Yes, the great spring/winter cleanout continues. As I probe the depths of our freezer, I either remember what something is, and keep it, OR, if my reaction is 'what the hell is that' or, 'oh yeah, I put that in there in 2006' (it DID happen), then out it goes. Cleaning a freezer, for a cook, can be as therapeutic as a good closet cleaning can be for anyone. You DO have to be in the right mood, and you WILL find your will softening at some things. For example, I KNOW I'm never going to crack those apricot pits and make noyau custard or ice cream, but there they stay. On the other hand, the pork chop that had picked up more than double its weight in ice, that went. And so it goes .
Ok, so where is this rant going? Glad you asked. One of the vegetables that freezes best, is green peas. And they happen to be one of Guy's favorite veggies. So, during the late spring/early summer, we have them a lot, and freeze more. This year, I guess I froze way more than I thought. As I was digging stuff out, I found bag after bag after bag of them. Maybe as many as we had fava beans. So my thoughts turned to that wonderful way to use up vegetables, soup. Let's face it, this is the time of year where soup is always welcome. ANY soup. But wouldn't you like something that is a little springlike, to remind you that, really, it IS just around the corner? And there's where the peas come in .
You can find TONS of recipes for split pea soup, or soup using dried peas. There isn't so much "literature" on fresh green peas in soup. I recall that there is a French term for such soups, named after a city, but I do not recall it. I DO remember making it and thinking it wasn't so good. The one I made today, however, was really good. And I want you to make it. Either in the version that I found, or my version, which I liked better.
To make this, you will need six cups of frozen green peas. If you don't have them in your freezer from the farmers market heyday, then buy some. But PLEASE read the package. You'd be stunned at what goes into frozen vegetables. Get the organic ones, if you must. And since you need six cups, read the portion size on the side. It will tell you how many servings there are, and how big the serving is. Do the math, to make sure you have enough. You will also need half of a stick of unsalted butter, two onions, a quart of chicken stock and a cup of water (or, five cups of stock if you don't mind having an opened container around). In the original version, you will need a cup and a half of buttermilk too. In my version, you will need a pound of shelled shrimp. (I'm giving two versions because I'm thinking of a friend who doesn't eat shellfish - hi Ben, and a friend who will eat shellfish but won't use chicken stock - hi Jeremy. J, you can use all water in this if you want, or a simple vegetable stock. In the summer, I'll teach you how to make pea stock, how's that?).
Okay, you dice the two onions and you cook them in the half stick of butter (for some reason, peas seem to work better with butter than olive oil. So even though you're pushing up the cholesterol, go for it. You're going to have a lot of soup when this is done), and when they soften, add the peas, all at once, and the stock. Bring this to the boil, and then simmer, and cook it for about seven minutes. Just until the peas soften.
If you're smart, you now wait until this cools down. If you're foolhardy, like me, you don't. You get a blender, or a food mill, or whatever your preferred method of pureeing things might be, and in no more than three cup units, start pureeing. I did each one for thirty seconds. Then, you have to make a choice. At this point, you have a very textured soup. You can strain this through a colander and pull out the larger pieces and get something very refined. I don't think that is a good idea, because you wind up throwing away flavor. So I don't strain.
You are going to have about two quarts worth of soup here, and you're not done. Uh uh. If you've cooled the soup, warm it up again. Just to the point where it begins to bubble. When that's done, either add the buttermilk, off the heat (buttermilk WILL break, unlike cream, so you can' t heat it too hard), or with the heat low, add your shrimp. Just cook them through. The heat will continue to cook the shrimp.
If you use the buttermilk , you will get a beautiful pale, green colored product that reminds me of a lunar moth's wings. If you use the shrimp, the green color is, of course darker, but you get those pink color dots throughout the soup. Pink and green always remind me of spring, as does that pale green color that you associate with new leaves. So, if you are of a poetic bent, you can pour yourself out a bowl of this and think about how much fun you had last spring, or how much fun you'll have this spring.
Whatever you do, promise Annalena your thoughts will not turn to 'OH HELL SPRING IS AROUND THE CORNER AND I'M TOO FAT." What the hell is the point of that? Annalena likes her men with meat on their bones anyway, and 'fess up, so do you....
Incidentally, if you counted the time to do this soup, you may have noticed it took less than half an hour. Plenty of time to get to the gym if you insist.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
So nice, you cook it twice
Yesterday, I wrote about the possibilities that present themselves to you when you walk into the kitchen, and have a supply of tasty ingredients on hand. If you looked at it, you saw how a couple of boneless chicken breasts and some other simple ingredients can turn into a number of different dishes. (Incidentally, I made it with cream sauce and mustard and BOY, was it GOOD. I made enough for four and we probably ate enough for three).
Well, let's extend that idea a little, and now work with vegetables. When vegetables are local, in season, and fresh, my working "m.o" is to do as little as possible. Boil the greens, add some olive oil, and serve them forth, perhaps with a sprinkle of garlic. Steam the broccoli, add some lemon peel, and move on. Well, these days, with many of the vegetables we have in NY coming from far off parts, it is simply not possible to have vegetables of the quality you get "in season."
I was working yesterday with a pound of haricots verts. I bought them because, my on line grocery supplier, has started advising as to what vegetables they have on hand are the best in quality. These had four stars.
Well, ratings are relative, of course. I didn't really think they were that terrific, when I tasted a raw one, but if this is the best that you have, that's what you work with.
When you're confronted with vegetables like this, you need to think a bit "outside of the box." By all means, go ahead and boil them or steam them. But you have to add flavor back to them, that you've lost, given age, travel, handling, whatever. That's where twice cooking comes in.
I first learned this technique from Chinese cooking. It is not at all uncommon in this style of cooking to take something like green beans, and steam them first. Then, you toss them into hot fat. Since they are already tender, there is a magic that happens, as the oil "fries" a soft, wet vegetable. Carmelization happens, and you get a vegetable that isn't quite what you imagine of simple steamed greens, but a complexity of flavor that is caused by those chemical reactions.
I'm going to tell you how to do it with green beans, but you should try this with any FIRM green vegetable, like broccoli, asparagus, squash, and so forth. It's not so useful with leafy greens, but it DOES work.
Boil your vegetables in plenty of salted water, and cook them just short of where you would want them if you were serving them simply boiled. Drain them as well as you can. Then, get a big frying pan - one big enough to hold all of the vegetables in it. Put in a few tablespoons of a good oil - for me, that is almost always olive oil, but you can use what you like.
Before you start heating it up, however, look around at your other flavor components and ask yourself: what would taste good with this vegetable? Sun dried tomatoes? Yes, indeed. Olives? Uh huh. Lemon? Of course (what vegetable does NOT taste good with lemon?). Truffle paste? NOW we're getting fancy. But... my favorite for this type of prep is nuts, and I especially love pistachio nuts. Get about a quarter cup or a third of a cup of them, for a pound of veggies.
Now heat the oil, and add the veggies. They'll begin to sizzle. Here, you have a judgment call: the longer you let them cook like that, the more carmelized they will be, and the "darker" they will taste. I happen to prefer a lighter carmelization to a heavier one, but again, this is your call. You know that carmelization is happening when the sizzle begins to abate. When that happens, stir them and cook the sides that didn't hit the oil and the heat, and toss in your nuts. They will toast up a little at this point. Cook them for just about five more minutes.
