Add a pinch more salt, and let them sit for a few minutes. Annalena has mentioned before, that if you watch mushrooms cook, you will see how the water begins to leave them. So, ragazzi, when your pan begins to look a little moist, stir the mushrooms up. And then leave them alone again, and you'll watch the liquid disappear.

When that happens, you add the cream. All of it. Stir everything together, at medium low heat. When the cream begins to bubble, let it cook for about three minutes, and then take it off the heat.

Have a big pot of salted water ready, and toss in your fresh pasta. You know the drill: taste it until it feels aldente to you. Then, drain it, toss it into the cream sauce, and return it all to the heat. Stir it together for another two minutes or so. The pasta is going to drink up most of the liquid, and you'll have a very "tight" pasta dish. In fact, you may want to add a few tablespoons of hot water. Then, off the heat, grate in as much parmesan as you like. PLEASE grate it yourself. If you are using the stuff in the green cardboard container, please leave right now.

Dinner. For two, or three, or four. With SALAD please. Maybe some chicken. Maybe some fish.

THis is a lovely, easy thing to do , with items that you will have no trouble finding. Perhaps, if you are in the mood to beat up on Ms. Deen, you can eat this and leave her alone. Even if you are not, make it, and make yourself and some others happy.

Foolproof? Hmmm. Italian pear cake (Torta di pera alla nonna)

2012-01-15T06:37:00.000-08:00

You will hear it said, or read it, that Italians do not do much dessert preparation at home. Classically, this was true. If Annalena's family ate dessert, it was almost always fruit. If the fruit was fresh, she and her famiglia sat there and pulled grapes off of stems, or cut oranges or apples, or gorged on cherries, etc. If it was not, Nana's dreaded fruit salad would follow. OH, those salads. The poor woman, confronted with no budget, and rotting fruit, did her best. Some of the combinations were, shall we say , interesting. Bananas and peaches, with canned plums. Yes, that may be the strangest one.

Annalena is told that this is changing and more Italian home cooks are in fact making desserts at home. Indeed, her erstwhile teacher, the soon to be Dr. Mullins , was reporting on a possible need for a standard intervention, given the amount of cake baking he was doing while sojourning in Modena. And one does hear reports as to the failure of the "Mediterranean diet," whatever that is.

The fact is, ragazzi, Italians are no different than any of you: we have sweet tooths. Coyly, we address them by eating gelato on the street, or sitting in cafes with cookies or other goodies, so you don't find the stuff in our house, but we are in fact doing our share. Think of some things you know: panna cotta. Tiramisu. Cannoli. Do these sound like fruit desserts? I think not. We are eating them, and we are simply making them better than anyone else.

There. I said it. French chefs, eat your hearts out. But we are having others do them.

Notwithstanding this, every Italian home cook needs a repertoire of simple desserts because, well, you never know. And this is one, with a caveat.

The recipe comes from Marcella Hazan, who prefaces it by saying "the only way for this cake to fail is an affirmative act of sabotage." Well.... Annalena begs to differ. This is an easy cake, but it is not so easy as her mentor would have it to be. So, learn from Annalena's experience as we make this one. She shall explain the pitfalls of what is, essentially, a very easy cake.

You start by needing fruit: 2 pounds of it. This is going to be a lot of fruit for this cake. Bosc pears, please, because they are nice and dry. Ripe and juicy, but not soft. Peel them, and cut them into small chunks rather than the slices Ms. Hazan recommends. Annalena shall explain.

Put them to the side, while you preheat your oven to 350, and then prepare your batter. No heavy equipment here. You need 2 large eggs, 1/4 cup of milk, a cup of sugar and 1.5 cup of flour with a teaspoon of salt. And that's it.

You do notice what is missing , yes? No butter, no leaven. This is a dense cake. Butter will reemerge, but only as an accent.

With these ingredients, you need only a big spoon and a bowl. Beat the eggs and the milk until they are "as one." Then stir in the sugar, and then the flour. You will have a big, heavy batter. This is as it should be. Leave that and tend to your pan.

Get a nine inch pan of some type, be it spring form or not, and - BUTTER THAT SUCKER VERY VERY WELL. BUTTER IT TO AN INCH OF ITS LIFE. And then, if you have some unflavored bread crumbs around, put them in the pan, and coat the whole thing. If you don't, PLEASE MAKE SURE THAT PAN IS BUTTERED. This is why:the batter is free of butter, and with the large amount of sugar, there is little to help you release it from the pan.

Now, spoon that batter into the pan. You may have to dig and work, as it's rather dense. Spread it out as well as you can, and then dump the fruit over it. If you like, you can also stir the fruit and batter together first.

The reason for chunking the fruit, rather than slicing it, comes out here. Sliced, the pieces are larger, and heavier, they sink to the bottom of the pan, and they stick. Trust me on this.

OK, now once you have this whole thing in the pan, you need to do a few things, and you may want to do a few more. You MUST take about 2 tablespoons of butter, and break it into little pieces, and strew it over the cake. Ms. Hazan suggests adding some whole cloves as an option. Cloves are difficult. They are not to everyone's taste. But cinnamon is. Cinnamon sugar is even more . So Annalena sprinkled cinnamon sugar on it and, at the last minute, she added candied ginger, and stayed away from the sugar coated walnuts she wanted to add.

Into the oven it goes, for fifty minutes or so.

Not hard, was it? It will bake up, but it will not rise very high. The butter will sink into the cake.

When it comes out of the oven, let it sit for a few minutes - 10-15. If you have used a springform, run a knife around the edge, and release it. You are on easy street. If you did not, you will have some work to do. Again, run the knife, and have a rack ready. Put that on top of the cake, protect your hands with gloves, and turn the thing over. You may have to rap it a few times to get it out... and unfortunately, in so doing, the bottom may break up a bit.

Despair not. That is the bottom, and you can hide that, with the wonderful crispy cinammony top.

And that's it. Now, this is not a standard cake texture. It is not airy, and it is not fluffy. Rather, it is closer to a very thick pancake. And that's fine.

You can do this with apples, and you could probably do it with juicier fruits, like mangos, that have some solidity. Ripe banana may work. Annalena would stay away from truly juicy stuff like pineapples, but cometh late summer, she may try this with plums. And peaches. and nectarines.

Face it, ragazzi, there are times when you want to serve a dessert, but... . Annalena believes you probably have everything in the house right now. Don't have cinnamon sugar? Well, you have sugar and cinnamon dont you? Hmmmm.

To the pantry, ragazzi. Make it. Tell Annalena how it turned out. The times, they are a changin'

By request: Annalena's honey ice cream(s)

2012-01-13T07:34:00.001-08:00

It is not often that Annalena gets a request for a recipe. She's serious about that. Interestingly, ragazzi, you do not ask for them, or ask "can you post for..." Perhaps it is because Annalena's third eye sometimes knows what you want beforehand, and sends it to you, before you ask. Of course, we do not want to attribute powers to Annalena that she does not have, now, do we? But who knows?

In any event, this week, she did in fact have a request. It was a request for lavender ice cream. It came from her dear Texan friend, who shall be referred to herein as Gilda Pecuniaria. Should GP choose to manifest herself, fine, but if not, we shall remain incognito and add yet another layer of intrigue and mystery to this blog.

Oh dear, the meds ARE setting in, aren't they? In any event, GP reported that she had been looking for that recipe, and could not find it. Annalena was convinced that she had posted this, and then, much to her surprise, learned that it was not amongst the hundreds of recipes on this blog.

Shameful. And, actually, it is not a recipe for lavender ice cream (which Annalena believes you will all be able to deduce for yourselves from reading this), but for lavender honey ice cream, and that in turn led to a decision to write about honey ice cream, generally.

Did you know that honey is the ONE food that will NEVER spoil? It is true. They have found honey in the tombs of Egyptian pharoahs, and it is allegedly still edible (although Annalena is not going to put THAT stuff in her mouth). It does not harbor bacteria, which keeps it from spoiling. Now, that may change with the so-called "infused" honeys, where flavor is picked up from other things that are steeped in warm honey - as CAN be the case here. Annalena is unaware of any such studies.

She hopes that you know that any attempt to give up sugar in favor of honey because it is "healthy," is silly. Honey is sugar. It is a different form of sugar, but it is sugar nonetheless. Due to its invert nature, it tastes sweeter, and you might use less of it, but the nutritional benefits are minimal. Should you be choosing it for philosophical or other reasons, do not let Annalena impinge on your views. Do know, however, that you are not getting nutritional brownie points for it. Anyway, to the ice cream.

When Annalena makes lavender honey ice cream, she uses a particular brand, which comes from Napa Style. It is a lavender honey that , to Annalena's tongue, TASTES of lavender. Others have disappointed her (sort of like men). If you have a honey you like, that is what you should use. If you wish to infuse your honey with lavender, well.. this is not the time of year to do it. You really do need fresh lavender for it, and you will find none this time of year. To infuse the honey, you will need a goodly teaspoon - perhaps as much as a tablespoon - of fresh lavender blossoms. You remove these from the stems of the lavender plant, and as you do so, you will smell the wonderful oil. Put the blossoms into 3/4 cup of honey, and then warm it until the honey just bubbles. Then, put it aside, and let it steep. Start tasting after 5 minutes, and every five minutes thereafter, until you have a flavor you like. It may take awhile. Then, strain the blossoms out of the honey. Annalena is sure that you, like Gael Greene "do not appreciate lawn clippings in your dessert."

If you have a regular honey that you like - and please stay away from the bitter types like leatherwood, or buckwheat for ice cream - use 3/4 cup of it, and again, just warm it. You want to warm it because, when you get the other ingredients together, if everything is too cold, you will get clumps of honey, and you may not want that. Although... please read on.

While your honey is warming, combine either 3 cups of heavy cream , or 2 cups of heavy cream and one of milk, with the yolks of six large eggs. Whip this all together, and then pour it into the warm honey. Get your whisk and start stirring. If you have read the other ice cream recipes in this blog, you know what you're looking for: get a thickness that coats the back of a spoon. Undercooked is better than overcooked. And when you get there, take it off the heat, cool it and then pull out your ice cream maker, and get to work.

Now, to variations. You can make "burnt" honey ice cream, which is essentially the honey version of caramel ice cream, by heating the honey , stirring, until you begin to smell a caramel type of odor. When that happens, pour out the honey into another receptacle IMMEDIATELY. Honey may not spoil, but it does burn, it burns easily and it keeps burning. Your caramel can go from tasty to yucky in minutes. Keep an eye on it.

For comb honey ice cream, after you have churned your ice cream, and you see it beginning to firm up, start breaking small chunks of honey comb right into the custard. This will produce something akin to ice cream with honey bubble gum in it. Not unpleasant, to be honest, and actually quite nice.

Nothing like a little January sweetness in your life, eh? Thank Gilda for this one.

Simply shrimp: Pan seared shrimp with veggies and liquor

2012-01-12T09:10:00.000-08:00

Ragazzi, your favorite Italian, Annalena, has been woefully under the weather this week. That has not kept her from cooking, but her attention span has been limited, as she dosed herself with over the counter decongestants and cough syrups, antibiotics, tea, and enough Vitamin C to prevent scurvy to an entire navy. A visit to her doctor has resulted in some improvement, and hopefully, back to recovery. Let us hope, recipe seekers that you are.

During this period of illness of the physical type, Annalena found herself in a bit of a dilemma. She was planning the traditional Tuesday night fish dinner for herself and the Guyman. A trip to the Monday market to buy fish from the redoubtably handsome Wade was not in the cards, as it was bitterly cold and Annalena was clearly auditioning for the role of Violetta in Traviata, what with her consumptive hacking. No problem, thought she, since there are two wonderful fish markets in competition at Grand Central Station.

Except... when she made her tour on Monday, Annalena saw nothing that appealed to her. And by Tuesday, when the fresh halibut appeared, it was too late. She had committed herself to using the reserve shrimp that she keeps in the freezer, just in case....

In fact, half of the shrimp was in the freezer, as Annalena feared that this might be the case, and so half was kept fresh. Hence, she had the protein ready. What, however, to do next?

Ah, an excellent question, as the fogged mind of the physically indisposed Annalena did not admit of too much creativity. She pulled in some of her past ideas on cooking shrimp, however, and the need for something simple, and .. this followed. It is, in many respects, inspired by a dish Annalena learned called "gamberi buon giusto," but it is ultimately rather different. And it admits of variation. So, ragazzi, let us proceed.

You start with a couple of stalks of celery , a carrot, and a large clove of garlic. Scrape the carrot, and if there are any uckies on the celery, cut them away. Peel and smash the garlic. Now, put all of those veggies into your food processor, and pulse until you have a very fine mixture. If you are absent a food processor, chop to as fine a consistency as you can.

You will also need a pound of shrimp. Annalena favors what are called "medium" shrimp, as many of you know. If you want the larger ones, by all means, but as we all know, there is a contradiction in the phrase "large shrimp," and for this dish, it really makes no difference. Annalena buys her shrimp peeled and deveined. They cost about a dollar more a pound, but at this point in her life, Annalena finds it worth the buck. She hopes you feel the same way. You will also want a tablespoon of tomato paste. Finally, you will need three tablespoons of a liquor of your choice. Here, you need to consider your taste buds, as well as the fact that shrimp are rather delicate in flavor. When Annalena first made the buon giusto, the liquor called for was dry marsala wine, and indeed, that dish is wonderful. It also contains much more tomato, and no vegetables. If you are predisposed to this beverage, please feel free to use it. Annalena used some VSOP brandy, but you could use any non-sweet liquor , or even mildly sweet ones. (Indeed, she can envision the use of an anisette with this, but the diners must be selected carefully).

Now, we cook. Put about three tablespoons of vegetable oil into a large pan. You can add the chopped vegetables immediately, and turn the heat to medium high. When they begin to sizzle, move them around a bit, and also add a nice teaspoon of salt. You will note the veggies beginning to soften, and when that happens, add the tomato paste, in a spot on the pan that is cleaned, such that it may fry for about thirty seconds (a technique Annalena learned from Lidia). Then mix that in with the other vegetables. Now, add your shrimp to the hot mix (which you may of course call a hot mess), and do nothing for two minutes. Then, stir everything together. You will notice the shrimp beginning to "pinken," if that is such a word (and if it is not, it should be. It has many uses). Keep stirring, until you see that the shrimp have almost completely pinkened . When that happens, take the pan from the heat and add your liquor. You MUST do this with a "high test" liquor like brandy, or risk burning your uni-brow or other facial appurtenances. It is wise to do it with lower powered materials, like the aforesaid marsala. Now, put it back to the heat, and lower that heat. Gently mix everything together for about another minute and a half, simply to reduce the liquids.

And, you are done. Finito. In less than half an hour. Ananlena served this forth with polenta, her own version of "shrimp with grits," Italian style.

Had she thought of it, Annalena may have put some fennel in, in place of the celery. Maybe next time. Perhaps you will try it this time around. Also, if you wanted to bulk up the dish, why not add some very quick cooking greens, like spinach or chard.

Go to it, ragazzi! Make Annalena even prouder of you than she is already.

Doing things the Greek way: Greek sugar cake: ravani'

2012-01-07T10:11:00.000-08:00

When Annalena was younger, pot lucks seemed to be all the rage. Perhaps it was because we all KNEW we had less money then, or there was a different sensibility about dinner parties, who knows? In any event, to the extent Annalena remembers her past, she remembers those parties. You've been to the top, where there's one main dish, 26 pasta salads, and 19 plates of cookies.

Ah yes, indeed. Annalena did contribute to those imbalances herself, frequently bringing the cake elaborated upon in this entry. Why she stopped making it, is open to question. It is a good cake, a fun cake, and a popular one. Annalena should also tell you that according to the Greeks she knows, this is not authentic. Annalena got the dessert recipe from a woman who's last name is Theoharous. Dare one say "it's all Greek to me?" Seriously, when researching the recipe (as Annalena is wont to do), she found so many variations as to boggle the mind. So, this is hers. Make it if you like, or if you are inspired to look for others, please do. And tell me what you find, and make.

The interesting ingredient in this cake, is farina. Or, as we called it as children "Cream of Wheat." If you are of a certain age, you ate this. Annalena used to much prefer it to oatmeal, and was bribed with it occasionally. (Perhaps that is why it fell out of favor with Annalena: she doesn't much eat cooked breakfast cereal anymore. Oh well...).

Let us cook. You are going to need to preheat your oven to 350 and grease a 9x13 pan. Put this aside, and melt two sticks of unsalted butter. Let it cool a bit, and add 3/4 cup of sugar to it. Beat this VERY well. Five minutes is not too little time. Then, add five large eggs, and beat them in very well. Annalena prefers to add an extra egg yolk, but this is your call. You definitely should do it if you can only find medium eggs.

In a separate bowl, combine 2 cups of flour, a cup of cream of wheat, or farina (and PLEASE. No instant cereal here, please), and 2 TABLESPOONS (you read that correctly) of baking powder. Stir this all into the egg/butter mixture, and then add a generous couple of teaspoons of vanilla.

You are going to have a yellowish, thick cereal like batter. Pour that into your pan, and smooth it out. Get it into the oven, and bake for about 30 minutes.

That wasn't hard, was it? Now, let's make syrup. Mix 3 cups of water and 2 cups of sugar in a saucepan, and let them heat for about fifteen minutes. Then, add the juice of one lemon, or even more. Indeed, Annalena likes to boil the syrup with the peel of one lemon as well, and then pull it out at the end. If you prefer the taste of oranges, use those. You could use blood oranges, which makes a very tasty, but somewhat ugly looking cake.

When the half hour has passed ,your cake will be light brown, and you will be intrigued by the texture. It is somewhat sandy, in a good way, and very light. It is rather sturdy though. This is not a cake that is going to collapse on you.

Fun part coming up. While the cake is hot, score it into small squares, or diagonals, or diamonds, whatever you like. Then, take the hot syrup and slowly pour it over the cake. It will get drunken up, but as you add more and more syrup, it will "imbibe" more slowly. It will all go in though.

Then let the beast sit and rest for a few hours. It's beter not to refrigerate this.

Annalena has been known to sit there with her slice, sucking the syrup out of it, because she is rather perverse. You may find yourself doing that as well.

Given the sweetness of the cake, you can feed LOTS of people with this. Annalena's source says 20, which must mean the Greeks she knows eat very little. Annalena thinks 12 servings or so. In any event, make it and see for yourself.

This is one for you, Jim Peck

A bit of complexity: pomegranate braised lamb shanks

2012-01-05T07:43:00.000-08:00

We speak, often, of the so-called "made in heaven" combinations, i.e, the foods that we just LOVE when they're together. Ripe tomato and basil comes to mind, maybe with mozzarella. Bacon and eggs. Ham and swiss. For some, chocolate and peanut butter, or banana and peanut butter, or the three. Think about it: you have some of them, that make you think "could there be anything better?"

What is interesting to Annalena, multicultural gal as she is, is that these combinations are all Western, and may not appeal to someone who's origins are Eastern. And if you asked for combinations of that type from someone who's origins are not in Europe or the United States, you might be surprised, and may even sit back in a bit of revulsion. Such are cultural favorites.

Annalena is thinking of this because of her fascination with "fertile crescent" or "mesopotamian" food, or whatever label you wish to call it. There seem to be a lot of lamb, and goat recipes in these cuisines, both of which are proteins that are dear to Annalena's taste buds. The cuts of lamb associate with these dishes, are not the usual ones we Westerners favor: you won't see many lamb chop or leg of lamb dishes in these cuisines, but you will see shanks, shoulder, and other tougher cuts of meat. And what you will see, over and over again... is pomegranate. And yes,this is another magical combination. Lamb and pomegranate are a wonderful marriage. And it was with this in mind, that Annalena was looking for a recipe for the famous New Year's party.

It was not difficult, but it WAS difficult to find something that did not have a Western "stamp" on it. Many chop recipes. Many leg of lamb recipes. Where, however, were the stews? The braises? Annalena came up empty. So, in her intrepid way, she figured "how bad good it be?" and took a recipe for chops, and adapted it for shanks.

It smelled good and apparently WAS good, as the Guyman and Annalena got nary a taste of it. Annalena presents the recipe here, and is making it for us next week. You should try it too.

THe only odd ingredient you will need, is pomegranate molasses. You may have to look around to find this, but it's available, and if all else fails, you can buy it on line. I would get a large bottle, because you will use it again.

And lamb shanks. Get smaller ones. No more than 3/4 to 1 pound each. That's actually a very small shank. These critters can go up to 2.5 pounds. That you don't want.

Let's make our marinade, which also serves as our braising liquid. Combine a half cup (measure, don't guess) of the molasses, and combine it with 4 cloves of chopped garlic, 2 tablespoons of olive oil, a big tablespoon of fresh ginger, a tablespoon of ground cinnamon (best grade you can find), a couple of teapoons of ground cumin, a half tablespoon (or, 1.5 teaspoons ) of paprika. If you happen to have smoked paprika, use that. Half a a teaspoon of salt, and the same of pepper. Put this all in a dish, and mix it together. Smell it. You may swoon. It's that fragrant. Now, salt, and then add your shanks. GEt in there with your hands, and coat them well. You can now leave this out at room temperature, for 2-4 hours, or you can refrigerate it. If you refrigerate it, plan on a night , at the least.

When you are ready to cook, preheat your oven to 325. Add about a half cup of water or broth to the marinating liquid, and stir everything together one more time. Then cover it tightly, put it in the oven, and get engrossed in a book. You're going to need to let these go for at least two hours, maybe longer, depending on how tender you want the meat, and how big the shanks are. Test after two hours. If it's close to falling off the bone, or falling off the bone, you're done.

The smell out of your kitchen while this is happening, is amazing. And when it's done, make yourself some couscous, and you've got a meal.

Now, there is a variation here, which you can try if you don't mind lots of smoke. If you want a browner type of dish, after the marination, try to get as much of the marinade off of the shanks as possible, heat up some oil, and brown the critters. This will create spattering, and black smoke, and you may thing "what the hell am I doing?" Bear with it. It will be good. But if you, as so many of us, are having some winter respiratory problems, a simple braise is fine. OR, you could brown the meat before you put it in the marinade. That is how I would do it next time.

Mesopotamian comfort food, with some wonderful, warm, spicy ingredients. The weather is cold outside. What could be nicer?

Annalena revisits Nigella: glass noodles with shrimp

2012-01-04T12:58:00.000-08:00

Ciao ragazzi! Primo, let Annalena tell you that she is gratified by the seemingly renewed interest in her musings. Absence certainly does seem to have made the heart grow fonder, as the "hits" on the two January entries have been rather large. Indeed, they are rivaling the "eating clean" entry on fish cookery, and while they will not ever catch the leader, which is braciole (who can figure), she is truly touched.

OK, enough sentimentality. Every year, Annalena and The Guyman give a New Year's Day party. Some choose to call it, and treat it, as a recovery party, others as a last fling before the rigors of January resolutions come in. Do not ask Annalena and The Guyman why they do it. The party, however, is always a big success, with much food cooked, and little left over. This year, of ten entries, prepared for from between 6-10 people, there was enough food left over for one large plate for the doorman. Hence, we continued our tradition of Chinese food for dinner on January 1.

Some of the dishes that appear on our table, are dishes we have eaten already, and others are new. Hence, in the first few weeks of the New Year, Annalena cooks the dishes that we have not eaten, a second time, so that we may try them. The beef stroganoff you have been reading about is one. This is another.

Regular readers of this blog know that Annalena is a very big fan of Ms. Nigella Lawson. To say that she loves her understates the case. To have access to Ms. Lawson's blog via facebook is a treat. And this recipe evolves therefrom.

Shortly after Thanksgiving, Ms Lawson posted a recipe for turkey leftovers. It was a cold salad of glass noodles in a sweet and spicy sauce, and turkey. Well, Annalena is not a big fan of turkey, but she is a fan of glass noodles, and has been for years.

Do you know glass noodles? They are Asian, and they are part of a family of noodles which include bean sprout noodles, glass noodles, and some others. They are fine, very long, and have a pearlescent white color about them, when dry (homework assignment: use pearlescent in a sentence today or tomorrow, without referring to teeth, or noodles). In her early years, Annalena became familiar with them at a Cuban Chinese restaurant, located near Christopher Street. All of those wonderfully handsome young men (and older men), in their leather jackets, and their tight jeans... with their moustaches somewhat covered in glass noodles. Ah, it was a sight.

Oh dear. She's digressing to her past again. OK, back to the present. The wonderful thing about glass noodles, or bean noodles, is that to "cook" them, you put them in cold, or warm water, and let them sit. Seriously, that is all. One thing you SHOULD do, unless your significant one finds noodles in your moustache to be hot, is to break them in half, or even thirds, as they are truly long. Cover them with plenty of water, regardless of how you are using them, and let them sit.

For this recipe, Annalena used about 8 ounces, which is a LOT of noodles. Please feel free to cut the quantity in half.

You will need a sauce as well, and that sauce calls for an ingredient you should have in your home: Asian fish sauce, or , in Vietnamese, which is the type you will almost always find, "nam pla." There are Thai, and Phillipino and Chinese versions available, and if you can find them, please feel free to use them.

It is interesting that many cultures do have a sauce based on old, almost rotted fish. In the earliest of Latin cookbooks, Apecius speaks of "garum." Do not read a recipe for garum unless your stomach is in good shape. Worchester sauce is based on anchovies (or was), and so on, and so forth. In any event, buy yourself a bottle of this, because you will want to make this again.

While the noodles are soaking, combine 4 cloves of peeled, minced garlic, and 4 crushed chillies. Ms Lawson seeds them. Annalena did not. Please be aware of your heat tolerance, and proceed as such. If you do not have the whole chillies, use some flakes, but again, adjust the recipe. Four chillies will give a good tablespoons or so of flakes. The milder pepper flakes will be fine at that quantity, but if you have a variety that says HOT, cut it back. Now combine this with four tablespoons of fresh, minced ginger, and 4 tablespoons of the fish sauce. Add the juice of one lime, or one sour lemon or sour orange. Finally, add a half cup of water, and 2 tablespoons of fine sugar. NOT confectioner's sugar, mind you. Look for something called "caster sugar," which is also called "baker's sugar." You may also wish to use turbinado, or raw sugar. Stir it all togther. Let it sit for a few minutes, and taste.

Good, isn't it? If you want more heat/garlic/ginger/acid/sweet, this is your sauce. Go and do it.

Let the sauce be for a few minutes, and cook a pound of medium , shelled shrimp in boiling salted water. It will take less than five minutes for them to "pink up." Annalena likes the medium sized shrimp, which are really the "small" shrimp of the shrimp world. Drain them. And now....

Take the noodles out of their water. Give them a good shake. Put them in a bowl, and add just about three quarters of your sauce. Stir it together. The noodles will actually soak up some of this sauce, but most of it will be "locked" in between the noodles, which are very fine. Put the shrimp on top of that, and pour the rest of the sauce over it.

WHEW! That was hard work, wasn't it? Uh, no. And again, you have what is essentially a fat free, filling, tasty dish, for at least two of you, perhaps as many as four.

You will start using this sauce with everything, even fruit. Indeed, if you wanted to add sliced mangoes to your salad, do not let Annalena get in your way. Or, if you want to combine green papaya and ground pork, or sausage, well, have at it, ragazzi.

Go forth. Get this one under control, because tomorrow, to paraphrase Ms. Rupaul "you better WORK"

Revisiting a classic: beef stroganoff

2012-01-03T10:15:00.000-08:00

This is a dish that has been on Annalena's mind, for quite some time. She remembers a time, the 60s in fact, when this seemed to be all the rage. There was even a tv commercial, where each ingredient in the dish, was assigned an operatic voice. If Annalena remembers correctly, the beef was given the bass role, the onions, the tenor part (it was a dramatic tenor), while the mushrooms seemed to be the soubrette, and the sour cream, which was the object of the commercial, the soprano.

Does anyone else remember this silly commercial? Or is Annalena going battier than she already is? Her friend Sybil is one who may very well remember this, being a child of 60s tv as she is. We will have to caucus.

In any event, heaven knows why this came back to Annalena's addled mind, but she is glad it did. This is one of those dishes that you WANT to come home to. And if you can't, you can make it, in less than 30 minutes. Probably less if you buy the meat in cubes already, but we will come to that, ragazzi. It is hearty, and while Annalena cannot say that this is a light dish, it is comforting , and satisfying, in a way that we all want our food to be when it is about 25 degrees outside, snow is on the way, and we are all freezing. So, ragazzi, once you make this, the next chance you get, buy some extra meat, freeze it, and be ready for making this again.

Let's talk about the meat first. When Annalena first learned of this dish, the prescribed cut was sirloin tips. Perhaps this was a cut more common in the 60s than it is now. Annalena HAS found it, but not often, and frankly, is not that big a fan of the sirloin cut in general. It was chosen because one of the points of this dish is that it is quick to cook, and sirloin tips brown fantastically fast. In fact, with them, you could probably make the dish in 20 minutes; however, Annalena prefers her meat more robust (silenzio, ragazzi!), and prefers to use a cubed meat. Now, let's talk about this too. If you buy beef cubes, and you ask the butcher, or the sales person, "what cut is this," you will probably get a blank stair, or "stew meat." And if you ask "what is stew meat", you will get another stare. Stew meat can be shoulder. It can be leg. It can be any of the tougher, chewier cuts of meat. Essentially, what the butcher does not sell on Monday, becomes stew meat on Tuesday. And frankly, for most applications, this is fine. You will be "stewing" the meat for a long period of time, and the cooking will proceed in its merry way.

