Thomas Keller Meets Pat Conroy

For Steph, who's been waiting a rude amount of time for a new post

To see just the recipe, click here.

I'm a native New Yorker, but when we moved to Atlanta in 1974, it was from St. Louis. I didn't have anything against Missouri; I had lived in Kansas City, Missouri, for two years and loved it. But I never felt at home during the year we lived in St. Louis, so I was glad to head south.

Atlanta was a smaller city in those days and different from any place I had ever lived. Most of the women I met socially did not work outside of the home. They felt sorry for me that I had a job.

I felt sorry for them that they didn't.

But the people were welcoming, and where we lived in Buckhead was beautiful. One day during the first March I lived there, I pulled my bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle over to the side of the road near The Swan House just to sit still and take in the flowers and the foliage. It was breathtaking. When I moved to Old Town, Alexandria, arguably one of the loveliest places in America, eight years later, I cried every spring for the five years I lived there.

We hadn't been living in Atlanta very long when I got a yearning to go to the beach, and we decided to spend a few days at Sea Island, one of the beautiful tidal and barrier islands off the coast of Georgia.

Sea Island Postcard, Circa 1992

I had never been to the ocean in Georgia before I went to Sea Island - I had never been south of Washington, D.C., until I drove to Atlanta to look for an apartment - but I felt completely in my own skin as I drove over the causeway and spied the Marshes of Glynn and saw a live oak tree for the first time.

I believe once you've been to the lowcountry, you always have a longing to go back.

To describe our growing up in the lowcountry of South Carolina, I would have to take you to the marsh on a spring day, flush the great blue heron from its silent occupation, scatter marsh hens as we sink to our knees in mud, open you an oyster with a pocketknife and feed it to you from the shell and say, "There. That taste. That's the taste of my childhood." I would say, "Breathe deeply," and you would breathe and remember that smell for the rest of your life, the bold, fecund aroma of the tidal marsh, exquisite and sensual, the smell of the South in heat, a smell like new milk, semen, and spilled wine, all perfumed with seawater. My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of indrawn tides.

Pat Conroy, Prince of Tides

Great Blue Heron
John James Audubon
Princeton Audubon Limited

Some of my happiest memories are vacations spent at Sea Island





with Carolyn and John and all the members of their family.





I rode my bike up and down every street on that tiny island, sometimes stopping outside Casa Genotta , the house that had once been home to Eugene O'Neill and his wife Carlotta (get it - Gen-Otta), imagining him sitting inside a room, which reportedly was built to mimic a ship's cabin, writing Ah, Wilderness!, with the Atlantic ocean lapping just yards away.





I am glad that I live in New York City again. I grew up here, and to me it is as home as home can be. But I was very happy to live in Atlanta for eight years and missed it so much when we moved to Northern Virginia that I drove myself back five times the first year after the move.

So it isn't surprising that the first recipe I made when I received my copy of Ad Hoc at Home by Thomas Keller was his famous fried chicken.

The recipe calls for brining the chicken. I didn't do that, but I will try it the next time, not because it wasn't delicious - it was scrumptious - but because Michael Ruhlman says that's the secret of the recipe.

Instead, I did what I always to with chicken. I rubbed the chicken pieces all over with kosher salt and refrigerated them on a rack over a platter for 24 hours, turning them over once, to air dry them before I cooked them.





Thomas Keller recommends using chickens that weigh 2-1/2 to 3 pounds, which is smaller than the usual grocery store chicken, because the pieces are smaller and will cook in less time than pieces from a larger chicken. I am usually able to get D'Artagnan chicken or chicken pieces, which are small, but if you don't have access to them, your best bet for a small chicken is a farmer's market.

I used drumsticks and thighs instead of cutting up a whole chicken because I like dark meat and because that way the chicken pieces would cook in the same amount of time. (Dark meat cooks for a little longer than white meat.)

Fried Chicken

Adapted from Ad Hoc at Home by Thomas Keller

Serves 4

Chicken - a whole chicken cut up into 10 pieces (2 legs, 2 thighs, 2 wings, 2 breasts cut in half crossways for 4 pieces) or 10 pieces of your choosing (thighs, drumsticks, breasts, etc.)
Peanut oil for deep-frying
1 quart buttermilk for dipping

Coating
Mix together:
6 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup garlic powder
1/4 cup onion powder
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon sweet Hungarian paprika
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
Maldon salt, crushed with your fingers

Mix together, and divide the mixture between two bowls.

I cut off any obvious globules of fat and trimmed a little hanging skin from the pieces of chicken. Then I dipped each piece of chicken in the seasoned flour, then in buttermilk, then in the seasoned flour again. I heated 2 inches of expeller-pressed peanut oil to 350 degrees in each of two pans, one an All-Clad 8-quart pan and one a LeCreuset 7-quart pan, and fried the chicken in the pans until it was almost mahogany brown.





Using these pans, with sides almost 6 inches high, instead of a skillet, was Thomas Keller's brilliant suggestion. The chicken fried perfectly, the oil didn't splatter all over the stove, and the pan was easy to clean up. If you try this, you must be extremely careful not to tip the pan over because the oil is very hot

Between the two pans, I actually preferred the way the chicken cooked in the All-Clad pan, and it might be worth having two of them if you want to make this often. I assume a cast-iron Dutch oven would work well too provided the sides are high enough, but I can't speak from experience.

This fried chicken was absolutely delicious - the best I ever had.





It is easy enough for a weeknight meal, especially since it doesn't make a mess all over the kitchen, and it was just as good leftover cold as it was right from the pan. I am going to make it often. It will be the star of the show next July Fourth. Dessert will be Clotilde's Orange Sponge Cake, topped with loosely whipped fresh cream.

I'm inviting Peggy. Even though she's from Charleston, I bet it will be the best fried chicken she's ever had.

Print recipe.

Fettuccine with Zucchini in a Saffron Cream Sauce

Adapted from Thirty Minute Pasta by Giuliano Hazan

Serves 4 as a side dish or starter, 2 as a main dish

My English mother

sailed from Liverpool into New York harbor as a brand new bride with my father in early September 1946. I was born the following June and grew up on Claremont Avenue in New York City – three blocks from Grant’s Tomb, where I learned to roller skate. I played in Cherry Park, which sits in front of International House. On cold mornings, I used to cut through The Julliard School of Music - now The Manhattan School of Music - as I headed to the local catholic elementary school:

In the 1940s, I attended a school still in existence: Corpus Christi in New York City. It was not a typical Catholic grammar school education. For one thing, we had boys and girls together. We did not wear uniforms. The desks were all movable. And, there were no report cards - no grades or report cards of any kind. It was a garden; it was a place that let me flower.

George Carlin

I’m an only child, and until I left home for college, we lived in the same house as Nanny, my father’s mother. Nanny was the youngest child and the first member of her family to be born in America instead of Italy.

In March of 1897 Nanny's mother gave birth to her in an apartment on Kenmare Street near Mott,

an intersection I pass every time I go to DiPalo’s, purveyor of the best Italian foods in New York.




Nanny was a dress designer, and until she retired in her 60’s, she went to work every day in the garment district.

With a British mother doing most of the cooking, we didn’t eat the way you would expect to eat at, say, Tony Soprano’s table. We had good things - roast beef and Yorkshire pudding – and bad things - beans on toast. The dessert most prized in our house was trifle. Ice cream was something we ate at the soda fountain on Broadway or from The Good Humor Man on the corner because the freezer in the top of our refrigerator was too small to keep any at home.

But every now and then I would wake up on a Saturday morning and jump right of bed because of the scents emanating from the kitchen. Tomato sauce - dark from tomato paste cooked in a little olive oil before the addition of plum tomatoes crushed by hand - would already be long simmering, and meatballs – meatballs the size of a "Spaldeen" ball - full of fresh parsley and lots of grated Parmesan cheese would be browning. And I would get one right out of the black iron skillet for breakfast.

The first year I was married I came across a paperback book called The Complete Book of Pasta by Jack Denton Scott. This book contained a revelation. Most tomato sauces in Italy do not include tomato paste. In fact, rather than being dark and heavy, a lot of them are thin and bright - as redolent of olive oil as tomatoes - with no dried oregano, and cooked in 30 minutes or less.

So I abandoned my grandmother’s recipe - which I had never been able to accurately duplicate anyway - and changed the way I made tomato sauce.

I used that copy of The Complete Book of Pasta, which I still have,

for one year until Christmas morning of 1974 when the best package under the tree for me was a book that had been published a year and a half before - Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan.

I had never heard of Marcella Hazan, but that day I was a goner – nestled on the sofa reading, reading, reading and planning, planning, planning what my first recipe would be. And so at the end of December 1974, for the first time I flattened a whole chicken, bathed it in olive oil, lemon juice, and lots of black pepper, and cooked it over charcoal on the balcony of our apartment in Atlanta. I have never stopped making Marcella's recipes and reading Marcella's books, and that book now sits on a shelf with every cookbook Marcella Hazan has ever written.

I know there are lots of other excellent Italian cookbooks. Plenty of people swear by Lidia; lots of people love Mario; I personally like the works of Nancy Harmon Jenkins. But no one measures up to Marcella.

With one exception.

Her son Giuliano.

Giuliano, who was fourteen years old when Classic Italian Cooking was published, has written four cookbooks himself, all excellent, one so good I am constantly buying used copies of it to give away since it is, unfortunately, out of print. Giuliano's books live on the same shelf in my house as his mother's, and last week I made room for the newest one, Thirty Minute Pasta, which he signed for me Thursday night at the Barnes & Noble on 86th Street.

Giuliano has a lot of talent as well as good luck. In addition to having a mother who is the doyenne of Italian cooking, "our" very favorite Wednesday Chef, Luisa Weiss, is the editor of his newest cookbook. Luisa, who like Giuliano has an Italian mother, is no slouch in the recipe department; I make four of her recipes regularly (Luisa's Chocolate Cake, Luisa's Pasta with Tomatoes and Ricotta, Luisa's Tomato Bread Soup, Molly and Luisa's Rice-Filled Tomatoes) and highly recommend them all. She is the person who turned me on to Pasta Setaro, available at Buon Italia in the Chelsea Market.

At Barnes & Noble Giuliano was interviewed by Luisa. He talked about growing up with Marcella and Victor Hazan - what it was like eating at home, what it was like when he left home for college, what inspired him to learn to cook (that was easy - Mom wasn't cooking for him anymore). He answered questions from the audience, making it very clear that artisanal pasta extruded through copper or bronze dies is worth the increased cost because it is dried so slowly that its surface is not slippery and holds sauce better than the supermarket brands. He was even sweet when someone asked him what bottled pasta sauce he would recommend (none), maintaining a straight face when the rest of the audience gasped!

During the three-hour drive upstate on Saturday morning, I perused Thirty Minute Pasta, just as I did Classic Italian Cooking nearly 35 years before, looking for the first recipe I wanted to try. Beautiful loin and rib lamb chops from Fairway were staying chilled in the cooler. I was looking for a pasta that would go well with lamb and featured a green vegetable. At my local farm stand, The Berry Patch, I found small, delicate zucchini and sweet, mild onions.

The first recipe I made from Giuliano's new book was elegant and delicious.

Fettuccine with Zucchini in a Saffron Cream Sauce

1/2 to 3/4 cup heavy cream
About 20 strands of saffron
1/2 large sweet yellow onion, chopped
1-1/4 pounds small zucchini, cut into sticks approximately 1/8-inch thick by 1 to 1-1/2 inches long
Salt
Pepper
8 ounces dried egg fettuccine
1/3 cup grated Parmigianno-Reggiano

Put the heavy cream in a small saucepan. This is a Mauviel Inducinox .9 quart saucepan. It's easy to clean because it's stainless steel on the outside and inside and sturdy because of its heavy weight due to the core of carbon steel sandwiched between the stainless for good heat conduction. It cannot, however, go in the dishwasher because of its traditional iron handle. It's my favorite small saucepan. You can get one from my friends at La Cuisine if you're interested.

Heat the cream slowly until hot but not boiling, and use the tips of your fingers to crumble the strands of saffron into the pan of cream. Stir with a wooden spoon. Cover the pan, turn off the heat, and leave on the turned-off burner to keep the cream warm while proceeding with the rest of the recipe.

To cut the zucchini into sticks, Giuliano suggests starting out by slicing the zucchini the short way into 1/8-inch rounds. Then make manageable stacks of the slices, and cut them 1/8-inch thick too to finish making the zucchini sticks.

Put the butter in a cold skillet, saute pan, or saucier and heat slowly until the butter melts.

Add the chopped onion, and saute until the onion turns gold but does not brown.

Add the sticks of zucchini and salt and pepper to taste, and cook until the zucchini is lightly browned. Let the zucchini soften, making sure it does not get mushy. Add the warm cream infused with saffron, and continue to cook the sauce until it thickens a little and reduces by no more than one third.

While you are making the sauce, cook the egg fettuccine in lots of boiling salted water until just slightly underdone.

Even though it is a supermarket brand, I find that nests of DeCecco egg noodles sold in a flat box covered with cellophane - as opposed to regular fettuccine in a long, narrow rectangular box - are delicious and cook beautifully for a recipe like this.

When the sauce is finished, turn the heat off, and add the cooked fettuccine to the pan, and toss with the sauce.

Add the grated Parmigianno-Reggiano and toss again. Serve immediately.

About the Book

Thirty Minute Pasta is a beautiful book with gorgeous photographs

by Joe DeLeo, who attended the Barnes and Noble discussion with Luisa last week.

Giuliano wrote Thirty Minute Pasta with the same meticulous detail as his other books. What is different, however, is his complete reliance on fresh tomatoes in this book because he says for recipes that cook in a short amount of time, fresh tomatoes are better than canned tomatoes.

That doesn't mean you can only use this book during the period of the year when lovely tomatoes are available because there are plenty of recipes that don't call for tomatoes at all. But since there are still good tomatoes available at the farmers' markets right now, I'm checking the book out for a recipe I want to make with tomatoes before the first frost hits.

Unfortunately, they won't be my own tomatoes. This year my plants were struck with the terrible blight that hit a lot of tomato plants in the northeast. Wish me better luck next year.

To see just the recipe, click here.

French Cooks

Last weekend I had some beautiful local grass-fed beef and eggplant, so I made one of my favorite dishes, Non-Traditional Moussaka, which I adapted from Julia Child's The Way to Cook. I even remembered to take pictures – no small feat when the food is good and I’m hungry. I was planning to post the recipe this weekend. But that was before Thursday night.