This is really almost like jazz music again: I've just given you a theme: firm vegetable, boil and fry, add a flavor component. Now, it's up to you to improvise. My improv was beans with pistachio nuts. You do your own. Or follow mine. But have some fun. It's hard enough to cook with what we got during the winter, so let's enjoy ourselves, and make something really good.
Well, let's extend that idea a little, and now work with vegetables. When vegetables are local, in season, and fresh, my working "m.o" is to do as little as possible. Boil the greens, add some olive oil, and serve them forth, perhaps with a sprinkle of garlic. Steam the broccoli, add some lemon peel, and move on. Well, these days, with many of the vegetables we have in NY coming from far off parts, it is simply not possible to have vegetables of the quality you get "in season."
I was working yesterday with a pound of haricots verts. I bought them because, my on line grocery supplier, has started advising as to what vegetables they have on hand are the best in quality. These had four stars.
Well, ratings are relative, of course. I didn't really think they were that terrific, when I tasted a raw one, but if this is the best that you have, that's what you work with.
When you're confronted with vegetables like this, you need to think a bit "outside of the box." By all means, go ahead and boil them or steam them. But you have to add flavor back to them, that you've lost, given age, travel, handling, whatever. That's where twice cooking comes in.
I first learned this technique from Chinese cooking. It is not at all uncommon in this style of cooking to take something like green beans, and steam them first. Then, you toss them into hot fat. Since they are already tender, there is a magic that happens, as the oil "fries" a soft, wet vegetable. Carmelization happens, and you get a vegetable that isn't quite what you imagine of simple steamed greens, but a complexity of flavor that is caused by those chemical reactions.
I'm going to tell you how to do it with green beans, but you should try this with any FIRM green vegetable, like broccoli, asparagus, squash, and so forth. It's not so useful with leafy greens, but it DOES work.
Boil your vegetables in plenty of salted water, and cook them just short of where you would want them if you were serving them simply boiled. Drain them as well as you can. Then, get a big frying pan - one big enough to hold all of the vegetables in it. Put in a few tablespoons of a good oil - for me, that is almost always olive oil, but you can use what you like.
Before you start heating it up, however, look around at your other flavor components and ask yourself: what would taste good with this vegetable? Sun dried tomatoes? Yes, indeed. Olives? Uh huh. Lemon? Of course (what vegetable does NOT taste good with lemon?). Truffle paste? NOW we're getting fancy. But... my favorite for this type of prep is nuts, and I especially love pistachio nuts. Get about a quarter cup or a third of a cup of them, for a pound of veggies.
Now heat the oil, and add the veggies. They'll begin to sizzle. Here, you have a judgment call: the longer you let them cook like that, the more carmelized they will be, and the "darker" they will taste. I happen to prefer a lighter carmelization to a heavier one, but again, this is your call. You know that carmelization is happening when the sizzle begins to abate. When that happens, stir them and cook the sides that didn't hit the oil and the heat, and toss in your nuts. They will toast up a little at this point. Cook them for just about five more minutes.
This is really almost like jazz music again: I've just given you a theme: firm vegetable, boil and fry, add a flavor component. Now, it's up to you to improvise. My improv was beans with pistachio nuts. You do your own. Or follow mine. But have some fun. It's hard enough to cook with what we got during the winter, so let's enjoy ourselves, and make something really good.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
How a "recipe" develops, or Annalena cooks with chicken breasts
One of the things that I hope everyone develops over time, is an ability to work "without a net" in the kitchen. In other words, without recipes. Everyone does, but the ability to do that, and to produce something that you like, each and every time, is a difficult proposition. Let's face it: we are ALL taught, at some point, that we need "teaching" in a particular area in order to be good at it. And then the degree of teaching varies. Some of us take more of it than others. Others revolt and go on with little training.
I am reminded of a dinner that my friend Keith cooked for me last September. He had wanted to cook for Guy and I, and of course, had no idea what was in our refrigerator. Actually, neither did I . I had been on a vacation, and couldn't recall what was there.
When he came over, he found lamb sausage, greens, and pasta. He remembered how a sausage/beans/greens dish could be made in soup form, and "just" substituted pasta for the beans and the liquid. It was a wonderful, late summer dish. And making that substitution is not an immediate one. It comes with confidence (and, if I can take some pride of place, a bit of teaching from yours truly. ).
So, here's an example of how you "roll with the punches" so to speak. Guy and I have been eating a lot of red meat this week, including a lamb feast last night. Neither one of our systems can handle any really serious, heavy protein for tonight, so it was going to be boneless, skinless chicken breasts. The easy solution, which I had in mind, was to coat them in an egg wash, bread them, pan fry them, and serve them with some beautiful haricots verts, and some pasta.
Wait.... Is that REALLY a good idea? Well, yes it is. But Annalena being the sort she is, cannot leave things alone. So as I sit here I am l ooking at different things to do.
Yes, I have those chicken breasts in the fridge, pounded thin, and salted. And I also have cream, tomato sauce, mustard, sun dried tomatoes, dried mushrooms, and a whole bunch of other condiments. I also have lemons , white wine, garlic, and the usual things that a kitchen should have (You don't need to have all of these, but you should have some of them).
So, here's what I will do. ONE of these options. I will sear those chicken breasts at a very high temperature and very quickly, in a mix of vegetable oil and butter. I will NOT cook them all the way through, and here's why. I'm gonna make a sauce.
One of the things that separates cream from other dairy products, apart from its wonderful flavor, is the fact that it does not "break," i.e, separate, when it's heated. So it's an idea vehicle for sauces. I'll remove the chicken from the pan, and then pour in some cream. How much? Who knows. And sometime between now and dinner, I'll decide whether it's going to be sundried tomatoes, or mustard. I lean toward sundried tomatoes, because we had a mustard based crust on the lamb last night. But a mustard cream sauce on plain chicken is a thing of glory. All you have to do in either case is have your cream in that skillet, heating up. If you use the mustard, a few squirts into the cream, until you get the flavor you like , is all you need. For the tomatoes, taste them. They may be very salty, even if they are "sottolio," or "in oil." If they are, soak them in water a bit to clear the salt. Then chop them up and add them to the cream.
Instant sauce. In less than five minutes.
In the alternative, get some white wine and a lemon. Pour half a cup or so of white wine into the pan OFF THE HEAT (remember the alcohol), and dissolve the browned bits. Then squeeze in the lemon and you're done.
Finally, the tomato sauce option. Well, what needs to be said about that? Heat up the tomato sauce. Period.
Whatever option, you then add the chicken, preferably cut into smaller pieces, but not necessarily and heat it through until it's cooked. It won't take long.
So, look at that. With just some staples in the house, you've taken a standard ingredient, a boneless , skinless, chicken breast, and you have, oh, I guess four different dishes. Change the vegetable, change the starch, change whether the chicken is sliced, or left in one piece, and you probably have more variations.
And the creative amongst you will realize you can certainly use turkey. You can use fish. You could probably do something with tofu as well. So, how many dishes do you have here? A whole lot.