Stroganoff cooks quickly. It must. So, Annalena prefers to buy a roast, and cube it herself. Get a small one: about three pounds. You can use sirloin if you like it, but Annalena prefers the top or bottom round (again, silenzio!). As always, go for the grass fed meat. If you have time to prepare the cubes ahead of time, you should salt them and leave then in the fridge, after your large knife has gone to work and produced cubes of about an inch/inch and a half per side. When Annalena did this last week, it took less than ten minutes. Do not hurry and hurt yourself, but it will not take long.

For this much meat, slice a pound and a half of mushroom. The plain white ones are fine, the creminis, even better. You may also want to spend the extra money and save yourself some time, if you can find them presliced. Annalena decided to splurge with the extra buck and a half. A bit of diced onion, please. Maybe one medium sized one for this much meat. A total of 4 tablespoons of fat: equal amounts of butter, and of vegetable oil. Finally, two cups of sour cream. Use the full fat stuff, or the 2%. If you are going lower than that, you shouldn't be making beef stroganoff.

Now that you've gathered all your ingredients, melt the butter in the oil, and then add the beef cubes. Don't crowd the pan, and brown them thoroughly. You may want to check, after about 6-7 minutes of cooking (turning every two minutes), to see if the meat is done enough for you. It will cook quickly. When it's nice and browned, and cooked, remove it from the pan. Now add the onions and cook them in the drippings, just until they're soft. Put them aside with the beef (note that Annalena varies from orthodoxy here, and cooks the beef before the onions. She does this so that the beef does not burn from the hot fat). Now, add the sliced mushrooms. If they do not all fit at once, add them in portions. Let them sit for a minute or two, and then start stirring. You will be amazed, at how rapidly the mushrooms reduce, and the water goes off. Soon, you will be wondering what happened to all those mushrooms: the volume will drop by at least 2/3.

When your mushrooms have cooked, toss the beef and onions back in, and stir everything together. Now pour in that pint of sour cream. Turn off the heat, and stir it together. Taste it, and add salt if you like, or a big spoon of prepared mustard. You may also want to shower this with some chopped scallions, or some other bright green thing. Garlic greens seem to have been "discovered" by our local farmers market types who have greenhouses, and I would use this if you can find them.

Annalena dedicates this to her sister Sybil, because if there is anyone who remembers that silly commerical, it is Sybil. And if she doesn't, or pretends not to because she is too young, she will probaby re-cast it, singing all the parts.

Alla prossima, carini.

Back from hiatus with: pineapple roasted with orange juice and honey

2012-01-02T13:42:00.001-08:00

Buon capo d'anno, ragazzi! Annalena has returned. She never really left (sort of like many ailments), as she checked for comments (NONE. Hmmmm. Are you reading???), or for requests for her return (NONE. Hmmmmm). The month of absence was, to be honest, the result of what she calls the combination marathon and sprint that is the end of the year for us. Let us face it: would it not be easier if we could split the triad of Thanksgiving , Christmas, New Year and have one of the holidays at a different point in the year, when we really need it? Just as we take a breath from Thanksgiving, the Christmas rush is upon us. All of you know, you were breathing hard for at least part of that six week period. None moreso, than those of us who cook, and those of us who play musical instruments. It is to the latter that Annalena bows her head. There is so little room for error in performance, that it makes cooking look easy. Yet, talk to musicians, and they will bow their heads to cooks. We understand each other. So, ragazzi, with the crush of holiday baking, the Thanksgiving dinner, the Christmas dinner, and the fabulous mess that is the New Year's day party of Annalena and the Guyman, plus work, workouts with the Paraguayan punisher, and so much else, Annalena was absent. At least from writing. But just like Evita, "I never wanted to."

In that time, however, Annalena was thinking of all of you. As recipes were made or tried out, she would think "is this for the gang?" Sometimes the answer was a resounding ABSOLUTELY NOT. Other times, it was "iffy," and then there were others that called out with certainty as things we should be making. And we will have three of those in succession, and as is the case with Annalena's groupings, we shall move from the simplest, to the most complex; however, none will be very complex.

This first one is a sweet, but as far as sweets go, it is a "good" sweet, involving no fat. That is right, dear reader, no fat. And a fruit which , in Annalena's experience, terrifies people, for reasons she cannot fathom. That is the pineapple. Let us see a show of hands: when is the last time any of you bought a pineapple?

Now, if you bought the pineapple to make pina coladas, please lower your hand.

Just as I thought. Well, you should change that. Many of you, I suspect, do not buy them because you are in the camp of "I don't know how to pick a good one." Well, modern science and modern marketing have eliminated what was, honestly, a real problem for years.

When Annalena was younger, there were all kinds of tricks for buying a ripe, sweet pineapple: pull a leaf out of the crown. Smell the bottom (no jokes, please). Squeeze it. Smell the top. And heaven knows, none worked consistently.

Some time ago, there was a breakthrough in pineapple genetics (Annalena kids you not. She follows these things), and there is now a pineapple on the market, called the "golden sweet." There has been litigation over it: Annalena kids you not. Google the words pineapple, and antitrust, and you will read of the long standing fight between Dole and Del Monte about this. In any event, the golden sweet pineapple is unfailingly reliable. If you see the name on the label, you can be certain it will be good. DO make sure that it is not buggy, or overripe (is there juice coming out of it). Buy one (they cost between 3 and 4 dollars each), and you will have a treat.

And Annalena will not countenance the "it's too difficult to prepare" excuse. This is how you clean a pineapple: turn it on its side, and make a vertical cut to take the leaves and a small amount of the fruit off. Now, turn it standing up, and with a large knife, cut down the plant, in segments, to remove the skin. If you have small amounts of skin left from the eyes, cut them out as well, but with practice, you will take enough off so that there is no issue.

You will have a naked pineapple, with an inedible core (at least most think it inedible. Annalena enjoys chewing on the fiber, but then again, she also chews on the strings from a tied roast). For this recipe, you have very easy ways to get rid of it, as you will now find out.

Clean not one, but two pineapples, as you were just directed. Put them aside ,while you squeeze enough oranges, or blood oranges, or tangerines, or any sweet citrus, to get a cup of juice. Annalena's original recipe called for regular oranges. She had plenty of blood oranges from the Citrus Bomb and the Citrus Stud, so she used those. Mix those with half a cup of honey.

Digression coming: some day, go to your market, talk to a honey purveyor, and ask to taste the different types. You will be astounded. Even if you HAVE a life. Use one that you like. Stir that honey into the citrus juice.

Now, remember those two pineapples? Well, standing them vertically, cut them into quarters. Observe them. The core is very apparent. Take a small knife, and cut it away, from each piece. Then, trisect the cleaned pineapple into long slices, and put it in with the juice mixture. Stir it all together and leave it out to marinate for 30 minutes. Turning it every now and then if you think about it.

That wasn't much work, was it? Plenty of words, but no effort. Are you welcoming me back yet?

Now, turn your oven to 450, and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. You do need to do this, to keep the pineapple from burning too badly.

After the half hour, pull the fruit out of the juices, and spread them out over the two baking sheets. Don't let the slices overlap. Put them in the oven for ten minutes, but after five, reverse the sheets and turn them as well.

Meanwhile, if you are so inclined, pour the juices into a small pot, and raise the heat to high, reducing the juice to as thick a syrup as you like. After the pineapple has roasted for ten minutes, put it back in the bowl, pour the juices over it (or not) and serve it forth. And if you're not ready, it will hold, unrefrigerated, for a whole day. Refrigerate it afterwards.

In many parts of the world, as well as in colonial America, the pineapple was , and is, the symbol of hosptiality. That is why you will see the symbol over many threshholds, and on gates. Annalena is also told that, in Hawaii there is a legend that the spirit of grandmothers departed enters pinapples. Perhaps. That would explain how easy, and how good, this dessert is.

Welcome to 2012 everyone. Have a wonderful year. Get in contact with Annalena. And make this dessert

A Christmas cookie for neecee: Cranberry oatmeal orange cookies

2011-12-04T14:48:00.000-08:00

When Annalena was growning up, and working the many odd jobs that she did work, to pay for school, her books, her clothes, etc, she observed, and learned, a very interesting phenomenon, or cultural "trope" as some would say, that she hasn't seen out of her old neighborhood. Essentially, we would never call anyone by their real name. So, for example, there was a man who ran a lunch truck (the "roach coach" if you will). His name was Joe Natale, but we called him "Joey Lunch." Or, Tony, who ran the butcher, was "Tony meat." Annalena's own boss, who ran a gas station, and who had a perfectly respectable name, was nonetheless "Carmine Swag," because he sold merchandise which "fell off the truck" at the gas station. That kind of merchandise is, of course, "Swag." Annalena had her own name "Baby Teek." That's because her stepfather the Nazi sold a product that had the word "Tech" in it, which everyone pronounced "teek." The Nazi was "Mr Teek," and Annalena was "Baby Teek."
I do hope you are enjoying this story, because it is painful to recall, in many ways. In any event "neecee" is used to refer... to Annalena's niece, rather than give her full name.

Yes, Annalena does have family. What is left is not large, but it is there. She has an aunt, a sister, several cousins, two nieces and a nephew. We do not see each other at all, to be honest. She knows of the cousins through facebook. And one day, someone left a comment on this blog, with a story that sounded very, VERY familar. TOO familiar. A little digging and, yes... it was Annalena's niece, with food stories and interests and, as it turns out a food blog of her own. There's another foodie in the clan!

It would be interesting to sit down and try to figure out how the foodie gene ran in the family. Annalena's training in genetics would probably allow her to map this, and trail the gene, and perhaps even do some close analysis on where it will turn up next. In any event, it is heartening to know it is there. And if any of you want to connect to Neecee's blog, which is of interest to many of you - I KNOW it is- then ask, and I will have her contact you.

So, why do you have all of this? Well, neecee posted a comment, asking for a cookie recipe. It is one of my favorites. One I have been making, every year, since 1996. I always say I am going to make it again during the year, but I never do. Maybe other things take over. It is an easy cookie, one you can make lots of very quickly, and it is SO good. In fact, it may be Annalena's favorite cookie. So here we go.

The cookie is based on a very simple butter cookie base, to which many things can be added. In the article, from the late, lamented "Gourmet," about six variants were given of the basic cookie dough recipe. This was one of them.

You are going to need some dried cranberries. A cup of them. (Did you know that cranberries were one of the few fruits indigenous to North America, when the settlers arrived? They were called crainberries, because crains ate them. And that is a hint to you folks who forage: if you are unsure if something is good to eat, watch. The animals have learned what is good and what is not. And you must be careful and watch, with things that are bright, like cranberries. As a general rule a BRIGHT color, especially red, in wild food, is a warning that the thing is toxic).

OK, enough science. You need a cup of the dried cranberries, and the zest of one large orange. Also, 3/4 cup of old fashioned oats. None of this instant oatmeal stuff here.

That doesn't sound very fancy , does it? And for the cookie dough, you need 2 sticks of unsalted butter, soft , 2/3 cup of granulated sugar, a pinch of salt, 2 large egg yolks, a teaspoon of vanilla, and a heaping 2 cups of flour.

Now that you have all the ingredients, let's talk about some options. You can soak the dried cranberries to make them softer, if you like. You will drain them, but they will retain some moisture, and this will result in a softer, paler cookie. Similarly, further on in this recipe, I will describe the option of some orange juice. Again, you can leave this out and get a crisper, browner cookie. If you add the orange juice, you get a stronger orange flavor, and a paler, softer cookie.

Start by combineing the sugar, butter, and salt in a mixer, and whip em until they're soft and fluffy. Add the egg yolks, one at a time, and then the vanilla. Now, lower the speed of your mixer, and add the flour.

When that's done, add the chopped cup of cranberries, whether you soaked them or not, the oats, the orange peel and combine them. IF you like, squeeze the juice of the orange into the dough, but you don't have to. Generally, I do not soften the cranberries, but I do add the orange juice.

You now have your cookie dough, except for one thing. Have some sugar available at your side. Preheat your oven to 350 and then form small balls of dough from the mass before you. 1/2-3/4 inch is about right. Lay them out on the baking sheet. You don't have to worry about spacing, because they will not spread too far. When you have a tray of unbaked balls, roll each one in the sugar, and then, take a glass, butter the bottom of it, dip it into sugar, and gently press the cookies just a bit. You're looking for something that is a little bigger than a quarter. Bake the cookies for about 12-15 minutes, again, going for a longer time, for browner, crispier cookies, and less for softer ones.

If you keep these cookies to the small size, you will get nearly 100 of them. IF they all get out of the kitchen, which is always a problem for Annalena.

The only thing you probably have to go and buy to make these, is the dried cranberries. And if you feel lazy, use raisins, or dried cherries, or whatever fruit you have around. If you went for things like blueberries, I would suggest changing the orange to lemon, or something like that. Raisins? Hmmmm. Maybe leave out the juice and put in a spoon of rum. (Another relative , should she see this, is probably saying "HELL YEAH!" to the rum idea). Frankly, if you were so inclined, you could put Grand Marnier instead of the orange juice, but then to be healthy, eat the orange.

I do hope you will make these cookies. They are really, REALLY good. And I'm glad that they're not everyone's favorite. MORE FOR ME!!!!

Annalena and the cannon (again): caldo verde

2011-12-03T07:22:00.000-08:00

Ragazzi, you have undoubtedly read of my forays into "national" dishes: cassoulet. Red sauce. Paella. And so on. Annalena has made very few forays into one of her favorite cuisines, however, which is Portuguese. Why? It is difficult to say. In thinking about it, it is perhaps because to moi, Portuguese food has just enough of the element of "foreign" about it that makes it a bit unapproachable (Please know that when Annalena speaks of Portuguese food here, she speaks of IBERIAN Portuguese food. It is a gross oversimplification to say "Portuguese" and forget the food of Northern and Central Africa, Brazil, Goa, and the other regions where the Portuguese flag once flew). Some recent events, however, pushed Annalena to trying this one.

One of her favorite restaurants, Alfama, has reopened. She and the Guyman made a trip, caught up with good friends Miguel and Tarcisio (who's name I may have FINALLY spelled correctly), and had a fabulous meal. Our paper of record, however, did not agree with us.

Remember the scene in the movie "Spartacus" when dozens of people stood saying "I am Spartacus?" That is how Annalena felt as she and others started writing ripostes. They continue. Well, one of the dishes criticized in the negative review, was caldo verde, which is arguably the national dish of Portugal. And it is one that , in all of our visits, the Guyman and I have never eaten. I suspect it is because our hosts feel it is too "common" for sophisticated foodies.

Well, "sophisticated" hardly describes us. We do like to eat well, but I do not think of our tastes as sophisticated. In any event, with all of this in mind, Annalena began researching the recipe.

I wish I could write "OH MY GOD" in Portuguese. In the space of 30 minutes, I believe I found twenty recipes. All used the same ingredients. And... all were different. Very interesting and very challenging, since the number of ingredients... is four. Ultimately, isn't this what many "cannonical" dishes are about? A few ingredients, usually inexpensive ones at that, where the cook can improvise. She (and it is almost always a "she" with these dishes), improvises, based on what she has available, and produces a dish which all love.

Anyway, here is mine. And I dedicate this to my Kaley friend, Jason Nunan. Jason, make it. You will love it.

Here are the four ingredients: onions, potatoes, kale, and chorizo sausage. So it is not a vegetarian soup. Annalena spent some time thinking about how you could make it such. I suppose you could leave out the sausage, or put in a chipotle pepper or some adobo sauce, but I would be reluctant to call it caldo verde at that point.

No stock, just water. And plenty of salt. And olive oil. So, ragazzi, let's get to work.

First ,the prep. Peel and chop two large onions. While surgical precision is not necessary, you are not going to puree this soup, so try to eliminate the big pieces. Three pounds of potatoes. I used yukon golds. You can use any potato that you would use for mashing. Idahos, russets, etc, they'd all work. For this one, please avoid the "pretty potatoes" that have the blue or red flesh. Peel them (bigger potatoes are easier to peel, gang), and cube them roughly. A pound of chorizo. Good chorizo comes in a casing that you should remove. Slice it thinly. Finally, two nice, big bunches of kale. Strip the leaves from the stems, unless you have very tender stems at the tip. Chop the kale into strips.

You've now done just about all of your work. Put about three tablespoons of olive oil into a big soup pot (I mean BIG for this one), and add the chorizo. Fry it at medium until it is beginning to color, but try not to brown it. Then remove it from the pot. It will have left some of its flavoring in the oil. Add the onions, and saute' them, turning every now and then, until they go translucent, and they actually begin to give off a bit of liquid. Now, in go your potatoes, and water to cover. Taste this NOW. Insipid, eh? Yup. Season well. A talespoon is probably right, but that's... how many teaspoons? Ah, good . All of you who said three, pat yourself on the back. Add it by tablespoons and keep tasting. Bring the water to a boil, and then reduce the heat, and cook the potatoes until they are softening. This will probably take a while, since there are so many of them - maybe 30-45 minutes. When you can crush a cube by pressing a spoon against it, it's time to add the sausage, and cook for about ten minutes more. At this point, the potatoes should be soft enough so that, if you stir the soup, you see the potatoes disintegrate. If you're there, add the kale and stir it in. Alternatively, you can steam the kale in some hot water until it gets beautifully green. Either way, stir the greens into the soup, taste for salt, and....

Caldo verde! Lots of it.

This is a perfect soup for the weather we are having now. It's satisfying, it's really very inexpensive, it makes tons so you can bring people over, open up some RED wine, and have a lovely meal.

And yes, if you have a variant on this you would like to share, please do so. And be passionate about it, because passion motivates these cannonical dishes, as it should all of your cooking.

Tis the season: pecan potato chip cookies

2011-12-01T11:48:00.000-08:00

Every year, Annalena prepares a bounty of cookies to send to her amici everywhere. Indeed, her cookie tins have been to places where she has never been, and probably never will be. Some of those cookies are made from time to time, some are made once and never make an appearance again, and some are , as we would say "repeat offenders": they come back every year. Some do so, because people love them (like the toffee chocolate crunch, which I could make in ten pound lots, and not make enough), and some come back, because Annalena loves them herself (if no one else likes my cranberry orange coins, I do not care). There are others that come back because while they are never mentioned as anyone's favorite, when they are not there, someone notices, and also... they are easy.... or unusual... or both.

Ninety million years ago, when the food network actually had programs on which taught you to cook, one of Annalena's favorite shows was "Two Hot Tamales," with Susan Feniger, and Mary Sue Milligen. Ms. Feniger is much more in the forefront these days, and Annalena does indeed adore her. She also adores Ms. Milligen, however, who is more the "Guyman" in the pairing, in the way Annalena is the Ms. Feniger.

On one of the shows, Ms. Milligen demonstrated a potato chip cookie, which she said was one her mom always made. "Oh, is that not quaint?" the younger Annalena thought to herself. Well, in 2004, one of Annalena's cooking magazines published a recipe for a potato chip cookie. Never one to ignore something that uses fried chips, Annalena did use it. And it's a great cookie. It's easy too. I am going to give you a recipe that will make about 100 of them. You could very easily cut the recipe in half. In fact, half the recipe is what was originally published, and was said to make 30 cookies. Those must have been pretty large. These are still substantial. A couple with a cup of coffee is plenty. Ready? Ok, here we go.

Leave a pound of unsalted butter out, overnight, to get nice and soft. Then measure out a cup of granulated sugar, and have a half cup ready at your side. You will also need two teaspoons of good vanilla extract (no phony stuff, please), 4 cups of flower, a cup of pecans, that you either chop or run through the food processor, and....

A cup of crushed potato chips. Annalena does this in the food processor after she does the pecans. You can put them in a bag and bash them with a rolling pin, if you like. But please don't do them ahead of time (they stale badly), and please don't refrigerate them (they pick up water and get soggy).

Now, preheat your oven to 350 and start lining baking sheets with parchment paper.

You can do this by hand, but it's much easier to do it in a stand mixer. Cream the butter for about five minutes, at low medium, adding the sugar after two. The stuff will rise up in the bowl, and stop it every now and then to push it down (stop the timer when you do this). After you have combined the two, lower the speed on the mixer and add the vanilla, the flour, the nuts, and the chips and then combine them until you have an even mass.

Pick up small amounts and roll them into balls, no more than about 3/4 of an inch in diameter, and put them onto cookie sheets. These do not spread much, so you can probably get 20-25 on a sheet.

Here's the part Annalena likes the best. Take the paper from a stick of butter, and rub it over the bottom of a glass. Now dip that into the extra sugar, and press it down on each cookie. You will have to re-do the butter and sugar bit, but that's ok, it won't take you long.

When you've done two sheets (you will probably be doing four), get them itno the oven, and bake for 6 minutes. Then, protect your hand, and reverse the cookie sheets, top to bottom, and front to back. Bake for another six minutes or so. You may want or need another minute or two, to make them as dark and as firm as you like (this is not a crispy cookie. It is a flaky cookie).

And know what? You are DONE. You have 100 or so really wonderful, fun cookies, and yes, you CAN taste the crunch of the potato chip (although you will be hard pressed to say what it is if you don't know it).

Annalena shall be publishing at least a few of her holiday cookie recipes as we rush through what she calls the combined "sprint/marathon" of holiday cooking, and the season. Bear with it, ragazzi, it will all be over soon, and while you will need a month or so to recover, you will do it all again, because you love it. I know. Because I do, too.

"Eating clean" and improvising: baked fish with sesame and ginger

2011-11-30T07:56:00.000-08:00

Ragazzi, you may find Annalena to be totally inconsistent. She talks about the "temple days" of abstinence, and offers a lovely cauliflower recipe, which is then followed by a macaroni and cheese which is a rich as Croeseus as they say (look it up: educate yourselves).

Ah, but are we not all a series of contradictions? Annalena realizes fully that for most of us, the possibilities of a saintly life food wise, are goals and not facts. And that being the case, she shall continue to alternate the temple food with that which can hardly be called such. Hence, following this recipe, you will be seeing one of Annalena's classic holiday cookie recipes.

And we go on. When we cook, we get our recipes from many sources. Some (like Annalena...:)) we trust immediately. Others, we are skeptical of. Annalena feels you should never trust any recipe source completely. A good source will tell you: use this recipe as a GUIDE. It may not work quite this way for you. Indeed, in the kitchen, you must learn to be flexible, and to not assume you were a failure. If the recipe is written correctly (and many are not, sad to say), and you have some kitchen savvy, you can correct or change a recipe, make it your own, and then pass it on.

Such is the case with this recipe, one from one of Annalena's culinary idols, David Tanis. Chef Tanis' food is marked by simplicity and fidelity to what's local and seasonal. And when he posts a recipe which is also "clean" (more on this below), Annalena pays attention. When it happens to include ingredients that are in Annalena's pantry, she pays more attention. And when she doesn't have what he prescribes, she makes do. When the recipe isn't working, she solves the issues. As you will see.

"Eating clean." Annalena first learned this term from her personal trainer friends, most notably Ms. Emily. For Annalena, this meant eating preservative free: the old rule of "if your grandmother wouldn't recognize what's in it, don't eat it." Of course, as Annalena is now old enough to be the grandparent of some of her friends, this rule will have to change. But Ms. Emily uses the phrase differently. She used it in the sense of trying to eliminate as much that is "bad" for you as possible. No red meat. No sugars. No refined carbs.

And, in Annalena's view, if taken to its limits, no fun. Still... This recipe qualifies as clean. It is a fish recipe, and it is made with one TEASPOON - yes, you read that correctly - one TEASPOON of fat. And it works, and it's good.

Here's how you make it. You start with a pound of a firm, white fleshed fish. Annalena had hake in the house, but if like Ms. Emily you are on the West Coast, try some halibut or rockfish, or use bass, or cod, or anything along those lines. Salt and pepper it and put it aside for a few minutes, while you preheat your oven to 400 degrees, and get a glass or ceramic baking dish handly, together with a piece of foil.

Grate a teaspoon (you can be more generous here) of fresh ginger, and mix it with a teaspoon of dark sesame oil. Now, rub this all over your fish (cut it into two serving size pieces, or if you're not that hungry, smaller ones), and put the fish in the baking dish. Let it sit for fifteen minutes.

The recipe Annalena used also called for making a quick pickle of ginger slices. I did not have that much ginger handy, so I substituted. I had a Persian cucumber, which I cubed, and mixed with a bit of salt and some rice wine vinegar. I let that sit, while I was preparing the fish.

After the fifteen minute "sit", cover the baking dish with foil, and put it in the oven.

According to Chef Tanis, you wait for ten minutes, and if the fish is not quite cooked, give it another two. After ten minutes, I had warm sushi. Two minutes was not going to do it.

Was the recipe wrong? Maybe. Maybe Chef Tanis worked with thinner slices of fish than I did. Maybe his fish has a different composition than the hake. In any event, I put it back in the oven for another six minutes, and then the center of my slices was just barely flaking, which is the way I like it.

Chef Tanis also calls for black sesame seeds, which I call "nigella," and which people tell me is incorrect. Oh well. It is a rare house that has black sesame seeds. They ARE good, and if you happen to pass a spice store on the way home, get some. But if you don't have them, and can't get them, improvise. Regular sesame would be fine, and you could also leave them out. You could also use some fresh herbs, or add an onion element from a scallion, or even, as I was thinking, some shaved cooked beets.

Whatever you do, plate up your fish, and put the cucumbers and sesame on top of it. Don't leave this out, as it really wakens the fish.

And what have you here? A wonderful supper dish for two or more people, where the total added fat was a teaspoon: about 40 lousy calories. Ragazzi, you probably get more than 40 calories SMELLING cookies. So for heaven's sake, make this once in a while. Chef Tanis served it forth with steamed spinach, and rice, and I thought this was just the perfect idea, especially since there were two bags of spinach in the fridge, "giving me the stink eye," as Ms. Nora would say. Since you've been so "clean" with your protein, decorate your veggies and rice if you like, or have a small dessert, or do both. Keep it clean, but no one expects an immaculate dinner.

Carry on, my lovelies. We're gonna make potato chip pecan sandies next.

You can never have too many: YET ANOTHER macaroni and cheese recipe

2011-11-26T12:02:00.000-08:00

Well, if you read Annalena's last post, on curried cauliflower, you saw some nattering about mac and cheese (by the way, if you read that last post, tell Annalena honestly: did you find the recipe too complicated? Please see the comment she received. Annalena knows not what to do). And indeed, this is ANOTHER recipe for mac and cheese, with, of course a story. Annalena fully believes that, like black cashmere sweaters, and blue blazers, one can never have too many of these. And this one was really born out of one of those "OH MY GOD I HAVE TO MAKE SOMETHING" moments. You know what I mean, yes?

See, Annalena was catering a fundraiser for her favorite Uptown boys, and meatballs were on the menu. For what we would be charging, this was one where supermarket meat would have to do. But for Annalena's boys? Uh, no. So, reaching into the overfilled freezer, she pulled out two meatloaves that had been made with extremely high quality, grass fed, organic meats. All well and good.

Man does not live by meatloaf alone, however, as much as he does not live by bread alone. All things considered, however, Annalena would rather have the bread. The bottom line is, I could not see serving this without a starch. BUT... I did not or could not see my way to making a "true" macaroni and cheese, with the grated cheese, and the bechamel, etc. Scouting around the kitchen, however, I came up with a few things and this resulted.

And if I do say so myself, it's very good. It's more than very good. It is worth making againg. And I shall. So too should you. Here it comes.

I had a one kilo bag of pasta, so that's a bit over 2 pounds. The pasta were cappelletti which, strictly speaking, are stuffed pasta from Modena. "Cappelletti" means "little hats," and I guess these sort of looked like hats. I thought they looked like baby curls, and my Uptown boys did not disappoint with coming up with more erotic interpretations of this dry pasta. However you come out on this, you need a shaped pasta and take this as a reaffirmation that more than one type of pasta may fall under a name in pasta terminology, just as one name may cover more than one type of pasta. It is all ridiculously confusing. Annalena suggests that you simply follow the "categories" of pasta: long, short or soup. Use a "short" one. If you are not sure what constitutes long or short or soup, check the box. Long boxes hold long pasta. Bags, or squat boxes, hold short pasta. Soup pasta is tiny.

You can do that. I know you can. Get two pounds of it. Also get about a pound of fontina cheese.

Now another digression because there is more than one fontina. There is Danish fontina and there is Italian fontina. Annalena understands how THAT happened even less than she understands how cardamom became the leading dessert spice of Scandinavia. In any event, Danish fontina is hard to find, which is probably a good thing, since it's pretty vile (sorry Danes out there). It has a red rind, always. So, if you see fontina with a red rind, avoid it. Your search does not stop there, however, because then you have "young" fontina, which has a brown rind, and "old" fontina (we call it "aged" fontina), which has a pale yellow rind. You COULD use the aged here, but you'd be wasting its qualities. No, get a pound of the young fontina, which may very well be my very favorite melting cheese. Cut away the brown rind, and then cut the cheese into chunks. No need for surgical precision here. And, get about a half to 3/4 cup of heavy cream.

Cook your pasta in a big pot of salted water, while you preheat your oven to 400 degree and butter a 9x13 baking dish, either glass or ceramic. Do NOT cook the pasta to aldente; rather, undercook it. Don't undercook it to the point where it's raw, but if you taste it and you think "three more minutes," or even "five more minutes," you're done. Drain it, and put it back in the pot, with the fire off. Stir in the cheese, and the cream. You will watch the pasta suck up that cream. This is one of the things heavy cream does, which milk and low fat milks do not do: the cream just coats and/or gets sucked up in the pores of the pasta. That, ultimately, is why you need less of it than something else (although it DOES seem like a fair amount of cream. Don't worry though).