I had been forewarned. Don’t go hungry; don’t even think about going hungry.

I made myself a light supper of an omelet - with artichoke hearts that had been sauteed in olive oil with minced garlic - and a tart arugula salad. I drank a glass of crisp sauvignon blanc from Domaine Massiac, and took off, walking four blocks to the closet movie theater. I settled myself in the same room where I saw Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince last month and waited while the room filled up completely with men as well as women.

We were all there to see Julie & Julia.

It was swell. I loved it. I loved every single minute of it. I smiled; I laughed; I even cried. And at the end, while the credits were rolling, I joined the audience's ebullient applause, clapping as hard as I could.

I have been cooking out of Julia's books since 1973. In fact, I once made Julia's Cog au Vin from a paperback copy of The French Chef for one of my husband's colleagues who worked at WGBH-TV, the station where Julia's TV show was still being filmed. A week later I received this in the mail with a thank you note.

I had been a reader of the Salon blog, The Julie/Julia Project, and had preordered the book Julie & Julia from Amazon, so I was/am a long-standing Julie Powell fan.

I like to think I straddle the generational divide between Julie and Julia.

I disagree with any review that says the movie is more interesting during the Julia parts. I found it to be equally compelling no matter which actress was on the screen, Meryl Streep or Amy Adams.

Obviously, it is mesmerizing to watch Meryl Streep actually become Julia Child right before your eyes. That she could do this didn’t surprise me. After all, I have watched her become Karen Blixen (Isak Dinesen) in Out of Africa more times that I can count. Meryl Streep captured the Julia we all wish we knew to a T.

Of course, I could spot what changes had been made in the translation from the book Julie & Julia to the movie.

Eric said: "You could start a blog."

I cut my eyes over to him in irritation, a massive white-skinned shark thrashing its tail.

"Julie. You do know what a blog is, don't you?"

Of course I didn't know what a blog was. It was August of 2002. Nobody knew about blogs, except for a few guys like Eric who spend their days using company computers to pursue the zeitgeist. No issue of domestic or international policy was too big, no pop-culture backwater too obscure; from the War on Terror to Fear Factor, it was all one big beautiful sliding scale for Eric.

"You know, like a Web site sort of thing. Only it's easy. You don't have to know anything about anything."

"Sounds perfect for me."

"About computers, I mean."

"Are you going to make me that drink, or what?"

From Julie & Julia

I knew Julie Powell's language had been - more than - cleaned up.

But the changes didn't matter; Amy Adams and Chris Messina capture the essence of the Julie/Eric Powell story perfectly.

And I must mention the delightful Stanley Tucci. I don't know who I wanted to run away with – or more like it – go home to cook for – Paul Child, Eric Powell, Stanley Tucci, or (the adorable) Chris Messina.

So if you have not seen this movie, go see it as soon as you can and afterwards read this article by Russ Parsons, which will answer the question surrounding the most puzzling piece of the story. Then succumb as I did and make a recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

This was one of my favorite company dishes in the 1970's. I can't believe we really ate this way - it's rich as hell but oh, so good. In fact, this is the only dish I ever saw Walter - Mr. Discipline - go back to for third helpings.

Saute de Boeuf a La Parisienne
(Beef Saute with Cream and Mushroom Sauce)

Adapted from Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Serves 6

8 to 10 oz. of fresh cultivated mushrooms, sliced not too thin

2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon bland cooking oil - I use grapeseed
3 tablespoons minced shallots or scallions

A pinch of salt and a pinch of pepper, to taste

Heat the oil and butter in a 10 or 11-inch frypan,

and cook the mushrooms until lightly browned.

Add the shallots or green onions,

and cook slowly for two minutes more.

Remove the mushrooms to a plate.

2-1/2 pounds beef tenderloin, all the fat and filament removed, and cut into 2-ounce pieces.

2 (more) tablespoons of butter and 1 tablespoon bland cooking oil

Dry the meat thoroughly.

This is the tricky part. In the same skillet used for the mushrooms, heat the butter and oil over medium/high heat. When the butter and oil are hot, and the butter foam has subsided, saute the beef a few pieces at a time, lightly browning the exterior but keeping the interior red.

Season the meat lightly with salt and pepper, and set it aside on another plate.

Clean the fat from the skillet, but leave any brown particles of beef behind.

1/4 cup Madeira
3/4 cup stock - beef or strong chicken
1 cup heavy cream
2 scant teaspoons cornstarch blended with 2 tablespoons of the cream
2 tablespoons (even more) butter
Parsley sprigs for garnish (optional)

Put the wine and stock into the cleaned-out skillet, scraping to incorporate any particles of meat in the bottom of the skillet, and reduce to about one-third cup.

Whisk in the cream

followed by the cream mixed with cornstarch.

Simmer for a minute until the sauce has thickened lightly. Add the mushrooms and any mushroom juices that have accumulated on the plate.

Add the meat to the skillet with any meat juices that have accumulated on the plate. Baste the beef with the sauce and mushrooms.

Taste carefully for seasoning. Turn the heat off, and add 2 tablespoons more butter, stirring it in until it is completely incorporated. Serve immediately so the meat doesn't overcook. If you like, garnish with sprigs of parsley.

The black pan you see here is a seasoned-from-use 28 cm (11 inch) carbon steel frypan that I got from the inimitable La Cuisine. They carry the best quality carbon steel you can get.

If you have never cooked in carbon steel, I highly recommend you try it. Once seasoned, these pans are beautifully non-stick, especially if you remember to heat your cooking fat before you put the food you are going to cook in it.

This is what the experts at La Cusine have to say about it:

We get this particular style of frypan from De Buyer in France. It is our favorite version because it has a cast handle rather than a flat one. It is much more comfortable to grip than the flat handle, and in frying you will be gripping frequently!

These need to be seasoned like cast iron, but they will give you a lifetime of service. They sear beautifully and will do a low saute equally well.

It is no wonder that many good restaurants have stacks of these. The design of the pan was created for easy handling at the top of the stove.

You can place an order with LaCuisine online or by phone at 800 521-1176. One of the "Cusinettes" there will happily answer any questions you have.

To see just the recipe, click here.

Baked Salmon

Adapted from Make It Easy in Your Kitchen by Laurie Burrows Grad

Francie, who was the press secretary to Governor Jane Hull of Arizona, and I have been best friends ever since the day I was moved from 10-6 to 10-2. I reluctantly walked into that classroom for the first time to be confronted with Elaine Christiani in tears because Robert Frost had died.

I thought I would miss the friends I left behind in my original homeroom, but I was lucky enough to make six new friends at my all-girl's catholic high school to eat lunch with every school day for the next three years!

Francie and I took creative writing, straightened our hair, and wore white lipstick. We saw Buffy St. Marie perform in Central Park then stayed up all night playing her records. We each thought running away with Terence Stamp was a very good idea.

We went to the Beatles' first ever U.S. concert - at Carnegie Hall - when we were juniors in high school, and one Saturday when we were tooling around the Gallery of Modern Art at Two Columbus Circle, Huntington Hartford introduced himself to us and gave us a private tour of the museum.

We sat together with our dates at our senior prom, threw our caps in the air at graduation, and spent that summer visiting my relatives in England and her godfather in Paris.

She was a bridesmaid in my wedding.

Bridesmaids Left to Right - Francie, Beth, Pumfey

A few weeks ago, when she came to NYC for a visit, we went to the Model as Muse exhibit at The Met and looked at the same pictures of Jean Shrimpton and Twiggy that we looked at all those years ago. They are still gorgeous.

The first night Francie was here, when I asked what she wanted for dinner, she said salmon, so off we went to the local fish store. The farmed salmon was $16.99 a pound, and the wild salmon was $31.99. That's quite a difference, but for the two of us, I was happy to spring for the wild because I know ecologically it is more sound - without question way better for the environment. The problem was it didn't look fresh. At all.

So I was faced with a dilemma. Had it been just for me, I would have passed on the salmon. But since I really wanted to make it for her, I'm sorry to say I caved. And I have to admit, it was delicious.

But I won't do it again.

If the wild salmon is over my budget, I will get half the amount or eat it half the number of times that month, and if it doesn't look fresh, I just won't buy it. And I will frequent stores that sell a lot of it. Last Friday at the uptown Fairway, the wild salmon was beautiful and $14.99 a pound!

That's what I'm going to do; I hope you will join me.

Baked Salmon

This is a good way to cook salmon. It stays moist and delicious, is less messy than sauteing, and doesn't leave its smell lingering around the house the next day. You can also use this recipe for salmon steaks and halibut steaks. The great thing about mixing butter with oil for a marinade is that the butter starts to solidify at room temperature, making the marinade cling to the fish.

Salmon

4 salmon fillets, skin on
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
Pinch of Hungarian paprika

Sauce

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons freshly chopped parsley
1/4 teaspoon finely minced garlic

Place the fish on a platter. Combine the melted butter with the olive oil, and pour over the fish. Sprinkle the fish with sea salt, white pepper, and a pinch of Hungarian paprika. Let it marinate for 1/2 hour at room temperature, rolling it over in the marinade once.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Put a piece of aluminum foil in the bottom of a baking pan, and lightly coat it with olive oil. Put the fish in the pan skin side down, baste it with the marinade clinging to the platter, and bake for about 15 minutes, being careful not to overcook. The amount of time will depend on the thickness of the fish.

When you remove the fish from the pan with a spatula, the skin will stay behind.

Serve immediately with a small amount of sauce on top of each fillet.

To see just the recipe, click here.

A Raffle

In case you don't know, I am very happily (although s-lo-w-l-y) cooking my way through The Zuni Cafe Cookbook and blogging about it at Cooking Zuni.


I wrote my first post last June and thought this would be a good time to raffle off a copy of the book.

So if you're not a reader over there and are interested, why don't you head over for a sec and sign up for the raffle. It's a great book; I highly recommend that you have it in your own library.

Hope to see you there!

Christopher's Leafy Greens

I got the following note from Christopher (who is gorgeous and looks like a rock star) yesterday.

Chris and Olivia at Nick's Wedding

Hi Victoria,

I wanted to write about a recent cooking success.

Olivia and I are doing a farm share this summer, which has been fun though we have had more hearty leafy greens than we know what to do with, which everyone warns about when doing farm shares. So last night, with more collard greens, chard, and kale than we knew what on earth to do with, I decided to make something along the lines of Indian saag. It came out amazingly well - even a bit more interesting than traditional spinach saagwala. It can be used as sauce for chicken, lamb, paneer, tofu, etc.

Christopher Visiting India

I thought your readers might appreciate help with their farm share greens, so I'm passing this along to you. Since I didn't use a recipe, I'm approximating measurements.

Hearty Greens "Saag"

Butter (2 tablespoons) or neutral vegetable oil (2 glugs)
8 cups leafy greens (chard, kale, collard, etc.) stemmed and chopped roughly into pieces about the size of postage stamps
1.5 cups of water or broth
1 large onion, chopped
1 large tomato or a few plum tomatoes diced or a small can of diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon garam masala or 2 teaspoons of curry powder with some cinnamon and ground cloves added
1/4 teaspoon cayenne - or to taste (Alternatively, use fresh chilies, and add them in the step with garlic and ginger.)
2 teaspoons fresh ginger, minced
3-4 garlic cloves, sliced thin, slices cut into thirds the long way
4 tablespoons heavy cream
Salt to taste
1/2 teaspoon sugar - if greens are very bitter

Heat the butter or oil over medium heat, and add the dry spices. Cook them - BEING CAREFUL NOT TO BURN - in the butter or oil for a minute or two.

Add the chopped onions, and cook until soft, 4 - 5 minutes. Add the minced ginger and sliced garlic, and cook until fragrant, another minute or so. Stir in the diced tomatoes, chopped greens, and the water or broth. Add salt to taste (with a light hand if you have used broth). Bring mixture to a boil, then turn the heat down to simmer, and braise for 35 - 45 minutes depending on what type of greens you have used. Taste and add a 1/2 tsp of sugar if the greens are particularly bitter.

Whirl the mixture in a blender until the desired texture is reached. I personally only blend about two-thirds of the mixture to keep the texture more interesting. Add some cream to taste. Return blended mixture to the pan, and simmer for a few more minutes.

Serve over rice, or use as a sauce for chicken, tofu, lamb, etc.

Oh, Baby!

Molly's Dutch Baby

I have now read A Homemade Life cover-to-cover twice and have opened it many more times - to read or to cook from. (I was beginning to get really dejected about not having another good memoir at hand to delve into, but then The Sweet Life in Paris arrived in the post, and I am okay for the time being.)




A Homemade Life is a treasure. If you haven’t read it yet, get it, and read it s-l-o-w-l-y because you will be sorry when it’s over. You will immediately want to go and hang out with Molly and Brandon and Olaiya and Keaton – AND it will make you think of all your own stories, which are lurking around in your memory.




I hadn’t thought about this particular evening until I got to Page 127 and read Molly's story about Dutch Babies. This is my story.

The first year I was married, we lived in St. Louis where Dick was managing the country music radio station. A disc jockey he knew from his days in Philadelphia was living in St. Louis too, and he and his girlfriend invited us to their house for dinner. The disc jockey was famous, and his name was Bill Calder, which I remember since he had a Calder mobile in his living room. I’m embarrassed - and sorry - to say I can’t remember the name of his girlfriend.

But I can picture her perfectly.

She was very distinct - elf-like - very (very) tiny, with short brown hair - irrepressibly curly - big blue eyes, and a wide, sincere smile. But what I remember most about her is, up to that point in my life (except for my grandmother’s sister-in-law, Aunt Nettie Mangini), she made the best meal I had ever had at someone else’s house. No kidding. The best.

I’m sure we had a starter. and I’m sure it was good, but I don’t remember. What I do remember is the main course. It was rich and Delicious with a capital D, and it was the very first Julia Child recipe I ever ate. Supremes de Volaille a Blanc (Chicken Breasts with Cream Sauce), from The French Chef Cookbook - simple, elegant, and rich, rich, rich. We also ate buttered asparagus and rice braised with onions in chicken broth, followed by a simple tart green salad. We drank Champagne, and talked, and laughed, and we were all relaxed and happy.

But that’s not the point of this story.

This is the point of the story.