Now, promise Annalena you'll cook some of them. I'll be very happy if you do.
I am reminded of a dinner that my friend Keith cooked for me last September. He had wanted to cook for Guy and I, and of course, had no idea what was in our refrigerator. Actually, neither did I . I had been on a vacation, and couldn't recall what was there.
When he came over, he found lamb sausage, greens, and pasta. He remembered how a sausage/beans/greens dish could be made in soup form, and "just" substituted pasta for the beans and the liquid. It was a wonderful, late summer dish. And making that substitution is not an immediate one. It comes with confidence (and, if I can take some pride of place, a bit of teaching from yours truly. ).
So, here's an example of how you "roll with the punches" so to speak. Guy and I have been eating a lot of red meat this week, including a lamb feast last night. Neither one of our systems can handle any really serious, heavy protein for tonight, so it was going to be boneless, skinless chicken breasts. The easy solution, which I had in mind, was to coat them in an egg wash, bread them, pan fry them, and serve them with some beautiful haricots verts, and some pasta.
Wait.... Is that REALLY a good idea? Well, yes it is. But Annalena being the sort she is, cannot leave things alone. So as I sit here I am l ooking at different things to do.
Yes, I have those chicken breasts in the fridge, pounded thin, and salted. And I also have cream, tomato sauce, mustard, sun dried tomatoes, dried mushrooms, and a whole bunch of other condiments. I also have lemons , white wine, garlic, and the usual things that a kitchen should have (You don't need to have all of these, but you should have some of them).
So, here's what I will do. ONE of these options. I will sear those chicken breasts at a very high temperature and very quickly, in a mix of vegetable oil and butter. I will NOT cook them all the way through, and here's why. I'm gonna make a sauce.
One of the things that separates cream from other dairy products, apart from its wonderful flavor, is the fact that it does not "break," i.e, separate, when it's heated. So it's an idea vehicle for sauces. I'll remove the chicken from the pan, and then pour in some cream. How much? Who knows. And sometime between now and dinner, I'll decide whether it's going to be sundried tomatoes, or mustard. I lean toward sundried tomatoes, because we had a mustard based crust on the lamb last night. But a mustard cream sauce on plain chicken is a thing of glory. All you have to do in either case is have your cream in that skillet, heating up. If you use the mustard, a few squirts into the cream, until you get the flavor you like , is all you need. For the tomatoes, taste them. They may be very salty, even if they are "sottolio," or "in oil." If they are, soak them in water a bit to clear the salt. Then chop them up and add them to the cream.
Instant sauce. In less than five minutes.
In the alternative, get some white wine and a lemon. Pour half a cup or so of white wine into the pan OFF THE HEAT (remember the alcohol), and dissolve the browned bits. Then squeeze in the lemon and you're done.
Finally, the tomato sauce option. Well, what needs to be said about that? Heat up the tomato sauce. Period.
Whatever option, you then add the chicken, preferably cut into smaller pieces, but not necessarily and heat it through until it's cooked. It won't take long.
So, look at that. With just some staples in the house, you've taken a standard ingredient, a boneless , skinless, chicken breast, and you have, oh, I guess four different dishes. Change the vegetable, change the starch, change whether the chicken is sliced, or left in one piece, and you probably have more variations.
And the creative amongst you will realize you can certainly use turkey. You can use fish. You could probably do something with tofu as well. So, how many dishes do you have here? A whole lot.
Now, promise Annalena you'll cook some of them. I'll be very happy if you do.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Let's look at bread again
Way back when, when Annalena was somewhat younger, and somewhat less scarred than now, this blog started. The second essay was on baking bread and my adventures in learning how to do it, and why. And I never went back to yeast bread again. In over 300 entries, you've not seen anymore.
Well, people have been asking "why are you writing less?" Ah, children, doesn't life have a funny way of getting in the way of things. You see that item about being scarred? Oh yes. These months have not been easy for Annalena. I would like to say that she is somewhat phoenixlike and will arise, more resplendent than ever, from the ashes. Undoubtedly, she will arise. More resplendent, is of course, a question to be considered.
But we digress. Back to bread. I have hesitated to write about making it, because bread seems to be one of the "deal breakers" for people. They are willing to try to cook savories, or even to bak sweets. Bread possesses an inherent ability to provoke anxiety. That is not without good reason. Think of all the historical associations with bread. People rioted for bread. Think of all the sayings, the prayers, etc, that invoke this most sacred of foods. Indeed, I think there is a certain fear that somehow, by making bad bread, we have "sinned".
Well, there is no need to fear that you will make bad bread. There are rules, and some breads will turn out better than others. But ultimately, it is not hard. You need a few ingredients, and time and patience. The last is, of course, for yours truly, the hardest one. And as a form of mental discipline to develop patience, I bake bread.
Or, more to the point, I bake EUROPEAN style breads. See, there are in fact two unique approaches to bread making. You may recall when I wrote about American biscotti and Italian biscotti, and the approaches variances. Both are valid, but both are different. So, too, with bread. For "American style" bread, you use a lot more yeast, and a lot more "stuff." Cheese, vegetables, all kinds of things go into these breads. They are richer, sweeter, and really sometimes start to cross the line into cake type products. European breads CAN be rich - think "panettone," which means "big bread," but at their core, most European style breads are austere, designed to be eaten with more savory foods. Having said that, I will also tell you that a simple slice of a well made European style bread can do just fine on itself.
Perhaps the key ingredient in European breads is what we will call a "starter," and here is where patience is necessary. A "starter" is the equivalent of yeast, but it's different. You make it before you make your bread, and it's got a minimal amount of yeast in it. You add flour and water, and let it sit for at least a day, until you get this lively, bubbling mass. That is what you will use, ultimately, to make your bread.
Using a starter has a few advantages. Traditionally, because it used so little yeast, you didn't have to buy what was an expensive, taxed product. You also could always have it around, because "starter" was ultimately a bit of unbaked dough from a prior batch of bread. The fact that it had sat out overnight, or more than overnight, led to it being called "sourdough," because it was, literally, dough that had gone "sour."
See how Annalena educates you gently? Sourdoughs have different qualities, different flavors. It depends on the environment in which they're raised. When you have an exposed bowl of fermenting flour and water, the beasties in the air cannot help but settle in. Good beasties make a tasty sour. Bad beasties, well... Fortunately, just about all of the critters of a microbe nature in the air ultimately have a good flavor. In the US, we are of course familiar with San Francisco sourdough. The Lactobacillus bacteria that flourish in the Bay Area add a tangy note, with a somewhat sly undertone of dairy flavor to the breads. The large amount of acid also makes a bread with a distinct texture.
DON'T try to replicate this flavor . You can buy San Francisco sourdough powders. They simply don't have it. I think that you really need the environment: the air, the sense of place, that kind of thing to make it work.
European sourdoughs are much more subtle in their flavor, which is not really surprising. Again, it is a difference in European versus American tastes . We're going to make a classic European sourdough today, and I ask you to try it. I think you will really enjoy it, and if you can relax enough - or learn to relax enough - to make it, you will be well rewarded.