Pour the mass into that baking dish, and put it into the oven, for at least 30 minutes. You have to "follow your nose" with this one, because you will begin to get a "cheesy/toasty" smell when it's ready. And when it is, the top will be firm, the mass will look pale, but... the edges will be crisped. And brown. And of course, this is the best part.

You can make this. You can make this with about 20 minutes of work, and then have time to clean up, or choose your outfit, or , heaven knows, to make some meatloaf.

Do make this. Add it to your repertoire of baked pasta and cheese dishes. It will make you very happy. Promesso.

Temple Days revisited: curried cauliflower

2011-11-25T13:55:00.000-08:00

Way back at the beginning of this blog, I wrote of how I was stealing an idea from Nigella Lawson. In one of her shows, she spoke of how, after one or more nights of wretched excess, she would have what she called "temple days," where she would cut back drastically on the richness of what she cooked, in an attempt to balance things out.

Indeed, do we not all try to work these compromises? Sometimes we try even in the middle of a dinner: serve the rich with something not so rich, and the meal will "balance" out, at least in theory.

Sometimes it works. But let us all confess: how many of us have pushed aside the steamed spinach, to have another mouthful of macaroni and cheese (speaking of which, Annalena will be giving you YET ANOTHER macaroni and cheese recipe soon. Aren't you all excited, my wonderful food geeks?).

As we enter the month of excess after excess after excess, the balance beam of rich food and not so rich food becomes more difficult. Annalena believes that one of the reasons for the problem is that these "temple" foods often, well, TASTE like they're good for you. Annalena loves plain boiled spinach, and would eat it gladly; however, knowing that she's SUPPOSED to eat it, because of the pork chop (or lamb roast or what have you), on the plate, somehow makes it less desirable. So, ragazzi, to get something that is good for you into you, the so-called "temple food," must appeal to you in a way that makes you reach for THAT, instead of the mac and cheese (or whatever your "poison" may be).

Cauliflower is a vegetable of which , I have said often, that it needs some help. There are people who love just plain boiled cauliflower. I do not know any of them. Its pure white color (in its pure white form), is appealing in a sense. But in another sense, does it not make you think you are eating hospital food?

Ah, the issues, the issues, the issues. If you care not to follow this internal debate, just go to the recipe. Annalena served this as part of her Thanksgiving dinner, which by all measures was unbridled excess. She tried to add some nourishing, good for you food with the others and this cauliflower recipe was a very big hit. Annalena was pleased.

And, here's an added benefit. This is ridiculously easy to do, IF you have good spices. And if you do not have good, fresh spices, why not? Go to the store immediately and get some.

This recipe makes an enormous amount, so here is Annalena's suggestion: serve half of it alongside an entry, like a turkey... or a pork chop..., and later in the week, put it over rice, or even pasta (where it will seem rather exotic, in a Sicilian/Middle Eastern kind of way).

So, here we go. First, the spices. You need half a teaspoon of tumeric. This is the stuff that makes curry yellow, and if it's fresh, when you smell it, you will KNOW it is the essence of curry. This will be the main ingredient, and I will give you the other spices in ratio to this, because while all of us have a half teaspoon somewhere, few have a 1/4 teaspoon measure, and even fewer a 1/8 teaspoon measure. You add to the tumeric, half as much black pepper (1/4 teaspoon), and then a fourth as much (1/8 teaspoon) of each of cayenne pepper, nutmeg and cloves. Finally add 1/2 teaspoon of dry ginger, and mix this up.

It feels like an odd mix, doesn't it? You have a curry spice, and then spices you associate with dessert (clove, nutmeg, ginger), and then pepper. Ah, but it works ragazzi, yes it does.

Now, put that spice aside, and get yourself 2-3 heads of cauliflower.

That's right: 2-3 heads of it. Here's the part that takes the longest, and it doesn't take long. You want to go at that cauliflower and cut the tiniest florets possible. This means you WILL be wasting much of it, unless you want to save it and make a cauliflower soup, which is admirable, but consider how much of this stuff you can eat in a week. You will want about 8 cups of florets, which ultimately is not that much. Don't believe me? Fill a cup with the vegetable and you'll say "OH. Annalena was right."

You should be saying that frequently. OK, now you have the cauliflower. While you are deflowering the heads, get a big pot of salty water boiling. Drop the florets in, and cook them for no more than two minutes. You should do this in batches, because (i) they will cook faster and (ii) your kitchen will not smell of cauliflower if you do so. As they come out of the water, drop them on paper towels, and let them dry. You are doing this because of what you are going to do next,which is make a spice butter.

Oh, stop fretting. Here's what you do. Put half a stick of unsalted butter in a pan, over low heat. Add your spice mix, melt the butter and take it off the heat. The fat will cause the spices to give up some of their color and fragrance, and now your kitchen will truly smell exotic.

Put all of that dried cauliflower into a bowl, and pour the butter over it. Turn it gently, with your hands, and taste a floret for salt. Add more if you need it and, finally, squeeze a lime over the whole mess.

Not so hard, huh? Look up the calories, etc, in cauliflower, and then you shall see, as you have this massive bowl of stuff in front of you, that the four tablespoons of butter, with their 480 calories, are nearly irrelevant. You can easily serve 8 people with this, maybe more. But if you like it, eat it all and make it again. It does go with just about anything. The Guyman and I will be having it with pasta, and probably for lunch just as it is. It was wonderful as a vegetable with the Thanksgiving spread.

Cauliflower is a regular actor in Southern Italian Christmas dinners, especially in something called "insalata reinforzata," so you will not be breaking any taboos if, when you make your meal of the seven fishes, you made this to go with it. And it will be good.

Have you your own "Temple Day" foods? Please let Annalena know. She would love to add them to her arsenal of the good, the lean, the tasty.

Good enough for Thanksgiving: Chanterelles and root vegetable soup

2011-11-21T08:27:00.000-08:00

As promised, we come to the third soup in our trilogy. And as promised, this one will be the most challenging to make (although it's not so hard), and it will be the most expensive one; however, let me say this of the soup: when I presented it to the Guyman, he took a spoonful and said "this is GOOD...." So, ragazzi, if I were you, I would give this one a try. We ate it, and then I decided that its flavor was such that it deserved a place on the Thanksgiving table. This post may be a little late for you to incorporate it into your Thanksgiving dinner, but after all, there's Xmas, and of course, there's always any night of the week.

This soup involves some parsnips. With brussel sprouts, they constitute the duo of vegetables which Annalena despises. But when combined with other things, they are just, just fine. Give this a try. You'll like it. And Annalena shall talk about the expensive ingredients, which are dried morels, and wild mushrooms.

First, let's start with the regular ingredients. You're going to need a couple of onions. Slice them, don't bother chopping, and then an equal amount of parsnips and carrots, chopped. The carrot should be your guide: use one that is not huge. You know the type: the one you'd pick up to snack on. Parsnips tend to be bigger, so if you're using one carrot, look for a small parsnip, or, if you like their flavor, use a big one. Clean them, and then chop them coarsely. You will also need a few branches of thyme , a bay leaf or two, and a quart and a half of broth, be it chicken or vegetable. DO know that most vegetable broths have a strong tomato element. You are also going to need a couple tablespoons of olive oil, and a couple of cloves of garlic, which you'll mince.

So far, so good. Now, where's the expense. Here we come. You need a couple of tablespoons of chopped, dried morels. Now, these really are ridiculously expensive. You can get a very small bag of them at a good grocer or fine food store, however, and if you keep them away from critters, they will last forever. It's worth the small investment. Chop those guys up until you have the requisite two tablespoons.

The other expensive ingredient, is wild mushrooms. When I say "wild" mushrooms, I do mean the foraged type, not the ones you can buy which have been "cultivated." If you make this in the spring, you can probably get morels. Chanterelles are more widely available, and you will find others, like hedgehogs, etc. Again, wild mushrooms are very expensive. I have seen them go up to 60 or 70 bucks a pound. You only need half a pound for this recipe, however, and in terms of cost, chanterelles are almost never that much. Mine were 30 bucks a pound.

Now, let's get to the cooking. Melt that butter, and add all those vegetables and herbs, and a big pinch of salt and pepper. Cook at medium heat, stirring every now and then, until you get a little browning on the vegetables.

While that is happening, bring about a cup of water to the boil, and put the crushed morels in that. Let them soak while all of this is happening. They'll be happy there.

Finally, on a burner next to the pot where you're cooking the soup vegetables, add your two tablespoons of olive oil, and a chopped up half pound of the mushrooms. Don't worry about finesse in the chopping: we're going to puree this all at the end. After about five minutes, add some salt, and those chopped garlic cloves. Cook for a couple more minutes. Put them to the side.

Remember those soup veggies? Ok, add the stock the reconstituted dried mushrooms, and the water from the mushrooms, and bring everything to a low simmer, for about twenty minutes. Your "test" ingredient here, is the parsnips. When they are melting soft, you're ready. Pull out the bay leaves, and the stems from the thyme branches. Put the cooked wild mushrooms in with everything else, and give it a big stir. Let this sit to cool for a bit, and then, get out your blender and puree this in batches.

This will give you a good quart and a half of soup, which is six cups. So if you're serving this as a first course, you have enough for six. You could also dilute it. The flavor is that strong. If you try that route, Annalena suggests half dairy (cream or creme fraiche or half and half), and stock.

Yes, this one was a little more work than the other two, and yes, it was WAY more expensive. But it all works out . If you made the split pea soup, you spent almost nothing. You have the scratch left over from the first pot of soup. Use it. Make yourself something good.

Annalena may excuse herself as she preps for Thanksgiving, but then again, she may not. If you do not see me, know that I am in the kitchen, devising new ways to get you to eat your veggies, and all else good.

Soup the second: bean and pumpkin

2011-11-20T10:54:00.000-08:00

Now, that may sound like a very unusual combination to you. Those of you who grew up in NY, at a certain point in time, however, will recognize what Annalena says, when she speaks of grammar school history classes. Those of you with expansive interests in cooking will recognize things, too.

In Annalena's ragazzo days, it was required that students take a full year course in New York history. Apparently, it was the rule. Are there others who went through this course of study too? Well, in the class, you learned, or at least were taught, the history of the "five nations:" the Native Americans who confederated in New York, before our European ancestors came and did what they did. Annalena remembers precious little of those classes, except for the nuns talking about how the beatific monks and priests like Sir Isaac Joques were tortured (she remembers the part about ripping out the fingernails most), and wonders why we never got the other side of the story, and also remembers, surprise, surprise, surprise, FOOD.

The five nations relied on what they referred to as the "three sisters" for sustenance: corn, squash and beans. I always remembered this, and perhaps it was a sign of what was to come. In any event, as I have learned more about food, and different food "by ways," I have learned that the so-called "three sisters" are somewhat ubiquitous in Native American history and culinary lore. Regardless of where the nation was, the trio exists. The TYPE of corn, the TYPE of bean and the TYPE of squash may differ, but it's there.

Had I an extra lifetime, I might investigate this. There's a dissertation in food anthropology out there for someone.

So, if you think about that, and if you think about nutrition profiles, the combination makes sense. Beans are loaded with protein and are low in fat. Squash is not a good source of protein, but provides Vitamins, like A and D. Corn offers up its "healthy" fat. So there you are.

Well, in designing this soup, Annalena thought about adding corn meal, but decided not to. The reasons will become clear as we go on. The squash, was pumpkin, as it was "cook with Max" day, and Max wanted to cook with pumpkin.

This has NOT been a good year for pumpkin. It seems that, wherever you were in the country, the weather was bad at "the" critical point in time for pumpkins. Hence, they were in short supply. Annalena read that the entire California crop was essentially left rotting on the vines. And indeed, Annalena's farmer friends spoke of low yields, and high prices. Indeed, part of the reason Annalena has disappeared is as a result of a project she undertook for a friend, relating to pumpkins, for which she was not thanked. Nor was she invited to the eventual party to which the pumpkins were used. So, if you are inclined to make this soup, and you do not have pumpkin, use another squash. It will be good. It will not be the same, but it will be good. And if you involve someone in helping you, thank them. It doesn't cost anything.

To the beans: Annalena had fresh, frozen shell beans. These, too, suffered this year, but she had gotten some before the bad weather took them out. If you make this soup, use the dry bean of your choosing. I would suggest a lighter colored one: cannelinis, borlottis, something along those lines; however, I am sure darker beans will work as well. You will need to soak them the night before. Are canned beans an option? Well... no. The more Annalena reads about the industrial canning process, even with organic beans, she fears to use them, unless it is a TRUE emergency.

You will not need a whole pumpkin for this soup. You will need a piece that is about 2-3 pounds. You can buy such from various sources. Farmers will sell slices of their pumpkins. And if you can't, well, buy a small pumpkin and use the rest of it to make other pumpkin dishes, like the ones in this blog.

Your 3 pound slice of pumpkin will have a thick skin on it. If you go at it with a vegetable parer, you will regret it. So get out your biggest knife, and pretend you are working with a melon, to skin it. Then cut the pumpkin into small cubes - say 1/3 of an inch.

While you are doing this, get the beans. I did forget measurements above, and I am sorry. Start with a cup and a half of dried beans, and soak them overnight. Then, put them in a pot with scads of water, about an hour before you plan to finish off the soup. Put them to a low simmer and get back to the pumpkin.

You will also need the "holy trinity" of soup making, but not all of them. Review: do you all remember the holy trinity?: onion, celery and carrot. We leave out the carrot here, because the pumpkin is sweet and we don't want too sweet a soup. Hence, we double the celery. Or, we replace the carrot with fennel. We can also substitute the onion with leeks. You want a total of 1.5 cups of roughly chopped vegetable: .5 of the onion element, and a total of 1 cup of the others. Get about 3 tablespoons of olive oil or vegetable oil hot in a big pan, and add those veggies, together with a big pinch of salt, and perhaps a few bay leaves. Annalena also likes rosemary in this soup. Your choice there. You may also prefer thyme instead. Thyme will make the soup less "insistent" if you know what I mean.

When the onion has lost its clear color and gone sort of translucent, add your pumpkin. Swirl it around in the oil, and then add about 6 cups of stock, or a mix of stock and water. I prefer chicken stock, and I prefer ALL stock in this recipe, but again, you can do this with vegetable stock. Indeed, what some will do is take the seeds and skin of the pumpkin and simmer that in water to get a squash stock. Annalena has done that, and has decided it is not worth the trouble. She DOES, however, cook the skin and seeds in the chicken stock when time permits.

In any event, add your stock, and now drain the cooked beans, and add those to the soup pot as well. Taste the liquid, and adjust for salt if you see fit. Put the cover on the pot, slightly ajar, and then go away for thirty minutes. You then want to taste the beans, as they will need the longest time to cook. If they are not tender enough for you, continue to cook them. Hence, you cook to the taste of the beans.

When you are ready, you have a couple of options with the soup. One is to simply remove the herbs and serve it up as it is, and it will be fine. You may also choose to let it cook and puree part of it. Also delicious. What I like to do, however, is precisely what I suggested with the split pea soup. If you run a spoon through the tender vegetables, at low heat, they will break up, and you will get a soup with different textures: pieces of pumpkin, whole beans, bean puree, pumpkin puree, and it will be wonderful.

That wasn't very difficult now, was it? And ultimately, the most expensive ingredient in this soup was the pumpkin. If 3 pounds of pumpkin costs you 5.00, that is a lot, so I think we can call this an economical dish as well, can't we?

A bit more work, and a bit more money than the pea soup, but we're still doing fine, yes?

Next up, more work, more money, but a soup worthy of the Thanksgiving table. Which is where it shall be.

Taking the 'pulse' of the season: we start our soup series with split pea soup

2011-11-19T11:10:00.000-08:00

Did you miss me, ragazzi? Yes, Annalena has been absent again, with things both good and bad. Ah, the world turns doesn't it? We lose some, we gain some, and as my Buddhist friends would say the wheel of dharma turns. All things are for a reason, would that we understood them. Annalena sometimes wonders if any of us understand anything, and there are those periods where, even the kitchen does not bring comfort.

I obscure matters to protect both the innocent and the guilty, as a fitful explanation for absence. Now, to the kitchen.

It is that time of year where most of us, if not all of us, feel the yearning for: soup. When it is THAT cold, or maybe not THAT cold, but that KIND of a cold... you know what I mean, where you just can't get warm enough, soup is perhaps the only thing that will do. And indeed, Annalena has been making a lot of soup lately, and this entry will be the first of three, recounting different soups. All are easy, and we will be moving from the easiest of the three, and the most economical, to the most complex and most expensive. Nonetheless, none are difficult.

Split pea soup: you've had it before, and maybe you liked it. There are people who have wonderful memories of it. Most, however, speak of thick, foul tasting, green "stuff" that made them swear off of it for years.

Annalena did not have split pea soup when she grew up. It was simply not in Nana's repertoire, and perhaps was lucky that, the very first split pea soup she ever had, was from a wonderful vegetarian cookbook, long out of print, that was considered the "Joy of Cooking" of vegetarian cooking. She believes it was by a husband and wife pair, who went by the last name of Goldbeck. Does that ring a bell to any of you? If so, please enlighten Annalena, as her feeble mind no longer remembers the names to give complete credit to them.

Well, I have been having a yearning for this soup for quite some time. Perhaps at least a year. Finally, the stars were in alignment, and I made it. It is how I remember the recipe, but there is no doubt that I have made changes. Notwithstanding this, you cannot get much more basic than this soup. Nor can you find a recipe that is much less work. So let's do it. Let's make some soup, and let's get warm.

This is going to make a lot. Perhaps close to 3 quarts. You have been warned. So get set to share.

Chop up two large onions, two or three carrots, and two or three ribs of celery. I cut mine into large chunks and used the food processor, but when I first made it, I remember chopping by hand. Either will do.

In the original, I did not saute' the vegetables in oil, but I like it this way. Leave the oil out if you like. Get a couple tablespoons vegetable oil hot, and toss in those chopped vegetables, with a couple of bay leaves. If you want, you can also add some garlic. For once, I did not add it. Anyway, saute them for a few minutes, until the onion loses its transparency, and then add two quarts of water, and a pound of yellow split peas. Also add AT LEAST a full tablespoon of salt. You will probably want to add more, but start here.

After you've done this, lower the heat to low/medium, put a cover on the pot, leave it slightly ajar, and go away for half an hour. Come back and stir, and taste the liquid. This is when you add more salt if you like. Then go away again, and come back in half an hour.

You will have been cooking this soup for about an hour and the peas will have begun to fall apart, but will not be mush. If you stir the soup, the peas will break down further, and this is something you should do, because you can very much get the texture you want, simply by stirring.

The longer you cook this soup, the thicker it will get. I stop after about an hour, and a few minutes of stirring.

Now, go back through that recipe: carrots, celery, onions, bay leaves, split peas, water, salt. Can you get more elemental? And what work did you do besides slicing and stirring? And what did you get? A LOT of lovely vegan soup that will stick to your ribs, nourish you, warm you, and get you friends when you share it.

If you are so inclined, add some cooked sausage, or the traditional franks. Or, go in another direction and make it "Indian" by adding yogurt , curried spices, or anything along those lines. (What you will find, with many of the soups Annalena provides to you, is that you can turn them into full meal type dishes by adding a protein at the end).

Annalena wants to dedicate this recipe to her bud Johnny D, whom she misses. He'll get this, and probably make it. You'd best do so Johnny D. I will be checking in on you...

Ice cream all year long: pumpkin ice cream

2011-10-29T11:12:00.001-07:00

Can we have a show of hands? How many of you stop eating ice cream when the weather turns cooler?
Hmmm. The owners of those hands are liars. It's verifiable that ice cream sales actually INCREASE in colder weather, as opposed to warmer. It makes sense in a roundabout way. If you're at home, under a blanket or two sweaters, watching tv, wanting warm, Warm, WARM, the comfort that you get from ice cream can make you feel that much cozier.

So, ragazzi, let us turn to seasonal ice creams, and look at pumpkin. In fact, we are going to be looking at pumpkin a lot in the next few blogs, as Annalena and her charming friend Max begin to make their way through the pumpkin repetoire.

First, some facts: you do know, of course, that when you buy canned pumpkin, you could very well be getting canned winter squash? It is true. See, pumpkin is, by definition (at least FDA definition), a winter squash. It is a "hard neck squash," although I defy anyone to point out pumpkin's neck to me. In any event, that puts it into the category of butternut, acorn, kabocha, hubbard, and other squashes. Hence, it is quite conceivable that when you buy a can of pumpkin puree, you are buying squash. If you like what you are getting in the can, please proceed with it. You may very well be getting pumpkin. It all depends on what the canner has on hand the day that the product is made. Annalena feels, however, that at least once you should make it yourself. And that is where we come to another issue.

You do know that there is more than one type of pumpkin, yes? Ah, are you locked into the idea of the jack o'lantern pumpkin? Child, get with the times. If you go to your farmers market, you will find those, but you will also find "sugar" pumpkin (the favorite of many cooks), "baby orange" pumpkin, and Annalena's favorite, on which there is some disagreement, the "milk" or "cheese" pumpkin. This variety is squat, and pale orange. It looks almost like a creamsickle in color. It is also squat, rather than round. Some feel the flesh is insipid. They are not wrong, but ALL pumpkin flesh is insipid. Those who make this claim are challenged to do a blind taste test of different varieties of pumpkin, and then tell which is which.

I like the cheese pumpkins because they are very dense, throw off little water, and have a very good yield for each specimen. Choose what you like , however. But do, do this once.

To get pumpkin puree, you need patience, and a very strong arm. You preheat your oven to 350, and while that is happening ,get out your biggest, strongest knife. Now, look your pumpkin over. Probably, it is not stable. You need to stabilize it to do the next step, which is the cutting of it into smaller pieces. If it is not stable, you can do serious damage to yourself with the knife.

I have found that the easiest way to stabilize a pumpkin is to make a horizontal cut on the thing, at the stem end. That gives you a smooth, even surface on which to rest the fruit (pumpkin is also a fruit). Once you've done that, work carefully, and insert your knife into the fruit, and make long cuts, to try to make as even two halves as possible. Then, cut each half into two or three pieces.

You will of course be wondering what to do with the seeds. A very good question. Annalena uses them when she makes broth for pumpkin soup, but she has no patience for washing, separating, and roasting them. That is your call.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper, and put the pumpkin hunks, unoiled, on it. Cover the whole contraption with foil, and put it in the oven. The foil helps to steam the monster. It will take at least an hour to do this. You can check by pushing a knife right through the foil, and seeing if the tip goes through the flesh easily. If it does, the pumpkin is done. If not, take your time. It could be a while. Smaller specimens will take less time, but not much.

When the squash is cooked, now you have to let it cool down. You may find that it has tossed off a great deal of liquid. This WILL happen with a jack o'lantern pumpkin, not so much with others. Be careful of that. It's very hot.

Ok, after the couple of hours that it takes to cook this down, get your knife again, and with the back of it, scrape it off of the skin. For six pounds of pumpkin, you'll get enough for about a quart.

And we continue. Now you have to puree it. You can do this easily in a food processor, less so with a food mill. Don't bother with a blender. And... you have your pumpkin.

Now you see why so many people buy the canned stuff.

Ok, we've got our pumpkin, let's make some ice cream. Let me say at the start that this is how Annalena makes HER pumpkin ice cream. She's right, but you can make it however you like it, in terms of spices, or not, how much sugar, and how much pumpkin.

I start with two cups of heavy cream and a cup of whole milk. I put that in a pot with a full cup of pumpkin puree, and six egg yolks. If you are following "La via dell'Annalena," what I want you to do at this point is stir it all together, off heat, and taste it. I want you to know how the pumpkin tastes, WITHOUT the spices (because most of us know the spices used with pumpkin as the taste of pumpkin. Tasting it "clean" can be illuminating). You may want to just have a pumpkin ice cream without spices. That is valid, and it is not to everyone's taste. If you are one of those people, Annalena suggests you add another half cup of pumpkin, and then a full cup of sugar before cooking your custard. If, however ,you like spices, do not bother with the extra pumpkin, and I would cut the sugar to 3/4 of a cup. For spices, I like equal amounts of ginger and cinnamon (a teaspoon each), and half a teaspoon of fresh grated nutmeg. Feel your way through this. One of my friends cannot think of pumpkin ice cream without cardamom. Another likes cloves in hers. When I am more perverse than usual, I like hot pepper in mine. Flavor the mixture to your taste, and do keep in mind, of course, that the frozen product will not taste as strong as the liquid one, so you will want it to taste stronger than you would like the ice cream to taste.

Turn the heat to medium, and cook this mixture, stirring with a whisk, all the while. The "coat the spoon" test does not work really well here, because the pumpkin puree has thickened things to a point where it will coat the spoon already. You can use a thermometer if you can find yours, but another way to cook it sufficiently, is to pay attention to "feel" and "look." When the custard feels heavy to move, and looks shiny, it is done. Then, take it off the heat, let it cool, and then use your ice cream maker (which you have bought by now, yes?).

Annalena likes pumpkin ice cream with other fall ice creams, like apple and fennel, but think of your own combinations. Vanilla, creme fraiche, or any of the "white" ice creams sound good here. So does the salted caramel a few posts from this one. So does something with pear liqueur.

Ragazzi, if you are in charge of dessert for Thanksgiving dinner, this is something that should go on your plate next to the apple pie. You will be so happy, and you will be so loved. Go for it.

A quick bread with benefits: sweet potato bread

2011-10-23T09:31:00.000-07:00

The Guyman and I LOVE the whole family of quickbreads: banana bread, applesauce cake, lemon cake, poppyseed, etc. When I say "quickbreads" I mean those goodies that bake up in loaf pans, but do not use yeast. Their leavenings are baking powder, or baking soda, or both. And... as the careful reader knows, these are the ones which use - what size pan? 9x5, rather than 8x4. We use those smaller ones for yeast breads.

The title "quickbread" comes, of course, from the fact that they do not need that rising time that you have with yeast breads. Do know, however, that they bake for a lot longer than a yeast bread. A good one will appeal to everyone, and in this one, from Penzey's , you get a bunch of benefits, from the sweet potatoes.

Let's have a show of hands: how many of you eat sweet potatoes other than a casserole at Thanksgiving? Well, you gotta change that. Seriously, you do. About a year ago, a study came out talking about the nutritional benefits of sweet potatoes. And there are many. A cup of mashed sweet potatoes has - ready for this - 770% of your daily vitamin A requirement.

You read that right. Annalena did not put an extra digit in there. They are also more filling than plain potatoes, have a ton of Vitamin A and Vitamin B6, and, I'm told, the sugars in them are the so-called "good sugars." Don't muck em up with too much butter or other stuff, and you've got a lovely, good for you vegetable that is very easy to cook.

And now, of course, we're going to muck them up, with a wonderful quickbread. It's going to take some time to make, however, but it's worth it. If one serving of a piece of this will give you 75% of the vitamin A you need for the day, you can maybe squint and call it good for you. Let's put it this way, it's better than most things.

Let's start by baking some sweet potatoes. Easiest thing in the world: crank up your oven to 400, put the sweet potatoes in, whole, and let them bake away. They're done when a fork goes in easily. Bake some when you're cooking something else, let them cool, peel them, and mash em with a fork, a masher, anything you have. You'll get a good yield: I baked three big ones, and got four cups of puree

Which is more than enough for four of these loaves. We're going to make two, and you're going to use the rest during the week for dinner, right?

Here's where things get REAL easy. Preheat your oven to 350 and then get two of those 9x5 pans, and grease them. You don't really need to add flour. Put them aside, while you mix 4 cups of flour, and 3 cups of sugar. You could probably substitute about a third of the flour with whole wheat flour, especially if you luck on some whole wheat pastry flour. It might not rise as high, but it will still be good. Add a tablspoon of cinnamon (that is on the conservative side. Add more if you like), and add an equal amount of fresh grated nutmeg. If you dump the cinnamon right on the flour, and then grate the nutmeg next to it, you'll be able to guestimate with a fair amount of acuracy. Add a teaspoon each of baking soda and baking powder. Stir this all together.

In a separate bowl, mix up 4 eggs, two cups of mashed sweet potato, a cup of vegetable oil, and about 2/3 cup water. Just stir this all together, and then stir it into the flour mixture. Don't overbeat the mass, but please make sure you've mixed everything. Look for those tell tale streaks of white flour. You'll see some. When you don't anymore, you're ok.

Now, you can either divide this equally between the two pans you prepared, or you can do what I did, and add some "goodies." To do that, pour about 1/4 of your batter into each of the pans. Put some yummies on top of that. I put candied ginger on one, and candied walnuts on the other. You could use chocolate chips, or white chocolate chips, or raisins, or just plain nuts, anything you like. You'll have half your batter left, and divide that between the two pans. Use a spatula to even things out, and finally, the step you should NOT leave out.

Sprinkle a teaspoon of sugar over each loaf. This is going to give you some really wonderful crunchiness when the loaf is baked. If you have a "crunch" sugar like turbinado or pearl sugar, even better.

Bake these guys for an hour. That's about twice as long as you'd bake a loaf of yeast bread, and it's because there's so much moisture.

When they're done (you can test by inserting a straw in the center and pulling it out, to see how much adheres. If almost nothing does, you're done), let the pans rest for ten minutes. Run the dull side of a knife around the perimeter of the pans, and shake the loaves out onto a cooling rack. Leave them alone for at least a few hours, preferably overnight. Quickbreads do better with a rest of at least a few hours.

Each of these loaves is supposed to serve 12. If you make 12 servings, you'll get 70% of your vitamin A requirement in each serving.

Why not? Go ahead and make something like this. Yes, it's not a low fat treat and yes, it isn't the best thing you can eat, but wouldn't you rather get SOME vitamins for the 250 calories a slice will cost you than nothing?