As we were eating dinner, the little elf left the table and disappeared into the kitchen for a short time. I didn’t suspect that she was an alchemist as well as a cook, but I soon made that discovery. She came back, and we continued eating until there wasn't a morsel left on a plate. The table was cleared, and I could hear her rustling around in the kitchen. Doors were opening and closing. Dishes were clicking. Cutlery was clinking.

And then the magical creature came through the doorway carrying a bowl of strawberries in one hand and another of softly whipped cream in the other. She placed both bowls on the table and disappeared into the kitchen for a split second, re-emerging immediately with a frying pan from which a large browned puff was swelling. She put the pan on the table and deftly cut the large puff into four pieces, which she plated and topped with one large spoonful of strawberries and another of slightly vanilla-scented whipped cream.

Dick and I were speechless – first because the sight of this dessert was breathtaking and then because our mouths were full. The closest thing I ever had to it was my Aunt Rita’s Yorkshire pudding – and it was very close – but the Yorkshire pudding was cooked in beef fat, topped with gravy, and was savory. This was dessert - just sweet enough, all cold and hot and eggy and creamy at the same time, with the surprise of toasted, buttery, sliced filberts on the bottom. It was a grand ending to a delicious dinner. We had some coffee and brandy, and Dick and I went home sated and comfortable. A night filled with good company, delicious things to eat and drink, and new friends in a new town.

The next day I went to the bookstore and got a little paperback copy of The French Chef. On Wednesday an envelope addressed with a red pen in very neat, small handwriting was waiting for me when I got home from work. Inside was the recipe for Puff Pancake with Strawberries. Written in a precise, printed hand, it completely filled an entire side of an 8-1/2 x 11-inch piece of ruled paper. I put that piece of paper in a little accordion file that Dell McAbee had given me at my bridal shower, filled with her favorite handwritten recipes. I still have that file, and I still have Dell’s recipes, and, more years later than I can believe, I still have that piece of paper with the elegant red handwriting.




There is no signature, but there is an admonition at one point SERVE AT ONCE, and the following note is at the bottom.

*Filberts are 100-times more delicious than walnuts. Also, Victoria, there’s really no trick to making this pancake --- it’s extremely EASY. However, it must go straight from the oven to the table piping HOT since it, like a soufflé, loses its puff rather quickly. Also, do try it for a Sunday brunch with sausage or whatever, topping it with sour cream – it really adds a new dimension to the dish. And serve with Champagne.

I pass on the note, and I pass on the recipe. I think the elf would be pleased.

Puff Pancake with Strawberries

4 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup all-purpose (unbleached) flour
Dash nutmeg
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup thinly sliced filberts (hazelnuts) about 2 oz. or use walnuts, crushed
Juice of half a lemon
A tablespoon of confectioners sugar
1 pint fresh strawberries, sliced and sugared (Victoria, I never use a pint -- always a quart box)
Whipped cream/if serving dish as a dessert
Sour cream/if serving dish for a brunch with sausage, etc.

Beat eggs lightly in mixing bowl. Add milk, flour, and nutmeg, and beat by hand until blended. Batter may be a little lumpy.

Melt butter in a 10- to 12-inch skillet with heat-proof handle over medium heat until butter begins to foam. Stir in filberts.

Pour batter into hot skillet over filberts. Bake in a 425 degree oven (pre-heated) 15 to 20 minutes, or until pancake is puffed and golden brown. Sprinkle with lemon juice and return to oven for 2 to 3 minutes.

Sprinkle with confectioners sugar and SERVE AT ONCE by cutting into wedges and topping with strawberries and whipped cream for dessert or sour cream for brunch.

To see just the recipe, click here.

Fifty-two Fridays

This week we had our share of cold mornings - and rain, lots of rain -




but today it's 50 degrees, and it isn't even 7:00 a.m. yet! The birds are chirping, the sun is out, and Sunday is Easter, which should count for something.

(I'm going to ignore the fact that last year, there was a HUGE snowstorm the Sunday after Easter. I like to think the gods were with Reagan, who was visiting from Australia, so she could see snow for the first time.)




There are more and more unmistakable signs of spring, especially in Central Park




and the dogwood* out back is in bloom.




Yes, even in New York City there are dogwoods. Take THAT, Atlanta, Georgia. (Only kidding. The full bloom of spring in Atlanta can make even the most insensitive person weep with joy.)

If you don't know EB yet, head over here for a sec. She's lots of fun, and if you happen to like ice cream - have you ever actually met someone who doesn't like ice cream? - check out her archives. I warn you, though, it could be dangerous.

Anyway, we have started a joint blog, Fifty-two Fridays, and since the end of February, we have each been posting a picture of our respective worlds - California and New York.

California - March 13, 2008




New York - March 20, 2008




Check it out. Let me know what you think? We're having a good time.

*Addendum, May 1, 2009

Just to let you know how dumb I am, this




is a dogwood. That other tree above is a beautiful blooming something - but I don't know what!

From Her Kitchen Table

New York was a sad city last week. The news about Natasha Richardson permeated the air; all hope of her recovery was dashed with Wednesday's headline. It was hard to imagine the pain her family was going through on what turned out to be a beautiful day - the closest we've had to spring so far this year.

So it was with a rather heavy heart that I headed over to Idlewild Books on Nineteenth between Fifth and Sixth after work. I was, of course, still excited. I had waited for the day to arrive since it was announced. I even gave Wendy my opera ticket so I wouldn't miss it.




I carried a small Bon Maison bag with me. In it was a tiny present for Molly along with a bottle of maple syrup from our own trees at the farm. It is soooooooo delicious that I thought it might make up to Brandon just a little for his giving Molly up to us for a few days (especially if she makes him a Dutch Baby to pour it on).

My mood lifted immediately upon arriving at Idlewild, and even though I had that nagging little elf sitting on my shoulder telling me that something was not quite right, I must admit, I had a wonderful time.

Molly was pretty, and eloquent, and generous. Better than I even imagined she would be. (And that's saying a lot.)




She had a bright smile on her face, and as she talked, her hands darted here and there like the red wing blackbirds outside my kitchen window.



Then she turned to Page 161



and read Summer of Change and answered questions before we all queued up





for her to sign our own copies of A Homemade Life. Stories and Recipes from my Kitchen Table by Molly Wizenberg.



Walking out into the dark night, I looked up at Molly and realized that at the same time New York had lost one radiant being, it welcomed another with open arms.

Cream-Braised Green Cabbage, Page 186

If I'm Not Mistaken, Spring is in the Air

March is not my favorite month. By the time it gets here, I'm usually sick, sick, sick of winter, even if it means a beautiful red cardinal outside the kitchen window.




I'm tired of gray days and icy streets. I want to put my gloves and wool hats away. I'll be pleased not to see my winter boots or down coat for a few months. I'm not exactly tired of comfort food - that would be going overboard - but I am beginning to daydream about lamb chops cooked outside over a wood fire and the first asparagus of the season, preferably dipped in the yolk of a fresh egg softly boiled.

I went upstate Thursday night, and Friday dawned - if you can call it that - dark and dreary. It was cold and bitter, and instead of feeling cozy working at the kitchen table with logs burning and cups of tea brewing, I just felt dismal. Saturday, which was supposed to be gorgeous, wasn't much better. But Sunday.

Well, THAT was another story.

When I woke up Sunday morning, I knew something was up. I could get out of bed without making a run for a hot shower. The house was actu ally warm before the fire was stoked. Then the sun came blasting up, and the sky turned bluebird blue. I almost opened the windows, but I knew that would be pushing my luck. I listened to Jim Dale read The Half-Blood Prince while I ironed my duvet cover and didn't even mind that I was probably missing Ice Cream Day in the City. I just enjoyed the beautiful day and thought that spring really is right around the corner, and summer will soon be more than just a memory.

In the meantime, I will send you over to the beautiful Cannelle et Vanille to see Aran, whose recipe for pavlova I'm going to bookmark so I can make it as soon as sweet, local strawberries make their first appearance.

Almond Cake

Adapted from Pure Dessert by Alice Medrich

Sweets are not my weakness. As far as I can remember, I only ever ate dessert first once in my life.

I was meeting someone for dinner at Pearl Oyster Bar on a frigid winter's night. It was too early for the restaurant to be open, and I had exhausted wending my way around all the places in the neighborhood that interested me, including Murray's where I want to eat everything in sight, so I went into Rocco's and had an espresso and a miniature cannoli.

Lucky for me, it didn't spoil my appetite for an early dinner - but that's not saying much since I don't actually think there's anything that could spoil my appetite for oysters so fresh you can taste the sea. Oysters so fresh you don't even want mignonette sauce to cloak them. Oysters so fresh you pick them up and "drink" them right out of their shells.

But that's a different subject, for another time.

THIS is about cake.

As much as I love to cook, I'm not a particularly dedicated, sophisticated, or proficient baker. However, since I don't live in Paris surrounded by a zillion fabulous patisseries and since the two best French pastry shops in NYC - Dumas and Bonté - have been closed for a long time, I need a few good dessert recipes in my arsenal. And that does mean a a few good cakes. After all, I can't always serve vanilla ice cream and berries (although anyone who's eaten at my table a lot might disagree with that.)

I make a mean chocolate torte and a delicious orange cake that I snagged from Clothilde. It's exactly the kind of cake I love - small and plain but with delicious taste, wonderful crumb, and the ability to eat it all by itself or dress it up with a hat of softly whipped cream. Marcella's carrot cake is also my kind of cake, simple and light, not dense at all. And I am planning to try Clothilde's yogurt cake and flourless poppy seed cake, which sound delicious to me.

But when Sarah mentioned this almond cake to me, I checked out my own copy of Pure Dessert, my favorite book of 2007, and the picture of the cake looked wonderful.



Plus, I had a lovely bag of almonds from Oh! Nuts sitting on my shelf, waiting to be tapped.



I knew right away THIS would be the next cake on my list. It had two variations so I tried the first one week, and the second, the next. Each one is good and oh so fragrant.

However, both times I made this cake, it sank in the middle. It didn't stop the cake from tasting good. It didn't even stop the cake from looking good.


The second one sank a little more than the first, but it made me think the depression in the top, which was studded with sliced almond pieces, should be filled with a compote of fresh peaches (peaches and almonds are a match made in heaven) - or, of course, the ubiquitous berries; I'm thinking blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries at my July Fourth luncheon. But the cake's falling sort of surprised and puzzled me.

Then - like a swami - Shuna, the spirit of baking present - lit on my shoulder and explained it. So now I'm going to mess around with the cake a little more to see what I can do to keep it from sinking.

But don't let my problem stop you from making it. It really is wonderful (best made a day ahead of when you want to serve it) - especially if you like the taste of almond macaroons or Italian pignoli nut cookes. And you may have better luck than I. The gods might be with you even if they are not with me. Especially if you read everything Shuna has to say about why cakes sink.

Thanks, Shuna. I'll let you know what happens!

Version One

Almond Cake

Best made the day before you want to serve it.

4 ounces unblanched almonds
1 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pure almond extract
3 large eggs at room temperature
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into chunks and allowed to soften slightly
1 tablespoon Amaretto (optional) (The original recipe called for Kirsch [optional], but I have not tried that so can't give you an opinion on its use here.)
1.5 ounces unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Butter the sides of an 8-by-2-inch round cake pan. Line the bottom of the pan with a piece of parchment paper, but do not butter the paper.

Place the almonds, sugar, salt, and almond extract in the bowl of a food processor, and process using the metal blade until the nuts are finely ground. Add the eggs, butter, and Amaretto, if using, and pulse until completely blended. Add the flour and baking powder, and pulse again, this time just long enough for the mixture to blend.

Scrape the batter into the cake pan, and spread it evenly.

Bake the cake on a rack in the lower third of the oven until the top is golden brown and a cake tester put into the center comes out clean. This will take about 35 to 40 minutes.

Place the cake on a rack and cool completely.

When ready to unmold, slide a thin spatula around the sides of the cake. Cover the pan with a plate, and turn over. Remove the cake pan, peel off the parchment paper, cover the cake with another plate, and turn over again so the cake is right side up.

This cake can be served unadorned or topped with softly whipped cream or fruit. Berries and peaches would be good choices for the fruit.

To see just the recipe, click here.

Print recipe (Version One)

Version Two

Almond Cake with a Crunchy Crust

Best made the day before you want to serve it.

6 tablespoons blanched or unblanched sliced almonds
4 ounces unblanched almonds
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pure almond extract
3 large eggs at room temperature
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into chunks and allowed to soften slightly
1 tablespoon Amaretto (optional) (The original recipe called for Kirsch [optional], but I have not tried that so can't give you an opinion on its use here.)
1.5 ounces unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder

Butter the sides and bottom of the cake pan generously with softened butter. Do not line the pan with parchment. Coat the pan with two tablespoons of sugar. Scatter 6 tablespoons of sliced almonds, blanched or unblanched, over the bottom of the pan. If you can press some of them one inch up the sides, do. If not, don't worry about it.



Place the almonds, sugar, salt, and almond extract in the bowl of a food processor, and process using the metal blade until the nuts are finely ground. Add the eggs, butter, and Amaretto, if using, and pulse until completely blended. Add the flour and baking powder and pulse again, this time just long enough for the mixture to blend.



Scrape the batter into the cake pan and spread it evenly.

Cool cake on a rack for 10 minutes - no more - before unmolding. If you leave it longer, the sugar lining the pan will make the cake stick.

To unmold, slide a slim, small spatula carefully around the inside of the pan, pressing the spatula against the sides of the pan to release the cake without cracking the crust. Cover the pan with a plate, and turn over. Remove the cake pan, and leave the cake crust side up to serve.

This cake can be served unadorned or topped with softly whipped cream or fruit. Berries and peaches would be good choices for the fruit.

Print recipe (Version Two).

The Devil Made Me Do It

Non-Traditional Moussaka

Adapted from The Way to Cook by Julia Child

Serves 6 - 8

Now that February's here, winter is starting to feel like it's been here a long time. It doesn't yet seem like spring will never come, but there are more bleak, gray days than sunny ones, and it's been very cold in the Northeast this year. It was zero degrees when we pulled into the garage last night, and a balmy 7 this morning.



On the upside, there has been a lot of snow upstate so Walter's happy because the alpine skiing has been good. Even Walter Jones and Peggy are happy because for the first year in quite a few, the cross-country skiing in Vermont has been fabulous. So everyone's taking advantage of that and enjoying it. Me? I'm cooking as many comfort foods as I can think of and seriously eying a book called Eat, Feed, Autumn, Winter: 30 Ways to Celebrate When the Mercury Drops, which if I don't get around to snagging before the April thaw, won't seem as appealing, so I better get on it.