The day before you want to bake your bread, make your starter. Here it comes. It's very easy. This is an Italian style starter. You combine 1/4 teaspoon of yeast, and then a cup of cold water. Then add 2.25 cups of unbleached white flour and stir this together. Then cover the bowl and put it aside, overnight, or as long as 24 hours.
This is going to give you about two cups of starter- enough to make four loaves of bread.
The day that you want to bake, take half of that starter and put it in a bowl. Add 2 cups of cold water and a teaspoon more of dry yeast. You are going to need, as well, 2.5 teaspoons of salt, and about 5.5 to 6 cups of flour. This can vary. The one I made used a mix of five cups of unbleached white flour, half a cup of rye flour and half a cup of semolina. I'm told that the small amount of rye flour is required in baguettes in France. Only the French would legislate bread, but more power to them.
In any event, get your flour together, and stir half of it into the water mix, and then add the salt. Then, start adding the rest of the flour. If you're using a mixer, as I do, you start with the paddle, and switch to the dough hook at this point. If you do it by hand, it is at this point that you dump it out of the bowl, onto the rest of the flour and start folding to incorporate flour. Using the mixer will get more flour into the stuff, by hand, not so much. Still, you should shoot for at least five cups to get incorporated. The mixer will take about 8 minutes, by hand , 15-20.
Put the kneaded dough into a bowl, cover it, and go away for 3 hours. (Told you you'll learn patience). You will be amazed at how much it rises, from so little yeast. That's because it's not so little yeast. Overnight, that quarter teaspoon of yeast has been doing the nasty in the bowl, and you've got lots of leavening agent there. So after three hours, punch that dough down and then form two, round loaves, or one big one. I prefer to do small ones so that I can share, but if you have a large brood and you can use it, by all means, do a big one. Put it on a paper lined baking sheet, cover it, and let it sit for another hour and a half. (Still learning patience here). At some point in the first half of that hour and a half, turn on your oven to 400.
After the second rise, you are going to have a big, beautiful loaf, ready for the oven. Be gentle. Bread at this point is somewhat fragile. If you make one big loaf, plan on about 45-50 minutes of baking. Two loaves will be done in 35-40.
When they come out of the oven, you will be amazed at how hard and crispy the crust is. That will soften a little, but it will still be a workout for your teeth. Get it off of the baking sheet to a rack so that moisture can go off of the bread in all directions.
Let this sit for a few hours to fully cool. When you use this bread, as you slice it, put the cut side down, either on a counter, or a plate or something. Whatever you do, don't put it in the fridge.
In cold weather, this can keep for about a week. Warmer more humid weather will mold it up eventually, but the absence of fat keeps it fairly free of mold.
What the lack of fat DOES do it make this bread more prone to go stale. "Stale" is a relative term. I like using stale bread, if it's not so stiff that it breaks when I slice it. And if it does go that far, well, that's fine because that's when you make croutons, something that everyone likes.
Go make some European style bread. You'll feel sophisticated, you'll eat well, and you'll probably find yourself feeling "closer to the earth" than you were before you did.
Well, people have been asking "why are you writing less?" Ah, children, doesn't life have a funny way of getting in the way of things. You see that item about being scarred? Oh yes. These months have not been easy for Annalena. I would like to say that she is somewhat phoenixlike and will arise, more resplendent than ever, from the ashes. Undoubtedly, she will arise. More resplendent, is of course, a question to be considered.
But we digress. Back to bread. I have hesitated to write about making it, because bread seems to be one of the "deal breakers" for people. They are willing to try to cook savories, or even to bak sweets. Bread possesses an inherent ability to provoke anxiety. That is not without good reason. Think of all the historical associations with bread. People rioted for bread. Think of all the sayings, the prayers, etc, that invoke this most sacred of foods. Indeed, I think there is a certain fear that somehow, by making bad bread, we have "sinned".
Well, there is no need to fear that you will make bad bread. There are rules, and some breads will turn out better than others. But ultimately, it is not hard. You need a few ingredients, and time and patience. The last is, of course, for yours truly, the hardest one. And as a form of mental discipline to develop patience, I bake bread.
Or, more to the point, I bake EUROPEAN style breads. See, there are in fact two unique approaches to bread making. You may recall when I wrote about American biscotti and Italian biscotti, and the approaches variances. Both are valid, but both are different. So, too, with bread. For "American style" bread, you use a lot more yeast, and a lot more "stuff." Cheese, vegetables, all kinds of things go into these breads. They are richer, sweeter, and really sometimes start to cross the line into cake type products. European breads CAN be rich - think "panettone," which means "big bread," but at their core, most European style breads are austere, designed to be eaten with more savory foods. Having said that, I will also tell you that a simple slice of a well made European style bread can do just fine on itself.
Perhaps the key ingredient in European breads is what we will call a "starter," and here is where patience is necessary. A "starter" is the equivalent of yeast, but it's different. You make it before you make your bread, and it's got a minimal amount of yeast in it. You add flour and water, and let it sit for at least a day, until you get this lively, bubbling mass. That is what you will use, ultimately, to make your bread.
Using a starter has a few advantages. Traditionally, because it used so little yeast, you didn't have to buy what was an expensive, taxed product. You also could always have it around, because "starter" was ultimately a bit of unbaked dough from a prior batch of bread. The fact that it had sat out overnight, or more than overnight, led to it being called "sourdough," because it was, literally, dough that had gone "sour."
See how Annalena educates you gently? Sourdoughs have different qualities, different flavors. It depends on the environment in which they're raised. When you have an exposed bowl of fermenting flour and water, the beasties in the air cannot help but settle in. Good beasties make a tasty sour. Bad beasties, well... Fortunately, just about all of the critters of a microbe nature in the air ultimately have a good flavor. In the US, we are of course familiar with San Francisco sourdough. The Lactobacillus bacteria that flourish in the Bay Area add a tangy note, with a somewhat sly undertone of dairy flavor to the breads. The large amount of acid also makes a bread with a distinct texture.
DON'T try to replicate this flavor . You can buy San Francisco sourdough powders. They simply don't have it. I think that you really need the environment: the air, the sense of place, that kind of thing to make it work.
European sourdoughs are much more subtle in their flavor, which is not really surprising. Again, it is a difference in European versus American tastes . We're going to make a classic European sourdough today, and I ask you to try it. I think you will really enjoy it, and if you can relax enough - or learn to relax enough - to make it, you will be well rewarded.
The day before you want to bake your bread, make your starter. Here it comes. It's very easy. This is an Italian style starter. You combine 1/4 teaspoon of yeast, and then a cup of cold water. Then add 2.25 cups of unbleached white flour and stir this together. Then cover the bowl and put it aside, overnight, or as long as 24 hours.
This is going to give you about two cups of starter- enough to make four loaves of bread.
The day that you want to bake, take half of that starter and put it in a bowl. Add 2 cups of cold water and a teaspoon more of dry yeast. You are going to need, as well, 2.5 teaspoons of salt, and about 5.5 to 6 cups of flour. This can vary. The one I made used a mix of five cups of unbleached white flour, half a cup of rye flour and half a cup of semolina. I'm told that the small amount of rye flour is required in baguettes in France. Only the French would legislate bread, but more power to them.