Connecting the dots: pasta with rock shrimp, lemon and pepper

2011-10-22T12:48:00.001-07:00

If you've been cooking for awhile, and paying attention to what you eat, you will have come to a point where you either notice one thing that will join two otherwise very different dishes, or you will understand how people use a standard, or classic technique on an unusual ingredient. If you like it, you'll do it yourself.

For an example of the latter, Patty Jackson makes an incredible green tomato parmagiana. It will remind you of eggplant parmagiana, but the spicy acidity of those green tomatoes brings you right back. Even now, Annalena is making a parmagiana of eggplant and zucchini. Remember when every restaurant had fried zucchini sticks on them, and you could get them in a basket with mozzarella sticks, also fried? Well...

This recipe comes somewhat out of that process. Within the enormous confines of this blog, you will find a recipe for a dish the Guyman and I ate in Oakland: pasta with flaked sand dabs and tomatoes. Also, you will find a recipe for a dish that was the ultimate in simplicity, but so good: fresh pasta with lemon peel and black pepper. Seem separate, huh? Well, then last night, the connection: at our favorite Union Square Cafe', a pasta dish of flaked halibut, lemon , garlic and broccoli rabb.

Now, based on the rest of the menu, Annalena knows where this pasta dish came from: there were pieces of halibut that were not suitable to be served as entrees, and there was too much broccoli rabb. Every self respecting kitchen has lemons and garlic and pasta in it. (Yours better or Annalena is coming). The Guyman ordered it, but if I hadn't had my face buried in my goat and porcini ragu, I would have stolen his.

Now, we jump forward, to planning for lunch today. I had decided to give us a week off of our favorite roast chicken, which was fine. Now, what to make?

OOPS. Didn't think that far ahead now, did I? Well, there were lemons in the fridge, and there was, of course, black pepper. Last night, lemons and fish. And black pepper. Hmmm.

And thus came this dish. At the last minute, I grabbed a buch of turnip greens and put them in the pasta as well. You should do something similar.

Rock shrimp are wonderful, tasty little nuggets which seem to have two seasons. They freeze beautifully, and they are already peeled. If you can't get them, you can use regular shrimp (go for the smaller ones), or scallops. You could even use any white fish you have. Now, let's make this ridiculously simple, quick dish, that will make you smile.

Start, as always with a big pot of water, that you bring to the boil. Add a few teaspoons of salt to it.

While that water is coming to the boil, zest two lemons. Save the lemons for their juice in some salad dressing, or a cake, or wherever you use lemon juice. They'll keep for a while. And get some greens. I would say that these are optional, but really, they're not. You need some vegetables in the dish, and the tougher greens are better. Use kale, beet greens, chard, turnip tops, broccoli rabb, whatever.

When the water has come to a boil, add a half a pound of a curly, short stubby pasta, and start it cooking. Look at the package directions, and subtract three minutes from that. When you reach that point, i.e, three minutes from completion, chop up the greens and add them directly to the water. Then, at one minute from completion, add your shrimp. One pound, please

Drain everything, and then dump it into a large bowl. Throw in the lemon peel, and grate in lots of fresh black pepper. Then, add a tablespoon of olive oil per person you're serving, toss it, and....

Not too complicated, was it? You will get three, very large portions out of this, and of course you can make smaller ones for more portions.

This is the perfect, quick and very healthy pasta dish. I do hope you'll make it. Pick up some shrimp on the way home, and make yourself a quick, wonderful dinner with a salad. You will feel VERY good about yourself.

Another one for the freezer: salted caramel ice cream

2011-10-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of ice cream recipes on this page, no question about it. That is because Annalena loves to make ice cream, much more than she actually enjoys EATING it. Like many of her buds, Annalena is more of a savory gal than a sweet one. She treasures a comment made by Daisy at one point: "if given a choice, I'll take another pork chop please, and skip dessert." And indeed, Annalena would do the same thing (lately, however, she should be skipping both the dessert and the pork chop, but that's another matter).

Ice cream making is easy. It really is. You DO need an ice cream maker of some kind, of course. Many of you will feel this is something you simply do not want to have around the house. Well, Annalena wants to get you to a point that is parallel to something that the legendary Julia Child wrote in her baking book.

Julia wrote that one of the things she hoped to accomplish in her book, was to get readers to the point where they had to have a full strength , stand mixer. "Not for a birthday gift, not for Christmas, but NOW." I smiled when I read that. Yes, if you taste enough homemade ice creams, you WILL want your own machine. The Dirty Bird makes his . Tall Jeremy makes his. Brad isn't making his yet, but he should be.... and maybe Sivan will be making hers soon, too.

This recipe is dedicated to the small cadre of homemade ice cream makers, but also to their friendly homemade ice cream EATERS. Push them folks. They'll do it.

Do any of us remember when there WASN'T salted caramel around? Now,do you remember how you reacted when you first tasted the stuff? I do, and I still get that way whenever I have one that is made well. The combination of the buttery, sweet, salty flavor. And then you add it to cream. Well, ragazzi, on its own, salted caramel is one of those miraculous flavors. Annalena has posted on this blog a recipe for salted caramel pudding, and this is very much an outgrowth of that recipe.

It was inspired by looking for an appropriate pairing for an apple dessert. Fruit wise, Annalena has very much given in to the autumnal fruits in terms of her dessert making. The Guyman and I are still eating late season strawberries and raspberries, but by and large, they are not showing up in desserts. Raspberries may make an appearance with the apples of the dessert for which this ice cream is an accompaniment, but they may not. Beyond that, it is the season of pears, grapes, persimmons, pumpkins figs , and the other wonders of fall.

When you put ice cream out for a dessert, it should be a flavor that compliments the dessert. All bets are off, of course, if ice cream is "THE" dessert, unless you are trying to link it to your meal. For example, if the meal has a Provencal theme, I would suggest a lavender honey ice cream. If it was extremely rich, maybe you want something on the astringent side.

OK, so what are the complimentary flavors for apples? Annalena posed this question and got some interesting ideas: vanilla. Cinnamon. Cheddar cheese. Yes, all good choices, but nothing was "singing." And then....

Let's make some ice cream. This is absurdly easy, but you have to keep an eye on things at the beginning. You start with a cup of white sugar, in a dry, wide pan. Turn the heat to medium low and with a fork, or a whisk, start stirring the sugar gently, and constantly, until it begins to melt. When that happens, lower your heat even more, and let it melt. You may find that it is not melting completely, and if that's the case, you can stir it some more. Keep a very close eye on it. The color "amber" or "dark amber" should be in your mind. That's what you're looking for. When you get there, take the pan off the heat and, keeping it a bit away from you, pour in a cup of heavy cream. YOu're going to get spattering, and the caramel will seize up. Do not fear, you want this. Put it back on the heat, and stir some more, until the caramel dissolves. Annalena found that she had one clump of it that refused to dissolve, and that was her snack for labor. Now, stir in one healthy teaspoon of a flaky sea salt. This is where you use the fancy stuff that someone gave you as a gift that's too good to use for cooking (it is. Sprinkle it on bread and butter though, and feel yourself swoon).

When you have the melted caramel and cream mixture, put it to the side. Now, in a separate pot, add a cup of milk, another quarter cup of sugar, about a third of a cup of creme fraiche, and three, whole eggs. Before you put this back on the heat, break up the eggs. Over medium heat, cook this until you see it begin to thicken. You have to be careful here not to overcook it, and even so, you will probably get some curdling. If you do, just strain out the curds. You'll have plenty. Now, add the seeds and pod of one half of a vanilla bean.

Combine that custard with the caramel mixture.

Now, what do we do at this point? Anyone out there have an idea besides Sue? I betcha the dirty bird knows.

Yes, I'm smiling. WE TASTE. We taste, especially, because we have a "rogue" ingredient here, in the salt. There are salts that are saltier than others, and what you find salty may not be what I find salty, etc, etc, etc. So, you have to make a judgement call: keep in mind that the frozen product is going to taste less salty than what you have in front of you, and if you want more...

But wait. Some of you have done something, in the past, when you've been snowed in. What did you use to melt the snow?

Yup. Rock salt. Salt will lower the freezing point of things, and as such, they will melt. So, amici, if you add salt to this mixture, it will not freeze as hard as it would without the salt. For some of us, like the Guyman, that is not a bad thing. So, do your balancing act and decide what you want to do. I think you could safely go up to adding a full two teaspoons of salt to this recipe, but I wouldn't go further than that.

And of course, you know the drill after that. Let it chill, take out the vanilla bean, dump it into the ice cream maker, and churn. It will never freeze as solidly as , say, plain old vanilla ice cream would, but it will be a beautiful tan color, and you will be so proud of yourself you will not be able to stand it.

Maybe I exaggerate a bit there, but you will be proud of yourself, and you will make this again. THAT I promise you.

Another one from Penzey's: wild rice casserole

2011-10-17T08:13:00.000-07:00

You've all read until you're sick of it, how Annalena finds her recipes everywhere. It's a bit of an odd habit, but it's not a bad one: you will find recipes in magazines that are not otherwise dedicated to cooking, or in different catalogs, etc. Most of the time, you'll just want to toss them. Annalena does not need, for example, a recipe where Oreos are dipped in mayonnaise and then breadcrumbs and deep fried. Nor does she want or need a recipe that involves mixing the contents of three cardboard boxes to make one dinner dish. Or, if the recipe involves a cheddar cheese substitute that is the color of a pumpkin, we'll pass thank you very much.

Some places, however, are treasure troves for our lady of the kitchen. One such is Penzey's spice catalog. Most recently, you will find my adaptation of their bundt cake recipe, with pears. Most recently, this one showed up. All the augurs were that it was a good thing. And it is. And it admits of variations, as I will explain.

Wild rice... ah. How many of you know that wild rice is not a rice? Nope. It's the seeds of a grass, that grows in marshy places. It CAN be farmed, which of course makes it no longer "wild" in the true sense of the word; however, true "wild" rice is ridiculously expensive. I once had a pound bag of it that had been collected by Native Americans, in canoes, in northern Minnesota. I think it cost me 30 dollars. I will tell you, ragazzi, that it tasted no different from the stuff I bought for 16 bucks a pound that was farmed "wild" rice.

There are political issues and societal issues here, of course. If you are inclined to support the people who are collecting this rice,or any other crop , for that matter, then by all means, do so. For some of us, these issues are important, but not to all, and frankly, with all that is going on these days, we may choose to put or donation money elsewhere than in wild rice . Whatever is with you, do it.

OK, enough of the soap box, so let's get to work and make our casserole. As with all Penzey's recipes, this is ridiculously easy. And it is wonderfully satisfying.

You start with a generous cup of dry wild rice. Boil up two cups of water, and pour this over the rice and put it to the side. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 350 degrees, and gather your other ingredients.

At the minimum, you will need 3/4 cups of raw white or brown rice, or 2 cups of the cooked stuff. This recipe works with both. You also need a pound of mushrooms, any kind. Plain old button work in this recipe, but it would be outrageous with the other varieities you can find. Also, if you happen to have some dried mushrooms around, why not toss them in with the wild rice and reconstitute them. You will also want three cups of stock, be it chicken, beef, or vegetable, and a cup and a half of whole milk. Salt and pepper too. Finally, one large onion.

Chop up the onion and slice the mushrooms. This will take you no more than about ten minutes. Melt two tablespoons of butter in a pan, add the mushrooms and onions and saute' them, for about 7 minutes. Add some salt before you start. You will be astounded by how much they reduce. Put them in a big bowl, with the stock, the milk, any spices you want to use, and IF you happen to have some left over sausage or chopped meat, or some green vegetables, put that in, too. After the hour is over, drain your wild rice (save the water for cooking some other rice if you are so inclined), and add that to the bowl as well. Mix this all together and pour it into a big, greased, baking dish (mine was 9x13) or two smaller ones (pie pans, for example). Seal the baking dish with tin foil, and put the whole thing in the oven, at 350, for 75 minutes. That's an hour and a quarter.

When you come back, you may see all the liquid gone, or nearly all of it. Or maybe not. You do want the liquid gone. So, take the tin foil off the top, and bake for another fifteen minutes and you know what? YOu will be done. Maybe.

If you are serving this as just a side dish for something like roast chicken, I would stop here. But if you want something more substantial, grate up some cheese. At least three tablespoons worth, and strew it over the rice. Turn on your broiler, and keep an eye on things. Probably another two minutes or so is all you need.

Now, how much work was that? Not very much. And I bet you people ask for seconds. I bet YOU go back for seconds.

Autumn is upon us. I am sniffling, it is less than 60 degrees out, and we are switching seasons. Put this one in your hamper for use, and maybe even make it with your Thanksgiving dinner. It has that kind of feel about it.

And the seasons... tomatoes stuffed with orzo and feta

2011-10-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

This is an interesting, lovely, somewhat melancholy time of year. To my opinion, the light of October, in late afternoon, in NYC, may be one of the most beautiful things ever. You need to pay attention: it doesn't last long, but it's worth it. If you happen to have some violin music playing in the background too, preferably Strauss, even better. In the markets, ah, so much and such hard choices. Peaches? Yes, but they're not as good as they were. Do you buy those, or the pears that are reaching their peak? Shall I bring home quinces, just starting, and try to make something new with them? Which apple? Or do I get the raspberries that I KNOW aren't as sweet as they were, but... And in vegetables: the corn. No, it won't be as good. Are there REALLY still green beans? Squash? Big and wet but it's squash. Or how about the cabbage, or the root vegetables, or something with carrots. Maybe chard. Oh, so difficult.
So, too, with tomatoes. It's mid October and they are not as wonderful and ripe and sunny as they were in July. You shouldn't expect them to be. But, but... in a little while, they won't be there at all. So, I said yes I will, yes yes, and brought home bages of the not quite ripe beauties. And fortunately, just as I had them home, Joanne Weir was posting what has become one of my favorite recipes for those not perfect tomatoes.

Sometimes, a little bit of cooking will bring out the flavor of a not perfect vegetable. And a "little" bit of cooking can be just a TEENY bit of cooking. In this case, 15 seconds. I'm serious, 15 seconds. This is a recipe where the tomatoes are cooked for just fifteen seconds. Don't believe me? Well, you try it, and see what you think

First, you need orzo pasta. I don't think this would work with another type, so search it out. "Orzo" means barley in Italian, and it's such an Italian thing to name one grain after another. Orzo has an interesting texture, and you can use it to make a risotto, a pastina, and as here, a stuffing. So, here's what you do. But first...

Let's save some water. You're going to have two boiling steps here, so let's save some water by using one pot for both steps. Bring a large pot of water to the boil, and while that's happening, get a bowl filled with ice and water. When the pot of water has come to the boil, put in six-eight medium sized tomatoes, and take them out AFTER FIFTEEN SECONDS and drop them in the ice water.

You're not going to peel these, although the skin will loosen. Hence I was puzzled, until I ate one. That very little bit of cooking seemed to bring more tomato flavor out. So don't omit it.

Now, into that same water, add a big pinch of salt and a cup and a half of orzo. Don't cook it for more than fifteen seconds. Drain it. If you're planning to make a pot of soup, save the water for that. Get the drained pasta into a bowl, add a tablespoon of olive oil, and put it into the fridge for a few hours.

Turn back to those tomatoes now, and cut a nice sized slice off the top. A horizontal cut. Then, with a spoon, carefully cut the innards out and put them to a bowl. You want the shells here, and I'll show ya how to use those innards below. As you hollow out the tomatoes, turn them cut side down onto a paper towel lined sheet. Leave them there until you're ready to use them.

When you are, get that pasta out of the fridge. It will have clumped up. No big thing, break it up with your hands. Now add about 1/2 cup of diced cucumber, any type, and a half cup of diced red onion. Use the red onion. It's sweeter. Then, break up about half a pound of feta cheese, any type you like. Mix it all up, and then add some fresh herbs. I have done this with oregano and with dill. Both are good. The herb MAKES the dish. Oregano makes it taste "Italian," the dill, "Greek."

Your filling is ready except... Taste it. You may not think you need salt because of the feta, but you probably will. And add some pepper too.

Be generous in stuffing those hollow tomatoes. You'd be surprised how much filling you have, and you'll probably have extra. It makes a good snack, or a good late breakfast. It really does.

But to the point: you're now done. If you are in the mood for a cold supper, or something to vary the sandwich routine, you've got it. These are REALLY good.

Now, remember those tomato innards? Well, we are NOT going to waste them. We are going to make a very quick tomato sauce that goes off the beaten path. We're going to use butter, rather than olive oil. And whole cloves of garlic. Peel about four of them, and put them in a sauce pan, with about 3-4 tablespoons of unsalted butter. When the butter has nearly melted, add the tomatoes. Mash them a bit with a fork, and cook them at medium heat. Add a bit of salt and, if you were using oregano, add a few sprigs of that, or whatever else you like. You'll watch as the tomatoes first give up their water, and then dry out. That's what you want: a sauce that is halfway between wet and dry. You'll know what I mean when you do it. It will take about 20 minutes. Taste it.

Not your usual tomato sauce, huh? And, if you REALLY want to go over into new territory, instead of using that oregano, use a stick of sinnamon, and pull it out when you store the sauce.

Now, wasn't that easy? And you've got two dishes: a nice stuffed tomato, and then some sauce for your pasta the next day.

If you think you're wonderful, well, you are.

Monkfish "provencal," with apologies if necessary

2011-10-13T04:28:00.000-07:00

Ragazzi, if you are careful eaters, you may feel that it's impossible to know what to eat, and not to eat. First, we have the level of what we SHOULDN'T eat: no trans fats, no preservatives, and so on and so forth. That can be challenging enough, especially since the "experts" in nutrition change their minds and differ so often. But then we move to the next level, the one where Annalena tries to engage the latest theory, that of sustainability . What shouldn't we eat because if we do, it will go extinct? is how I think about it. And as a result, there is no bluefin tuna in this home, for example, and if a restaurant lists a dish as "tuna," instead of specifying what species, we leave it alone. For years, we did so with swordfish and chilean seabass. Of course , we do so with shark.

But monkfish? We had not heard anything about the fish being threatened and went about eating it without a concern. Then, this week Annalena bought some to cook for supper. While looking for a recipe, she picked up Rick Moonen's book on fish cookery. The Index contained precious little about monkfish, and what it did contain, caused concern. Chef Moonen stated that, given the overfishing of monkfish and its threatened state, he would not be including any recipes for it.

Hmmm. Intrigued, Annalena went to what is regarded as the definitive source for information on threatened fish, the so-called "Monterey index." You should look this up. It's extremely informative, if a bit overzealous in Annalena's view, but every movement does need zealots. The index did, in fact consider monkfish a threatened species. Oh, dear.

Now, as she was considering all this, one of Annalena's favorite tv shows broadcast (it is a cooking show, of course), and it featured an interview with a chef from Maine, who is known for his local, seasonal, and sustainable cooking. And the closing shot was of the chef, holding a large whole monkfish in his hands, opening its wide jaws toward the camera.

You may be beginning to get somewhat puzzled. So, Annalena went to her favorite fishermen and asked. Before you start thinking "now isn't that like putting the wolves in charge of the hen house," understand that these fishermen are a small family, with the business being handed down from generation to generation. They do not sell bluefin tuna. They do not sell fish that they cannot bring in from local waters, and they do not sell things like crabs, because they feel that they damage the environment in so doing. They sell monkfish. According to these folks, there is no problem. And the second end of the problem, according to many, is the damage, done to the ocean floor, by trawling, which is how monkfish are caught. According to many of the people who work "in the field," i.e, they fish, this kind of thing does not so much damage the ocean floor as make it more receptive to the breeding of younger fish, which are then eaten by more mature fish.

So, who do you believe? Doesn't it always come down to that? Confused, and with a piece of fish to cook, Annalena went to work, using a recipe she found in Mr. Bittman's book from 1994.

I love this book. It's very basic and very clear. One wonders if Mr. Bittman would leave out certain species if he redid this book, but there is no sign that he is going to do so. Alas, I must leave it to you. If you are squeamish about using monkfish, for any of these reasons, you can substitute any firm, thick white fish. It would not work with flounder, or any flat fish, but if you were to have a thick slice of cod, or even striped bass, it would work exactly as written. You could substitute shrimp, but then you would need to cut back on the cooking time.

Alright, I leave considerations of sustainability to you, and I say, let's cook. You will need very simple ingredients: a pound to a pound and a half of monk fish, or cod, or whatever. If you use the fish, cut it into 3/4-1 inch slices, cutting the piece vertically. You will also need four tablespoons of unsalted butter (use good stuff here, the rich European style, if you can find it), two large, or up to six, small leeks, and you will cut coins from the white parts, a cup of stock of some kind, be it fish or chicken, half a cup of dry white wine (I used gewurtztraminer), a bit of fresh thyme, and half a lemon.

You will also need a wide pan, a plate along side of it, and a slotted spoon. Melt half the butter in the pan, and when it is melted, add the leeks. Saute' them until they begin to soften. It will take about five minutes. When you're there, add the thyme, the wine, and the stock, and let it come to a boil. That will take about a minute. Now, add your fish slices or shrimp, lower the heat to a low medium, and cover the pan. IF you're using shrimp, it will take about five minutes before you need to take them out of the liquid. Other fish? Probably about seven minutes. Move them to the plate you have on the side. Raise the heat to high, and reduce the liquid until you have only about half to 3/4 of a cup. This may take about five-ten minutes. When you're there, add the butter, in small bits, swirling as you add it. It's lovely what happens when you do this, as the liquid emulsifies, thickens, and becomes velvety. Add the fish or shrimp, and turn them briefly in the liquid to coat them. Then squeeze in the lemon juice from the half lemon.

And you're done. Not too hard now, is it? The original recipe calls for eating this with crusty bread, but I can't imagine eating it with anything but rice. Brown rice if you like. And a nice simple green. Spinach is back in season, so we had it with garlic and sesame oil

The issues of sustainability are with us, and we do have to be serious about protecting our earth. But they are complex. Do your research, be informed, and then make your decision. Annalena does not think you can be wrong, if you do your homework first. Be as educated about your food, as you are about anything else. It's important to all of us.

Sometimes, less is more: celery root risotto

2011-10-07T10:19:00.000-07:00

Ragazzi, the sun made another turn today and Annalena has reached the ripe old age of 54. Yes, indeed. And, due to circumstances completely out of her control, rather than being at home, getting a food massage from a darling acolyte, she is at work, eating take out food and drinking cold coffee. And they call this a civilized country? C'est la vie, as some would say.

The year has been revealing, and perhaps the day itself has been more revealing than one might have thought. I suppose it is a good idea to make changes when one turns a year older and indeed, Annalena shall be doing so. Time to shrug off some bad stuff and absorb some good stuff: sort of like not drinking the bad coffee that is sitting in front of me.

Well, enough of digression, on to food. An explanation of the first part of the title. A week ago, the Guyman and I were having dinner at one of our favorites, Barbuto. You have read of this place in these blogs before. It seemed that, at least that night, Barbuto had embraced autumn in all of its glory. The menu was crammed with dishes based on winter squash, and then there were many other dishes that reflected the turn of seasons, including a risotto of mushrooms and celery root.

Now, the Guyman and Annalena do not discuss what they are going to eat before they sit down. Sometimes, there is some negotiating, but almost never. We are of the school of thought which says that, if both or even all parties at a restaurant table want the same dish, then they should have it. It happens that sometimes we do, but almost never. This night, we were both drawn to the risotto, but there were many other things that we both wanted, both in the antipasti and secondi sections of the menu. Neither one of us being shy about things like that, we both spoke up, almost simultaneously and before you could say "PRONTO!" we were calorie splurging on a mid course of the risotto , shared.

Now, let me say something here, that will echo or even repeat something I have said in this blog, often. If you wonder why your food at home, does not taste like the food in the restaurant, you should watch the restaurant chefs cook your food sometime. As it happened, we were sitting at a table right outside of the restaurant. We could see the spoon - which was more like a shovel- dumping the butter into the risotto when it was being prepared. It was thus not surprising that the dish was buttery, creamy, and delicious. It should also go without saying that there was no way Annalena was going to add that much butter to her risotto at home.

Beyond buttery and creamy and delicious, however, the dish suffered from the "add on " problem. It was indeed surprising that this happened at Barbuto, where the trend is to "take away" from dishes rather than to add. This was good, but it was as if two different risotti had been made, and combined in one plate. The flavors did not really compliment each other, nor did they complement each other (look up the difference, ragazzi). As a long veteran of many mushroom risotti, there was no challenge to Annalena making this at home; however, celery root in risotto had not occurred to her aged brain before. And of course, she ventured forth and made it.

Lowering the amount of butter was a good thing. Yes, some creaminess was lost, but on a night when we were having veal roast with a truffle butter wine reduction, this was "a good thing." Also, it allowed the strong, green flavor of the celery root to come through.

So, you wanna make it? Here's what ya do. This recipe is for four very large servings, or six smaller ones. You may of course reduce it if you like.

Let us prepare the gnarly celery root first. One medium one is all you need, because the flavor is strong. You will see recipes that advise you to "peel" the celery root. If you try to go at these creatures with a vegetable peeler, you will break the peeler, hurt yourself, curse the vegetable and retire from cooking. Or worse. No, carissimi, what you do with a celery root is as follows: first, make a horizontal cut on the bottom, so that you have a smooth, even surface. Place this cut side down on a secure resting place. Then, take a large knife, and cut down the beast, on the sides, cutting away all of the brown, awkward edges.

Yes, you will lose a lot of the vegetable, but this is what happens with celery root. You will then have a cream colored block that smells of.... celery. Make vertical cuts, about 1/3 of an inch thick, and then using a few at a time, cut them into small cubes. No need to be medically precise here, but you don't want them too large. These will discolor, so if you mind that, immerse them in a little chicken or vegetable stock or wine, whichever you prefer.

Now, make your risotto. I COULD just stop here, but let's review. To make the risotto in the quantities discussed here, you will need 1.5 cups of dry, carnaroli rice, six cups of liquid , be it chicken stock, vegetable stock, or a combination, one small onion chopped, perhaps a rib or two of very finely chopped celery (you can leave this out), and a few tablespoons of olive oil. Also, and you can leave this out too, and replace it with more stock, about 2 ounces of white wine.

Start heating the stock in a pot right next to the vessel in which you are cooking the risotto. In the risotto pot or pan, add the vegetable oil and the onion. When the onion has moved to translucent, add the rice, stir it, and watch the color go to an off white. At that point, add the wine and cook it off. Now, you should be ready to make the risotto. Add a large ladle of stock. It will disappear, almost immediately. The next one will need more time, and you should stir while it is cooking. Work the corners of the pan, because the rice tends to stick here and burn. At this point, you may want to add a teaspoon or so of salt. After you've added the third ladle of stock, add the celery root. I lower the heat at this point, and I don't stir the risotto continuously. I stir it every minute or so, but that is about it, as I replenish the liquid.

Start tasting the rice when there's only about one cup of stock left. You have to be a judge here, as to how tender, and how wet you want the rice. If you use up all of the stock and it's not tender enough for you, then add some water, and keep it cooking. Taste a cube of celery root too. You'll want the celery root to be just a little bit more al dente than the rice, and of course, a little bigger.

Notice that we didn't add any saffron here. That's because we want the celery flavor to "sing." Off the heat, however, lash the risotto with lots of grated parmesan cheese, and maybe a couple of tablespoons of butter.

And you are done. And you have made a fall risotto, to accompany the one you're already making with butternut squash, si?

My fondness for celery root is legendary. And now I have a new recipe for my collection. We will be eating and serving this often as the world grows colder.

"As the world grows colder." Hmmm. Stay posted.

Of sweets, spices and going with the "currant" : Peppers stuffed with lamb sausage

2011-10-05T13:29:00.000-07:00

Maybe somebody out there knows: has there been a problem with Zante grapes, the grapes that are used to make dried currants? Annalena asks because, if you have been following her capers, you know that she has had trouble holding onto hers. So, she went out, dutifully checking all of her favorite shops for currants.

None to be found. None on her favorite mail order sites. NOWHERE. Finally, she found some , buried under other stuff, in a large produce store, but what in the name of the Madonna is going on? No currants? JEEZ.

Well, finally having them in hand, Annalena had the last ingredient she needed to make a variation on stuffed peppers. I must tell you, ragazzi, this dish is WONDERFUL. It goes into the "yes, there's some work involved" school, but the results are so good, so savory so all around terrific, that you simply MUST MAKE THIS!!!! Not much small talk today because of the work you're going to need to do. Save your strength.

Here we go. First, you have to have a cup of cooked rice ready. Now, if you are a smart cook, when you prepare rice, you should always prepare extra. It does keep for awhile in the refrigerator and, what no one seems to realize, is that you can freeze cooked rice. Did you know that? I bet even Sue didn't know it. But yes, you can. Let it cool, and then freeze it in small containers. In our house, leftover rice always finds a use somewhere, even if it's incorporated into bread.

OK, so you have your cup of rice. If you also happen to have about half a cup of left over cooked greens, even better. Chop them up and mix them with the rice. And if you don't have the greens left over, look for something else that will give a green note to things, be it frozen peas (which you froze when they were in season...), or something like that. This is going to be part of your filling. Put it aside for a minute though, while you get to the next step.

You need six big, beautiful red peppers. You really do need the red ones. The dish will work with other peppers, but for some reason, the red ones JUST TASTE BETTER here. Cut about a quarter of the top of the pepper off, get rid of the stem, and chop the remaining pepper flesh. TOss it into a pan, with a cup of chopped onion, and about 1/3 cup of olive oil. While this sautes, clean the seeds and stems out of the peppers, and then stand them in a greased baking dish, standing up.