I'm making shrimp creole for dinner tonight. It just sounded so good when I was at Fairway last night - all shrimp-y and spicy and tomato-y. And it still does sound good, but it isn't, strictly speaking, a winter dish. Heck, as far as I know, they don't even HAVE winter in New Orleans. In fact, I always make it for my birthday, which falls in the middle of June and is usually the first blistering day of summer. (Once I made it for Thanksgiving dinner, so you can see how much I like it.)

I know the shrimp will hit the spot tonight, but I got up this morning thinking about Julia's Non-Traditional Moussaka. It's also good and tomato-y and definitely comfort food at its best.

The book this recipe comes from is an excellent "how to cook" book. There are many of them out there, but this one (along with Delia Smith's wonderful English book How to Cook) is one of the very best. It doesn't replace Joy of Cooking in the American Kitchen, because what would you do if you wanted to cook an opposum or make a Rob Roy? Julia's The Way to Cook wouldn't help you there, but it would make a great gift for a bridal shower and would be useful as part of anyone's library.

In this recipe, you can use leftover leg of lamb, or you can start off with ground lamb or even ground beef, which I do often since I can easily get organic ground beef. I've even made it with venison, and that was good too. You could probably use buffalo or bison. Use whatever red meat strikes your fancy, but I would not, however, even think of using ground poultry or pork.

If this sounds at all good to you, try it. I'm sure you'll like it.

The Eggplant

2 firm shiny purple-skinned eggplants, 1 to 1-1/2 pounds each
Salt
Olive oil

Wash and dry the eggplants; don't peel them. Cut the eggplants into 1-inch cubes. Salt the cubes lightly, and let them sit in a colander on a plate or in the sink for 15 to 20 minutes. Then pat the eggplant dry with paper towels. Sauté the cubes in a large frying pan or saucier until they release their liquid and start to brown, adding more olive oil as necessary as you go along. Using a slotted spoon, remove the cubes of eggplant to a long piece of aluminum foil, making three equal piles of eggplant cubes.

The Meat

3/4 cup washed and dried parsley sprigs, chopped
1-1/2 cups minced onion
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large cloves of garlic, pureed*
3 cups leftover roast (lamb or beef) cut into 1-inch chunks and processed not too fine in a food processor or 1-1/2 pounds raw ground meat (lamb or beef)
2 cups canned tomatoes (plum tomatoes are good), drained and sieved through a food mill
3/4 cup of the red wine you will drink with your meal or dry white French vermouth, such as Noilly Prat (which is good to always have in the house to use for cooking when you don't want to open a bottle of wine for a recipe)
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
1 large egg, beaten
Salt and pepper

Over medium heat, sauté the minced onion in a frying pan or saucier with the 2 tablespoons of olive oil. When the onions are tender, after about 6 minutes, add the pureed garlic, and cook for just about a minute. You don't want the garlic to burn and get bitter.

Raise the heat to just barely high, and add the meat, letting it brown lightly. Add the tomatoes, wine, parsley, allspice, and salt to taste. Lower the heat, and simmer for half an hour, stirring often, until the mixture holds its shape softly in a spoon. Taste. Add more salt if needed, and add a little black pepper if you like. Remove from the heat, stir in the beaten egg, and set aside.

Use a spoon to push the meat to the sides of the pan so you have two equal portions of meat.

Assemble the Dish to This Point

In a baking casserole (I use a Pyrex dish that has round sides and a flat bottom), put a layer of eggplant cubes followed by half of the meat mixture. Add another layer of eggplant, the rest of the meat, and a third layer of eggplant. Set aside while you make the sauce to be used for the topping.

The Sauce

3 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups hot milk
Salt and white pepper
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese or Swiss cheese
A pinch of nutmeg
(Another) 1/2 cup shredded Swiss cheese

To make a white sauce, melt the butter in a 2- to 2-1/2 quart saucepan or fait tout (also known as a Windsor pan - a saucepan with sloping sides). Add the flour, and with a wooden spoon blend it into the butter. Cook the butter and flour together for 2 minutes to make a roux without letting it color.

Remove the pan from the heat, and when the roux stops bubbling, add 1-1/2 cups of hot milk all at once, whisking constantly. When the sauce is smooth, add the other 1/2 cup of milk , and stir until that is smooth too. Season lightly with salt and freshly ground white pepper. Simmer for 3 minutes.

Remove the pan from the heat, and blend in the cup of shredded mozzarella or Swiss cheese until the sauce is smooth. Season with more salt and pepper if necessary. Add a pinch of nutmeg, and stir it into the sauce.

Next spoon the hot sauce over the top of the eggplant and meat layered in the casserole. Shake the casserole to let some of the sauce sink down through the layers of eggplant and meat.

Scatter the 1/2 cup of shredded Swiss cheese over the top of the sauce as evenly as possible, and bake the casserole in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes until the casserole is bubbling, and the top is lightly browned.

Let the casserole cool for at least ten minutes before serving. Julia says it can be served warm, tepid, or even cold, but cold doesn't sound appealing to me at all - certainly not on a frigid winter's night, which is when this is truly delicious.

Serve with hot buttered peas and a cucumber salad made with Greek yogurt instead of sour cream or cacik.

Print recipe.

*I try not to get special gadgets for all kinds of things when simple kitchen items work well. And I know that you can puree garlic with a 3-1/2 inch paring knife.

But this tool by Microplane is so great that I would actually encourage you to get it. It grates onion beautifully, and I'm sure it will puree garlic too. You can move the lily (garlic or onion) back and forth, so it's better than mincing for things like meatballs.




It's called a two-way ribbon grater by Microplane. I got mine one day when I was poking around in Williams Sonoma, and I am finding it useful. This one looks like it has the same grating surface as mine - it has the same number of rows and the same configuration, so I would guess that it's the same as mine - but since I can't be 100 per cent sure, I can't actually recommend it.

With a Little Help From My Friends

It's snowing softly in New York City. I have a nice big cup of tea, and as I sit typing, I can look out my window to the gardens that are between the houses on my street and the next street over.

The only sound I hear is the scraping sound made by the man shoveling snow as it collects on the garden paths. It's quiet and cozy, and I'm exactly where I want to be on this early winter morning, even though I know eventually I have to pull on warm, waterproof boots and head out to work.

I love my little apartment where the living room has yellow walls, white trim, and a pale blue ceiling - which on this gray day are simply a reminder of the sunshine and blue skies that will return to the City for good in April.

I spend most weekends in the country where I have a lot of room to cook and a large (by NYC standards) dining table. But here in the City, everything is tiny, especially the kitchen.




I don't have much storage space, so I choose what I have here carefully. I must love - and use - everything. Every single thing.

So when I recently decided it would be a good idea to use only white dishes here - after all, doesn't most food look best on a background of white? - I knew when I packed up some of my Wedgwood (completely plain) White bone china upstate to bring here,




I would have to take the dishes I have been using for a very long time, Spode Queen's Bird, upstate in its place.




My plan was to pack up the Spode this week so I could load it in the car for the trip on Friday. But when I began to pack it up, the trouble began. I started having second thoughts. Major second thoughts.

So the question, literally on the table (sorry), is - am I a creature of habit and don't want to get rid of what I'm used to, or is what I had to begin with really the best in this space?



Maybe you'd be willing to weigh in on this?

Thanks.

Christmas - One More Time

A lot of people don't like January, but I do. After the holidays, it's good to have a month to unwind, relax a little, do whatever I can to stay cozy, and just enjoy a little down time. By the time February rolls around, it's easy to get sick of winter. And March. Forget about it. By then it seems as if spring will never come. It always does, but in March, except for ice cream day, spring is usually a fleeting memory. But tonight - a bitter cold evening in the middle of January - felt more like being back in December because we had our office Christmas party!

Walter, Jordan, Nick and I left work early and started out with soup dumplings at Grand Sichuan International. (Of course we had more than soup dumplings, but they were the highlight since Jordan and Nick had never had them before.) Then we walked over to the Institute of Culinary Education (formerly Peter Kump's) on West 23rd Street for the main event - an introductory course in Knife Skills taught by the effervescent Norman Weinstein.



The class was lots of fun and extremely enlightening. I think anyone in the New York City area with a keen interest in cooking should take it. (If you can't, do the next best thing and get this.) Norman Weinstein is energetic and engaging. The class, Knife Skills 1, is hand's on, fast paced, and comprehensive as far as it goes. And if you want to go further, you can take Knife Skills 2, 3, and 4. Tonight we learned the correct terminology for the parts of the knife and the basic uses of a chef's knife, a 6-inch utility knife (a knife I never think to use, which turns out to be a nifty tool), and a 3-1/2 inch paring knife.



The big surprise of the evening was that from the smallest person in the class (me) to the largest person in the class (Jonathan), everyone's favorite knife turned out to be the 10-inch wide chef's knife in the Wüsthof Classic series.

It was startling to see how much easier the tasks were performed with this knife compared with both the 8-inch chef's knife and the regular (not wide) 10-inch. And it's beautiful. John Pawson, the minimalist English architect who designed the Calvin Klein flagship store in NYC as well as the Ian Schrager residential development, 50 Gramercy North, at the Gramercy Park Hotel, in his great book Living and Eating says "The outline of the traditional riveted handle [on the Wüsthof Classic line] has not to date been improved."



Like most of us who love to cook at home, I have amassed a large collection of knives, including Henckles, Global, Messermeister, F. Dick, and even two carbon steel Sabatier knives, but I always find myself reaching for the Wüsthof Classic chef's knife. The only thing different now that I've taken this class is that I'll be picking up a much larger knife. We ended the evening by getting our Christmas presents - the 10-inch wide chef's knife.

I'm going to go now and sign up for Knife Skills 2.

Merry Christmas

I'm upstate, and the weather is bleak, but it's really toasty inside. You know "The weather outside is frightful, etc., etc., etc."

I hope you are all done with your planning and are now making Merry and as cozy and comfortable as I am.

I know it's Christmas Eve, and you have today and tomorrow all planned, but as it seems this holiday season will last until January 4, 2009, I'm listing my favorite holiday recipes below.

More than ever, this year it's important to concentrate on the three F's - family, friendship, and food - and not on presents.

God bless and good cheer!

Apple & Endive Salad

Carrot Vichyssoise

Cauliflower Gratin

Crunchy Brussels Sprouts

Crustless Zucchini Quiche

Eve, An Apple Vermouth Cocktail

Jane's Wild Rice

Linzertorte

Potato Gratin Dauphinoise

Poires Belle Hélène

Puree of Butternut Squash

Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

Sweet Potato Puree

Stuffed Mushrooms

Hunkar Begendi - Turkish Eggplant Puree

Adapted from The Mediterranean Kitchen by Joyce Goldstein

If you actually know me, you know that I love meatballs. I mean I really LOVE meatballs. When Nick and Katie came for dinner a few weeks ago, Nick peeked into the pan and said, "Oh, meatballs." When I asked him if he liked meatballs, he said "Who doesn't like meatballs?" My feeling exactly.

That night I made one of my favorite dinners, Delia Smith's meatball goulash, using veal for the meatballs. Every single speck of food was eaten - all the goulash, buttered spaetzle, buttered green peas, cucumber salad, vanilla ice cream and raspberries.

And while I'm on the subject of meatballs, there is a restaurant at 60 Greenwich Avenue, Gusto, that Godfrey took us to one night. In addition to actually stocking Plymouth Gin at the bar so you can get a better-than-decent martini, they serve the most delicious meatballs.

They call them Sicilian meatballs (although I think Neapolitan would be a better name), presumably because they have raisins and pine nuts in them. That may sound unappealing, but trust me, they are out of this world - a little hill of eight meatballs bathed in a dark, savory tomato sauce in a shallow white bowl without pasta.

I know in Italy they don't serve meatballs with spaghetti, but I must admit that one night Sharon and I each got our own order of these meatballs and split an order of a very plain pasta to go with them. And a fine dinner it was.

Do go try these meatballs if you're in the area. I'm trying to duplicate them at home and haven't quite gotten it right, so I can use your suggestions. Plus, eating them will make you very happy. And, by the way, if you have any great meatball recipes, please let me know.

Why, oh why, am I carrying on about meatballs anyway? Because this is a recipe for Hunkar Begendi, a delicious eggplant puree that was served at Joyce Goldstein's restaurant, Square One in San Francisco, as a bed for little Turkish meatballs in tomato sauce. So when I started to post this recipe I had meatballs on my mind.

I have made her meatballs but have also served this puree many different ways. It goes well with leg of lamb and is perfect as part of a vegetable plate, especially if you want to serve a vegetarian meal, in which case I have served it with green beans in tomato sauce, Nanny's stuffed mushrooms, cucumber salad with dill strewn over the top, and pita bread.

Unless you totally hate eggplant, including baba ghanoush, you will want to try this recipe. It's really good and a little different.

A tip about eggplants I got from a very early issue of Cook's Illustrated magazine is to check out the bottom of the eggplant. If it's flat, it's a male and has few seeds; if it has an indentation, it's a female and has lots of seeds. I'm not a botanist (I know you didn't think I was a botanist - it's just an expression) so I don't know about the male/female thing (next summer you can ask the guy at the farmer's market), but I do know this trick works. I may not have explained it well, but once you start checking out the bottom of eggplants, you will see what I mean.

3 eggplants about one pound each (obviously not little Japanese ones)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1 cup of bechamel sauce made with the following:
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Do not peel the eggplants. Wash them and prick them in a few places with a fork. Put in a pan, and bake, turning occasionally, until they feel soft. This will take about 45 minutes to one hour depending on your oven and the eggplants. Remove them from the oven, and let cool slightly until you can handle them. Cut them in half, scoop the flesh into a colander to drain for about 15 minutes. Puree the flesh in a food processor.

While the eggplants are cooling, make the bechamel. In a small pan or the microwave, heat the heavy cream until warm. Melt the butter in a pan over low heat. If you happen to have a small windsor pan, now is the time to use it. Add the flour, and cook, stirring for about 4 minutes until well blended. Whisk in the warm cream, and continue to whisk until thick. This should take another 4 minutes. Then add the salt, pepper, and nutmeg.

Mix the eggplant puree, bechamel, and Parmesan cheese in a bowl. Adjust the seasoning, if necessary. You can keep it warm over hot water in a pan or heat in the microwave right before serving.

Print recipe.