In any event, get your flour together, and stir half of it into the water mix, and then add the salt. Then, start adding the rest of the flour. If you're using a mixer, as I do, you start with the paddle, and switch to the dough hook at this point. If you do it by hand, it is at this point that you dump it out of the bowl, onto the rest of the flour and start folding to incorporate flour. Using the mixer will get more flour into the stuff, by hand, not so much. Still, you should shoot for at least five cups to get incorporated. The mixer will take about 8 minutes, by hand , 15-20.
Put the kneaded dough into a bowl, cover it, and go away for 3 hours. (Told you you'll learn patience). You will be amazed at how much it rises, from so little yeast. That's because it's not so little yeast. Overnight, that quarter teaspoon of yeast has been doing the nasty in the bowl, and you've got lots of leavening agent there. So after three hours, punch that dough down and then form two, round loaves, or one big one. I prefer to do small ones so that I can share, but if you have a large brood and you can use it, by all means, do a big one. Put it on a paper lined baking sheet, cover it, and let it sit for another hour and a half. (Still learning patience here). At some point in the first half of that hour and a half, turn on your oven to 400.
After the second rise, you are going to have a big, beautiful loaf, ready for the oven. Be gentle. Bread at this point is somewhat fragile. If you make one big loaf, plan on about 45-50 minutes of baking. Two loaves will be done in 35-40.
When they come out of the oven, you will be amazed at how hard and crispy the crust is. That will soften a little, but it will still be a workout for your teeth. Get it off of the baking sheet to a rack so that moisture can go off of the bread in all directions.
Let this sit for a few hours to fully cool. When you use this bread, as you slice it, put the cut side down, either on a counter, or a plate or something. Whatever you do, don't put it in the fridge.
In cold weather, this can keep for about a week. Warmer more humid weather will mold it up eventually, but the absence of fat keeps it fairly free of mold.
What the lack of fat DOES do it make this bread more prone to go stale. "Stale" is a relative term. I like using stale bread, if it's not so stiff that it breaks when I slice it. And if it does go that far, well, that's fine because that's when you make croutons, something that everyone likes.
Go make some European style bread. You'll feel sophisticated, you'll eat well, and you'll probably find yourself feeling "closer to the earth" than you were before you did.
Monday, February 9, 2009
A new look at meatballs
Annalena is somewhat famous, or notorious, or well loved, or well liked, or all of the above, for her meatballs. Ah, and this is one of those things that, frankly Annalena both understands and does not. Yes, they are tasty. In fact, if I do say so myself (and I do), they are very tasty. But they are far from the best thing that I make. Yet, if you ask any of my friends who are not vegetarians for a list of their favorite things that I cook, you will find meatballs on that list, almost inevitably. So, as with red sauce, there is never a time that there aren't meatballs in the fridge.
And , as all obsessives are, I am obsessed with making the recipe for my meatballs better. Especially since, in my opinion, they are not in the top 10, and perhaps not even the top 20 things I make. So there is always a portion of my brain engaged in "meatball mania."
Some time ago, I wrote about how I had resurrected meatloaf, and made it for the first time in years. That meatloaf was GOOD. And I remember making some pretty awful meatloaves.
In many respects, meatloaf resembles meatballs. The spicing is different, but it is, at heart, ground meat, egg, some starchy binding ingredient, and spices. So when the meatloaf turned out so much better than I thought it would, and with the thoughts I have of my meatballs in my head, I began to think: "could this be adapted to meaballs?" The answer, after two forays into this, is yes.
You DO have to make some changes. For example, the spicing is very different in meatballs, as compared to meatloaf. And you dispense with the ketchup glaze, because you'll be cooking them in tomato sauce. The spicing change is the biggest one: all you will use is some Italian seasoning. And rather than the dry breadcrumbs I used to use with the meatballs, I now wet them, as I did with meatloaf. Here it comes.
Start with equal quantities of ground beef, pork and veal. (Let's not go over the veal issues again, shall we?). I make six pound batches of meatballs, and get about 65 out of it. You can cut this in half if you like, but you really shouldn't be thinking about less than 3 pounds at a time. Combine those meats, and get in there with your hands. They each have a different color and you need to combine them until they look uniform. Now, when doing this, be gentle. One of the key parts of meatball making is trying to keep things as loose as possible. After you've combined the meats, add one large egg for each three pounds of meat.
Let's go back for a minute. Let's get the breadcrumbs set up. For each 3 pound batch, use a third cup of dry , unflavored crumbs, and a good generous third of a cup of milk. Mix that in a bowl, and let it sit. The bread will absorb the milk. If it absorbs it all and looks dry, add some more. You want something that looks like thick oatmeal.
Now, add those soggy crumbs to the meat and egg mixture. Mix it all together. It's going to feel slightly wet. Add your dry spices as well as salt. I like to use over a tablespoon of each. You don't have to, but in order to tell if you've added enough of either, you do have to taste. If you have a "thing" about tasting raw meat, get over it. You eat sushi, don't you? And you don't need to taste a big piece of it. Just a small bit. Maybe half a teaspoon until you get the seasoning right.
Now, GENTLY roll these guys into balls. Mine are about the size of ping pong balls. If you are heavy handed, as I am, be as delicate as you can. If , on the other hand, you're one of those hateful people who can roll out a piecrust with three easy little flicks of the rolling pin without breaking a sweat, go make pie and leave the meatball makers alone. No, seriously, you folks who are heavy handed know who you are. What you're trying to do is avoid compacting the meat, because you're going to put these into sauce, and you want the sauce to penetrate. After you've rolled them, drop the meatballs into a big pot of simmering tomato sauce. I usually can do about 20 -24 of them at a time in my six quart Le Creuset, with two quarts of sauce in it. Keep the heat low and let them cook for about 15 minutes. Then, get a slotted spoon and pull em out. Let the tomato sauce drip off. Try to remember how many of them you put in, and get them all out. You WILL lose some meat to the sauce, which is not a bad thing, just as you are losing some sauce to the meatballs. Continue in this way until you've cooked all of the meat.
Store these fellas in plastic containers, covered with a big ladle of the red sauce. They freeze very well, and, unlike hamsters, which do not freeze well, they make wonderful little gift packages to your culinarily impaired friends, or anyone you're trying to seduce with your amazing abilities in the ... kitchen.
I'm serious about t his. You will get more "LOVE" from a potful of tasty meatballs, then just about anything else you make. I have a really good friend who loves my meatballs, and loves my ice creams. I would NEVER make him choose one over the other, but if I DID, I am CERTAIN he would pick the meatballs.
You know who you are, boy wonder... am I right?
And , as all obsessives are, I am obsessed with making the recipe for my meatballs better. Especially since, in my opinion, they are not in the top 10, and perhaps not even the top 20 things I make. So there is always a portion of my brain engaged in "meatball mania."
Some time ago, I wrote about how I had resurrected meatloaf, and made it for the first time in years. That meatloaf was GOOD. And I remember making some pretty awful meatloaves.
In many respects, meatloaf resembles meatballs. The spicing is different, but it is, at heart, ground meat, egg, some starchy binding ingredient, and spices. So when the meatloaf turned out so much better than I thought it would, and with the thoughts I have of my meatballs in my head, I began to think: "could this be adapted to meaballs?" The answer, after two forays into this, is yes.