When the onions and peppers have softened, add in the rice and greens, and also add three tablespoons of those alusive currants, and the same quantity of pine nutes. Also add a scant tablespoon of ground cumin. This may sound like a lot, but it's not. You're going to have a lot of filling here. Add salt to taste.

Take that pan off the stove, and toss in half a cup of red wine, keeping our rules for what wine we cook with in mind. Here's the fun part. You need a pound of merquez sausage. A primer here: merquez is lamb sausage, and from what Annalena can tell, Morocco and/or Algeria have the right to say that they made it first. It became popular in France, and thus made its way to the rest of the world. As with all sausages, there are different degrees of spiciness in the sausage. Find one you like. I prefer it a bit spicier, but you may wish for a milder one. There are lots of good brands available, and if your farmers market has someone who vends lamb, I bet you that they have it too.

You're not really interested here, in the sausage "per se," but in the filling. So, split the casings and get the meat out into the mix you already made (Saint Lucy Carmichael used to say she could get the meat out of the sausage without breaking the casing. If you are that good, go for it. Annalena used her knife).

Sausage fillings are packed to different degrees of tightness, so you may have to work a bit to break up the meat, but break it up you must, so that it integrates with the rest of the ingredients you have mixed together.

Smell this. It's wonderful, isn't it? Now, start filling those peppers, and be generous. You've got plenty. Use up all the filling, and then put a slice of lemon on top of each pepper. Now move the whole dish to the oven, preheated to 350, and let it cook for an hour. If you like softer peppers, you could add half a cup of water to the pan as well.

THe cumin, and the spice in the merquez, will make your home smell wonderful, and you will have produced a very rich, very filling dish. One of these peppers is enough for even the biggest appetite.

If you are concerned about the spicing, then mix up some yogurt and lemon juice, and spoon that over the peppers, or make it available to the more timid of the eaters you are serving.

These are NOT good cold, so if you plan on eating leftovers, do plan on warming them.

So, when someone tells you to "stuff it," do what they say.

Somewhat off the beaten track: schiacciata a l'uva

2011-10-04T12:54:00.000-07:00

When you study Italian cooking, you learn that the same dish can have several different names, depending on where you're from, or from whom you learned it. The most obvious of these is canneloni/manicotti. If you look up recipes for either of these, I bet you will be struck by their similarity, although it does seem that canneloni are made with more white sauce butter and cream than manicotti, which almost always have tomato sauce over them. And that reflects their origins: canneloni are Northern, manicotti are southern. This "name game" plays out often in pastas, but it also comes across in other dishes, as one will learn.

"Schiacciata," as Annalena learned, is a Tuscan word, rather than an Italian one, and it means "focaccia." She shall take that on faith, and note that while one can find recipes for literally hundreds of focaccie, the only schiacciata recipe she ever encounters, is one for use with grapes. A bit more research turned up more on this rather interesting little dish.

Schiacciata a l'uva is what grape harvesters eat at breaks, or at breakfast or snacks, during the grape harvesting/wine season. Now, lest you fall into a romance about the act of grape harvesting and wine making, let Annalena establish something right up front: this is NOT pretty, romantic word. It's hard, it's hot, it's sweaty and it's sticky.

SILENZIO all of you pigs. Seriously, grape harvesting is not easy and it is not fun. Banish thoughts of that from your mind, immediately. And let's talk more about the recipe.

Let me give you some ingredients: rosemary, olive oil, salt, sugar, flour, grapes with seeds in them. Odd combination? Yes it is, but that's what we're going to use here, in what is, admittedly, a dish that you will either love or hate. I love it. I'm going to make it again this year. And let's get cooking

After one more digression. Did anyone notice that the recipe is written with l'uva, but there is clearly more than one grape in it? Well, that's because grapes, in Italian, are one of the odd words: in the singular, a "grape" is masculine. In the plural, "grapes" are feminine, but take singular endings. a

Got that? I don't either. Just accept it. Remember, most of Italy is Catholic. We get used to accepting the odd.

Now, the first thing you do in this recipe, and you do it ahead of time, is take 1/3 cup of olive oil, and combine it with a very heavy tablespoon of rosemary leaves. Put it in a small pot and warm it up. When you just begin to see bubbles, take it off the heat and let it cool. SERIOUSLY LET IT COOL. You're going to be using this oil in a yeast risen dough and if the oil is too hot, you will get serious flatbread.

You should also prep by getting a generous two cups of grapes off of the stem. Now, what kind of grape? Here, you have to balance authenticity with simplicity of eating. Annalena is unaware of any wine grape that does not have a seed, but she is going to check with Frank, the god of tannins to see if this is true. Most of the grapes we eat are seedless. But you can get grapes with seeds, and you should, in Annalena's view, to get the full experience. Concords work really well here (even if they do not make good wine).

Also, since you're waiting for the oil to cool, measure 3/4 cup of water 2 cups of flour, half a cup of cornmeal, 2 teaspoons of yeast, 5 tablespoons of sugar, half a tablespoon of salt, and a half cup of pine nuts. While some recipes say the nuts are optional, Annalena does not agree.

Is your oil cool to the touch yet? If it is, let's go. If not, go have a glass of wine. When it's cool, combine the water and the yeast , and then add the olive oil - with the rosemary leaves, the flour, the cornmeal, half the sugar, and the salt. You mix this, with a dough hook or by hand , until you have a smooth soft dough. It will not take long. Do recall that doughs with oil in them behave differently than those which use butter or no fat at all, so if things are looking weird, do not worry. Just take your time. It will take about 5 minutes with the dough hook, ten minutes by hand. Then, leave it alone for a good hour and a half, maybe two hours. Go have some more wine, read a book, listen to some opera, but get into the Italian spirit of things.

Some say you should pit the grapes. If you choose to do so, do not let me stop you. Moi? I prefer to drive myself crazy in other ways.

When the dough has doubled, preheat your oven to 400. Spread some oil over a baking sheet. Now, let's stop for a minute and discuss this: this dough is NOT designed to fill a standard, 13x18 inch pan. If you try to do so, you will cry, get frustrated, and assume you did it wrong. You did not. Frankly, it is BARELY sufficient to fill an 11x17 inch pan, but it can be done if you're willing to be patient. It's not supposed to fill a pan: this is as rustic as it gets. So spread it out as well as you can, unless you wish to do what some do, and fill a pie pan or cake pan with it, and go for a round, fluffier look. It will be nice, but it will not be authentic.

After you have spread the dough however you choose, press the grapes and pine nuts into it, and then sprinkle the sugar and salt over the top. If you are a true fan of rosemary, you may add some more at this point (Annalena likes rosemary a lot, but not so much here, please). Put this in the oven, and bake it for a good 25 minutes, maybe 30 ifyou like crispy edges.

This allegedly makes 6-8 servings. To be honest, the flavor is so unusual that I like to cut it in very small pieces so that people can treat it as a canape or pick at it during the day. You will find the pine of the rosemary bouncing off the pine nuts, the salt and the oil bouncing off of each other, and the jamminess of the grapes and the sugar playing off of each other too. THey are all wonderful flavors, and I do wish you would try this. Annalena realizes, however, that this may be one that is too odd for many tastes. If that is you, well, maybe leave out the rosemary and put the salt into the bread (although that makes it decidedly not tuscan). Do "cook" with grapes rather than just eating them raw, however. They are a terrific fall ingredient, and they will be gone before you know it.

One of the best: pear cake

2011-10-02T11:11:00.001-07:00

I believe it was Annalena's second blog, where she wrote about pear cake, and the old tradition in Vermont of making a pear cake for your intended beau, if you were a single woman.

I like that tradition. I think that cooking for someone whom you wish to bed down is much underrated as an activity. Why spend money on clothes that really do not fit that you won't wear again where, ultimately, if all else goes wrong, you have a good dinner or a good dessert out of the situation? Hmmm?

Oh, dear, digressing again. Let' return to the topic of pear cake. As the readers know, Annalena is not shy about turning her cooking skills to changing ingredients, and she is not shy about "slumming" as some would have it, for recipes. Both activities come into play here.

Annalena's favorite source for spices is Penzey's. I commend them to you. They had a store not far from where Annalena's alter ego works, but it closed last week. Now, as Annalena waits for their reopening, hopefully at a convenient site, she has their catalog, which always features recipes. There was a recipe in the newest one for an apple cake.

Annalena is always in the mood for a good apple cake, especially one that makes a large amount, with minimal effort, so that she can share with others. Penzey's recipes are good in both respects: they have large yields, and are easy: VERY easy. And this cake thus caught Annalena's eye.

EXCEPT: she had a quantity of very ripe pears on hand. Well... if it didn't work.

It worked. It worked beautifully. And... it uses oil instead of butter.

Quick review here: when a cake uses oil as its fat instead of butter, what does it mean?

I'm smiling. I knew you all remembered. Good for you. Have two pieces of this cake, and say that the oil makes it healthy.

This cake takes a while to make, but making it is absurdly easy. You need a big pan, like a bundt pan, or something along those lines, but that is the only thing you'll have to look for. Oh, and cinnamon sugar. If you don't have cinnamon sugar, make it. Mix a quarter cup of sugar with a teaspoon of good cinnamon. Done

You will need 4 cups of flour, and 2 cups of sugar. Mix these together, and add a tablespoon and a teaspoon of baking powder, and a pinch of salt. All in a mixing bowl. Separately, combine a cup of vegetable oil, 3/4 cup of orange juice (squeeze it yourself), and 4 eggs. Pour that into the flour mixture, and then using the paddle, stir the stuff together until it's just combined.

Grease your baking pan REALLY well. Make sure you get that center portion, which everyone always forgets. Pour in half the batter.

Be careful here. Many people think "half the batter" means "fill half the pan." NOPE. And since most of these pans are not evenly shaped, the volume will differ. You can eyeball, but please keep that in mind.

Now, slice up pears. I don't peel them, peel them if you want, and cover the batter with them. Now sprinkle half that cinnamon sugar on them, and pour in the rest of the batter. Add another layer of pears, and more sugar. Get this into the oven and bake at 350 for 90 minutes.

Not a lot of work there, was it? For the first half hour you will swear you did something wrong. You didn't. After the second half hour, you will begin to worry that the cake will overflow the pan. It won't. And the smell of cinnamon will take over your house (you know, of course, that realtors recommend that you bake something with cinnamon if you're showing your house to someone who's interested in buying it, don't you?).

You want to let this cake sit for about thirty minutes, and then unmold it while it is still warm. There's so much fruit juice and sugar in the cake that, if you let it cool completely, you will never get it out. Trust me on this.

You have a delicious cake here, suitable for company dessert, for coffee, for impressing someone you want to bed down... Just don't feed your intended too much of it. SLows em down...

The flavor's there: roasted eggplant soup

2011-10-01T12:22:00.000-07:00

I bet you agree with me: trying to describe the flavor of eggplant is: difficult. It's much easier to describe its color, even if you call it "aubergine." Everyone thinks of that dark purple immediately, but go ahead: give me three words that describe the flavor of eggplant. NOT eggplant parmagiana, not humus, no, not that. Just eggplant.

Not so easy, huh? Annalena is not sure she could give you those words either. Still, it is one of those foods that "I know when I taste it." And it's also one of those foods that really does taste better when its with something else. Does anyone have a recipe that just uses eggplant? I don't think so. You can eat and enjoy steamed broccoli, or a raw tomato, but plain cooked, or raw eggplant? I don't think so.

Cooking eggplant with other things does transform a dish. The flavors meld into something different, but the eggplant taste, with its unidentifiable "finger print" is there. Such is with this soup. Some background.

Annalena has been wondering about eggplant soups for a long time. It should be a vegetable that makes a good soup, because it's very creamy when it's cooked, but without any dairy. It's thick, which makes for a satisfying soup, and there's so much of "it" in one eggplant, that you can make a lot. But how to get FLAVOR?

In researching "eggplant soups," I found that most of them either had almost no eggplant in them, or used fried eggplant as a garnish , or, as is the case in this recipe, roasted it, with other vegetables.

Now, I will be honest (I'm always honest with you... most of the time). This is NOT really the soup I wanted to make. I wanted something that was eggplant ONLY, but as I thought through it, I figured we would try it, and if it didn't work, well, with the season rapidly closing, I would try it again.

This works. It works well. You must make it. The time it takes (nearly 2 hours), may put some of you off, but there is almost no work here. Ready to start? Let's go.

You need 3 pounds of eggplant. The larger specimens will be easier to work with here, but if you have the smaller ones, that's okay too. Stick with the European globe eggplants though. They will make a thicker soup. You will also want six tomatoes. If you have overripe ones, terrific. I bet you could use green ones, too. Don't use heirlooms. Not necessary here. Also, two onions, and about ten cloves of garlic. Peel the garlic, but don't peel the onion. Cut the onion in half, and cut the eggplants in half lengthwise. Preheat your oven to 400, and brush some olive oil on the cut surface of all your vegetables, and toss the garlic in a little of it. Then lay everything out on baking sheets. You will probably need two of them.

When you lay the stuff on the vegetable sheets, lay the cut sides down. If your oven cooks unevenly, the way mine does, rotate the sheets halfway through the 45 minute period you will be roasting . They will take on a caramel color, the tomatoes will wrinkle up, and the smell of roasting onions will make you feel good all over.

So, it took nearly an hour, but how much work did you do? Hmmm...

Get the stuff out and let it cool. Seriously, don't burn yourself here, because it's easy to do so. Take the peels off the onions, and put them in a big soup pot with everything but the eggplants. Then, get yourself a spoon, and scoop the eggplant pulp into the pot too (you can use your hands, but the spoon makes this easier).

Now, add a quart of liquid: chicken stock, vegetable stock, or water if you really must, although I think the water is going to dilute the flavor. Cook this away for 45 minutes.

Now, let's digress to address a cooking issue which did come up while I was making this soup: if you are working with a liquid and it boils away and you didn't want it to, what do you do? Well, if it's a flavored liquid, like stock, assume that the flavoring agents are there. Just add half the amount of water, and proceed. If you need more, later, as I did, add more.

Ok, so we just spent another 45 minutes cooking, but how much work did you do? You put veggies in a pot, and you let them cook. Not too hard, eh?

When the stuff is cool, add it to a blender in small batches, and puree. You're never going to get a totally smooth puree the way you would with a carrot soup, but so what? The color is best described as mahoggany/rust brown. Taste it. Add salt if you want. And you're done. Maybe.

In some variations, cream is added to this soup. I could see cream being added if the only veggie were eggplant, but not here. No, this is good as it is. You'll get about 6-7 cups of soup. More than enough for a good meal for two, or a starter for four.

Eggplant soup. What'll they think up next?

Continuing to cheat Purgatory: baked fish with homemade bread crumbs

2011-09-30T11:06:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-25T09:46:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-24T08:02:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-23T13:44:00.001-07:00

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

2011-09-21T07:44:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-20T12:17:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-19T11:50:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-19T06:34:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-18T07:02:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-15T04:17:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-13T04:04:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-12T06:31:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-11T09:31:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-10T10:11:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-08T18:54:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-07T04:34:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

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.

Gilding the lilly and celebrating Wednesday: stuffed veal chops

2011-08-25T12:44:00.001-07:00

The careful reader will note that the Guyman and I seem to eat a lot of veal chops. It is true. In absolute terms, it's probably not a lot, but I would say we have them once a month. And in relative terms, that's a lot. Most people do not make them at home, and you very rarely see them on menus in restaurants. Veal chops are expensive: I think the least you can fairly see them for on a menu, is 38 dollars or so. They are big, meaty, delicious, but that kind of cost is not going to sit well with many people. And it probably shouldn't. When Annalena has eaten veal chops in restaurants, she has inevitably been disappointed. Either the fat/meat ratio has been skewed way too far in the favor of the fat, or the kitchen has decided that a veal chop is a steak and has cooked it that way. Quite wrong.

But we love them. So we eat them at home. In Annalena's mind, the way to cook a veal chop is to treat it almost like pork. And, indeed, this recipe could very easily be converted to one using thick pork chops. It works with chicken, and there is a recipe for such on this blog. But let's look at this special occasion meal (and you define "special occasion." I think most people interpret it too strictly).

You need good quality chops, which seems like a contradiction in terms, but make sure you're getting stuff that is more meat than bone and fat. Buy them from someone reputable. They will be probably at least a half inch, perhaps 3/4 inch thick, and that's how you want them. Any thicker and they will be difficult to cook properly. As with all proteins, Annalena suggests that you salt them the night before you cook them.

The day of, when the chops are coming to room temperature, preheat your oven to 350. While it preheats, prepare yourself a stuffing of fontina cheese (about an ounce per chop) and prosciutto (about half an ounce, or one slice, per chop. Incidentally, Annalena recommends that you look for La Quercia prosciutto, which is made here in the good old USA and is terrific). Cut the cheese into very small cubes, and cut the ham up nice and small. Mix it together.

Take each chop and find the thickest portion, away from the bone. With a small knife, cut a pocket into the center of the meat. Work carefully, but there is no need to slice it open like an envelope. Once you have an "in," you can even do this with your fingers. Get it deep enough so that you can force the filling in without it falling out of the side of the chop. Try to avoid needing to close them, with a toothpick or something like that.

When that's done, heat about two tablespoons each of butter and olive oil in a pan, and when it's hot, drop in the chops, and let them sear for about four minutes to each side. Then move them to the oven, and let them cook at 350 for ten minutes. This should cook them through, to medium rare, and melt the cheese nicely.

When this comes out of the oven, move the chops to a plate, and pour off the fat. Off the heat, pour in about a quarter cup of dry marsala, or some other fortified wine. Heat it (keep your face away to avoid the potential of flaming alcohol) until it's reduced by about half, and put the chops in. Turn them in the sauce, and...

you are celebrating. Again, what you are celebrating is up to you. I thought we should celebrate Wednesday, and why not?

The process at work: okra and pepper stew (is it Turkish)

2011-08-24T18:14:00.000-07:00

Annalena gets asked, with some frequency, a variation of "how do you plan your meals?" Well, "plan" may be far too kind and organized a word for what goes on when Annalena cooks. This entry is dedicated to what is definitely a "process," but is far from planning.

You all know the situations when you know what you SHOULD be thinking about, and what you SHOULD be doing, but for whatever reason, you aren't doing it. It does not indicate a failing on your part (certainly not on Annalena's), it just "is." And so it has been this week.

And it was against that background that today, at 3, I realized that I have very little idea of what I was going to serve for dinner. I knew what the protein was going to be, because I had defrosted some very expensive, beautiful veal chops. But for the rest... I had begun to think Israeli couscous - and then realized there was corn on the cob in the fridge. Then, for vegetables, I knew I had braised a bunch of artichokes over the weekend, and artichokes go beautifully with veal.

Which probably explains why I bought peppers at the farmers market today, and then thought "OH SHIT. The artichokes."

And, of course, I had forgotten the okra that was also in the fridge, sitting there since Sunday.

Now, the ORIGINAL plan had been to take the corn off the cob and make creamy okra corn saute'. Nothing wrong with that, except I planned to make it the same night I was serving pasta with flounder sauce.

OK, plan "B." Put them in the refirgerator and forget about them. I COULD have made them on Tuesday, when we had spicy lamb chops, except I forgot and made fregola.

So, here we were, with corn on the cob and okra, already in the house, and gorgeous red and yellow peppers coming home with me. And heirloom tomatoes, in addition to the ones that were already at home that I forgot about. And a package of La Quercia prosciutto, that had cost a queen's ransom and would go bad, soon.

And I had no idea what to make. And then, little by little, it came to me, literally between 3pm, and entering the apartment, at 6:30. I would cut a pocket in the veal chops and fill them with prosciutto and fontina cheese, and reduce marsala to make a sauce. Tomatoes: yes, tomato salad. With basil. Now to the vegetable. SHIT. Still no ideas. Peppers, yes.... with basil.

Oh, wait. Basil in the salad already. What else goes with peppers? Hmmm. Maybe oregano. I could taste it. Yes... But what of the okra.

I convinced myself that there is a Turkish dish that involves peppers and okra, although after the fact, I find that there is absolutely no such thing. But you know what? If I'm the first person to make this, I will take credit for it. It was good. It went well with the simple boiled corn on the cob (at this time of year, all you need to do is boil it in salted water), the stuffed chops, and the tomato salad. This is maybe the most difficult dish I made tonight, and it ain't too hard. And now I want you to make it. And I want you to play with different vegetables and seasonings.

You start with four medium sized peppers. Try to vary the colors, which should be a snap this time of year. Cut them into inch sized strips and put them aside, while you prepare about 3/4 pound of okra. Remember, you do it very easily: just cut the tip off: the end that looks like the top of an acorn, and leave them whole. If you happen to be able to get purple and green okra, go ahead. Three whole cloves of garlic, smashed, and a nice hefty handful of fresh oregano, still on the stem.

Coat the bottom of a pan with olive oil, and add everything at once. Put a nice amount of salt in, because peppers tend to need a lot of it. Bring the heat to medium high. When the veggies begin to sizzle, turn them once or twice, and then lower the heat, and turn the heat to medium low.

Both the peppers and okra will give up water, and you will be "smothering" the vegetables just like you did with the peppers and onions. You may find the peppers picking up some carmelization and there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong if they don't either. Look at them every few minutes and give them a stir. Then, after ten minutes, take the pot off the heat, and let it sit, covered for five minutes.

The veggies will continue to cook when they're off the heat, getting nice and soft. I found that the garlic really disappeared into the vegetables, and the oregano softened to the point where there were really very few tough stems in the dish.

It was, simply , delicious. And I'm thinking that those eggplants in the fridge that aren't gonna cook themselves, might very well get used in something along these lines. Perhaps then, the basil will go in, because I won't make a tomato salad this time.

Folks, if I haven't convinced you to give okra another try yet, there ain't too much more I can do other than to say, Annalena WANTS you to try it, and whatever Annalena wants....

For the crust phobic: plum almond tart

2011-08-21T14:15:00.000-07:00

I believe I have written, in the past, of how as the seasons move along, the "color" of the season changes. When it is early spring, it seems to Annalena that all is pink (strawberries, rhubarb), and light green (asparagus). As we move through the summer, the colors become more varied, but still pale until we get to late summer/early fall, when the colors are very intense, and now, in late August, the dominant colors are dark red (peppers; some peaches and necatrines) and purple (eggplant, peppers again, and plums). Indeed, the year is moving along. There are no more cherries, the abundance of apricots is slowing down, and the first grapes are here (nimrods. One of my favorites). And plums are at their peak. You could eat a different plum every day for two weeks. And perhaps you should. Get to know the differences. During the course of a year, you will eat different types of peaches, but probably not know it. With plums, you know. Green ones. Blue ones. Purple ones with red flesh. Purple ones with green flesh. And so on, and so forth.

Annalena had a large bowl of plums begging to be used for something. They were the "Italian plum" variety. Slightly dry, dark purple skin, and green flesh. They are ideal for baking, because unlike many plums, it is very easy to cut them and remove them from their pits. And the baking process makes them unbelievably sweet.

This is arecipe from one of David Lebovitz's books. I like it because it is ideal for the baker/cook who wants a pie, but fears pie crust.

Believe me, I understand that one. Even though my pies are now good, I still believe that every good pie crust is a gift from beyond. But this one, well, it's very easy, and it's not really a pie crust: it's a "tart" crust, and you know what's so great about it? You don't have to roll it out.

Ok, let's start. You need a tart pan. Nine inches. Let's not get into size arguments, bring a tape measure with you to the store and measure the removable bottom (and again, let's not get into the question of whether all bottoms should be removable, shall we?).

Once you have your pan, we can make the crust. Now, if you have a food processor, use the sliced nuts I call for in the following. If you don't, then get some almond flour, which is very readily available. And if you are allergic to nuts, substitute more flour.

To make the crust in the food processor, dump in a cup of flour, a half cup of skinned almonds, whatever cut you have, a quarter cup of granulated sugar and a pinch of salt. Pulse that together, and then cut up a stick of cold, unsalted butter, add that and pulse some more until it's all incorporated. Now, add an egg yolk and process until a ball forms.

Remember the substitutions above if you need. And if you don't have skinless almonds, hell use the whole ones. Or use hazelnuts. In any event, you will have a soft dough. This is sort of what we call a "cookie crust." Instead of rolling it out, you're going to take that ball of dough, put it into your tart pan, and push it around with your hands and fingers, up the side of the pan, and all the way through the bottom.

This is actually fun, and don't get frustrated if you find that you're doing this unevenly. Everyone does. The way to perhaps overcome that frustration, is to push the dough up the sides of the pan first, and then pat it all around to make it as even as possible. You can do this. It will take less than five minutes.

Now, the patience part. This is very soft, and if you were to bake this crust now, it would collapse into a pile and you would not be happy. So, put it into your fridge for about three hours.

When you're read, preheat your oven to 400, and take the tart out of the fridge. Prick it all over with a fork, and then put it in the oven, and after nine minutes, go in with a spatula, and push it down to flatten it.

When I read these instructions I didn't understand why you did that, and then when I saw it puff up... So, yes, do it. And then bake for another nine minutes.

While this is happening, cut up a pound and a half of plums. I cut them in halves which was a good choice. And mix them with a hefty tablespoon of corn starch, and a quarter cup of sugar.

When the tart crust is out of the oven, let it cool for about five minutes, and then put your plums in. I put them in, cut side down, so that we could have the lovely purple color showing.

IF you like - and trust me, you do - make a crumb topping. Do this by mixing half a cup of flour, 1/3 cup of brown sugar, 1/3 cup of almond paste, about a quarter cup of almonds, and half a stick of butter in your food processor, and pulse it to a fine grain. Again, if you don't care for nuts, leave them out and increase the flour. And if you don't have a food processor, use the nut flour we already talked about.

Change the temperature of your oven to 375, and then put the crumbs over the fruit. Put the thing on a baking sheet so that if any fall, you don't get clouds of smoke from your oven. Get it back in the oven for thirty minutes. The plums will bubble and give off a very thick juice and your home will smell of toasted nuts, if you use them. And then... the prettiest tart you can imagine comes out of your oven.. Look above.

Ice cream, anyone?

Smother em ... with pork: smothered pork chops

2011-08-21T13:41:00.000-07:00

Ciao tutti. Annalena took a brief vacation from writing, because she has been busy with many tasks, including preparing a birthday dinner for thirteen (or was it fourteen? After her sixth drink, things got a little confusing). This, however, is a dish she made last week, and it is one that is good anytime.

For reasons that are unclear to me, "smothered" dishes seem to be associated with southern cooking, and usually they involve chicken. In brief, you put the protein, somewhat precooked, in with vegetables, and then cover the pan and cook, with no added liquid, until the vegetables are soft and you have a bit of juice. And that's "smothered" cooking.

Other cultures have similar dishes. Italian cooking, for example, Annalena's strong suit, has "guazetto," which is a name for a category of stews. Cooking "in umido" means sweating the food, and again, that's one where the stewing happens. The ingredients here are quintessentially American cooking , however. You would not see pork chops in classical Italian cooking, but there's nothing wrong with good food.

Again, I made this in late summer, but you could make this any time of year. You would vary the vegetables if you cook seasonally, but now, we are in the midst of the primacy of peppers, so, go for it.

You will need four, large pork chops. I prefer them to be boneless, but if you like them with the bone, by all means. And, to review, we salt our proteins the night before we cook them, remember? Hmmmm?

The night of dinner, slice up three large red peppers, into thick pieces, and also thinly slice four, medium sized, white onions. You want about a pound of onions. Put those veggies to the side, and put a few tablespoons of olive oil into a big pan which you can cover. When the oil is hot, add the pork chops, and brown them well, on both sides. It will probably take about 8 minutes in all for you to do this.

You may be questioning the use of oil with pork, which is of course a very fatty meat, and indeed ,this is a fair question. You use the fat because even the fattiest of meat does not immediately give off its fat, so if you put the pork into a dry pan, you will burn it. The same will happen with bacon. The exceptions of which Annalena is aware are duck breasts, and foie gras, which both can be cooked in a dry pan, and should be.

After your chops have browned, you will have way more fat than you need. Now, you can pour off all but about three tablespoons. If you are uncertain how to know there are three tablespoons left, well, spoon out three tablespoons, get rid of the rest, and add the fat back to the pan.

Easy, huh? Now add your peppers and onions and stir them in the fat. They will begin to cook, but will not get very soft immediately.

They WILL soften, however, when you do what follows. Put the chops back in the pan, on top of the vegetables, lower the heat, and cover the pan tightly. You want everything to cook for about ten minutes. When you come back to the pan, the onions will have cooked to almost nothing, and the peppers will be ridiculously soft.

Now, what Annalena likes to do at this point, is to turn it into a sweet and sour dish. She does this by adding half a cup of cider vinegar and a quarter cup of honey, mixed together, to the pan, and turning up the heat, until the vinegar has evaporated. The acidity and the sweetness will remain, and they will be in the vegetables for the most part.

Switch it up a little. Use some other vegetables, add some herbs, like rosemary, for example, and let Annalena know if it works for you.