Cold Meat Loaf

Adapted from The Nantucket Open-House Cookbook by Sarah Leah Chase

Serves 8 to 12 depending on how much other food you have

I have a couple of recipes posted on this blog that I keep thinking about removing because I'm a little embarrassed to admit they are part of my collection.

The first one is this ziti salad. We used to make it at Sea Island at least once each summer when nine to twelve of us were there for a month. It never lasted long because every person going into the refrigerator would sneak a bite from what was left over. I haven't made it since we stopped going to the beach in a group, but if I were having a big summer party at the farm, I would be happy to put it on the picnic table alongside barbecue brisket, roasted beets vinaigrette, tomato salad, and creamed corn. I might substitute penne rigate for the ziti - but then again I might not.

The secret ingredient - and there's no way this recipe would taste the same without it - is G. Washington Brown Bouillon Powder, which is the reason I hate to own up to it. This product is loaded with salt, followed closely by MSG. It's not the kind of product I use for anything else. I don't even use canned broth anymore. If I don't have my own stock, I follow Michael Ruhlman's advice and use water. But now that I've read what The Italian Dish has to say about MSG, I don't feel so bad about holding on to this recipe for the right occasion. If you want to try it, feel free.

The next recipe I hang my head over is this beef stew. It has a can of soup in it. Tomato Soup to be specific. You know, the one with the red and white label; the one no one I know would even think about eating anymore - even if it were in a cup next to a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on it - because it contains high fructose corn syrup.

The original beef stew recipe called for Tomato Bisque - also in the red and white can - with little pieces of tomato in it. But it was still a can of soup. I thought it had been discontinued, but Marge wrote to tell me she can get it in her store, so I called Campbell's, and, lo and behold, it has not been discontinued; it's just not stocked in every store. They told me I can get it at some Food Emporiums in NYC.




I now have a can on my desk, and sure enough, no HFCS. True, it's still a can of soup. But at least it isn't Cream of Mushroom!

I don't remember the last time I made this recipe for stew, but it's so handy that I can't quite bring myself to get rid of it. I just keep reminding myself about The Midnight Egg and Other Revivers, an M.F.K. Fisher article published in the May 1978 issue of Bon Appetit describing what she did to comfort herself when she had indulged in food and drink, perhaps in an immoderate way, and needed a little down time. She made that same, ubiquitous tomato soup and drank it from a special little chipped blue speckled pitcher.

This doesn't totally make me feel better because I'm sure the soup M.F.K. Fisher drank, while it did come from a can, didn't have HFCS in it. But if I ever find myself in a position where it's cold outside, I don't have time to cook but I want to eat at home, and I have to come up with something that cooks itself, I might want to get my hands on this recipe.

Here's another recipe I don't make often either, not because I'm embarrassed about it, but because I just don't have the occasion to make it that often. It's for a meatloaf that can be sliced thin and served cold, and it's good to have up your sleeve when you're having a party.

The original recipe called for 2 tablespoons of dried Italian herb blend, which I don't have in the pantry. Personally, I never use dried oregano but substitute marjoram instead, so in this recipe I use marjoram - but a lot less than 2 tablespoons. If you have a particular herb blend you like to use, it would probably work well here.

1-1/2 pounds ground sirloin
1 pound ground veal
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons dried marjoram, crushed between your fingers
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
2-1/2 cups fresh white bread crumbs
2 large eggs
1 cup tomato juice
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
8 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto
8 ounces sliced Provolone cheese

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Mix the ground meats with the onion, garlic, marjoram, parsley, bread crumbs, salt, and pepper in a large bowl. Beat the eggs with a little salt, and add to the meat mixture along with the tomato juice.

Shape the mixture into a rectangle 15 inches by 10 inches on a piece of wax paper or parchment paper. Arrange the prosciutto in an even layer over the mixture, leaving an inch on all sides. Cover the prosciutto with the slices of Provolone, continuing to leave an inch on each side.

Starting from the long end, use the paper to roll up the rectangle like a jelly roll, and pat the ends to close them up.

Carefully slide the roll from the paper onto a baking sheet - a half sheet pan works well. Bake in the preheated oven for 55 minutes. Let come to room temperature, wrap in foil, and chill. Use a serrated knife to slice. I usually make 1/2 inch-thick slices, but you can make them a little thinner if you like.

Spaghetti with Pangretta

Adapted from The Italian Dish

There are a lot of fabulous food blogs out there, and more are being added to the net every day. I could lose myself for hours on end if I weren't careful, so I have chosen only a few to read on a regular basis, and I rarely add any to my Google Reader unless I am really moved for fear of being lost in the cosmos.

Well.

Check this out.

I found it because the author had a review for the A16 cookbook, A16:Food & Wine, on Amazon, and I wanted to see what people are saying about this book. The Italian Dish is an amazing blog. The pictures are beautiful, and the recipes are enticing. And if they are all as good as this one, I'm in for a real treat......and so are you.

My father always spoke about a pasta Aunt Red used to make that had fresh horseradish grated on top instead of cheese. This one has breadcrumbs. I always think about my dad, but I really missed him last night because he would have LOVED dinner - this pasta with grilled lamb chops and Brussels sprouts braised in cream.

I find that anchovies have an affinity for lamb (think about a crisp salad with anchovies in it served after a leg of lamb), so I wanted to try a recipe of Guiliano Hazan's for spaghetti with tomatoes and anchovies until I realized I didn't have a copy of Every Night Italian (a lovely little book) here. As luck would have it, I found this recipe and decided it would be the way to go.

Boy, was I right. Walter doesn't usually like pasta as a side dish, and I didn't time it right to serve the pasta as a 2-ounce starter, but it turned out fine because he gobbled it up alongside the lamb chops and the Brussels sprouts, which I personally thought was a great combination.

There's a similar recipe waiting for me in Zuni, which is a variation of this, that includes cauliflower and broccoli, both vegetables I adore, so I am looking forward to cooking that more than ever.

Pasta with Pangretta*

Day-old country bread
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large pinches of salt, kosher or Maldon squeezed between your fingertips
2 glugs of extra-virgin olive oil
3 anchovy fillets (I'm with Simon Hopkinson on this - I prefer those packed upright in jars - not tins - to the ones packed in salt)
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed of salt or vinegar
A handful of parsley, chopped
1 lemon
8 ounces spaghetti or (my favorite) spaghetti alla chitarra

Remove the crusts from the bread. (I usually save these because they are delicious toasted and buttered.) Break enough bread into chunks to make about a cup of crumbs using your food processor with the metal blade in place. Cook these breadcrumbs in olive oil until just crisp. Add salt, stir, and set aside. If you do this a little bit ahead, remove the crumbs from the pan they cooked in with a slotted spoon, and put in a bowl.

Cook the pasta al dente while you are making the sauce. You want to time this so the pasta is done at the same time the sauce is ready. This is easy because the sauce can wait for the pasta. You just don't want the pasta waiting for the sauce. (You NEVER want the pasta waiting for the sauce.)

Add 2 glugs of olive oil and the anchovies to a pan. (I used a 3-1/2 quart saucier.) Turn the heat to medium-low and stir with a wooden spoon or wooden spatula until the anchovies dissolve. Then add the garlic, and cook for about two minutes being careful not to let it burn.

Add the rinsed capers and half the parsley. Stir and cook for about a minute.

Drain the pasta, shaking the colander, but don't drain it totally dry. Add the pasta to the saucier, and toss well. Turn off the heat. Add the rest of the parsley and the bread crumbs removed from the skillet with a slotted spoon. Use your Microplane zester to grate some lemon over the top. (Don't omit the lemon. It adds a lot of delicious subtle flavor.) Toss again, and serve.

This is a recipe that would be delicious topped with an egg fried in olive oil. And I'm sure these crisp breadcrumbs would be delicious on top of my regular recipe for Spaghettini Aglio Olio.

*For some reason I think these breadcrumbs are called pangretta. I have no idea why. I could be totally wrong. If anyone knows one way or the other, please let me know!

Sausages with Porcini Mushrooms

Adapted From Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking

4 servings

Even though we only seem to be flirting with cooler weather, my thoughts are turning to foods I avoid in the summer - soups, stews, and all manner of braised dishes. I feel like puttering around the house while enticing smells emanate from the kitchen. I want to linger over meals that are more hearty than those I have been eating for the past four months. This isn't the most beautiful dish in my repertoire, but it is one of my favorites. Serve it with mashed potatoes and buttered green peas for a delicious meal.

A glug of extra virgin olive oil
1-1/2 pounds mild pork sausage, containing no herbs or hot pepper
1/2 cup dry red wine - whatever you will drink with the meal
1 ounce high-quality dried porcini mushrooms

Reconstitute the dried mushrooms by soaking them in 2 cups of slightly warm water for at least 30 minutes. Using your hands, lift the mushrooms out of the water squeezing out as much liquid as you can, letting the liquid fall back into the vessel you soaked the mushrooms in. Filter this liquid through a coffee filter - I use a Melitta individual cup filter -





and save this liquid to use later in the recipe. Rinse the mushrooms in several changes of fresh water, remove any soil that may still be clinging to them, and dry the mushrooms with a clean kitchen towel.

Put a glug of extra virgin olive oil in a pan that will hold the sausages without their overlapping. Add the sausages, and turn the heat to medium. Cook, turning the sausages frequently, until they are browned all over. Marcella recommends that you prick the sausages, but I personally follow the Nigel Slater policy on this and don't puncture them as I think the sausages stay more juicy if you don't. Try it both ways if you like to see which method you prefer.

Add the red wine, and turn the heat down. Simmer the sausages gently, turning occasionally, until the wine has evaporated. When it has, add the filtered mushroom liquid, and cook at a gentle simmer, turning the sausages from time to time, until the mushroom liquid has almost, but not completely, evaporated. Tilt the pan and spoon off the fat if there is a copious amount; however, if you haven't punctured the sausages, there shouldn't be, and you don't want to remove all the fat. (Well, actually, you may want to but try and resist the temptation to remove every single bit of it.)

As I said above, serve with mashed potatoes. I make mine using an Oxo Potato Ricer, which I think ensures a perfect texture. You can add warm butter and cream (or cream only, which I do often) and stir with a wooden spoon, or you can go one step further and mix with a hand beater or put through a tamis if you have one.




Print recipe.

Summer Minestrone

From Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

Serves 4

When the weather starts to turn from summer to fall and thoughts turn to soup, Marcella's Minestrone alla Romagnola is at the top of my list. It's delicious, and since it improves with reheating, it's good for at least a couple of meals. But more than that, it's great to have everyone over for the first fall meal of the season - to watch football, or take a walk in the woods, or whatever is appropriate for where you are when summer ends and the next season is ushering itself in, sometimes not too auspiciously.

But

THIS is Marcella's Minestrone alla Romagnola cooked with rice and served at room temperature.

It's delicious when the temperature is too warm to consider eating a bowl of hot soup and the garden is replete with vegetables and herbs you are aching to cook - green beans, zucchini, basil, etc.

I think this is a good one to have up your sleeve - oh, sorry, you're sleeveless still, aren't you?

2 cups Minestrone alla Romagnola
1/2 cup rice - arborio is Marcella's choice, but converted rice works well too
Salt
Pepper
1/4 cup parmigiano-reggiano cheese
8 to 10 fresh basil leaves, torn into pieces or 2 tablespoons of pesto
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Put the minestrone in a pot with 2 cups of water. Bring to a boil over medium heat, and add rice, stirring well.

When the soup returns to a boil, taste and stir in a little salt and pepper, if needed. Cover the pot, and turn the heat down. Stir occasionally. Start to taste the rice to see if it's done after 12 minutes. (Be careful not to overcook it because the rice will continue to cook as the soup is cooling down to room temperature.)

As soon as the rice is done, stir in the grated cheese, and turn the heat off. Taste, and add salt if necessary. Mix in the pieces of basil or the 2 tablespoons of pesto.

Ladle the soup into individual bowls. Serve at room temperature, drizzling a little extra virgin oil over each plate right before serving.

Print recipe.

Minestrone alla Romagnola

Adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

6 to 8 servings

Now that the weather has turned slightly cool - and will only be getting colder from here - thoughts turn to cozy meals. Soups and stews seem to be at the top of everyone's list after a summer of grilled foods and crisp salads. This is a delicious soup, which is great to have on hand because even though it makes a lot, it improves with reheating. Marcella also has a variation of this that is served at room temperature, which is good to eat when the weather is warm, and the garden is flush with zucchini and green beans.

I have never tried lima beans in place of the cannellini beans, but as I like them so much, even the frozen ones, I might try them the next time I make this.

1 pound unpeeled zucchini, ends trimmed and diced
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons butter
1 cup onion sliced very thin
1 cup diced carrots
1 cup diced celery
2 cups peeled, diced potatoes
1/4 pound fresh green beans, topped and cut into small pieces (about 4 to an inch)
3 cups shredded cabbage, savoy or regular green
1-1/2 cups caned cannellini beans, drained (If you want to start with your own dried beans, they must be pre-cooked, not just soaked, for this recipe)
6 cups chicken stock
2/3 cups canned plum tomatoes with their juice
Salt
1/3 cup freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese

Put the oil, butter, and sliced onion into an 8-quart stockpot. Turn the heat to medium/low, and cook the onion until it softens and turns a pale gold. Do not let it color more than this.

The diced vegetables are to be added sequentially, not just plopped into the pot. First, add the diced carrots, and cook for 2 -3 minutes, stirring once or twice. Next add the diced celery and do the same. Then do the same with the potatoes. Now do the same with the green beans. Last, do the same with the zucchini.

Cook them all together for a few minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the shredded cabbage, and continue to cook for another 5 minutes.

Add the chicken stock and the tomatoes with their juice. At this point check carefully for salt. How much you need will depend on how much your chicken stock has in it, but be sparing because you can add more when it's cooked down.

Stir thoroughly, cover the pot, and lower the heat so the contents are cooking at a gentle simmer.

After 2-1/2 hours, added the canned drained cannellini beans. Then cook for at least another 30 minutes. This soup should be rather thick, but if it gets too thick while cooking, it can be thinned with a little water.

When it's done, turn off the heat, swirl in the grated cheese. Taste and correct for salt. Improves with reheating.

Print recipe.