You DO have to make some changes. For example, the spicing is very different in meatballs, as compared to meatloaf. And you dispense with the ketchup glaze, because you'll be cooking them in tomato sauce. The spicing change is the biggest one: all you will use is some Italian seasoning. And rather than the dry breadcrumbs I used to use with the meatballs, I now wet them, as I did with meatloaf. Here it comes.
Start with equal quantities of ground beef, pork and veal. (Let's not go over the veal issues again, shall we?). I make six pound batches of meatballs, and get about 65 out of it. You can cut this in half if you like, but you really shouldn't be thinking about less than 3 pounds at a time. Combine those meats, and get in there with your hands. They each have a different color and you need to combine them until they look uniform. Now, when doing this, be gentle. One of the key parts of meatball making is trying to keep things as loose as possible. After you've combined the meats, add one large egg for each three pounds of meat.
Let's go back for a minute. Let's get the breadcrumbs set up. For each 3 pound batch, use a third cup of dry , unflavored crumbs, and a good generous third of a cup of milk. Mix that in a bowl, and let it sit. The bread will absorb the milk. If it absorbs it all and looks dry, add some more. You want something that looks like thick oatmeal.
Now, add those soggy crumbs to the meat and egg mixture. Mix it all together. It's going to feel slightly wet. Add your dry spices as well as salt. I like to use over a tablespoon of each. You don't have to, but in order to tell if you've added enough of either, you do have to taste. If you have a "thing" about tasting raw meat, get over it. You eat sushi, don't you? And you don't need to taste a big piece of it. Just a small bit. Maybe half a teaspoon until you get the seasoning right.
Now, GENTLY roll these guys into balls. Mine are about the size of ping pong balls. If you are heavy handed, as I am, be as delicate as you can. If , on the other hand, you're one of those hateful people who can roll out a piecrust with three easy little flicks of the rolling pin without breaking a sweat, go make pie and leave the meatball makers alone. No, seriously, you folks who are heavy handed know who you are. What you're trying to do is avoid compacting the meat, because you're going to put these into sauce, and you want the sauce to penetrate. After you've rolled them, drop the meatballs into a big pot of simmering tomato sauce. I usually can do about 20 -24 of them at a time in my six quart Le Creuset, with two quarts of sauce in it. Keep the heat low and let them cook for about 15 minutes. Then, get a slotted spoon and pull em out. Let the tomato sauce drip off. Try to remember how many of them you put in, and get them all out. You WILL lose some meat to the sauce, which is not a bad thing, just as you are losing some sauce to the meatballs. Continue in this way until you've cooked all of the meat.
Store these fellas in plastic containers, covered with a big ladle of the red sauce. They freeze very well, and, unlike hamsters, which do not freeze well, they make wonderful little gift packages to your culinarily impaired friends, or anyone you're trying to seduce with your amazing abilities in the ... kitchen.
I'm serious about t his. You will get more "LOVE" from a potful of tasty meatballs, then just about anything else you make. I have a really good friend who loves my meatballs, and loves my ice creams. I would NEVER make him choose one over the other, but if I DID, I am CERTAIN he would pick the meatballs.
You know who you are, boy wonder... am I right?
Cleaning out the freezer: fava bean soup
So, last week, it was pointed out to me that I'm not w riting as much as I used to. Of course, my saying that's true is kinda redundant, isn't it? Fact is, when you cook and eat seasonally, once you go through one season, you sort of repeat yourself. I mean, if you like roasted jerusalem artichokes, and you eat them in season, unless you have a new "WOW" approach to them, you'll repeat your recipe. Nuthin wrong with that as a matter of cooking. There IS something wrong with repeating the text of that recipe, over and over and over again. So, that's the reason for my absence: if I don't have something new to give you, why do you want to hear about the nineteenth time I made meatballs (Actually, I have a new meatball recipe to give you. Patience. But here's a hint. If you go find the meatLOAF recipe), you're on your way.
Going back to eating seasonally, it is about this time of year THAT I GET BLOODY TIRED OF IT. This is when I start saying that if I eat one more tuber, one more beet salad, one more fried parsnip, I will positively lose it. Somewhere around mid March, you will see me looking, enviously, at Peruvian asparagus and wondering "How bad could it be?" Yes, Annalena admits her weaknesses. Usually, I can get through them, but sometimes, well, no.
Thank God for freezers. One of the lessons we learned from our predecessors is to "put food by" for when there isn't any. Now, of course, we are in an age of surfeit, where none of us really have a situation where there is no food (I speak generally here, fully aware of economics of food and those who don't get any , or don't get enough). But there are times when "what's readily available," just doesn't work. I am fully aware of that, and I know enough about putting food by that I freeze the things we like that will stand freezing. And when we get to mid February, with April and the first fresh things really not that far away, it's time to start using them.
In the realm of vegetables, the aforementioned asparagus do not freeze well. Forget it. In fact, there aren't that many that do. Industrially frozen spinach is, of course, available and a horror. So is broccoli and, for that matter, asparagus. Avoid them. Peas are good, freezing them yourself is better. So, too, with corn. Shell beans freeze well. And so do fava beans, and that's where we turn now.
Fava beans are a vegetable which I've written about before as being a test: you have to like them a LOT, because they are a LOT of work. They come in these big, soft pods that are completely unusable for anything but compost. And the beans themselves have a shell on them that is frequently inedible and has to be peeled off. One way to do it is to drop them in boiling water, for a minute or two, and then ice water. Then pop them out. BUT.... I do it by freezing them, thawing them, and then popping them out of the thawed beans. This works really well, and I learned that the great Paula Wolfert does this too. If she does it, how bad can it be?
Over the summer, I froze over five pounds of fava beans. And they are sitting there in the freezer, staring at me reproachfully, because if I don't use them now, comes the spring, they will be neglected. So, out came two pounds for soup.
I am told that if you live near a Middle Eastern or Greek neighborhood, you can buy frozen or canned peeled fava beans. If you have access to this, by all means, use them. If not, do what I do and freeze them. Then thaw them and pop them out of the shells. Yield wise, you will not get many. A heart two pounds of fava beans is going to yield about 2 heaping cups of useful vegetable. This, however, is the hardest work you're going to do in making what is a really great soup that will remind you of spring.
You'll need a vegetable "mirepoix," so let's review: mirepoix is two parts onion, to one part carrot, to one part celery. With fava beans, which work so well with garlic, add three nice sized, peeled cloves to that mixture and either chop em fine, or as I do, use your food processor. As Madonna said "that's what it's for."
Since favas are really a Meditteranean thing, use olive oil for this soup. Slick a pot with good olive oil, and then add that mirepoix to it. Add a big teaspoon of salt and stir it up. If you happen to have some rosemary or thyme around, feel free to add a little. Thyme is better if you have both. When you see the water going off, then add two quarts of liquid. Now, here you have a dilemma. I like chicken stock, and I dilute it, half and half , with water, for this soup. If you are going completely vegetarian, I would suggest using just water, and perhaps the "savior" of vegetable soups everywhere, the rind of a parmesan cheese piece. Commercial vegetable stocks, in my opinion, are just vile. Or, you could do a quick stock by boiling a carrot, a peeled onion cut in quaraters and a few stalks of celery in two quarts of water, with salt, for fifteen minutes. It's really your call.