You know it's Sicilian when: Swordfish, Sicilian style

2011-08-17T10:02:00.000-07:00

This is dedicated to my Italian teacher Jonathan, who is (or was) in Sicily and lamented to me a few days ago that he had eaten more eggplant in 4 days than he had eaten in 30 years.
Yes, young man, welcome to Sicilian cooking, where in summer, eggplant rules.
I've written before how certain names of dishes are "signifiers" (that's for you too, Jonathan): veronique and florentine are the examples I always use, so test your recall to see if you remember what they mean.
But there are also other combinations of ingredients that are evocative of, or signify, a place. While it has lost some of that "significance," think of corned beef and cabbage. Being more elaborate by adding a time, franks and beans with brown bread, on Saturday night (New England). Crepes with sour cherries. And so on and so forth.
When you see sweet and savory mixed together, in a main dish, you are looking at the area of the world where Sicily and the Middle East converge. You can get into loud, long arguments over who influenced whom, but the bottom line, is that in Sicilian cooking, in Syrian cooking, etc, you will see combinations of strong spices, and sweet elements. I see more honey in Syrian food, and more dried fruit in Sicilian, but they are always there. Think of the national pasta dish of Sicily (which I try to forget since I hate it: sardines, fennel, pine nuts, and currants). Within that combination, you have the markings of a Sicilian dish: pignoli. Dried fruit. An herb. And fish.
Now, there's something that will separate Sicilian cuisine from the other regions I've mentioned. I am not very much aware of a seafood cuisine from the Middle East, although I know it exists. Sicily, however, is known for its seafood dishes. And before you say to me "DUH. It's an island," that is not a guarantee. Sardinia is an island as well, but its seafood cusine is limited, because much of the island is covered with swamps, filled with malarial mosquitoes. So, you will get Sardinian style rabbit (it's GOOD), but you will probably not get Sardinian style swordfish. But you will get Sicilian style swordfish, and that is to where we now turn.

Traditionally, this dish is prepared "rollatino" style. The fish is cut in a very thin slice, filled with the mixture I will discuss below, rolled up, tied or secured with toothpicks or some other element, pan fried, and served, usually with something like salmoriglio sauce. Look it up. It's in this blog.

If you try to get your fish monger to slice swordfish thin enough to do the preparation that way, he will hate you and you will wonder why you did it, because regardless of how thin the slice is, swordfish is fragile, and the slices will break up. You will hate me if I tell you to do it that way. So, here's how Annalena did it. You should do it, too, especially now, when local swordfish is at its peak.

Many people do not like fennel, and if you are one of them, use oregano, fresh if you can, please. The amount of oregano is up to you, as are the other ingredients: pine nuts, raisins or currants (I use the golden raisins. Currants would be more traditional, but the raisins are fine, and I like the golden ones here), pine nuts, and dried bread crumbs. Also, olive oil. And salt.

Chop up the fresh oregano until it's fairly fine, but don't go for green paste. Put a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a frying pan, and add the raisins and the pine nuts, and the oregano. Stir the stuff over medium heat, and when the pignoli begin to brown, add some bread crumbs and a pinch of salt. Mix it all together. The olive oil will all get absorbed, so add some more. Taste and if you want more salt, go right ahead. Add oil until you have a paste of your desired consistency. Annalena prefers this fairly thick, so she doesn't use much olive oil, but this is one of the hallmarks of Sicilian cooking: you work within a basic framework, and elaborate as you go on.

For the swordfish. I use steaks that are about half an inch thick. Use either a second frying pan OR if you are lucky enough to have a ridged, stovetop grill pan, use that. Brush some olive oil over the pan, and get it REALLY REALLY hot. In fact, I would say you should wait until it smokes. While it's heating up, pat dry your fish, salt it, and then lay it on the surface of your pan. Leave it alone (I'm serious about this), for a solid five minutes. Fish has a different composition than meat and it is much more likely to stick than the others. If you are really squeamish about that possibility, use a nonstick pan, but you won't get the lovely lines.

After five minutes carefully flip the fish, and cook the other side, until it, too gets those wonderful grill marks, or browns.

Now, have your oven preheated to 350, and put the whole pan in for ten minutes. Unlike its cousin, tuna, swordfish does not fare real well if it is undercooked. It CAN be overcooked, but it's hard to do so at ten minutes.

Bring it out of the oven, being careful, and then spread some of that wonderful glop over it.

You basically have "srollatino", or "UNrolled" swordfish. And a fairly simple, somewhat exotic dish at that.

Try it. Expand your horizons. Go south. Eat more fish.

The remains of the dough: apricot pie

2011-08-16T04:19:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know Annalena well, know of her struggles with pie crust. Well, as I have written here, once I had Rose Levy Birnbaum's book, pie crust was no longer a mystery or a source of never ending frustration. Whilst the expression "easy as pie" still lacks meaning to me, "pie in the sky" is no longer the ruling expression in the pastry kitchen.

Some time ago, I made a double crust blueberry pie for a dinner. It was a very bigt success, and part of this was in fact the crust. Flaky, buttery, it was absolutely terrific.

When you roll out pie crust, inevitably you have extra. You cut away the excess on the edges, and then you do SOMETHING with it. I remember folks putting sugar on it and making "pie crust cookies," and I've done that too. And thrown away the cookies. So, now, I gather up the crust and save it. I had done that for the blueberry pie, with full intentions of making a quiche.

Well... we sort of got waylaid along the way, and the apricot pie resulted. See, I had another pie planned, and I just figured a double crust pie, so I would be making more crust. EVERY SOURCE I looked at asked the question: "why are you covering the gorgeous apricots with crust?" OK, so we turn to Rose and find a winner. The picture above is the pie that followed, using her book and making a few changes. Here we go.

First, the crust, which makes enough for THREE single crusts. You need 2.25 cups of all purpose flour, and half a teaspoon of salt, which you "fluff" up, either by hand, or with your food processor, using a few pulses. Next, you need fourteen tablespoons of unsalted butter. This is two sticks, less two tablespoons. Use six of them , cut into cubes, and pulse to a very fine meal (or work your fingers to get the same result). Then, the final 8 go in, and this time, go for things that are about the size of small peas. Add a tablespoon of cider vinegar, and then add ice cold water . This is important. When I make pie crust, I start by putting water in a cup with some cubes, for this stage. Add four tablespoons, and stir everything together with a fork, or pulse it. Then keep on adding water, by the tablespoon, until the dough just begins to get cohesive. Gather it together with your hands, and divide it into three equal masses. Flatten it, and either refrigerate it, or freeze it. IF you freeze it, just make sure you thaw it before you're ready to bake.

To bake this pie, you're going to do a "blind" crust. That means you're going to bake the crust, empty, with a "cover" on it, to keep it crispy. Since you don't see it baking, it's "blind." When the crust dough is somewhat soft, but not TRULY soft, it's ready to roll out. I use lots of flour and then brush it off at the end. Use a very firm stroke, and keep on rotating the crust to keep it as circular as possible. Don't kill yourself though. DO have your pie pan handy so that you can see if you have enough dough. You want it to spread out over the pan by about an inch. When you're there, press it down into the pan, and run your rolling pin over the edges, to smooth it out and get rid of excess. Then, prick little holes all over it, cover the bottom with some parchment paper, and either pile in pie weights if you have them, or dried beans, or rice, and bake this at 425 for eight minutes. While it's baking, separate an egg. Save the yolk for making ice cream, you'll be using the white here.

Protect your hands and move the crust out of the oven. Keep it at 425 and let it cool for three minutes. Then, brush the egg white all over the pie. It will "cook" immediately, and then get your filling together.

It's hard to set up these posts, so "per favore." While the crust has been baking, you set up your apricots by cutting about a pound and a half of them into segments: small ones into fours, big ones into sixes, REALLY big ones into eights. Mix them with 1/3 cup of sugar, and a couple of tablespoons of corn starch. Apricots don't put off much liquid, so you don't need much thickener. And, because their skins are soft, you don't need to peel them (some do. More power to them).

Be creative in how you layer the slices in the crust. See what I did above? But use your imagination, and if, as Ms. Birnbaum does, you prefer halves, use that (that's better, though, with smaller apricots. There's a gorgeous picture of a pie done this way in her book). Put the pie back in the oven, and bake it for about 50 minutes. The tips of the apricots will brown, and the pie will thicken some.

When you bring it out of the oven, get about half a cup of good quality apricot jam. Heat it gently, and then put it through a colander . I thought this step was not necessary, but it really is. It will make you a nice, smooth glaze, which you dab on the fruit until you've touched all of the surface.

And when you're done: VOILA. See what you've got above?

Yes, it's a lot of work, but the result is impressive. Apricots are not in season forever, and in NY they are at their peak now. So, roll up your sleeves, and get the pie going. I think you'll be happy you committed to this one.

How to brown bag, the Annalena way

2011-08-14T10:58:00.000-07:00

I would like to have a show of hands, especially from my readers here in NYC. How many of you have said, more than once "DAMN, buying lunch is EXPENSIVE" (use any variations on that you would like). Now, how many of you have said "you know, those lunches are FATTENING." (again, variations). Bet it's a lot of you. Now, let me see another show of hands: how many of you have done anything to break out of the cycle of expensive, fattening lunches? Hmmmmm.

I thought so. Well, Annalena is going to try to inspire you to do some of this at home.

Everyone is interested in the quality of lunches children get at school: even people who do not have children. And there are programs all over which are designed to make sure that our kids get a decent meal. Again, my NYC readers will remember the recent stir caused when GASP apple slices were being offered as part of a Happy Meal. We argue we fight, we take positions, on lunch for our kids.

Uh, hello. Don't we owe an obligation to our kids, ourselves, our loved ones, to stay healthy too? How many of you don't eat enough fruit in a day? Bring some to work. How about vegetables? Get yourself a container of cherry tomatoes. You've got a good two servings right there, and you didn't have to cook.

Ah, but the cooking part. THAT's where people get testy "Yeah, I'd bring my lunch but I don't have time to cook."

B******T. You do. You make dinner? You read the papers? You watch tv. Yeah, you do. I'm going to tell you about our lunches, and maybe you can do something similar.

For health reasons, the Guyman and I eat chicken for lunch, at least four times a week. That does not mean we eat the SAME chicken. We alternate between boneless chicken breast, and chicken sausages. And within the sausages, we have different ones every week. And then we alternate breads. So, for the nerds among you, if you get two different kinds of bread, and one kind of sausage (and the chicken breast), you need not eat the same sandwich in a week. Play with vegetables and fruits, and you're solidly in a camp of variety.

And you will save money. It may not seem like it, but bear with me. Yesterday, at the farmers market, Annalena bought 2 pounds of chicken sausage, and two large packages of chicken breasts. It cost her 44.00. Sounds like a lot? Nope. That amount of chicken will serve for 12 lunches. So, the protein portion is about 3.75 a sandwich. Even if you buy a ridiculously artisanal loaf of bread, your sandwich is going to cost less than buying one, and you can put whatever you like on it, and... you don't have to wait on line.

Here's how I make my chicken breasts for sandwiches, and I'm going to go through timing with you. The night before I cook them, I marinate the breasts in "something." There are always fresh herbs of some kind, and then sometimes garlic, sometimes not. The "liquid" might be yogurt (a big favorite), or some olive oil, or some fruit juice (not that often). Put about two pounds of boneles, skinless chicken breasts in about a half cup of some liquid, and add the flavors you like. Put it all in a bag, toss it in the fridge, and let it sit overnight.

The next day, preheat your oven to 375. Take out the chicken, and take off most of what's stuck to it. Heat up a pan (or, if you have a stovetop grill, that), and rub a little oil on it. When it's hot, add the chicken and don't move it for five minutes. You will get a miraculous crust on it. Then, turn it over and cook it for three minutes, and then move the whole thing into the oven for another ten.

How long did it take you to cook that chicken? Was it twenty minutes? How long the night before setting it up? Five? When it cools, you slice it, and make sandwiches.

We eat big ones (watch it, gang), and two pounds of the chicken breasts will make four sandwiches. Four GENEROUS sandwiches. Go leaner if you like, use turkey if you like, but do something like this.

Like I say, it doesn't take long, and you will be much happier with what's in your lunchbag. Put in the cherry tomatoes and the peaches you bought at the farmers market, or the broccoli and berries, get a container of yogurt, and you will be a MUCH happier camper than if you're standing at the salad bar, wondering who sneezed on the chick peas, or groaning at the mayonnaise in the tuna salad on your sandwich, or wondering "isn't that the same mark in the tabbouleh that was there three days ago?"

C'mon, let me see some of you brown bag it. If you already do, gimme your ideas. I'm really interested in what people do for lunches. Let's chat. And better yet, let's do lunch.

Making the fake, real: yogurt onion herb bread

2011-08-13T11:10:00.000-07:00

Last week, Annalena wrote to you of her hiatus from bread baking, and her new approach. I made a loaf of sun dried tomato/olive bread that was amazing, if I say so myself (and I do). I ate the last piece of it with cheese on Friday and was very pleased.
So, as last week, progressed, I began to look for another bread, for this week, and I found something called "buttermilk onion bread." I read the description, which said that it really worked well as a sandwich roll. The Guyman and I eat either chicken sausage, or chicken breast for lunch every single day of the work week, so something that makes appealing rolls is, well, appealing to Annalena. I knew that the buttermilk would be switched to yogurt, no big deal there, and I didn't look further into the recipe. Today, I did.

UGH. Here are some of the ingredients in the original recipe:

sugar
dried minced oinon
dried parsley
onion powder
dried dill.

With the exception of sugar, Annalena has none of those ingredients in her home, and she never will. You have read her rants about dried green herbs: they are, essentially, green confetti. Dried minced onion is ok, and in some applications, is actually better than the real thing but they are few and far between.

Onion powder is salt flavored with onion juice, and stabilizers.

This was not going to do; however, the idea of yogurt, onion, and herbs is really something that sounds good, isn't it? So, Annalena got to work. And now ,the digression.

Annalena knows that not all of you out there are bread bakers, and that it scares many of you. PLEASE get over it. Get a GOOD bread book (I can make recommendations), and make them. And as you get experienced, you can do things like Annalena does here, and change the recipes. That comes with experience, but if you do the basics, you will still have a really good loaf of bread and you will feel very good about yourself, too.

So, here's how I changed the recipe. First, I diced up a small onion, very fine. Then I went to our rooftop and collected fresh herbs: chives mostly, but also thyme, parsley, and dill. If you look at this, it's the fresh version of what the original recipe called for. I chopped the herbs, until I had a generous half cup of them (incidentally, you can use whatever herbs you like. For an onion bread, though, use mostly scallion and chives).

Now, in a bowl, combine 1.5 cups of yogurt with milk to bring it to just over 2 cups. There's your buttermilk. Add two tablespoons of butter (it can come out of the fridge), 2 cups of white flour (unbleached), and 2 of whole wheat, the onion and herbs, and a tablespoon of yeast. Either start mixing this up with your hands, or use your mixer, with the paddle, to get it combined together. When it's uniform (it won't take long, add another two cups of flour.

Here, you will have to play with liquids. Start adding cold water, a tablespoon at a time, and add it until you have a dough that is just starting to get sticky. When you have that, either use your dough hook, and go for 8 minutes, or use the letter folding technique I write about in other entries, to get the smooth type of loaf described.

Put this in a bowl, covered, for an hour and a half. Then, punch it down and form, either 8 large round rolls, or two round loaves, or as I did, four and one. Put them on a parchment paper lined baking sheet, cover them, and go away for an hour, while you preheat the oven to 350.

Get these into the oven, and bake, for about 30 minutes. The smell that emanates from your kitchen will make you want bread... NOW. Patience. As they cool, the house will continue to smell wonderful, and you can be very proud of yourself.

No synthetics, and a bread that is actually pretty good for you. Can't beat that.

It's not salade nicoise, but it's good: tuna, bean, potato and beet salad

2011-08-12T08:43:00.000-07:00

Way back in 2008, Annalena wrote a short series of notes on the "canon," and wrote a bit about French canonical dishes. One of them was salade nicoise. If you go back to that one (and you're gonna have to go back to a few notes to finish this recipe), you'll see her concerns about getting into battles about proper French cooking. And with good reason. This is NOT an area of cooking on which Annalena feels she is on secure ground.

I bring that up because, when I told the Guyman what we were eating for dinner, his first response was "Oh. GOOD. We're having salade nicoise." My response was "well, not sure I'd call it that. You can if you want, but I'm just going to list the ingredients in the salad." Indeed, if you go back and look at the original post on nicoise, you'll see mention of how black olives and hard boiled eggs seem to be required ingredients in the salad, and anchovies in the dressing. None of that is here. Rather, there are a lot of good things that make it LOOK like it COULD be a salad nicoise, but it's not. SO, here we go.

First, let's look at tuna. If you go back on this blog, you will find a recipe for tuna confit. You're going to need to make that. If you don't want to (but you really should make it once), then get a couple of cans of GOOD quality tuna in olive oil. Get an Italian brand, but try not to be fooled into buying bluefin. Do not get me wrong: that tuna, as I remember it, is wonderful, but bluefin tuna is on the edge of extinction. Let's not help it along.

You are also going to need to go WAY back on the blog, for how Annalena steam roasts her beets. I like to use different colors, but if you only have one, use one. And if you are only going to use one color, I would suggest using the yellow ones, so that you don't have "bleed." Now, go back a little bit, and find the entry on dragon's tongue beans. Make that one too. And if you don't have dragon tongues, use any green bean you have.

Sounds like a lot of work , doesn't it? It really isn't. Go through them all. You'll see what I mean.

Now, what quantity of each vegetable? Per person, I would say two medium, or three small beets, either quartered or halved, depending on the size of the beet. And about 1/3 of a pound of beans. When they're done, and cool, cut them into bite sized pieces. Finally, a pound of potatoes. I used fingerlings, which I almost never do, but they worked fine. A note on them, though. Fingerlings are the freshest of potatoes, even fresher than "new" potatoes, which aren't new. So if you have fingerlings, refrigerate them. Or else, you will find that some of your taties have gone bad and gotten very soft, and very smelly, and there is little that smells worse than a rotten potato. Cook them in boiling salt water, until they are just firm. It will probably take about fifteen minutes, and if you are so inclined, as I was, when they are cool, slice them lengthwise.

Now you have all your ingredients. I tossed all the vegetable components together, and then crumbled a pound of tuna confit over the top of it.

The key element to this dish, I think, is the dressing, and it's somewhat of an unusual one for Annalena. It's very sharp. And it has no vinegar; rather, it is the juice of one very large lemon (about 1/4 cup), and two tablespoons of dijon mustard, with a pinch of salt, and half a cup of olive oil, all of this shaken up.

This is a much more tart, much more stinging dressing than you will usually find, but it's really necessary for these ingredients. Pour it all over the salad, give it a light toss, and know what... you have a great fairly light Sunday dinner.

The Guyman and I positively devoured this. I thought there would be some left over today for the legendary French "Pan bagnat" sandwich, but alas, I had to make do with simple cheddar cheese on sun dried tomato bread. C'est la vie.

When the mushroom man doesn't show up: pot roast with white herb gravy

2011-08-11T06:17:00.001-07:00

The Farmers Market is filled with characters, Annalena included. So, too, with the farmers. In fact, one of the more enjoyable features of the market is getting to know the various farmers, and either "bonding," or not. It's a good way of determining where you'll shop. For example, if I need "perfect" white peaches, I know where I'm going and the farmers are not warm and fuzzy. On the other hand, if I need "good" white peaches, there are three or four farmers with whom Annalena has good relationships, and I'll go to them.

And then there are some vendors who are "sui generis." They are the only ones who supply a particular item. Either you deal with them, or you go without. One such vendor is Michael, who is a forager, and sells wild mushrooms in season. At this time of year, he is selling tons and tons of Annalena's favorite mushroom, the chanterelle.

Except when he's not. See, Michael only comes on Wednesday, and he only comes when he has product, and he only comes if he feels like it. Sometimes he doesn't feel like it because of what he has drunk the night before. Sometimes his truck breaks down, and sometimes, well, he's just not there.

So, if, as was the case with Annalena, you were planning on making a chanterelle gravy to serve with your pasta, and there are no chanterelles, you have to do some quick thinking. This is the story of that quick thinking, and I want you to get into this habit.

Annalena had made a pot roast over the weekend: a small one of about 3 pounds. You can find the recipe by searching "stracotto" on this blog. Pot roast NEEDS a gravy. The meat has been cooked for a very, VERY long time, and it is chewy and delicious, but it IS dry. Traditionally, there's a brown gravy on pot roast, but not always.

Italians are not big on gravy or sauces. "Gravy" to Italians is what you other folks call tomato sauce. We usually serve our meat with just its juices. So gravy making is not inherent in our blood, the way it may be for some other people. So, every time Annalena makes a gravy, it's a new effort. This one, much to my delight was wonderful. And easy. SOOOOO easy. And so good. Here's what ya do.

You start with 6 tablespoons of unsalted butter, 1/3 cup of flour (which is just about the same quantity of butter), and milk. At least two cups. You will probably need more. And about two tablespoons of your favorite herbs, soft ones, chopped. I used oregano, thyme, a bit of spicy basil.

Melt the butter in a big pot. Try not to brown it, but you may wind up with soem browning anyway. That's ok. Now, add the flour and whisk it. COok it for a few minutes. You won't need more than five. You'll get bubbling and a thickening.

Now, get your milk. Start with two cups and add it gradually. It will sizzle and bubble, and everything will clump. You will be convinced you have done something wrong. You have not. This is how it works. And after the two cups of milk have been poured in, carefully, you will see a smoothing out. It will probably be thick, and at this point, you will want to add some more milk, and half the herbs. Also, season this, because you have no salt in the mix at all. Taste it, but be careful. It is WICKED hot . You may also wish to add some pepper, but that will destroy the white color of the gravy. Just know that ahead of time.

If your gravy is still too thick for you, you can add more milk, but I added a slug of white wine, and stirred it until I had the consistency I wanted. This was a good move, as it added an acidic "zing" to the gravy which lemon could have done, but really wasn't an option because it would have curdled the milk.

When your gravy is at the thickness you like, add the remaining herbs, stir them in, take the gravy off the heat and, after slicing your pot roast, just put it in the pot.

This is GOOD. There are other gravies that will go with this. My little brother Gatto is proud of his red eye gravy, and most of the other ones that are known are thick, brown sauces, sometimes with mushrooms (if you can find them). This one is a bit lighter than the mushroom versions. Give it a try. Try it on something else too. And let Annalena know how you like it and if you use it for something else.

More on salad: read on, too many ingredients

2011-08-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

Most of think of cool, light salads when the weather gets hot. You think of those cool lettuces, with other things mixed in, and a nice light dressing, perhaps with some cold protein like chicken or shrimp on it, and it's a meal.

Just one thing: in the hot weather, lettuce, spinach and all those nice light greens we're used to in salads, simply do not grow well. In hot weather, spinach disappears. Lettuces grow, but they "bolt," that is, they sort of spring up, form flowers and seed heads and just become "tough" if you can believe that. There have been times when I have bitten into leaves of a summer salad, and felt like I was chewing leather (not that that is necessarily a BAD thing, but if you're expecting lettuce...).

So, what does one do in a situation like this? The solution is: you get creative.

You CAN get lettuce, but it may be difficult to get plenty of it, or frustrating to find the ones you want. Or, it's become expensive to the point where you're saying "They want WHAT for lettuce?"

Of course, you may, simply, not be a fan of lettuce in your salads, and that's fine too. The salad that follows is one where you can in fact leave the lettuce out. It's designed for someone who wants an ample, interesting salad, where you can move things around. It is a reconstruction of a salad Annalena ate at her beloved Barbuto and made for her beloved Ken, Keith and Vince, as well as the Guyman. It is good.

Let's start with the dressing, which is yogurt based. I think one of the reasons why people do not like yogurt dressings is that they are not complex enough. Salt, pepper and yogurt do not a dressing make. Mine involves dill weed - the seed heads, rather than the leaves. I pull them off of "crown dill," which is exactly what it sounds like. This is the dill that has "gone to seed," so to speak. You will need about a tablespoon of that stuff, which is a good handful of plants. When you have it, pour about three tablespoons of white vinegar over it, and let it steep for fifteen minutes.

Now, add about a third the volume of vinegar, of mustard, and then double the volume of olive oil. Also add salt. Shake this all up and then add one container of yogurt. I used full fat sheep's milk yogurt. This is one where (don't y'all faint), you probably could use non fat yogurt, but do Annalena a favor: use one that does not have stabilizers in it (read the label). Stabilizers in yogurt make it seem almost like jello. You don't want that, do you?

Shake that all up, taste it, and correct it for seasoning. Put it aside. The mustard, as you know from Annalena's blogs, acts as an emulsifier, and your dressing will not separate.

Let us now address the salad itself. We start with beets. Again, there are prior blog entries, teaching you how to steam roast beets. Annalena does so every two weeks, which is about how long beets last in her refrigerator. She likes to use yellow and red ones, and counts on two small to medium sized beets per person. Cut them in half, or quarter them, as you see fit. Then, chop up the equivalent of half a kirby cucumber a person, into small dice, and add it to the beets. Now, for every four people, one ripe avocado, sliced thinly (if you have a sharp knife, you can make the cuts right through the skin of the avocado, and then drop the flesh right into your salad bowl.

Ok, now some more fun. When you buy stone fruit, like peaches and nectarines, there's always one or two that just doesn't ripen. This is where you use it. Slice circular cuts off of the fruit. It's not hard, and when you get to the pit, just do the best you can with slicing around it. The fruit is an add in, it's not the main thing. Now, some young, semi firm cheese: young pecorino, or fontina, or something like that. Cube up about an ounce per person.

We've got an interesting salad going now, don't we? You could stop here, but if you happen to have a head of a loose, or butter leaf lettuce available, use it. Wash it, tear it into bits, and toss it into the bowl with the other ingredients. Mix everything up and then pour the dressing over it.

If you're feeling exuberant, how about some more dill, snipped on top, and a handful of toasted nuts?

This was the salad for the end of our meal last night. The bowl was empty, and the plates were clean- AFTER some duck breast , israeli couscous, and pole beans.

I guess they liked it.

Summer reading leads to: prosciutto wrapped roasted flounder

2011-08-09T04:07:00.000-07:00

Ok, is there anyone out there who doesn't like a trash book every now and then? You know the type I mean: I'm not talking about bodice rippers, or graphic novels, or what have you. When Annalena says "trash book," she means something that is, shall we say, a bit ahem "below" the standard you usually use when reading a book.

I didn't think so. Annalena, too, has her share of "simple" reads, and she just went back to one that, frankly, was unendurable the first time around. This time, perhaps taken by the spirit of "whatever," Annalena read it all the way through.

The work in question is entitled "I loved, I lost, I made spaghetti." It is, essentially, the tale of a lady's frustrating love life, interspersed with recipes for what she cooked along the way.

Annalena can relate. She, too, can remember, almost down to the peppercorn, what she cooked for various "boyfriends," and so forth. If Annalena was as insufferable as this woman was, however, she apologizes to all. I found myself speeding along saying "ABBASTANZA. ANDIAMO ALLE RICETTE," because these were, without question, the best part of the book, and I shall return to them. They were the best part not only because of the content of the recipes, but they serve as inspiration. They are all fairly simple, but I could hear myself thinking "well, yes, but this would be better if..." Annalena has already made a pot roast from inspiration in the book (90 plus degrees out and Annalena is making pot roast. Draw your conclusions...), and also, a variation on a dish which our writer called "Orthopedic cod."

The titles of the recipes are one of the things that DID bother Annalena about the book; however, again, if we skip past the titles, we get to something fundamentally good. You just need to know a few things.

First, you can use any white fish to make this recipe. Also, if you look at her recipe, it calls for two slices of prosciutto per portion of fish.

Remember how Annalena tells you not to get hooked up on proportions? Such is the case here. Perhaps her prosciutto was cut from a thicker portion of the leg. Annalena's was not. She used a lot more of the stuff to wrap her fish. Also, the recipe calls for about a third more butter than does Annalena. And, finally, the issue with fish, always: if you like your fish more underdone than cooked completely, lower the time. I am giving you a timing for a just barely cooked fish, using a standard, thick slice of flounder. If your fish is thin, cut the time down. If you have a REALLY thick piece of, say , halibut or cod, increase it. In any event, make this.

I did like the fact that the author's portions are generous. She calls for 12-16 ounces of fish for two people, so let's start with a pound of flounder. Salt and pepper both sides of it, while you preheat the oven, to 375. Then, melt two tablespoons of unsalted butter, and when it's melted, brush the fish, on both sides, with the stuff. Now, get your prosciutto and wrap. It is very possible, indeed, likely, that the slices will not be long enough to encase your fish fully. That's fine. Just make sure that you treat the side that IS covered, as presentation.

Now, get a small baking dish, or a baking sheet, and brush some butter over that. Put the fish, presentation side UP on the sheet, and brush the rest of the butter over it. Get it into the oven, and bake for 15 minutes or so.

You do have to do some guessing here, because the fish is covered with that lovely ham. When you're done, you will have what you have up at the top of this blog.

You will need a knife and fork to eat this, because the ham will have crisped up and defied your fork.

Now, for those of you who treat fish as the healthful alternative, I suggest you think of chicken for another meal during the week, or perhaps serve LOTS of green vegetables, as the butter and prosciutto have clearly destroyed the health benefits.

Oh well... I loved... I cooked... I gained weight. Yes, that's Annalena's working title.

A "fruit" upside down cake: tomato upside down cake

2011-08-07T17:57:00.001-07:00

Ragazzi, Annalena is coming into the modern age more and more. ECCOLA as we say back home.

Now is this a first, or what? Annalena, actually the Guyman, figured out how to put a picture into these posts.

It is NOT easy. Oi. Deo grazia he is around.

Anyway, here's the story. You have seen many, perhaps too many, upside down cakes, on this blog. But this one was too, TOO good to not put up. It is, as the header says, a TOMATO upside down cake.

I can see the noses wrinkling, and I can see people saying "HUH?" And now I can hear the statements: "Ah. It's a SAVORY cake. Like a quiche."

Not so, carissimi. This is a sweet cake, with a fruit because tomatoes, botanically, are a fruit.

A little science here for those who will not be put off: most of what we eat and call vegetables, are fruits. If the seeds of the edible portion of the plant are completely enclosed, the plant is a fruit. So, tomatoes, eggplants, beans, squash, and so many other things we call vegetables, are fruits, botanically.