Molly & Luisa's Rice-Filled Tomatoes

From Molly and Luisa

2 main dish servings; 4 side dish servings





Summer has fled for good now. The air - even when warm - has that certain, indescribable crispness that means fall has arrived in full force. But I don't care because I love fall. It's my favorite time of year. I love seeing the leaves change; I love walking in those that have fallen, which crunch and emit their earthly scent with each step I take. I love the first day I pull thin leather gloves out of the drawer. I'm happy to reacquaint myself with my cozy sweaters. I'm glad to wear black tights and suede shoes again. So I probably shouldn't still be writing about tomatoes.

But I am.

Maybe it's because fabulous tomatoes are only available for what seems like such a short time. No matter how many I eat, it's never enough, and every year when tomato season ends, I'm already longing for it to begin again. So when I read Molly's recent post about these tomatoes, which Luisa wrote about last July, I looked in the pantry to find my little glass jar of Arborio rice and ran to the garden to pluck four tomatoes from their vines, snagged a few leaves of basil from the pot near the back door, and made this dish on the spot. I threw a russet potato, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch rounds, into the pan too because it was what I had, and my only regret was that I didn't throw in two.

This just might be the first dish I make next year when the tomatoes I dream about reappear.

Rice-Filled Tomatoes

4 large tomatoes
1 small yellow onion, diced
Olive oil
1/3 cup Arborio rice
1/3 cup water
5 fresh basil leaves
Maldon Salt
Breadcrumbs
2 flaky potatoes, sliced into ¼-inch-thick rounds

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the tops off the tomatoes, and scoop out the flesh, seeds, and juice inside into a bowl.




Put the tomatoes into a lightly oiled 9- by 13-inch baking dish. Using kitchen shears, cut the flesh of the tomatoes directly in the bowl you have put them in.




Warm a glug of olive oil in a 2-quart saucepan over medium heat; add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until soft and translucent. Add the rice to the pan, and continue to cook, stirring, for another minute or two. Then add all the contents of the bowl (tomato flesh, juice, and seeds- this looks like a lot, but don't worry) as well as the water. Tear the basil leaves into pieces, and add them too along with a pinch or two of Maldon Salt squished by your fingertips.




Reduce the heat, cover the pot, and simmer for 10 minutes. Taste, and add more salt if necessary. The rice is not cooked through at this point. Spoon this mixture into the tomatoes, and sprinkle breadcrumbs over the top of each tomato.

Molly made her own breadcrumbs.

If you happen to have some leftover baguette lying around, or some crusty white bread or something like that, it will take you about 5 minutes. Just cut off the crust, cut the soft center into cubes, and whirl the cubes in a food processor until they are reduced to fine crumbs. (Only process a couple of handfuls at a time, though, or the motor of the machine could overheat.)

I will do this next time. But this time I used PLAIN dried breadcrumbs, and they were fine. Actually, better than fine.

Arrange the potato slices around the tomatoes in the pan. Drizzle olive oil over everything, and turn the potatoes over to make sure they are covered on both sides. (I want to eat this again RIGHT NOW as I am typing!)

Bake for about 1 hour and 15 minutes. Make sure the potatoes are cooked through before you take the pan from the oven. Cool for 10 to 15 minutes before serving.

To see just the recipe, click here.

Print recipe.

Garlic-Scented Tomato Salad

Adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

4 to 6 Servings





I know I've been on a tomato kick lately, but I'm running out of time in terms of the season. Even though fall is rapidly approaching, there are still gorgeous tomatoes to be had, and it is imperative that you have this wonderful recipe in your quiver. It might be my very favorite recipe. Of all time. Every time I eat it, I can't get over how good it is.

You can use any very ripe tomatoes, even cherry tomatoes cut in half, for this delicious salad.

Definitely try this if good vine-ripened tomatoes are still available in your garden





or market,

and keep it in mind for next year when tomato season is once again upon us.

Garlic-Scented Tomato Salad

4 to 5 garlic cloves
Maldon Salt or kosher salt
Excellent quality red wine vinegar - I love O Zinfandel Vinegar
2 pounds fresh, ripe, ripe, ripe (get the point?) tomatoes
Optional - a chiffonade of basil made with about 12 fresh basil leaves (basil leaves, washed, dried, and cut into shreds with a sharp knife)
Extra-virgin olive oil

This list of ingredients is just a starting point. You can use as many or as few tomatoes as you like, adjusting the other ingredients accordingly.

After you smash the garlic cloves with the flat blade of a chef's knife, the skin will slip off easily.





Put the cloves of garlic in a small bowl with 2 tablespoons vinegar and about 1-1/2 teaspoons Maldon Salt crushed between your fingers or kosher salt. I know this will seem like too much salt, but it isn't. (If it turns out to be too much for you, change it next time, but the first time you should try it this way.) Stir (your finger works well for this), and let steep at least 20 minutes.





Slice the tomatoes and spread the slices out on a platter, or cut tomatoes in chunks and put them in a bowl.




Just before serving, pour the garlic-steeped vinegar through a small wire strainer over the tomatoes. Pour a little olive oil over the tomatoes, optionally sprinkle with the pieces of basil, and serve immediately.

Sliced tomatoes on a platter dressed with the salad makes a beautiful presentation, especially on a buffet table, but sliced tomatoes are not as easy to eat as chunks of tomatoes and don't work as well in every situation. For instance, I often dress a salad separately with a mustard vinaigrette and then top it with chunks of tomatoes dressed this way.




To see just the recipe, click here.

Print recipe.

"Doing the Tomatoes"

Adapted from Cream Puffs in Venice

Last winter - on New Year's eve morning to be exact - when the field was covered with snow, and summer seemed oh-so-far away, I sat in a cozy warm kitchen with Sylvano - a kitten then - curled up on the table, loaded music onto iTunes, and daydreamed about "doing the tomatoes."

Summer is over now; Monday was the Autumn Equinox, and before you know it, it will be New Year's Eve 2008. But right now, even though there is a little touch of fall in the air, the weather is still warm, and this past Sunday I did what I dreamed about on a cold snowy day - "the tomatoes."

This isn't exactly a recipe. It's more of a procedure. You need wonderful, glorious, summer, ripened-on-the-vine, hard-to-resist-eating-out-of-hand-but-you-must-restrain-yourself tomatoes. And lovely extra-virgin olive oil. And - for me - Maldon sea salt, always Maldon. That's it.

Upstate, the tomatoes were ripening at a rapid pace, so Chris gathered them for me and left them snuggled together in paper bags on the back porch where I found them when I arrived on Saturday. Early Sunday morning I washed the tomatoes well, cut them into quarters, removing each core, and put them in three 5-1/2- to 8-quart pans (wide pans, not tall narrow stockpots) on the stove. I added a few glugs of olive oil to each pan and crunched in some Maldon salt to taste. I brought the tomatoes nearly to a boil then lowered the heat to a simmer.

After about 30 minutes, when the tomatoes were done to my liking, just slightly thickened, I turned off the heat, let them cool a little, and put them through the finest blade of my old Mouli food mill. (It seems the brand Mouli is no longer available - at least I didn't see them available anywhere online).

I was going to try the most coarse blade too, but to be honest, for some reason, I couldn't find it anywhere. As I usually use the fine blade for my tomatoes, it wasn't a problem, but I wanted to try the coarse blade for comparison.

I let the milled tomatoes cool, then put them up for freezing.

I still have more to do!



But next year - for sure - I am going to do old-fashioned "canning," and put them up in jars just like Cream Puffs in Venice. Broadway Panhandler had some really nice small ones from Italy this year, so that's where I'll head to find them. I want jewel-like jars of glorious red tomatoes on my shelf in the fall of 2009 ready to get me through the winter. I'll send you a picture.

Luisa's Tomato Bread Soup

Adapted from The Wednesday Chef

Serves 3 to 4

I'm sorry I didn't post this recipe in August. I don't have an excuse - at least not an excuse that's worth it. I've just been so busy at work. Actually, I've been extraordinarily busy since April. I only had one day off all summer and didn't get to the beach once. I'm hoping to take a week off in October, which is, after all, my favorite month of the year. But this recipe is, well, so good, you should be mad I didn't get it here sooner.

Simple it may be, but its deliciousness depends on wonderful ingredients. The best tomatoes of the year. Tomatoes bursting with flavor. Tomatoes so good you want to eat them out of hand (but hang on; be patient; use them for this). Your favorite extra-virgin olive oil. And Maldon - always Maldon - sea salt. (Yes, I know, fleur de sel is lovely, but Maldon eclipses all other salt for me.)

The credit for this dish goes to Luisa, The Wednesday Chef. I don't think she will mind my passing it on to you. This is a recipe that is so stunningly simple, you cannot believe how wonderful it is. Don't just take my word for it. See what Luisa has to say about it. If it really serves three to four, instead of just two, I'll be surprised. If you start tasting it in the pan, you won't even have enough to plate for more than two. It's so good, it's hard to stop eating once you start. Luisa actually advises to

buy twice the amount of tomatoes required. Because when you're standing in front of your stove looking down at an empty soup pot, wondering what could have possessed you to be so generous as to share your meal with the people at your table, you'll feel some relief at the prospect of being able to whip up another batch, right then and there.

For some reason, the sourdough bread adds a lot to this recipe, which is odd because in Tuscany, where this recipe hails from, the bread would be completely different, with no salt added. Trust me on this; use the sourdough. And note, you use ricotta salata, not fresh ricotta, for this dish. If you want to use tomatoes and fresh ricotta, check this recipe out. It's also from Luisa, and just fabulous. When it comes to pasta, she might just be the man - so the speak.

Anyway, I thought fall was arriving early last week, when the first crisp air greeted me as I walked out the door. But the weekend was sunny and hot (and humid), so you may still be able to get your hands on August-like tomatoes. If you can, make this immediately, then tuck this recipe away to pull out next year when tomatoes and basil are prolific in the garden again. It will be something to dream about in March when winter seems so long and summer so far away.

3 pounds perfectly ripe, beautiful summer in-season, ripened-on-the-vine tomatoes, plum or round - do not use cherry or grape tomatoes
3 tablespoons of your favorite extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped fine
3 cloves garlic, smashed with the back of your chef knife
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups sourdough bread, without crusts, cut into small cubes
1/2 cup grated ricotta salata
1 tablespoon minced fresh basil leaves

Core and quarter the tomatoes then pulse in a food processor to chop coarsely. Do not puree. If you don't have a food processor or are not inclined to get it out or get it dirty, you can coarsely chop the tomatoes by hand, but a food processor does work well here.

Heat the oil in a 4-quart saucepan or 5-quart saucier. Saute the onion and garlic until soft, but not browned. Add the tomatoes and their juices. Season with salt, bring to a slow simmer, and cook for 45 minutes, covered, stirring occasionally.

At the end of the 45 minutes, stir the bread cubes into the soup, and simmer for an additional 10 to 15 minutes. Check the seasoning. Add a little pepper just before serving.

Serve hot or at room temperature, with grated ricotta salata and minced basil strewn on each serving.

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Chocolate Torte

Adapted from Chocolate (Williams-Sonoma Kitchen Library) by Lora Brody

I promise you this is the best almost-flourless chocolate cake you will ever make. It's an easy, no-fail recipe. It's very rich so a small cake goes a long way. I make it every year for Walter’s birthday, and if I even try to suggest something new and different, he protests. This recipe needs to be made at least one day, and up to two, in advance to cure.

The only catch with this recipe is I can't see how you can make it without a standing mixer. The reason I think you need a standing mixer is because you beat four extra-large or five large eggs with one tablespoon of sugar, and the mixture triples in volume. I have never tried a hand-held mixer for this; perhaps it would work. I don't know. If I find out more, I'll let you know, but if you try a hand-held mixer, and it works, you let me know.

1 pound high-quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped (scant 3 cups)
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 extra-large eggs (or 5 large eggs) at room temperature
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 cup heavy cream, whipped softly

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees, and position the rack in the middle of the oven. Butter an 8-inch springform pan. Then line the bottom of the pan with a circle of parchment paper or waxed paper cut to fit precisely. The easiest way to do this is to the trace the pan bottom on paper and cut it with scissors. Next butter the paper, dust with cocoa powder (because flour would show white), and tap out any excess.

Place the chocolate and butter in a large heatproof bowl or the top pan of a double boiler set over a pan of gently simmering water. Don’t let the pan touch the water. Stir occasionally until the chocolate and butter are melted, then combine them completely. Remove the bowl or pan from the heat, meaning take it off from the pan with the water in it , and let cool slightly. (Alternatively, you can do this step in the microwave, but be very careful not to burn the chocolate.)

Place the eggs and sugar in the bowl in bowl of your electric mixer. I use a KitchenAid with the paddle, not the whisk. Set the mixer on high speed, and beat the eggs with the 1 tablespoon of sugar until light, fluffy, and tripled in volume, 5 - 10 minutes. Reduce the speed to low, and beat in the 1 tablespoon of flour. In the next step this mixture is going to be folded into the chocolate mixture, so the chocolate has to be in a bowl large enough to hold it. If it isn't, transfer the chocolate/butter mixture to a big enough bowl at this point.

Using a rubber spatula, fold one-third of the egg mixture into the chocolate to lighten it, and then fold in the remaining egg mixture, taking care not to deflate the batter. Pour and scrape the batter into the prepared pan, and smooth the top with the spatula.

Bake for exactly 15 minutes. Remove from the oven, put on a rack, and let cool completely to room temperature. Do not refrigerate. Cure for at least one day before serving.

Cut the cake into small wedges, and serve each wedge topped with softly whipped cream.

If you want to be truly luxurious, and who doesn’t on occasion, also serve with crème anglaise and raspberry coulis on the side.

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Fresh Pasta

From Beard on Pasta by James Beard

I'm posting this recipe today mostly for myself. As I've said before, the reason I started this blog was so I can get my hands on my recipes, and this is one that's not in my head, and I have actually wished I had it on occasion, so it's time to put it here.

It is basically from Beard on Pasta by James Beard, but the first time I made it was with Beverly Dana when she invited me to her house in Atlanta to make pasta. I make it in a Cuisinart (which to me is synonymous with food processor) and roll it out on rollers that I attach to my KitchenAid mixer, which makes it really easy.

Michael Ruhlman did a post on pasta that was very interesting. You might want to check it out.

Fresh pasta is very different from dry pasta, and it isn't automatically better for every recipe. A rule of thumb is that dried pasta works well with heavy sauces, and fresh works well with light sauces. It's like the wand choosing the wizard rather than the wizard choosing the wand. The sauce dictates the pasta. Having said that, I must confess that with the exception of filled (like ravioli and tortellini) pasta and lasagna, I generally am happy with excellent quality Italian dried pasta. I find it really does make a difference to use artisanal pasta from Italy, which has been made using bronze cutting die, and usually use Pasta Setaro or Rustichella D'Abruzzo pasta. I recently tried Cav. Guiseppe Cocco penne rigate, for Pasta alla Carbonara, and it was delicious (the pasta and the recipe).