Once y ou add your liquid, add your beans. Lower the heat and simmer for about twenty minutes. The beans will not take that long to soften, but you DO need that time, because they are very dense.
While this is happening, if you want a more substantial soup, cook about a cup of small dry pasta in a separate pot. I used orzo because I had a box I needed to finish. Stelline, tubettini, quadratini, or any soup pasta (ask your Italian grocer), will know what you need. When the pasta is cooked, drain it and put it in lots of cold water, to cut the cooking. Otherwise, you won't have soup, you'll have "sop," because the pasta will soak up all of the broth.
DONE. Now, if you want to present this as a full, but light Mediterranean meal, perhaps some bread and cheese will be enough, and a salad of fennel with some blood oranges.
Cooking a meal like this is really the essence of simplicity, and it teaches you: plan. The favas will be in seaons soon, and the work you put in , in June, will reward you in February when you are so tired of celery root (although I'm not.. yet), that you just can't look at that gnarly beast for a while.
Going back to eating seasonally, it is about this time of year THAT I GET BLOODY TIRED OF IT. This is when I start saying that if I eat one more tuber, one more beet salad, one more fried parsnip, I will positively lose it. Somewhere around mid March, you will see me looking, enviously, at Peruvian asparagus and wondering "How bad could it be?" Yes, Annalena admits her weaknesses. Usually, I can get through them, but sometimes, well, no.
Thank God for freezers. One of the lessons we learned from our predecessors is to "put food by" for when there isn't any. Now, of course, we are in an age of surfeit, where none of us really have a situation where there is no food (I speak generally here, fully aware of economics of food and those who don't get any , or don't get enough). But there are times when "what's readily available," just doesn't work. I am fully aware of that, and I know enough about putting food by that I freeze the things we like that will stand freezing. And when we get to mid February, with April and the first fresh things really not that far away, it's time to start using them.
In the realm of vegetables, the aforementioned asparagus do not freeze well. Forget it. In fact, there aren't that many that do. Industrially frozen spinach is, of course, available and a horror. So is broccoli and, for that matter, asparagus. Avoid them. Peas are good, freezing them yourself is better. So, too, with corn. Shell beans freeze well. And so do fava beans, and that's where we turn now.
Fava beans are a vegetable which I've written about before as being a test: you have to like them a LOT, because they are a LOT of work. They come in these big, soft pods that are completely unusable for anything but compost. And the beans themselves have a shell on them that is frequently inedible and has to be peeled off. One way to do it is to drop them in boiling water, for a minute or two, and then ice water. Then pop them out. BUT.... I do it by freezing them, thawing them, and then popping them out of the thawed beans. This works really well, and I learned that the great Paula Wolfert does this too. If she does it, how bad can it be?
Over the summer, I froze over five pounds of fava beans. And they are sitting there in the freezer, staring at me reproachfully, because if I don't use them now, comes the spring, they will be neglected. So, out came two pounds for soup.
I am told that if you live near a Middle Eastern or Greek neighborhood, you can buy frozen or canned peeled fava beans. If you have access to this, by all means, use them. If not, do what I do and freeze them. Then thaw them and pop them out of the shells. Yield wise, you will not get many. A heart two pounds of fava beans is going to yield about 2 heaping cups of useful vegetable. This, however, is the hardest work you're going to do in making what is a really great soup that will remind you of spring.
You'll need a vegetable "mirepoix," so let's review: mirepoix is two parts onion, to one part carrot, to one part celery. With fava beans, which work so well with garlic, add three nice sized, peeled cloves to that mixture and either chop em fine, or as I do, use your food processor. As Madonna said "that's what it's for."
Since favas are really a Meditteranean thing, use olive oil for this soup. Slick a pot with good olive oil, and then add that mirepoix to it. Add a big teaspoon of salt and stir it up. If you happen to have some rosemary or thyme around, feel free to add a little. Thyme is better if you have both. When you see the water going off, then add two quarts of liquid. Now, here you have a dilemma. I like chicken stock, and I dilute it, half and half , with water, for this soup. If you are going completely vegetarian, I would suggest using just water, and perhaps the "savior" of vegetable soups everywhere, the rind of a parmesan cheese piece. Commercial vegetable stocks, in my opinion, are just vile. Or, you could do a quick stock by boiling a carrot, a peeled onion cut in quaraters and a few stalks of celery in two quarts of water, with salt, for fifteen minutes. It's really your call.
Once y ou add your liquid, add your beans. Lower the heat and simmer for about twenty minutes. The beans will not take that long to soften, but you DO need that time, because they are very dense.
While this is happening, if you want a more substantial soup, cook about a cup of small dry pasta in a separate pot. I used orzo because I had a box I needed to finish. Stelline, tubettini, quadratini, or any soup pasta (ask your Italian grocer), will know what you need. When the pasta is cooked, drain it and put it in lots of cold water, to cut the cooking. Otherwise, you won't have soup, you'll have "sop," because the pasta will soak up all of the broth.
DONE. Now, if you want to present this as a full, but light Mediterranean meal, perhaps some bread and cheese will be enough, and a salad of fennel with some blood oranges.
Cooking a meal like this is really the essence of simplicity, and it teaches you: plan. The favas will be in seaons soon, and the work you put in , in June, will reward you in February when you are so tired of celery root (although I'm not.. yet), that you just can't look at that gnarly beast for a while.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Cooking with Jeremy: Halibut and orange salsa
Well, yes, I've been away, again. No excuses other than the standard one: life got in the way. When Annalena loses four pounds in a week, there is only one reason: stress. Ah, yes, that magical ingredient that we all hate and all love: stress. Yours truly could have used less of it as of late, but "it is what it is," as one is wont to say.
But I'm back. As resilient as an Ailanthus tree maybe (go and read "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. You'll get it. I don't care what anyone says, it's not a children's book). Perhaps battered, definitely tired, but still standing.
Last night, I stood in the kitchen with one of the people who I don't spend enough time with or acknowledge: Jeremy. He's another one of the lads who has convinced me that my original position of not trusting anyone under the age of 30, was wrong, and that Anna Madrigal's advice "You don't have to keep up, you just have to keep open," is spot on. Jeremy and I met at a chorus rehearsal. I was there to make an announcement that should have been made a few days earlier, but wasn't. So, it was happenstance that I was there. As was the fact that it was a week when Jeremy, who loves to bake, was doing bakesale duty. Now, since yours truly was the Betty Crocker of bakesales for years, I don't miss a chance to give sass or grief. Jeremy took it all in, and gave it back. That is all Annalena needs to say "this one is a keeper." And he is. Last night, I got to know him a whole lot better. Yup, this here boy is a keeper Ma. For a lot of reasons. And if any of you single guy readers out there are interested in meeting a really charming young man with a lot of smarts and wit... YOU DAMN WELL BETTER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM.
Ok, having said that, what did we cook? Jeremy is on a path that I have to respect: he's going vegetarian, because of his overall world view. He's not there yet, and eats fish as his source of animal protein, on doctor's orders. Whether the doctor's orders are valid or not, fish it is. Guy and I usually eat fish on Tuesdays anyway, so the timing was perfect.