For tomatoes, there is much confusion, caused in large part by a Supreme Court decision. In Nix v Hedden, the Supreme Court declared a tomato a vegetable. It was a case involving tariffs, and rather than go into the details, let us just say that this is what the "law" is. The science is, to the contrary.

As a youngster, Annalena was taught that, if you put sugar on it (as many did and do, especially in the South), a tomato was a fruit. If you put salt on it, it was a vegetable.

Ultimately, who cares? Do we love it? Do we eat it? If it's a vegetable, or a fruit, it's in high season, use it.

So, to the cake. One of the cooks/chefs I most admire is Joanne Weir, who operates out of San Francisco. It was a sad day when NY TV stopped carrying her TV show. She is one of those chefs for whom I would love to cook, and this is her recipe, modified slightly by Annalena herself.

Chef Weir recently posted a list of her ten favorite tomato recipes, and indeed, this is appropriate give the time of year, and given how DAMN GOOD they are. Annalena looked at some of them and smiled. She looked at others and said "good idea," and moved on. Two caught her attention: a bacon lettuce and tomato salad, which will come, later, and this cake. A tomato cake. Hmmm.

At first, I thought of doing it with cherry tomatoes; however, the thought of slicing that many tomatoes open left Annalena thinking "not this time." Rather, she picked up some beefsteak tomatoes, in yellow and red. Heirlooms would be a waste here. You should not cook heirloom tomatoes, enjoy them as they are. And she made this cake. In fact, she made two of them and, as you will see, it is a beautiful cake. Make it.

It's sort of like a gingerbread with tomatoes, and what's wrong with that? Absolutely nothing.

Okay, let's start by prepping the tomatoes. You need two beefsteak tomatoes, about half a pound each. Try to get a yellow one and a red one. Make an "x" in the bottom end of each, and drop them in boiling water for thirty seconds. Pull them out, drop them in ice water and, when they're cool, you will find the skin pulls off so easily it's amazing. Then, slice them. You should be able to get six-seven slices from each tomato. Put them aside for now.

Meanwhile, melt half a stick of butter with a quarter cup of brown sugar in a small pan, and add a bit of fresh ginger to that. When the butter has melted, swirl everything around, and put it in a 9 inch baking pan. It will look like you have too much butter. You don't. Now, place the slices of tomato on the sugar, and overlap them. If you find that you are running out of tomatoes, use less of an overlap, and if you find that you have a little extra space, feel free to put in cherry tomatoes, halves or, as I did, basil leaves.

Put this aside while you prep the cake. Let's get the dry stuff together. You need 1.5 cups of flour, with 2 teaspoons of bakign powder. You also need ginger, cloves, cinnamon and mace (Now, aren't you glad you bought mace for the rose geranium pound cake?). You should vary the spices as you like. The standard ratio is ginger: cloves: cinnamon: mace of 4:2:1:1, with 4 being a teaspoon. If, howevery, you like cinnamon a lot and don't like ginger, play with this. Mix the spices with the flour and the baking powder, and add a pinch of salt. Put that aside.

Now, cream a stick of unsalted butter, with 3/4 cup of white sugar, and beat it REALLY well, to the point where it's almost white. Now, add 1/2 cup of molasses (it's a winter ingredient, but keep with me here). Add 2 egg yolks, one at a time. Have a half cup of milk ready and now start adding the flour mixture and the milk in alternative steps, until you use up each. (Many recipes say "ending with flour." I've never found it to matter). When it looks smooth and even, you're ready.

If you are sitting there thinking "this looks like gingerbread," you're right, it does.

Remember you had those two egg yolks? Well, I hope you didn't throw out the egg whites. You didn't right? GOOD. Now, whip them to stiff peaks, and fold them into the cake batter, and pour the whole thing over the tomatoes.

Put this into the oven and bake at 350 for at least 45 minutes. Your kitchen will send out very interesting and good aromas: tomatoes, basil if you used it, and the ginger spices.

When the cake has finished baking, give it a good half hour to sit. Then, run a knife around the edges, and turn it over. It will pop out with ease, and you will have a wonderful cake, looking like the one depicted in this blog.

I did not have the forethought, but I would have LOVED to have prepared basil ice cream to go with this cake. If you do think it out (now that you have a hint), do so. Some other ideas: Claudia Fleming in her wonderful book "The Last Course," has a recipe for a plum and tomato compote. Well, who's stopping you? Classic vanilla sounds good and , to be honest, what is more of a compliment to tomatoes than mozzarella. There are recipes out there for mozzarella ice cream. So, too, bacon ice cream. So play around, make some history, expand your dessert repertoire.

Ascolta, ragazzi, it is hard to think of getting tired of tomato salads, or soups, or sandwiches, but if you do, try a cake. I think you will be pleased, and you will certainly be the talk of your circle.

Her head backi in the oven: sundried tomato and olive bread

2011-08-07T09:35:00.000-07:00

ARGGGH. I got a message saying "conflicting edits" and then this post disappeared, so I shall try again.

You have all read of my adventures in bread baking. Well, Annalena took a 3 month rest from bread baking. Why? Who knows. Probably a combination of boredom, business, and the realization that "you know, it is now possible to get REALLY good bread from bakeries and the farmers market," something that was not possible when Annalena started baking bread. The awful breads of twenty years ago are still around, but you have choices.

And, so yourself a favor: if you are willing to spend money on other things, spend some money on bread.

The three months away have given Annalena some focus. She may never be the mad baker she was again, but if a recipe catches her eye, as this one did...

Except it was designed for a bread machine. AGGGGGG. Annalena views the bread machine as a manifestation of the Antichrist, and testimonials in their favor as akin to statements that "skim milk tastes the same as cream." IT doesn't, and Annalena will not permit a bread machine in her house. Fortunately, she knows how to undo these recipes and turn them into "real" recipes and when you see how easy they are, you will not bemoan your lack of a machine.

Here we go. You need ten sun dried tomatoes, NOT packed in oil. Chop them fine. Now, calamata olives, black ones. Pit them by lining them up, pressing the back of a knife on them, hard, and then picking away the meat. Do this until you have a cup of them. It won't take long. Took me ten minutes.

You will also need a package, or two teaspoons of yeast, 1.5 cups of water, 3 tablespoons of olive oil. Put those in a bowl. Now add the sun dried tomatoes, and the olives. Stir it around and add 4.5 cups of flour, all purpose, and whole wheat, mixed, as you see fit. Up to 1/3 can be whole wheat. Put a teaspoon of salt in too.

Knead with your hands, if you are inclined, until you have a soft mass, and then move it to a table top and use the "Business envelope" technique I have written about, until you have a smooth, satiny, wonderful looking loaf. This will take about 12 minutes of easy work. The oil and the oil released from the olives makes a VERY soft dough. If you use the big mixer, use the paddle to blend, and then the dough hook, for about eight minutes. Cover the bowl, and let it rest for an hour and a half.

Now, how much work was that? Maybe 15 minutes? After an hour and a half, shape the dough into a long, oblong loaf, cover it, and let it rest for forty five minutes, while your oven comes up to 400.

Put the loaf in, and let it bake for half an hour or so. Check with a toothpick in the center to see if it's dry. If it is, you are done. If not, let it bake another fifteen minutes or so.

And you're done, and you have a lovely loaf of bread that you probably will NOT be able to find, even at a good bakery.

According to my recipe, this loaf makes 20 slices, at 132 calories a slice.
RIGHT. I think not . So if you count the calories from your bread, this loaf has 2640 calories in it. Divide accordingly, as you slice it.

But ragazzi, don't worry about the calories, if you please. Think instead of how good it is, how good you feel, and all the nasties you are not eating.

If you make this bread with variations, say, by putting in some chopped basil or rosemary, or garlic, or if you change the flours, please let us all know. Cooks are generous people, but bakers are the most generous of all. So, y'all, let's share. Oh, and tell me what you use your bread with. Sandwiches? Croutons? Salads? CMON. Let's get some discussion going gang!

"Pasta Diva": Pasta alla Norma

2011-08-06T10:39:00.000-07:00

Casta Diva, che inargenti
queste sacre antiche piante,
a noi volgi il bel sembiante
senza nube e senza vel...
Tempra, o Diva,
tempra tu de’ cori ardenti
tempra ancora lo zelo audace,
spargi in terra quella pace
che regnar tu fai nel ciel...

Ah, my OQ friends will recognize those lyrics won't you? The opening lines for the title character in the opera "Norma." A moment that we all wait for, with the range set high, and difficult. Waiting for the diva herself to sing

And so often we are disappointed. And we return to the recordings of Callas (Annalena's favorite), or Sutherland, or whomever (OQs, please chime in: who is your favorite Norma? No, Gattopardo, you may NOT answer "my favorite Norma is Rae.") The character is so hard to pull off, so difficult, and the role so taxing.

And ultimately it has nothing to do with the recipe at hand: pasta alla Norma, except maybe it does. The story goes that the pasta was around before the opera was; however, when the composer, Vincenzo Bellini, was served it, he said "this pasta is a Norma. It is perfect." And so it is now called, "pasta alla Norma."

I want to believe that this is how it got its name. And I want every performance of the opera to be as perfect as the recordings of Maria Callas singing the aria are. (Go to youtube and find one, per favore). It is inspiring, when I make this dish which is truly a marker of summer. Just as a mezzo should not attempt the role (and too many have), one should not make this with winter produce. Remember it is a Sicilian dish in origin, think of Sicily geographically, and then proceed.

As with many canonical dishes, you will have various "rules" about this dish. Some will say the eggplant MUST be fried. Others will roast it. Some will say it MUST be done with maccheroni. Others insist on strozzapreti. And so on, and so forth. I shall offer you my version, but of course, if the combination of ingredients intrigue you, please venture forth and make some variations. Here we go.

You need a pound of eggplant. Look for the smaller ones. I used four, small ones, that were light purple. When eggplant are small, the skin has not toughened yet, and you do not have to peel them. That is a consideration in this dish, because you want color. I cut the eggplant lengthwise, and then cube them about an inch long. I salt these with about a teaspoon and a half of salt, because I want the eggplant to be firmer and, I find, that salting them reduced their ability to soak up oil like a sponge.

You will also need a pound and a half or so of tomatoes. As with the eggplant, if they are ripe and savory, you will not need to peel them. If you can, use red and yellow ones. Simply core out that green thing in the center, and then cut them into pieces about the size of the eggplant. I do not bother seeding them either, but if you feel so inclined, do not let Annalena stop you.

When you are ready to cook, take the eggplant in handfuls, and squeeze out as much of the water as you can. Put the squeezed eggplant in a separate bowl, and get a good quantity of olive oil hot, in a big pan. Three tablespoons is the minimum I would use, but four is probably better. If you use a measuring cup, that's a quarter cup. When it's hot, add the eggplant, and LEAVE IT ALONE for about three minutes. This lets the stuff get some color. Then, turn it, so that it cooks through thoroughly. After about another three minutes, add the tomatoes, and cook, over medium heat, until the tomatoes begin to collapse and you have a "saucy" pan of vegetables.

While this is happening, bring a big pot of water to a boil, salt it, and cook a pound of pasta. The smaller shapes are better here. As mentioned above ,maccheroni and strozzapretti are traditional. I used a pound of orecchiete made with "burned flour", an ingredient I had not seen before, and it was delicious. Use what you are comfortable with, and cook the stuff to al dente.

While it is cooking, let's turn to the issue of the cheese. The traditional version calls for ricotta salata, and it is truly delicious with such. If you do not have ricotta salata, as was my case, use feta, or some other firm, dry, salted cheese. Tradition says that you grate the cheese. I like it better by breaking it into cubes of different sizes: some very small, almost particulate, others larger. I stir the cheese into the warm sauce, off the heat , and when the pasta is done, stir it in. The heat of the pasta melts some of the cheese, but not all of it, and brings the sauce to the correct temperature. I use 3/4 pound of cheese for the other ingredients

Again, going to tradition, you now add a cup of torn, fresh basil leaves. I have seen this with mint leaves (basis IS a mint, you know), but I like it without the herbs. As with the other steps, proceed as you like.

And you are done. If this sounds like an extravagant dish, think again. Go look back at the ingredient list, think of a farmer's family, making a special dish, and...

See what I mean?

Annalena would like to dedicate this one to her beloved Italian teacher, in Italy, who should cook this immediately and think of her.

Baci, caro.

Back to the Bunny Trail: Rabbit Milanese

2011-08-03T18:46:00.000-07:00

Annalena believes she has commented on this before, but isn't really sure, so she'll say it again.
There are certain names that show up in cooking, that is, names of dishes, that "signify" certain things. If an item is described as "Florentine," for example, there will be spinach in the dish. If you see "Veronique," which you almost never do these days, it means there will be white grapes, probably peeled. (DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS AT HOME. YOU WILL CURSE, HURT YOURSELF AND NEVER EAT A GRAPE AGAIN. By the way, there is no reason to peel white grapes). There are others, but those are the ones that come to mind, besides "ala mode," but that's not a geographical term.

We turn to "Milanese." If a dish is described as Milanese, it means it's going to be breaded, fried, and served with a warm salad of tomatoes and arugula. That is classic Milanese.

What does it have to do with Milan? You think I know? Why is spinach "Florentine," or white grapes "Veronique?" And who's "Veronique," or is Verona? Again, you think I know?

The only thing that I can imagine links "milanese" with Milan is that there is butter in the preparation. Annalena sometimes forgets that Milan is considered NORTHERN Italy, above the so-called "olive oil" belt. But.. it's close enough so that there is also olive oil in this dish.

I didn't say it was dietetic.

The classic form of "Milanese" is with a veal chop: HUGE, flat, covering the pan. There was a restaurant in Annalena's neighborhood when she moved here, that did mediocre to ok food, except for the Milanese veal chop. I ordered it every time. In fact, one time when I was sitting there and ordered it, and they told me they were out of it for the night, I left. The Guyman was somewhat shocked, but he rolled with it.

Lately, I have seen many other milanese preparations. Pork. Turkey. Chicken. They all seem to be white type meats, don't they? And that's where tonight's recipe came from. I had some boneless rabbit loin in the refrigerator, and I spent the better part of the day wondering "what am I going to do with them?"

Well, in the process by which Annalena comes up with her meals (be frightened. Be VERY frightened), I was reminded that we are in PEAK tomato season. Annalena cannot come home from a market without tomatoes that taste of the sun. So, tomatoes were in the picture. And the connections just happened: why not? It should be good.

And it was. So here we go.

You need a pound of boneless rabbit. If by some chance you have a very talented butcher who will do rabbit double chops for you, by all means, use them. Rabbits have a very fine bone structure though, and removing them is not a task for the impatient, or those without premedical training (I have done it. Once. NEver again). You will also need two large eggs, a quantity of seasoned bread crumbs, and then two tablespoons each of butter and olive oil. Also, two cups of cherry tomatoes, mixed colors and sizes if you can, and about four cups of arugula. There's no reason to use the baby arugula here, and in fact, the more mature variety is better.

If you can, as always, salt the rabbit the night before, or the morning of. When you're ready to cook, beat two eggs in a plate and put the bread crumbs on a second one. Dip each piece of rabbit into the egg, and then the crumbs, to coat them completely. As you work, move each one to a tray. I had six "cutlets" of rabbit in my pound.

When they're all coated, heated the butter and oil until the butter melts, but don't wait for it to start bubbling. Add as many cutlets as will fit the pan, and cook them gently: a medium heat at best. Check them frequently. You want a light golden color (or maybe you don't. I've had Milanese dark and light. They're both good). When you have the color you want, flip them and do the other side.

You may have to replenish the fat during the cooking process . If you do, stick to olive oil. The hot pan will burn any added butter right away. When you're done, keep the meat warm by either stashing it into a low oven, or cover it.

Raise the heat of the pan, and add the cherry tomatoes. Don't cut them, you don't need to. Cover the pan, and let them cook for a few minutes, say 3-4. They will begin to collapse, and split. While that's happening, cut off the tough stems of the arugula and when the tomatoes have collapsed, add the greens, and cook them for another minute or so.

Now, the kicker: add some balsamic vinegar to the hot vegetables. Keep your face out of the way so you don't get burned, and stir the veggies together.

Plate the rabbit, and spoon out some of the vegetables on each portion. And there you go.

Will it make you think of Milan? Who knows? Is it Milanese? I don't know that either. This is what I do know: it's good. REAL good.

"International Velvet" or Annalena cooks Chinese style: Velvet lamb

2011-08-03T11:33:00.000-07:00

I wonder how many of Annalena's readers will have gotten the allusion to "International Velvet." For those of you in your formative years, or the two heterosexual men who are reading this blog, Elizabeth Taylor's very first movie was "National Velvet," about a young girl, and her horse. Annalena saw the movie when she was rather young, in glorious black and white. Those eyes, that face, that hair: Miss Taylor was beautiful, nay GORGEOUS, from day 1 (and how many of you got the pun on "nay." Ms. Nora did. Sure you did, girl. Fess up). And all of you should in some way manner or form see that movie to see how, literally, "A Star is Born."

Now, that all came up because the word "velvet" was on Annalena's mind, as she tried a new technique last night. How was it? Well, it was better than "meh," but I don't think it's going to go down as a favorite. I will have to play with the technique a bit.

I had been reading several articles on a Chinese cooking technique called "velveting." What I read, was that the technique was a way to keep proteins from overcooking and keeping them moist. Although just about all of the recipes that I saw spoke of doing it to chicken, there were a handful that used beef as the protein sauce. Annalena had lamb on the menu last night, and decided to "velvet" it.

According to what I read, to "velvet" something is to let it marinate in a mixture of cornstarch and eggwhite for a short period of time. After that, you fry it. Theoretically, the marinating tenderizes the meat, and also prevents the drying out that happens when you cook protein at high heat.

I can understand how the technique prevents drying out. Both egg white and corn starch cook to crusts that would keep juices in. How the marinade tenderizes meat vexes Annalena, because there is nothing she knows of, either in egg white, or corn starch, that would act to break down proteins (if any of you know: Frank, one of the two heterosexual men out there reading this: if you could check with Crystal to check with her mom? Hmmmm?). Annalena suspects that the tenderizing actually comes later on in the cooking, when acid is added. But the more you know about the subject of cooking, the more you realize how little you know.

I am quite convinced that I did certain things wrong in making this dish. I will probably try it again, because it does seem intriguing. Here we go.

For a pound of meat - and I will reiterate that almost all sources refer ONLY to boneless chicken - you need a tablespoon of cornstarch, and one egg white. As your quantities go up, you increase both. Two egg whites, two tablespoons of cornstarch, etc. Pour the starch into the egg white, stir it into a slurry, and then add the protein. Turn it to coat it , cover it, and leave it alone for half an hour.

When I did this, I came back to meat that was pretty much stuck to my bowl. Not surprising, corn starch will do that. What I did next may have been the issue with my "so so" results. Since I was cooking lamb, I did not want to deep fry and just put a few tablespoons of oil into my pan. When it was hot, I added the meat (which, incidentally, had been salted the night before and was lamb tenderloin. You should use what you like, but do salt it). I cooked it for the requisite five minutes that I always use for meat and tried to turn it.

No luck. The meat had fairly vulcanized to the pan. Well, since I was planning to use the last of my blueberry gastrique with the lamb (or pomegranate molasses), I jsut added some of it to the pan, and that succeeded in releasing the meat. I then went on to brown it, but had a difficulty with the meat sticking as I went through the process. When it was done, it WAS good, but I'm not sure what the velveting added to it. The Guyman liked it, so did I, so we will come back to it.

In reading through internet information on the technique, it seems that many people use a LOT of oil to cook velveted meat, and also cook it twice. One recipe, for example, had chunks of chicken cook in two inches of oil, at 275, and then stir fried it with vegetables, and some flavoring agent (the flavoring agent, incidentally, is key here: you need a very strong liquid, something like soy sauce, or fish sauce, or as I used, the gastrique, or vinegar, SOMETHING, because egg white and corn starch are, essentially, tasteless).

Not everything works as perfectly as you would like in the kitchen. I am posting this to let you know about the workings of Annalena's kitchen, and how sometimes, it isn't the most perfect thing in the world.

Now, the eggplant tian on the other hand? Heavens, carissimi, you all MUST make it.

Ophra's gone, but okra's on! Corn, lima beans and okra

2011-08-01T11:59:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. I play with that soundalike a lot.
Know what? Annalena never saw a single episode of Ophra during the entire run. Given the number of commercials, and excerpts, it might be like "Grease" or "Saturday Night Fever," which Annalena has never seen, start to finish, but has probably seen four or five times.
You probably have similar situations in your viewing history.
Anyway, anytime I work with okra, I think of Ophra. What can I do? So, now, let's get to okra, and the combination of the moment: okra, lima beans, and corn. This is another example of my newest favorite concept: cooking by accretion.

About two weeks ago, the assistant to Nevia, the goddess of vegetables, was all excited. She was showing me Christmas lima beans. These are beautiful, red and white mottled beans, that are, in fact, lima beans. Or, butter beans, if you like.

Annalena is NOT a fan of lima beans. She's tried. Probably, a childhood of having to eat them, at least once a week, with salt pork and other nasties, in a soup that made her gag. It was a favorite of her stepfather, nicknamed Colonel Klink. Annalena and her sisters used to laugh every time Klink would say "what's wrong with that soup? I grew up on that soup," and whisper "so that's why you never smile."

With the days of Klink long behind her, Annalena decided to give lima beans a try again. They MUST be a favorite to someone, because the farmers market is jammed with them in season. So a few years ago, she brought home a few pounds.

And nearly went nuts trying to get them out of the pod. See, lima beans are WORK. If you aren't ready for fresh fava beans, don't even THINK about limas. They're not as bad as fresh chickpeas (Oh, GEEZ, does Annalena feel sorry for the sous chefs who get the job of peeling fresh chickpeas in restaurants), but they are, or WERE pretty awful.

It was against that backdrop that when Nevia's assistant offered me the beans I smiled and said no thank you. A week later, Nevia wanted to know why I wasn't buying her "new experiment," the Christmas lima beans. I told her I found them too hard to open.

Well, Nevia must have been having a bad day. She picked one up, snapped it and said "THIS is too hard for you?" She did another one. And another one. And then had me try.

Ok, ok, I guess it's like wringing a chicken's neck. It's actually very easy to do once someone shows you how. And rather than tick off the lady who makes all of my vegetables taste so good, I went home with a pound. Then on Saturday morning, I sat there, peeling them and, yes, they opened very easily, and I had a heaping cup of lima beans. Bright red and white.

They would not stay that way. Nevia had told me that, but she said they'd cook to a "dull purple." (Keep in mind , folks, that dull purple, in fabric, is gray). What to do with them?

Well, I also had about a half pound of okra. Not the teeniest ones, and not the biggest ones, but medium sized okras. I didn't know what I was going to do with them, but not another macque choux like we had earlier this month. Annalena's mind began to think "we haven't had SUCCOTASH in a long time." It's peak corn season, the okra and the lima beans were there, and BANG, out came Annalena's version of succotash.

This probably isn't succotash to a lot of people, so just think of it as a corn , lima bean and okra stew. And it WILL get you to eat two vegetables you probably don't eat a lot of, if at all. Here we go.

You need four ears of corn. Shuck the corn, and with a sharp knife, cut the kernels from the ears. THen, take the dull back end of the knife, and rub it hard against the cobs. Look at all the white stuff. Taste it. That's where the good stuff in corn is. Put it together with your kernels.

Meanwhile, bring a pot of salted water to boil, and add fresh lima beans. A cup and a half was what I had. Let them cook until they are as tender as you like. For me, this was 15-20 minutes, and yes, the Christmas limas faded to dull purple... or gray. Drain them.

Let's address the okra. I have written about this before, but it bears repeating. If the thing about okra that dissuades you from eating it is the sliminess, there is a way to avoid it. Look at an okra pod. To Annalena, it is somewhat like an acorn, with a little cap, and then the actual okra pod. The cap is not edible, and if you cut it from the okra, and then leave the rest of the vegetable whole, it will not start sliming. Okra only slimes when you cut into the pod, and the saponins react with air.

Like that word? Saponin? Look up the word "saponification." No, I'll tell you. It means soap making. The molecules in okra, and cactus paddles, and which surround quinoa, are called "saponins" because they feel slippery and slimy, like soap (if you've ever encountered the soap that sat in a soap dish with water, you know what I mean). Saponins, by the way, are very important in medicine: they are used as immune boosters in vaccines, and while no one has done any work...

Back to cooking. You have your lima beans, your corn, your okra, and now, it's all going to come together. Melt about three tablespoons of unsalted butter in a big wide pan, and add the corn. Stir it to coat it with the butter, and add some salt. COok it for, oh, about five minutes, and then add the beans. Stir them together, for another five minutes.

Finally, add the okra, and cover the pot. Lower the heat and let this cook for five minutes. The okra will keep its color, get tender crisp, and will not get slimy.

Now..... Off with the cover, and in goes half a cup of heavy cream. DON'T USE MILK. Stir it around until the cream evaporates and the vegetables are nice and coated. If you like it hot, add some chopped chili peppers at this point.

And you are done. With more than enough for four people.

I find that this goes REALLY well with simple, pan fried or grilled fish.

Variations? Well, I would keep the corn and okra, but if you really don't want lima beans, put in some other green vegetable that you do like. Maybe shell beans? Or green beans? Or favas.

Let me know what you make if you change this around.

Okay, here it is: cabernet sauvignon blackberry sorbet

2011-07-31T14:23:00.000-07:00

Boy is this sentence going to sound pretentious: cooking is an art of accretion. Now, I can see a few faces crinkling up and saying "WHA?" I know, I know, but it's the best I can do, and you already got two recipes today, so calm down y'all.

This is what I mean by that: if you cook, you sort of collect recipes and ideas, and then one day : BOOM. You come up with your own dish. Sometimes it's ok. Sometimes it's not successful, and sometimes, well.... you hit the home run.

This recipe is one such dish, and Annalena shall explain what she means by accretion. If you look back to twi weeks ago, you will see a recipe for rose' raspberry sorbet. Annalena found this recipe by chance, when looking for another one, in David Lebovitz' wonderful book on ice cream. It's a winner.

Now, jump forward a week: Annalena is in a Sicilian restaurant ( a new find), tasting the Guyman's dessert, which includes "cabernet sauvignon blackberry sorbet." This is NOT a Sicilian dessert. Perhaps it is "neo" Sicilian, but whatever it is, it was downright tasty. Wheels began to turn in Annalena's head.

Take another bit of culinary information from years ago: Annalena is eating dinner at "Foreign Cinema" in San Francisco, and is eating a bowl of blackberries for dessert. There is an unusual flavor there, that she recognizes. She goes to the cook and asks "did you put rose geranium leaves in the berries." Said cook stops, eyes widen and there's a big smile. 'WOW. You're the first one to get it right."

Rose geraniums are all over Northern California cooking, as I have said before, in talking about rose geranium pound cake. That rosy flavor matches well with blackberries (in fact, I THINK, but am not sure, that roses and blackberries are somewhat related, botanically. You can get a nasty scratch from blackberry brambles the way you can from roses, that's for sure). In any event, it's a good match. So, Annalena began thinking: what about the leaves in a sorbet? Hell, the worst that could happen is that it's not so good, and while blackberries are not cheap, they are at their cheapest right now, at peak season, and they are GOOD. We have bottles of cabernet sauvignon that we will not drink, but is too good to throw away. And my new rose geranium plant is leafing away in our extra bedroom. The only issue: enough to taste, but not enough to overpower the other flavors. Well, remember the "rule" in cooking: you can add, but you can't take away. So, Annalena decided to start with two leaves. It turned out to be the right amount.

Here comes the recipe. I will bet that if I ask for a show of hands, no one will say they have a rose geranium plant. GET ONE. They will revolutionize your cooking, and you will feel like an old fashioned gal, using something that was used in colonial America. If you really are not up to shopping for one, make the sorbet anyway, it'll be good, but not as unique.

The recipe pretty much follows the raspberry rose' sorbet recipe. For a quart, you need two cups of cabernet sauvignon, 2/3 cup of sugar, and 3 clam shells of blackberries. You heat the wine with the sugar until the sugar melts, and then add the blackberries, off the heat. When the mixture cools down, put the rose geranium leaves in, and then puree the stuff in a blender.

Blackberries have really big seeds, so I decided to filter this one. It was the right choice. I still had about a quart of sorbet base. It's heady, sweet, and with a really complex flavor.

I would imagine that, if you want that "extra note" and don't have the rose geranium, you might get a nice flavor with lemon verbena, or maybe a mint. The brave amongst you might try lemon thyme. Who knows? Do your experiments, and report back to Professor Annalena. She wants to know.

Yet ANOTHER salad with fruit: watermelon, purslane and ricotta salata

2011-07-31T11:01:00.000-07:00

This has been the year that Annalena discovered purslane. It's been in the farmers markets for some time, and her usual approach has been to buy some, put it in the fridge, forget about it, and then throw out a muck bag four weeks later saying "oh CRAP. That was the purslane."

During all this time, she was eating salad after salad of it at restaurants, and always thinking there's some secret to making this stuff, because I have no business using it.

As with many things in her life, the key that turned for Annalena and purslane came from an unexpected source. This time, it was her chef friend Sue Torres, who put down a post that said something along the lines of "if I don't stop eating the organic purslane I'm going to have to take it off the menu tonight."

AH, thought the Italian which. "She's eating it raw." As Annalena had started her seasaon of buying purslane to throw it out four weeks later, she went into the kitchen, pulled out a stalk and bit into it.