These instructions are specifically for using a food processor. James Beard has instructions for making it by hand and making it using an electric mixer, so if you want to, check out the book to see all the different methods.

1-1/2 cups all-purpose, unbleached flour
Pinch of salt
2 whole large eggs at room temperature
1 tablespoon oil (this is if using a food processor)

Instructions for Using a Food Processor

Add the flour and salt to the bowl of your food processor fitted with the metal blade. Process to blend, then add the eggs and oil through the feed tube. Continue to process until the dough begins to form a ball. If the dough is too sticky, add a tablespoon or two of flour. If it's too dry, add a tiny, tiny amount of water. Process until it forms a ball, but don't keep processing once that happens.

Turn the dough from the food processor out onto a floured board. Dust your hands with flour, and knead by hand for about 5 minutes. Make a ball and then slightly flatten it. Wrap it in plastic wrap, and let it rest for at least 30 minutes - an hour (or a few hours) is infinitely better (you can actually refrigerate it overnight, just let it get to room temperature again) - before continuing with the recipe to the rolling step.

I roll it, as I said, in the pasta attachment that fits on my KitchenAid. I do not - NOT, NOT, NOT (do you get it?) - mean an extrusion attachment, which pushes the dough through holes. I mean rolling cylinders that look like a wringer.

I cut the dough into four pieces and roll it through the cylinders starting from the widest setting to the most narrow setting that comports with how thin I want the finished pasta. I start at the widest setting and roll it through once or twice. Then I lightly dust it with flour using a feather brush, which Beverly showed me, and keep going down a setting each time, putting it through the narrower and narrower settings one time for each setting until it's as thin as I want it. I keep the sheets of pasta under kitchen towels as I go along. When all the pasta has been rolled through, it's ready to use. You cut it into whatever shape you want or use it whole for lasagna or ravioli. I think you can take it from here, just note that fresh pasta cooks almost instantly so be careful when you cook it.

A Cook's Notes on Mixers

I think you need to have a KitchenAid mixer because at some point you will come across a recipe that says something like "beat on high speed for ten minutes." I've had mine for a long time. It's not the one with arms that lift the bowl. I also inherited my mother's, which is the same model. Both would be the Classic 4-1/2 quart model available now. I can't justify getting a new bigger one because mine are fine for my purposes. But if you don't have one yet and are planning to get one, do some research to see what will suit your needs.

I also have a KitchenAid hand-held mixer that I got two sets of beaters for. I keep one set of beaters in the freezer in a small metal bowl for beating heavy cream for dessert. I usually beat it lightly so it's soft and never grainy and sometimes don't even add sugar. When I do add sugar, it's not much. And I often flavor it with a liqueur that enhances whatever I'm serving it with. For instance, I use Mathilde Orange Liqueur X.O. with the orange sponge cake I like to make. The possibilities are endless - and the results are delicious.

Paella A L'Americaine

Adapted from The French Chef by Julia Child

Serves 8

We were going out to dinner with Susan and Tony the other night. It took about a month's worth of planning and scheming and tossing around where to go. Finally, Susan said she had a GREAT place that they had been going to for years. It was fun and comfortable and had fabulous food, particularly garlic shrimp to die for. Sounded good to us, so Thursday night we met at El Charro Espanol, a Spanish restaurant that's been at 4 Charles Street for over 70 years.

Susan was right. The food was delicious - and not just because we drank a few pitchers of this-hits-the-spot sangria. The food was really, really good. Tapas were cold anchovies, sauteed chorizos, grilled octopus, and garlic shrimp. We split two entrees among the four of us - paella a la valenciana and mariscada (shellfish) in green sauce. We also had fried potatoes that were like slightly thick potato chips and were how-can-I-get-more-before-they're-all gone wonderful. All of this was followed by one little dessert that was closer to creme brulee than flan because there was burnt sugar on the top.

This got me to thinking about a dish I used to make for dinner parties a long time ago, Paella a L'Americaine, from, strangely enough, Julia Child's The French Chef, which was my first Julia book.

The recipe says that real Spanish rice works well in this dish and "short, fat imported Italian rice, which is sold in white cotton bags in many Italian neighborhoods, is equally good." In those days I had never looked for Spanish rice anywhere and had no idea what Arborio rice was, let alone Vialone Nano or Carnaroli. I used what Julia suggested as the best alternative, parboiled rice. In other words Uncle Ben's.

Paella can have anything in it as long as it has rice, saffron, garlic, and paprika. (Steph, remember pap-a-rika?) This one has pork, chicken, and shrimp with mussels and/or clams as optional ingredients.

Since I have been reminded of this dish, I'm going to make it again soon. In the meantime, if you try it, let me know what kind of rice you use and how it worked out.

This recipe calls for boiled shrimp, and I am wondering why the shrimp would be boiled instead of just cooked in the paella pan - especially since it marinates in lemon juice, which is going to "cook" it anyway. When I make this again, I am not going to cook the shrimp in advance, but I will shell it since, as I said, it marinates. By the way, I never devein my shrimp. Peggy, who is from Charleston, convinced me of this a long time ago, and I'm stickin' to it here. That way the shrimp stay nice and plump without a slit down the back. (if this sounds awful to you, you can actually take tweezers and pull the vein from the point where the head was severed from the body. What? You didn't know the heads have been severed? Sorry.)

Paella a L'Americaine

Step One - Chicken and Pork

1/2 pound pork butt (as I explained in my Pork Stock post, pork butt is pork shoulder butt, lean bacon, or lightly smoked ham
1 pound fresh chorizos or Italian pork sausages simmered 10 minutes in water and roughly diced (Julia says you can alternatively use cooked pork sausages, such as Polish sausage, so I don't see why dried chorizos wouldn't be good too.)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup sliced yellow onions
1 cup sliced green or red bell peppers or a combination of the two
8 chicken thighs or drumsticks, washed and thoroughly dried
1/2 cup dry white wine or French vermouth
4-1/2 cups chicken stock
1/2 teaspoon saffron flowers
1 teaspoon paprika (I would assume Spanish sweet paprika would be best, but I definitely didn't know about that when I was making this dish all the time, and I bet Julia wasn't thinking about that when she published this recipe in 1968.)
1/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1 bay leaf
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
(The recipe calls for 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano, but I don't like dried oregano so I leave it out.)
3 cloves garlic, minced
Salt and pepper

In a skillet, brown the diced pork, bacon, or ham and the sausages lightly in olive oil. If there's a lot of fat in the pan, remove all but two tablespoons and reserve the rest. Add the onions and peppers to the pan, and cook until the vegetables are tender - about 10 minutes. Add the chopped garlic, and cook for about 30 seconds to release the flavor, but do not brown. Turn the heat off.

You want to brown the chicken pieces all over in a paella pan or a large braiser using either the reserved pork fat from above or more olive oil. Remember, the fat has to be hot when you add the chicken to prevent it from sticking. When the chicken is brown, take it out of the pan, and put it on a platter. Remove any excess fat from the pan, which you may have from browning the chicken. Transfer the vegetables from the skillet to the paella pan, and add the wine and chicken stock. Bring to a simmer, and add the saffron, coriander, bay leaf, and thyme. (Add 1/2 teaspoon of oregano here if you are using it.) Add salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a simmer, and nestle the chicken back in the pan. Cover the pan, and simmer slowly for 20 minutes. The chicken will be about three-quarters cooked at this point.

Step Two - Shrimp

1 pound shrimp, shelled
1 tablespoon lemon juice
(Again, the recipe calls for dried oregano - 1/4 teaspoon, which I don't use.)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 to 3 medium tomatoes
1 to 2 cups shelled green peas and/or diced green beans
Salt and pepper

Optional - 24 mussels and/or clams (Make sure they are either tightly closed or if slightly open, close tightly when touched. Mussels and clams must be scrubbed, scrubbed, scrubbed with a stiff brush until no more dirt from the shells is released into a bowl of cold water. Clams are sandy and should be left to stand in a bowl of salted cold water [1/2 cup salt to a gallon of water] for about an hour in the refrigerator to release sand. Rinse again in a colander before proceeding with the recipe to get rid of any sand that was purged while they were standing. The "beards" on mussels can be clipped with scissors. Mussels should be refrigerated until ready to use.)

Toss the shrimp in a bowl with the lemon juice, (oregano if you are using it), oil, and seasonings, and refrigerate. Halve the tomatoes and squeeze out the juice and seeds, and chop the tomatoes roughly. If you want to peel them, drop them into boiling water for 10 seconds before you halve them, and the skin will slip off easily. You can also peel them with a swivel peeler, which is what Marcella does. You have to use a sort-of zig-zag motion to do this, but it works. My favorite swivel peeler looks like a slingshot. )

Cook the peas and/or beans in boiling, salted water until barely done. (They will cook a little more later; but you don't want them underdone at the end.) This will only take a few minutes, but you have to taste them as you would spaghetti, to get them at the right point. Drain, stop them from cooking further by running cold water over them, and set aside.

Step Three - Final Cooking

2 cups rice - Spanish, Italian (Arborio, Vialone Nano, or Carnaroli), or parboiled rice (Uncle Ben's or a Spanish brand, which can be found in the market for far less money)
2 lemons quartered, for garnish
3 tablespoons chopped parsley

On top of the stove bring the contents of the paella pan to a boil. Sprinkle in the rice, pushing it down into the liquid with a spoon. Boil for about 5 minutes. Do not cover the pan, and do not stir the rice. As the rice cooks, it will absorb liquid, swell, and rise to the surface of the pan. When it does, strew on the shrimp, peas and/or beans, and tomatoes. Do not stir at any time during the cooking or the rice will get gummy. Just push the ingredients into the rice with a spoon. If you are using the mussels and/or clams, insert them them shell side down into the rice now.

Reduce the heat. Simmer the paella for about 7 more minutes until the rice is al dente. The liquid should all be absorbed when it is done. You should not have to cover the pan, but if the rice isn't cooking properly, you can sprinkle a few tablespoons of water or stock on the top, cover for a few minutes, then uncover to finish the cooking. You sort of have to figure this out the first time you make it. It will depend on variables, such as the pan you are using, the heat from your burner, etc.

When done, turn off the heat, garnish the paella with lemon quarters and chopped parsley, and serve immediately from the paella pan.

All you need is a tart green salad and whatever wine you feel like drinking with it. I would choose a minerally, crisp white. Dessert could be creme caramel or fruit. I am partial to a bowl of cold cherries these days.

Print recipe.

Chicken Country Captain

Adapted from The Joy of Cooking, 1964 Edition

Serves 4 to 6

The 1964 Joy of Cooking was my first cookbook. I received it from a college friend when I got engaged. Then when I got the 1975 revision, another friend of mine asked for the older version, and I gladly handed it over. That new revision, however, didn't have everything the previous edition had in it, and I was glad to get the 1964 edition again, which was released as a single volume ring-bound paperback available from 1973 through the early 90's, for my library.

One day EB wrote a post about finding the 1964 version at a flea market. She snagged it, brought it home, and made what turned out to be one of the recipes I used to make all the time out of it it when I was a young bride, Steak au Poivre, and it got me to thinking about the book again. I bought a used copy of the 1964 edition from Amazon.

I don't use Joy much anymore because I usually turn to The Fannie Farmer Cookbook if I need something really basic that I don't already have a recipe for (I got my pancake recipe there), but it's good to have, you know, just in case. The book is a basic and is really quite different from Fannie. For instance, in the Game chapter of the 1964 edition, there's a recipe for Opossum, which starts with "If possible, trap 'possum and feed it on milk and cereals for 10 days before killing. Clean, but do not skin." (I can't even think of a little joke to make about that.)

I guess most Americans - at least those who collect cookbooks - have at least one edition of Joy. Michael Ruhlman kept the 1997 edition, which is the edition he prefers over the 2006 75th anniversary edition, with fourteen other books piled on the floor next to him as he wrote The Elements of Cooking.

Chicken Country Captain is a recipe with a history.

This delicious dish, known through Georgia, dates to the early 1800s. It is thought that this dish was brought to Georgia by a British sea captain who had been stationed in Bengali, India and shared the recipe with some friends in the port city of Savannah, Georgia. Savannah was then a major shipping port for the spice trade. The dish was named for the officers in India called "Country Captains."

Linda Stradley, History of Poultry Dishes, What's Cooking America

The recipe here is adapted from the famous version made popular by Cecily Brownstone, which I got originally from the 1964 edition of Joy. It was changed in the 1997 revision, but may be back again in its former glory in the 2006 one. I don't know for sure. I make it with boneless chicken breasts (which is not a change I would normally make as I like most meat and poultry on the bone) so it's perfect for a buffet. It's also not an adaptation that Cecily Brownstone would approve. In fact, it would have given her fits. The recipe here might be closer to her original.

It's delicious served with buttered fresh green beans or English peas, Basmati Rice Pilaf, Cucumber and Sour Cream Salad, fried plain pappadams (but I wouldn't be averse to trying really great lightly salted potato chips, like Tyrrell's), and Baked Banana Splits for dessert.

2 whole boneless chicken breasts (I haven't tried them, but boneless thighs might work well)
1/2 cup flour seasoned with salt, pepper, and paprika
1 onion about the size of a teacup, diced
1 green pepper, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon curry powder
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
2 cups stewed tomatoes
Butter or oil
3 tablespoons currants or raisins
Toasted slivered almonds for garnish

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the chicken into bite-size pieces using kitchen shears. Coat the chicken pieces with seasoned flour, and put on a plate as you go along.

In a saute pan large enough to hold all the ingredients, brown the chicken pieces that have been coated in seasoned flour in butter (delicious) or oil (I use grapeseed oil, which is neutral). As the chicken pieces are browned, remove them from the saute pan and set aside.

Add the diced onion to the saute pan, and cook until the onion wilts and just starts to turn pale gold. Add the diced green pepper, and cook for about 2 minutes. Add the garlic, and cook for 30 seconds. Add the curry powder, and cook for about 1 minute to lose the raw taste. Add the stewed tomatoes and thyme. Stir the contents of the pan to deglaze. Bring just to a boil, then turn the heat down. You can add a little salt, but be sparing because the chicken is coated with seasoned flour.