So, too, was the appearance of a PERFECT recipe in a cooking magazine: the halibut above. I had planned to make it with a local white fish similar to halibut, like cod, or pollak or something like that. But the best laid plans of mice, men and Annalena sometimes go astray. Bad weather kept my fishermen from the farmers market, so I had to go to "plan B."
What IS plan B? Well, when you can't get local, think about what you know in terms of sustainability. The recipe DID call for halibut. There are two types of this fish: atlantic, which is endangered, and pacific, which has been properly harvested, and is not. So, although the recipe only specified "halibut," pacific is what is was going to be.
This is a very, V ERY easy recipe to make. I suggest strongly that you use a nonstick pan, and that you have your oven at the requisite 425 temperature before you start. Also, this is going to cook REALLY fast, so do the non fish stuff first. That's the making of this incredible salsa.
You start by juicing enough oranges to get 3/4 of a cup. I can't tell you how many that will be: I needed 2, plus their pulp (use the pulp, for heaven's sake. It's good for you). When you have that juice, pour it into a small sauce pan, and at medium heat, start reducing it to 1/4 cup. You don't have to be as precise as a gymnastics judge here, but DO eyeball it. You'll see when it goes down far enough. Get it off the heat.
Now, use some of winter's wonderful bounty: blood oranges. Yes, yes, YES!!!! One of the things I love about blood oranges is that, while they all have that red, ruddy color about them, the amount of pigmen varies from orange to orange, so you don't know what you're going to get. You're going to want three of them, that you peel. The way I peel them is to cut horizontally at the top and bottom, and then run my knife down the side, taking off the peel. I then cut the fruit into rough chunks and put it in a bowl, with the reduced juice, about a hefty teaspoon of salt, and then two chopped jalapeno peppers, without the seeds. You can cut these out completely and use something like cilantro, or you can add more, or you can add both. It's up to you. My lovely Guy does not much care for cilantro, so I left it out. Let your tongue guide you here (as it always should with cooking).
Get a big nonstick pan ready and pour a few tablespoons of vegetable oil into it. While its heating up, pat your fish dry, and salt and pepper it. Watch the oil. As oil heats, you can see a "ripple" form across it. That's how hot you want the oil for cooking. Take your fish - try to get pieces that are 6-8 ounces in size, with some skin on them. Put them, skin side down in the oil. If it's hot enough, it will start sizzling immediately. After two minutes or so, turn the fish with a spatula, and then put the whole pan into the oven for 5 minutes.
You are now done. Remove the fish to paper towels, let it drain, and then plate it with a big spoon of the salsa underneath and on top.
We ate this with fregola pasta, and broccoli rabb with garlic and olive oil, plus a great salad of fennel and endive. A great, healthy, light winter meal.
Now, this is a long entry but go back and read that recipe. Don't you think you could put this on the table in less than thirty minutes?
So what are you waiting for???
But I'm back. As resilient as an Ailanthus tree maybe (go and read "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. You'll get it. I don't care what anyone says, it's not a children's book). Perhaps battered, definitely tired, but still standing.
Last night, I stood in the kitchen with one of the people who I don't spend enough time with or acknowledge: Jeremy. He's another one of the lads who has convinced me that my original position of not trusting anyone under the age of 30, was wrong, and that Anna Madrigal's advice "You don't have to keep up, you just have to keep open," is spot on. Jeremy and I met at a chorus rehearsal. I was there to make an announcement that should have been made a few days earlier, but wasn't. So, it was happenstance that I was there. As was the fact that it was a week when Jeremy, who loves to bake, was doing bakesale duty. Now, since yours truly was the Betty Crocker of bakesales for years, I don't miss a chance to give sass or grief. Jeremy took it all in, and gave it back. That is all Annalena needs to say "this one is a keeper." And he is. Last night, I got to know him a whole lot better. Yup, this here boy is a keeper Ma. For a lot of reasons. And if any of you single guy readers out there are interested in meeting a really charming young man with a lot of smarts and wit... YOU DAMN WELL BETTER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM.
Ok, having said that, what did we cook? Jeremy is on a path that I have to respect: he's going vegetarian, because of his overall world view. He's not there yet, and eats fish as his source of animal protein, on doctor's orders. Whether the doctor's orders are valid or not, fish it is. Guy and I usually eat fish on Tuesdays anyway, so the timing was perfect.
So, too, was the appearance of a PERFECT recipe in a cooking magazine: the halibut above. I had planned to make it with a local white fish similar to halibut, like cod, or pollak or something like that. But the best laid plans of mice, men and Annalena sometimes go astray. Bad weather kept my fishermen from the farmers market, so I had to go to "plan B."
What IS plan B? Well, when you can't get local, think about what you know in terms of sustainability. The recipe DID call for halibut. There are two types of this fish: atlantic, which is endangered, and pacific, which has been properly harvested, and is not. So, although the recipe only specified "halibut," pacific is what is was going to be.
This is a very, V ERY easy recipe to make. I suggest strongly that you use a nonstick pan, and that you have your oven at the requisite 425 temperature before you start. Also, this is going to cook REALLY fast, so do the non fish stuff first. That's the making of this incredible salsa.
You start by juicing enough oranges to get 3/4 of a cup. I can't tell you how many that will be: I needed 2, plus their pulp (use the pulp, for heaven's sake. It's good for you). When you have that juice, pour it into a small sauce pan, and at medium heat, start reducing it to 1/4 cup. You don't have to be as precise as a gymnastics judge here, but DO eyeball it. You'll see when it goes down far enough. Get it off the heat.
Now, use some of winter's wonderful bounty: blood oranges. Yes, yes, YES!!!! One of the things I love about blood oranges is that, while they all have that red, ruddy color about them, the amount of pigmen varies from orange to orange, so you don't know what you're going to get. You're going to want three of them, that you peel. The way I peel them is to cut horizontally at the top and bottom, and then run my knife down the side, taking off the peel. I then cut the fruit into rough chunks and put it in a bowl, with the reduced juice, about a hefty teaspoon of salt, and then two chopped jalapeno peppers, without the seeds. You can cut these out completely and use something like cilantro, or you can add more, or you can add both. It's up to you. My lovely Guy does not much care for cilantro, so I left it out. Let your tongue guide you here (as it always should with cooking).
Get a big nonstick pan ready and pour a few tablespoons of vegetable oil into it. While its heating up, pat your fish dry, and salt and pepper it. Watch the oil. As oil heats, you can see a "ripple" form across it. That's how hot you want the oil for cooking. Take your fish - try to get pieces that are 6-8 ounces in size, with some skin on them. Put them, skin side down in the oil. If it's hot enough, it will start sizzling immediately. After two minutes or so, turn the fish with a spatula, and then put the whole pan into the oven for 5 minutes.
You are now done. Remove the fish to paper towels, let it drain, and then plate it with a big spoon of the salsa underneath and on top.
We ate this with fregola pasta, and broccoli rabb with garlic and olive oil, plus a great salad of fennel and endive. A great, healthy, light winter meal.
Now, this is a long entry but go back and read that recipe. Don't you think you could put this on the table in less than thirty minutes?
So what are you waiting for???
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