It was good. It was tender. Just a bit acid, and very refreshing. So... she had convinced herself that all these folks were putting in tremendous effort in getting the purslane onto her plate, when all they were doing was..."

Annalena gets that way sometime. Well, with this epiphany, she began using the stuff in salads. For some people, they politely hid it, or pushed it out of the way (that means you big red Ken). Others embraced it. Well, embraced it metaphorically speaking. There was no love fest of hugging like at a men's retreat at the salad bowl. Maybe I should just say others enjoyed eating it. And the experimenting began.

Now we come to strand two in this braided story: it is now watermelon season in NY. The Guyman and I LIKE watermelon, we don't LOVE watermelon, so it's rarely in the house. A slice here and there is nice, but let's face it. If you're two people, unless you are willing to take a chance and buy the precut stuff, a watermelon is too big a commitment.

Well, agriculture got there first. You can buy mini watermelons, with cute and ridiculous names like "Sugar baby. " You can buy them in red, yellow and now, I believe, orange, seeded or unseeded. Just know this: you will NEVER know, from looking at the melon, whether it is seeded or not, and what color the flesh will be. Anyone who tells you they can tell is lying. If you realize, however, that it all really tastes the same, you're ok.

Actually, the way they CAN tell is if they grow the critters separately, and keep them separate all the way to the market. There are some farmers who have that organizational streak and can do it, but if you buy what you think is a yellow watermelon and it turns out to be red, do not do a designer hissy fit. Just eat it.

Ok, to the salad. Remember when I wrote about the spring of strawberry arugula salads in San Francisco? Well right now, NYC seems to be in the throes of a watermelon salad craze. I have seen it on the last four restaurant menus I have seen. This is somewhat unusual in NY restaurants, but you know, go with it. And Annalena has, and she has come up with this take on a salad.

This fed the two of us lavishly, it probably better serves four. You need half of one of those mini melons. Peel it (I used the same peeler I use to peel carrots and potatoes), and then cut it into bite sized chunks. Add it to your salad bowl, together with about a third of a pound of purslane, cut or broken into manageable lengths (some purslane can be a foot long. That is NOT manageable). Now add two diced, kirby cucumbers, and... the final touch and a necessary one, about a thir of a pound of crumbled ricotta salata cheese. Toss this all together and make a dressing of half balsamic vinegar, half champagne vinegar, salt, and olive oil. Dress the mix and serve it forth.

This was an experiment, and we're going to have it again.

Variations? Well, yes, of course. Feta would be good here, maybe even beter, with its sharpness. Maybe aged goat cheese too. You could leave out the cucumbers, and put in something else crunchy. Maybe cabbage, or celery? Don't have purslane? Hmmm. You could use whatever green you have, but try to find the purslane, if you can. Among other things, this is one of the "invasive species" we are now all supposed to embrace (I used that word twice in this entry, didn't I?) to try to control it from taking over the planet.

KEN THAT MEANS YOU. If you want to ensure the survival of your precious beets in the future, EAT YOUR PURSLANE.

Learning a canonical dish: eggplant tian

2011-07-31T08:38:00.001-07:00

Annalena loves eggplant, but... well, she realized a few weeks ago that her acquaintance with this vegetable was somewhat limited. She is proud of her eggplant parmagiana, and has found few caponatas that compare to hers. Also, a bowl of baba ghanouj is always welcome, but she feels that that is more about the tahini than the eggplant. Fried eggplant slices? Well, yes, thank you very much.Ratatatatatouille (and not the mouse). yes. And then.... As Hamlet said 'the rest is silence."

Something needed to be done about this, and that is why you have the wonderful potato eggplant stew of last week. And we pressed on.

For years, Annalena has heard of a classic, southern French dish called a "tian." Like "clafouti," this is probably a dialectical word that has now become "French." Most times Annalena heard of it, it involved eggplant. So, she set out to find a recipe, thinking how hard could this be?

It was like the search for a cassoulet recipe. I think I found about a dozen of them, all different. Also, it seems that some cooks don't want to call it a "tian," and call it a gratin, which it certainly is NOT (no cheese in this, if you make it classically). So, after much hunting and searching, and watching a video (more on that below), Annalena found her tian recipe. It is presented here, but with the note that given what is out there, you can do this many different ways. I shall try to summarize some of them for you as we go along, but it is up to you.

Essentially, the required elements for a tian are eggplant, tomatoes, onions, garlic, olive oil, and fresh herbs. It is a baked casserole, using slices of the relevant vegetables. Always, these include the tomatoes and the eggplant. Sometimes, the onions are sliced, and sometimes, zucchini is also used. Mine uses just the eggplant and tomatoes. You need about equal amounts of these: let's say 2.5 pounds of each. For your eggplants, try to get smaller ones, because you are going to be doing overlapping slices, with the tomatoes, and you don't want slices much bigger than a tomato slice. If you want, you can also use the onions, as indicated, in sliced form. Then you will need equal amounts of all three and, if using zucchini, the four.

For my version, slice the eggplant and the tomatoes thickly, but do not skin the eggplant. You do have to cook it beforehand, and here's where another variation comes in. Many recipes call for you to either bake it or broil it. Annalena fried hers in a little oil, after salting it. Do know that eggplant is the sponge of the vegetable world, so there's a challenging balance of putting in enough oil to cook it, but not too little. Interestingly, if there is too little oil, eggplant will suck it up. If you use plenty, it will not. Anyway, fry the slices in oil that is really hot, for about two minutes on a side. You just want some color. Put them aside while you do the next step.

In some recipes, including the video where onion slices were cooked just like the eggplant, the cook rubbed ONE MEASLY CLOVE of garlic over the baking dish. Annalena had none of this. Other versions chop the onion and garlic together, and saute' them to softness. That is what I did. Two large onions, chopped with no regard to surgical precision, and four cloves of finely chopped garlic. You can use the olive oil from the eggplant, and, since the order of cooking, doesn't matter, you can also cook the onions first, and the use that oil for the eggplant. In either case, you are probably going to need to augment what's in the pan, when you get to the second vegetable.

Cook the onions and garlic with some salt and a few sprigs of thyme (my choice. You could use other herbs, or leave them out. Put the sauteed onion mix on the bottom of a 9x13 inch non metallic baking dish . Now, get those eggplants and tomatoes and have some fun: lay them out in rows, overlapping about half to 2/3 of the first slice with the second one, and so on and so forth. Alternate eggplant and tomato, until you fill the pan. I put some more fresh herbs on top of this (more thyme and some basil). Some would have you add more olive oil, but I don't think this is necessary. Cover the baking dish with foil, put it in a preheated oven at 375 for 45 minutes, and then take off the foil and bake for another 15.

This may look very watery when it comes out of the oven. Patience. It will "congeal" very nicely.

Now, if you want to "gratinize" this, then add some cheese and pop it under the broiler. There are other versions which add a custard, like a saffron custard to it, and bake some more. To Annalena's taste, this is about the vegetables, so I will leave it as it is.

Sounds good, doesn't it? Not a whole lot of work, and very tasty.

And those of you waiting for the cabernet sauvignon sorbet, will just have to wait a bit longer...

Three less than common vegetables: radicchio, dragon tongue beans, and amaranth greens

2011-07-30T07:07:00.000-07:00

Annalena loves it when she takes a walk through the farmers market, and finds something new, or "sort of" new. It gives her a chance to talk to the farmers, learn something new, and perhaps come up with new culinary ideas. If you see something at the market that you don't know, ask, bring some home, and cook with it. It's a pleasure that you shouldn't be denying yourself, and if you wait, you may not get the chance for another year, if at all.

And if you don't know what to do with the ingredient, think about similar ingredients, or get on the web. That's what today is all about: 3 vegetables that you may not know (Annalena did not know the fresh dragon tongue beans), and how to address them.

The beans first. One of my favorite farmers is "Dave." I don't know him by any other name. He's authentic, and that's the highest praise Annalena can pay to someone. He has a small farm, I only see him on Saturdays, and I make it a point to stop there and buy "something." IF he will let me buy something. See, Dave is one of the folks we feed, and he often will not take money. That's how things work at these markets you know.

Anyway, last week, he had fresh dragon tongue beans. Annalena knew them from their dried form, but had never seen them fresh.
I think they are named as they are, because the mottling on the pods, which are brown, with deeper brown "mottles," look a lot like lizard tongues. But who knows? When I held one between my fingers, I could tell that they were a little bit tougher than green beans, but the pods were certainly edible. A check on the internet when I came back home proved this out. Well, Dave did not know them in dried form, so we both learned something (Of course, Nevia, the goddess of vegetables, knew them).
I knew that I would be cooking them in the way I cook Roma beans - those big, flat green beans you see sometime. They would need a bit more time than regular green beans, but not nearly the time that a dried bean would take. And that proved to be correct. Here's how they were done: simply, but SO good: take a pound of fresh beans (and you can get other varieties besides dragon tongue: trust your senses, and ASK YOUR FARMER), and put them into about an inch of salted, boiling water. Let them cook until they feel done, to your touch (we all have different approaches to what is a "cooked" bean. It's your call). While that's happening, chop up about four cloves of garlic, real fine, and if you have some fresh basil, get a few leaves of that, too. When the beans are done, drain them, and in the pot with the heat off (the heat from the pot is sufficient), add the garlic, the basil, and about four tablespoons of your best olive oil.
These were terrific the first night, and even better as a left over. Lest I forget, the beans lose the mottling in cooking, and cook to this gorgeous ecru color. Quite pretty on the plate.

Now, to amaranth. You've seen amaranth grain, and you've probably seen the big, heavy red flower heads. If you bring the flowers home, you'd best put a big sheet of paper underneath the vase, because they will start dropping seeds, and if you walk around barefoot, like Annalena does, your tootsies will be very angry at you after a while. The greens for amaranth, are beautiful. The leaves are heart shaped, and have a sort of rosy center that explodes out over the leaf. Do a google on the word, and you'll see what I mean.
I brought home a couple of bunches of the stuff, and noticed that the stems were tougher than say, spinach, but not as tough as something like chard. What that means to me, as a cook, is that I use the stems, but I'm going to need to adapt my cooking, and do a classic sear/braise. Here's what this means: clean off any part of the plant that looks and feels too tough to eat, and if you have any doubts, well.. test it. I'm serious about that. If you are wondering with a green, take a stem, put it between your teeth. If you're going to have to act like a cross between a beaver and an elephant to eat it, the stem is too tough. Many greens that have stems that are edible, do have portions that are not. Think broccoli raab, for example.
Ok, having determined and gotten rid of what is not edible, put a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a big pan, and when it's hot, add your greens. The leaves will cook down almost immediately, but the stems....
Well, to fix that, now put a quarter cup of water into the pan, cover it, and lower the heat to medium. The leaves will be ok, and the stems will cook to the point where they're plenty edible. This is a strong tasting green, so I finished them with sesame oil. You should pick the flavoring you like.

Now, to radicchio. You are probably thinking something along the lines of "get real, this is NOT an unusual vegetable". Well, it is if you think outside of the salad bowl, and that's what we're going to do here.
I have commented before, and if you've tasted it, you know whereof I speak, of the surprising bitterness of radicchio. That bitterness disappears, and becomes a sweetness, if you cook it. You can grill it if you have an outdoor grill, but for those of us who don't....
Quarter your heads of radicchio, and then get them, cut side down, into a pan which has a few tablespoons of olive oil in it. Don't add garlic here, unless you want to. The vegetable will lose its vibrant purple color and become a little brown, which is fine. At the very end of the cooking , step back and add a few tablespoons of regular balsamic vinegar (not the expensive stuff) or, if you have it, blueberry gastrique (go back and look at the entry on that). Or, anything that has a sweet/sour combination that you have in the house. Honey with lime juice might work, for example, or if you have that bottle of fig vinegar that someone gave you at Xmas that you don't know what to do with.

This is wonderful with some grilled chops, or even on its own over some pasta, with some cheese added on top.

Spread your wings a little. Don't fall into a farmers market rut. You'll make some good friends along the way, as you ask the farmers "what do I do with..."

Annalena diversifies: Eggplant and Potato Stew

2011-07-29T04:09:00.001-07:00

As a good Italian woman, Annalena loves her eggplant. This summer, though, she became aware of something: she was sticking to the same, three recipes, over and over for this vegetable: her eggplant parmagiana (which is a very popular item on this blog), caponata (which is not), and baba ghanouj (which isn't even here). For a recipe about which Michael Franks once sang "my baby cooks her eggplant about 47 ways/sometimes I even eat it cold with mayonnaise," this is pretty sorry statistics.

No, I am NOT going to advocate eating eggplant with mayonnaise, although a cold fried eggplant sandwich with mayonnaise is a good thing.

Anyway, when looking for recipes for vegetables, Annalena checks her trove of cookbooks. Her "go to" books let her down this time, so she went a bit deeper and found a trove of recipes in the cookbooks that come out of "Greens" restaurant, in San Francisco.

If you are in the city by the bay and you have opportunity, go to Greens. Go for lunch, or go for dinner. The view is unspeakably gorgeous. The location is quintessentially San Francisco, and the food will make you forget any bad memories you have had of vegetarian food.

This dish has notes of Mexican cooking in it (from the cumin and green sauce), and India (from the tomatoes and ginger in combination), but ultimately, it says CALIFORNIA CUISINE. You'll see what I mean as we go through it.

As Lidia would say "first, let's address the eggplant." You can get a scazillion different varieties of eggplants at your farmers market. For this recipe, you want the big, plump Italian ones. One cooking teacher said "a good eggplant should make you think of a woman in a dress, where you wonder how she fit into it."

Yes, indeed. Plump, firm, no wrinkles. Get big ones, about a pound each, maybe a little more. If you can get a 2 pound critter, you probably shouldn't. It will be very, very seedy. Purple or striped, or white, doesn't much matter. You will also need about a pound and a half of potatoes. Again, go for larger ones. I had three potatoes, and if you don't have a pound and a half, don't worry. The original recipe called for russets, but you're going to be eating the skins here, so I stuck to my favorite yukon golds.

Get four cloves of garlic, peel it, and slice it. Make cuts all around the eggplant, and stud it with the garlic, just like a leg of lamb. This is not the easiest thing in the world to do, let me warn you ahead of time. Then, put the eggplants and the potatoes on a baking sheet, and get them into a 375 oven for about an hour. You want the eggplant to shrivel up, and the potatoes to get soft, but still firm. A knife into the biggest one should give you resistance.

While the veggies are baking, get your other ingredients together. You'll need a bay leaf, and a teaspoon of each of ground cumin, and whole cumin seeds. The whole cumin is a garnish, so if you don't have it, don't sweat. Don't omit the ground stuff. You will also want to chop a large onion into squares. No surgical precision necessary. Grate a tablespoon of fresh ginger (don't leave this out), and then chop up about a pound's worth of tomatoes, any kind. You are also going to want, for later, about half a cup of water, a half cup of some kind of dairy (creme fraiche, yogurt, buttermilk), and either cilantro or some kind of green sauce.

When the vegetables are finished baking, they will be very, VERY hot. Leave them alone to cool, and don't think it's going to happen quickly. You will probably need about an hour or so until you can handle them (so as you can see, this is a make ahead kind of dish). When they are in fact cool enough to handle, chop the potatoes into big cubes. Scrape the pulp from the eggplant, and combine them. I did this the night before, and did all the other veggie prep the day of dinner.

Now, when you're ready to cook, put about four tablespoons of vegetable oil (you'll be tempted, but don't use olive oil) into a pan. Add the bayleaf, and simmer until it crisps up, then get rid of it. Add the onion, the cumin and the ginger, and cook this stuff over a medium flame, until the onion softens. Now add the eggplant, the tomatoes, the potatoes, the ground cumin and your liquid. Turn the veggies, getting them nice and warm, or hot, as you see fit. You should now go for your salt and add it generously. These veggies take a LOT of salt. Taste to see if you like it. If you want things spicier, you can, of course doctor this with jalapenos, or anything you like, but do pay heed to the salt. And when you have it where you like it, take it off the heat, stir in the dairy and the cilantro or the sauce, and...VOILA.

The eggplant sort of becomes a sauce for the potatoes, and it's a velvety one, that tastes like it has more fat in it than it does. It is surprisingly mild for a dish that looks like it should be Indian or Mexican in nature.

As written, this was suggested to be served with rice.

Uh... Hmm. Potatoes and rice. Well, on the one hand, but on the other, no. Annalena served this with sauteed amaranth greens, and it reminded her of a story from Greens, with a difficult customer, and a substitution of couscous for greens, but that is left for another day.

Carry on, ragazzi. You will be seeing more "alternative" eggplant recipes as their season continues

Tossing around a salad: arugula, beets, avocado and... blueberries

2011-07-27T11:34:00.000-07:00

I think there may be only one salad "recipe" on this blog. Way back when it started, I wrote something about how the simple green salad is far from simple, and how I thought that, in many ways, it is the hardest thing for a cook to make. I stand by that: you can almost always get away with food that isn't perfect, but a salad will stand up and announce its flaws in a loud, strident voice. It is easy to do it wrong.

The Guyman and I probably eat more salad than any other dish. We have one every night at dinner. I plan them, very much around what else we're eating: a richer salad if the dinner is lighter, a plainer one if it's rich. So, if we're having a steak, I'm not going to put out a salad with chunks of blue cheese and nuts in it. That salad will be all vegetables, maybe even nothing but "greens." On the other hand, if the meal centers around pasta in a red sauce with some cheese grated on it, the salad will be more involved. My salads almost, but not always, have greens in them, and then one, maybe two, other vegetable ingredients, and then "something extra," like nuts, or cheese. One thing that they never included, was fruit.

Until recently.

Two years ago, it seemed to be the spring of strawberries and arugula in San Francisco. I love eating in San Francisco, but the truth is, after the first four meals, you know what ingredients you're going to be eating, and the question is no longer "what kind of fish will they have," but "how are they going to cook the halibut/salmon/bass." That year, EVERY SINGLE RESTAURANT served a salad that involved arugula and strawberries. I have to say, it's a good combination. And I enjoyed it the first four times. After that, the game was "what other salads do they have?" I think the combination of the sweet fruit, with the slightly bitter greens, was what I enjoyed... the first four times. I had never thought of combining fruit with a salad before, although I know there are things out there like waldorf salad, with its apples, and salads with pear and nuts and cheese in them. They just have not been in my mindframe.

Just last weekend, the Guyman and I had dinner at a restaurant we literally "discovered" one night after the ballet. It was late, we were hungry, and this place was opened. It used to be a diner, and I had a feeling that's what we were going to be eating: diner food.

Nope. The restaurant, called Eolo (the Sicilian form of "Aeolus," who is supposed to have lived on Sicily), is a truly Sicilian restaurant. We hit it off with the folks that night, and had a somewhat simple meal. We had one of our full dinners on Friday and one item on the menu was a salad based on celery, cucumbers, and strawberries.

Well, to be honest, this is "Siciliano nuovo." It is not a combination out of classical Sicilian cooking, but that's ok. I ordered it, tried it, and it was SO DAMN GOOD. And my salad based brain cells started thinking of fruit in salad.

So, last night, we were having fish for dinner, with a sauce based on nuts. My own way of cooking tells me not to repeat things like nuts in two courses, so nuts were not going in the salad. I had some baby arugula that was beginning to give me what my friend Nora calls "the stink eye," so that was going to be the basis of the salad. To my taste, arugula always goes well with beets, and we always have cooked beets in the house, usually in both yellow and red (in separate containers). Avocados were ripening on the sideboard, and there were the makings of the salad.

And then... the half container of blueberries. Not enough for lunch, but... and they were GOOD blueberries too, from Lisa, the queen of farmers market berries. I was using the golden beets, and the color combination just seemed to say: USE ME. And use them I did.

Let's just stop for a minute and review how to cook beets, because it's easy. Fill a non-iron baking dish with about a third of an inch of water. Put the beet roots, with a bit of stem on them, into the water. Tightly (and I mean TIGHTLY), cover the container with foil, and bake in a 350-400 degree oven for at least half an hour, for small beets, and much longer, for bigger ones. Test after half an hour to see if a fork pierces them. If it does, you're ready. If not, re-cover the pan, and bake longer.

Let them cool until they're easy to handle, and then run them under water, rubbing off the skin. It will come off easily, and then store the peeled beets for a week/two weeks.

SO our salad was a bed of baby arugula, golden beets sliced as big, round coins, and avocado sliced into thin slices.

Now, let me speak on avocados too and explain why they're here: Annalena is a seasonal, local cook; however, she breaks from that mode when there is a food that is not grown locally, and is at its prime. If she didn't, there would be no olive oil, no parmesan, no oranges, no pineapples, no coffee. So, the avocados were sliced and put onto the salad with the beets, and then the blueberries, just strewn over the top.

Then, the dressing. Ah, the dressing. Remember I said we were having fish? And you all remember Annalena's diatribe about dairy and fish? So our dressing was a dairy base. Champagne vinaigrette, first. One part. A sprinkle of salt. Then 1/4 part of dijon mustard. Then, two parts creme fraiche. Shaken up. Finally, three parts olive oil. Taste. Add more salt, and taste again.

And there you had it. A salad that will make you proud. Fruits, vegetables, all sorts of good things.

If you are afraid of salad, get over it. Lettuces are not especially good for you, but have some fun, put something in the salad that IS good for you, and have a good end of the meal experience. You may not even want dessert.

Meeting the challenge: striped bass

2011-07-26T16:50:00.000-07:00

There are many fish recipes in this blog, but I doubt that there is one for striped bass, and there is a reason for that.
Annalena is terrified of cooking this fish. In some respects, that fear is irrational, but ultimately, I leave it to the experts to figure out when fear is and is not "rational." It's a sliding scale, isn't it, and to use the same word that is used in much more dire circumstances seems a bit extreme.
So call it what you want: I should be cooking thsi fish more, but I don't. This weekend, I decided to change that, and in so doing, I got closer to understanding what the fear is all about.
When we speak of fish, at least as far as I could see, we speak of three classes: the "white fishes," like flounder, cod, monkfish, and so on. they are flaky when cooked, and not at all like meat. Then we have the "red" fishes like tuna, swordfish and, dare I say it, shark. Those deep divers with muscles, vasculature, and so forth, of which you can honestly say you ate a "fish steak." (Annalena does not include salmon here, because she will not eat salmon on the East Coast). Finally, we have the oily fishes, like bluefish, mackerel, whiting, etc, which really need to be prepared, in Annalena's view, the day you catch it, grilled, and served with acid. I do not cook these fish very often, and do not much care for them.

When I addressed my striped bass tonight, I realized that the "issue" is that striped bass essentially straddles all categories. When you cook it, it looks like a white fish would look, BUT... it has a musculature that says red fish. And... there is a layer of fat between the skin and meat that says, and smells "oily fish."

So, what do you do? Perhaps you can understand my reluctance to cook it, even though I love eating it in restaurants.

One of the benefits of the Internet is that information gets put in front of you so fast that if, say, you have a piece of striped bass, it's 4 o'clock, and you need to start dinner at 6, you can come up with a recipe.

Just sayin'.. And it worked. And here's mine. And I have some pointers for making striped bass.

Here are your ingredients: a pound of fresh striped bass fillets. Also, butter, hazelnuts, and parsley, and the usual, pepper and salt. Oh, and some white wine.

Beginning to sound like an Annalena recipe, huh? Incidentally, the white wine is optional, but not really.

Now, a digression. People ask me all the time "How do you put those dishes together? Do you ever leave the kitchen?"

Well, of course I do, but... sometimes, I'm smart about my kitchen work. For example, for this recipe, I needed toasted hazelnuts. I had them. And why did I have them? Well, some few weeks ago, I had a recipe that called for toasted walnuts. They occupied 1/4 of my baking sheet. So I toasted the walnuts, almonds, pistachios, and hazelnuts, all on the same baking sheet. Try to think that way when you're cooking. And, if you didn't have hazelnuts, use almonds for this dish. Or pistachios. I do not think walnuts would work, but you might want to try.

Here we go. If you get your fish in a one pound piece, cut it into three or four pieces. Pat them dry and then sprinkle them a bit lavishly with salt and pepper. Get your nuts and put them in a bag, and crush 1/2 cup of them roughly. Put them aside. Get yourself a small piece of parsley and chop it. Put THAT aside as well.

Use a nonstick pan. ALWAYS use a nonstick pan with fish, and melt a healthy tablespoon of butter in it. When it's sizzling, put the fish in, skin side up, and cook them for 3 minutes. This is important. Keep an eye on the clock. When the three minutes are up, turn them. You won't be perfect here, and that's ok.

Now , here's where Annalena learned something. Her recipe said to cook the fish for another three minutes. After one minute, the fish began to give off the "here, kitty kitty " smell. You all know what I'm talking about. That's fat melting, and that means your fish is done. So, I took it off and put it on a plate. I then added the hazelnuts, and cooked them for about a minute. In went three tablespoons of butter, just melted into the nuts, and a medium slug of white wine, that immediately cooked off.

Pour this over your fish. Then, take your parsley, chop it, and put it over the nuts and you know what? You have dinner.

I've mentioned using almonds in place of the hazelnuts. I think you could use tarragon in place of the parsley, or frankly, most green herbs. I would avoid rosemary, and basil, as they are real strong.

We ate this with some dragon's tongue beans, a lovely new addition to the pantry which we will look at in due course. BUT... tomorrow, I'm going to talk about salads, something I almost never talk about. Specifically, we will look at fruit and vegetables, joined, in a salad.

A little mixing of culture: creme fraiche curry with cauliflower

2011-07-25T11:57:00.001-07:00

Well, Annalena had a very uneventful weekend, notwithstanding the marriages that took place. Many years ago, when Annalena was a young law student, she proposed an article to her law review editor entitled "is there a right to same sex marriage?" Said editor laughed at Annalena and said "Here's the answer. No. Now write something about the Haitians," because the Haitian boat people were the current crisis in our time. Thirty years later, Annalena gets to say NYAHHH.

Ok, now I shall step off of my soapbox, and turn to recipes and cooking. And, today, we are going to look at something that you would not associate with summer cooking: cauliflower. You should.

Here is the deal, ragazzi. You know those big, beautiful, huge heads of cauliflower we get in the fall? Well, they only happen if the farmers go out and assiduously cut back the seedlings in their fields. For a large plant to grow, it needs room. And that means the surrounding, smaller ones, have to go. This principle has many applications. It's why we get squash blossoms to fry, and why we get Chinese baby corn (here, the farmer is taking items off of one plant, so that the remaining items can grow big and strong. In other cases, like peashoots, or the cauliflower mentioned above, the fields are "thinned" or gleaned. Now, as a farmer, you can compost them, or you can feed them to animals.

Or, you can invent "mini cauliflower" and so forth, and sell the minivegetables at a premium to consumers. Don't ever say that farmers are dumb.

When you buy the vegetables you associate with autumn in the summer, you will find that they have a very different flavor. The sulfurs of these cruciferous vegetables (like cabbage, and cauliflower), have not yet had a chance to develop, so the vegetables are sweeter. And, be honest. It's nice to be able to break up a routine with something that you like, but is officially "out of season," once in a while.

So, Annalena saw these wonderful baby yellow cauliflowers, and brought home a pound of them. For me, curry is a natural partner for cauliflower in the way tomatoes and eggplant go together. So, curry was on the menu, but I wanted something different.

ATtentive readers will recall my foray into Thai curry with coconut milk and curry paste. I wanted something similar, but not exactly, and that is how this dish was born.

Bottled curry paste is something that I use because, while I COULD make it, it is so time consuming that the difference in quality is just not worth it to me. I bring this up because the discussion point has come up now, and as I spoke quite strongly in favor of heirloom beans, I speak equally strongly in favor of these sauces. If you are inclined to make your own curry paste, by all means do so, let me know and if you want to sell me some, I will open my purse. For now, though, I use them.

I used green curry paste here, because I find it both fruity and spicy. Yellow curry would have worked, but I think red would have struck the wrong note. Try what you like, see how it works, and let us all know. Ultimately, the most important part of this recipe, is the cooking of the cauliflower.

If you don't have baby cauliflower, use the full sized monsters, and cut them into florets. That's about the size you're looking for, even with the baby ones. That will be one, maybe two cuts, or halving or quartering the babies. Whatever your cauliflower source, get them into rapidly boiling salted water, and cook them to "al dente." For vegetables, especially for cauliflower, this means you want them to be harder than you would like if you were eating them right out of the pot. Drain them, and get a grill pan, or frying pan good and hot, with a thin layer of vegetable oil on it.

When the oil is almost smoking, add the vegetables, cut side down. Be patient, and let them cook until they char. You can do this for another side, or all sides, of the vegetables if you like. While that's happening, get about a quarter cup of creme fraiche (more on this below), and a couple tablespoons of the curry paste and mix it together. Taste it. Is it too your liking? Not strong enough? Add more curry. Too strong? Add more creme fraiche. When you have it where you want it, put it in a bowl, toss in the vegetables, and toss them all around.

If you are a vegetarian, you have close to a complete meal, with a nice bowl of rice and perhaps some lentils. Or, as with us, you have a side dish to a plate of lamb. You will figure out how to serve it, now that you know how to make it, and make it you should.

On Creme fraiche: yes, Annalena does make this herself. Here's how you do it: get a pint of heavy cream, and make sure it's not ultrapasteurized. Mix it with two heaping tablespoons of yogurt, in a large jar. Shake it, and put it on a tabletop, unrefrigerated, for at least 48 hours. The longer you leave it out, the tarter it will be.

To me, this is worth the "effort," and the creme fraiche is superior. But if you don't want to do it, there are many reputable suppliers of good quality creme fraiche. Buy the best, and make yourself a little curry today.