Add the chicken pieces to the pan, stir, and bake in the oven uncovered for about 30 minutes. Add currants or raisins for the last 5 minutes of cooking. Sprinkle toasted slivered almonds over the top before serving.

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Susanna Foo's Fried Rice

Adapted from Chinese Cuisine by Susanna Foo

Serves 4 as a main course or 8 as a side dish

I wrote a post around the time of the 2008 Lunar New Year about my favorite Chinese cookbooks and talked a little bit about this book, which is wonderful. The good news is it's back in print. If you have any interest at all in Chinese food, you will love reading Ms. Foo's story, and you may find that the food in this book is different from the Chinese food you're used to. It's very light and often easy to make. Her favorite recipe for fried rice is a revelation.

Ms. Foo suggests using medium- or short-grain rice rather than long grain rice for this dish. I agree it's better; however, if all you have in the house is long-grain rice, don't avoid making it. It will still be good - and in the long run you might like it better.

I've never tried it with brown rice so I can't swear it will be good using it in place of white rice, but there's no reason not to give it a go to see how you like it if brown rice is your thing. There's also wonderful, fragrant basmati rice, and delicious jasmine rice, both of which might be delicious too. There are a lot of possibilities. I would just suggest making it with white rice the first time so you can do a comparison.

Ms. Foo calls for using a rice cooker, which I don't have. So make rice the way you normally do, and proceed from there. I usually have luck cooking one cup rice to 1-1/2 cups of lightly salted water. I start out by putting everything together in a saucepan, and usually use my All-Clad stainless steel 2-quart because the narrow shape is great for cooking rice. I bring it to a boil, stirring once with a chopstick, put a lid on it, immediately turn the heat to very low, and cook it for about 17 minutes. I peek at it then, and if it's done, I remove the pan from the heat, and leave it still covered for about 10 minutes, which seems to fluff it out. Medium- or short-grain rice is more sticky than long grain and doesn't exactly "fluff."

2 cups raw rice cooked the way you normally cook it. If you're interested in what I do, see above.
5 tablespoons oil - you can use a neutral oil or olive oil (see what I mean about how different it is from what you expect with Chinese food)
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup diced sweet onion
1 cup diced Canadian bacon*
1/2 cup cooked peas
1/2 cup corn kernels (I only add corn when I have fresh corn available)
4 scallions, sliced thin on the diagonal
1 cup halved grape tomatoes
Up to 2 teaspoons Maldon Salt
Freshly ground pepper (does anybody ever use pepper that isn't freshly ground?)
Chiffonade of fresh basil (the recipe calls for 1/2 cup, which is a lot of basil, so use your best judgment about how much you want to add) "To chiffonade basil...or any other leaves, stack them, roll them into a tight bundle and slice them crosswise into very fine ribbons." Michael Ruhlman, The Elements of Cooking, Page 87. Get this book immediately if you haven't gotten it already.

*For the Canadian bacon you can substitute anything you feel like - chicken, shrimp, ham, etc. I am partial to Jone's Little Link Pork Sausage, of course cooked first then cut into small pieces.

Heat 4 tablespoons of the oil in a large skillet until hot. Add the eggs, reduce the heat to medium, and cook until set lightly. Stir the eggs to break them into small pieces, and cook the pieces until lightly browned. Remove the eggs from the pan, and set aside.

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in the same pan. Cook the onion over high heat until golden, then add the bacon, peas, corn if you're using it, and scallions. Cook for about 3 minutes until heated through.

Add the tomato, sprinkle with the Maldon Salt, crushing it between your fingers, and stir in the cooked rice and egg. Break up any lumps in the pan, mix, and cook for about 2 more minutes until everything in the pan is heated. Turn off the heat. Season with pepper, and stir in the basil.

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Frittata with Pasta

Adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

4 Servngs

I haven't been around here for a long time. For those of you who don't already know, I have started cooking my way through The Zuni Cafe Cookbook and blogging about it, and it's been happily occupying a lot of my time. But I don't want this blog to become an orphan; I'm too attached to it for that, so I'm going to try and post at least once a week here - for as long as I have anything to say.

A few weeks ago I had occasion to be in the City on a Saturday and found myself in the position of wanting to make lunch for two of us using what I already had hanging around. The rest of the day was going to be spent running errands - including food shopping - and I didn't want to make a fast run to the market before that. So I poked around and decided I would try a frittata with pasta. I guess you usually use leftover pasta for this dish, but I didn't have any of that so I made some specifically for this purpose.

It turned out great, proving once again that it's hard to beat Marcella for something simple and delicious that you're going to want to eat again. I served it with halved cherry tomatoes sauteed in olive oil and sprinkled with Maldon Salt and chopped parsley. I know I will make this dish often.

1/2 pound spaghetti
Salt
3 tablespoons of butter
1/3 cup freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese
3 eggs, beaten with a little salt and put in a bowl large enough to hold the cooked spaghetti

Preheat the broiler.

Cook the spaghetti a little less than al dente. Drain, and toss with 2 tablespoons of butter; then add the grated cheese, and toss again. Set aside to cool a little (so it won't cook the eggs in the next step).

Add the cooked spaghetti to the bowl of beaten eggs, and mix thoroughly, distributing the eggs evenly through the pasta.

Heat 1 tablespoon of butter in a skillet over medium heat. Before the butter starts to color, add the pasta/egg mixture to the skillet. Cook until the underside of the frittata has turned golden; then run the pan under the broiler until the top is the same color.

Alternatively, you can flip the frittata in the pan to color the other side, but I find this more difficult to do unless I'm making a small individual frittata.

Slide the frittata onto a platter, and cut it into wedges like a pie.

This is delicious served immediately or at room temperature.

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Italian Carrot Cake

Adapted from Marcella's Italian Kitchen by Marcella Hazan

I've had a rough week, working long hours - all day into the night. Thank goodness it's spring, and the stores are packed with beautiful fat asparagus that are quick to cook and delicious to eat. Just thinking about picking up a gorgeous stalk, still a little crunchy, lightly salted, and slathered in butter, to bite into makes me smile. My best meal this week was two double cut loin lamb chops grilled medium-rare, fried red peppers, and fat asparagus dripping in butter. Eaten too late, but who cared. I had to have something I made for myself. Not fancy but luxurious just the same and exactly what the doctor ordered. Yum.

Barbara and Aunt Rita discovered this lovely Marcella Hazan recipe in the December 1997 issue of Food & Wine magazine. I later realized it also appears in Marcella's Italian Kitchen, one of my very favorite cookbooks. I've been meaning to post it for a long time and just haven't gotten around to. It's for the kind of cake I just love - plain with a delicious crumb - the sort of cake Molly makes; the type of cake Clothide bakes. You would like those; I think you'll like this one.

9 ounces unpeeled (very important) almonds
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
9 ounces carrots, peeled and cut up into 1-inch pieces
1/4 pound store-bought Savoiardi (Italian ladyfinders)
2-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 tablespoon Amaretto liquer
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 large eggs, separated
A 10-inch springform pan
1 tablespoon butter for greasing the pan (there is no fat in the actual cake)
Lightly whipped cream to top the cake (optional - but good)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Place the Savoiardi on a baking sheet, and cook for 20 minutes or until crisp. Remove from the oven, take the Savoiardi off the pan, let cool a little, and break into small pieces. Raise the temperature of the oven to 350 degrees, and grease the bottom of the springform pan with butter. (If you are not using a springform pan, line a 10-inch cake pan with buttered parchment paper. I assume you can use a 9-inch pan if that's what you have, but I just haven't tried it myself.)

Put the unpeeled almonds with the sugar into the bowl of a food processor with the metal blade in place, and process until the almonds are ground fine (but not turned into almond butter). Transfer to a large mixing bowl.

Put the carrot pieces in the bowl of the food processor, and chop as fine as possible. (Note you are still using the metal blade, not shredding.) Add chopped carrots to the mixing bowl, and mix with the almond/sugar mixture.

Add the small pieces of Savoiardi to the bowl of the food processor. Process until very fine and mix with the other ingredients in the bowl.

Next, add the baking powder, Amaretto, and salt to the ingredients in the bowl and mix thoroughly; then mix in the egg yolks.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Mix 1 or 2 tablespoons of the beaten egg whites into the mixture in the bowl. Then fold in the remaining beaten egg whites gently. Put the batter in the baking pan, and put the pan in the uppermost level of the preheated oven. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, but check with a cake tester after 50 minutes. If the cake tester comes out dry, the cake is done.

Remove the cake from the pan when it is still slightly warm. Serve at room temperature with the optional whipped cream, if desired.

This will keep wrapped in foil when cool for up to a week without refrigeration. However, there's no chance it will last a week unless you leave town before finishing it.

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Shrimp Cakes

I love Marcella's Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, and if I could only have one cookbook, this would probably be it. But that would be if I were living in a place where I could get wonderful Italian ingredients (as I do now), not if a cookbook had to be everything. By everything I mean a book to cook from and a book to read. One of my favorite cookbooks is The Zuni Cafe Cookbook. It has deliriously good recipes with superb instructions, giving excellent results if followed with a purpose. And it's a fabulous read. Just fabulous. But if I were hard pressed, I mean really hard pressed, to have only one book in the world - to cook from and to read and to look at and to hold - it just might be How to Eat by Nigella Lawson. I love this book for the deliciousness of the food, for the sense memories it brings back to me as a child spending so much time in England, and for the precision of the descriptions and lavishness (not opulence) of what Nigella eats. I've said before, if she invited me over for a nosh, no matter what time, no matter where, I would make it my business to get there lickety-split.

This is a recipe that is so much fun to make if you have a really good friend over, and you're hanging around the kitchen quaffing down light white wine (think vinho verde, which you want to drink very young so look on the back for the little label with a date, which should only be one year behind where you are) or a couple of cold light beers, or (why not?) your favorite Champagne, and you want something yummy - really, really yummy - to munch on. If you try these little shrimp cakes, you will come up with what you think are good accompaniments, which of course, will depend on what your particular eating preferences are, but I think a tart green salad to pick at with your fingers while you dip these little puppies in your choice of a mayonnaise-y accompaniment as fast as they they come hot out of the frying pan (just don't fight over them) and pop in your mouth would be good.

Dedicated to Mandi and Scotty Bennett because I know they will just love it!

1/2 pound shrimp, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
2 scallions, white and green parts, minced
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
4 teaspoons dry sherry
Peanut oil
Mayonniase Dip

Put the shrimp, garlic, scallions, salt, flour, sherry, and enough water to make a thick batter in a food processor. Turn the machine on, and process until a thick batter is formed. Put the batter into another bowl (don't let it hang around in the plastic bowl of the food processor), and let stand, covered with plastic film, for one hour. Put the peanut oil to a depth of 2 inches in a pan, heat, then drop in the shrimp batter by the teaspoonfuls, and fry until golden brown, about a minute on each side. Drain on paper towels.

Mayonnaise Dip

Make homemade mayonnaise, omitting the dijon mustard, and substituting lime juice for the lemon and adding a handful of fresh chopped cilantro at the end. If you don't feel like making your own mayo, add lime juice and chopped cilantro to your favorite store-bought mayo. It won't be as good, but it will be good enough, because these delicious morsels can carry the day. If too exhausted even for that, just squeeze fresh lime juice on them, and carry on.

A Kamikaze for Valerie

Adapted from Recipe for One True Margarita from Ceres & Bacchus

It's been a very sad week for me. Yesterday on a glorious sunny spring day with every flowering tree and shrub in bloom - weeping cherry, forsythia, crab apple, magnolia - I had to go to a peaceful spot of earth and stand with a huge gathering of family and friends, each one of us in shock, to attend the funeral of my cousin Valerie, who only found out she was desperately sick six weeks before.

I would like to describe Valerie to you; to give you a little glimpse into who she was, but everyone who knows Valerie would agree she defies description. Family stories about Valerie are legend. At how many funerals would you see an old boyfriend, an ex-husband, and a fiance talking to each other and mourning together?

Valerie didn't find a cure for the common cold; she didn't eliminate world hunger; she didn't even get the Dalai Lama back into Tibet. But she did raise a beautiful daughter; she did create amazing art; she never stopped making everyone laugh (yes, I will admit, sometimes at our expense). Valerie lived life larger than anyone I've ever known, and at the end she showed the strength of Thor, the courage of David, and the grace of Saint Therese of Lisieux, who when she was very sick and dying remained smiling and cheerful.

So Valerie, there are loads of us who love you, who will never forget you, and who will miss you for the rest of our days. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." * Rock on, cuz.

Valerie's favorite drink is a Kamikaze. In fact she introduced me to this (sometimes) lethal concoction. Most recipes for a Kamikaze call for equal parts vodka, equal parts triple sec, and equal parts lime juice. Some specify Rose's Lime Juice and some specify fresh. But my kamikazes are essentially my margaritas with vodka in place of tequila, served straight up in a martini glass with (I would think, obviously) no salt around the rim. Here's to you, Val.

½ lime
2 shots vodka
1 shot triple sec (I prefer Bols)
Ice

Slice one wedge from the lime half and reserve. Place vodka and triple sec in a stainless steel drink shaker along with the juice of the rest of the lime half and some ice cubes. Shake well until the shaker is frosted then pour into a martini glass. Serve straight up. Repeat as necessary.

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*Albus Dumbledore to Harry Potter, Sorcerer's Stone

I Love Paris

Well, I haven't written a single post since February seventh. Since that time, I spent ten days in Paris with Marsha and Jane. Before the trip, when I was working like crazy to be able to get away, I thought ten days would seem like an eternity. Little did I know it would fly - just fly - by, and now with each passing day, I recall another precious memory and hanker just a little bit more to go back to that beautiful gray city.

We stayed in an elegant apartment, with a lovely kitchen, on Rue du Cherche Midi, in the same block that houses Poilane, the famous breadmaker. We had gloriously buttered toast every morning and wonderful bread to top with the amazing cheeses - all raw milk and unavailable here - that we ate every night while drinking copious amounts of white Sancerre. (We had to drink a lot of wine since it was the only cheap thing in the whole city. We absolutely owed it to ourselves.) We ate in on four nights because we found luscious food to buy and cook, never mind that Jane and Marsha had a fit when our rotisserie chicken from the Sunday outdoor organic market on Rue Raspail cost the equivalent of $30. (I think they're still talking about it.)

There's too much to tell; too many wonderful museums; the young American who proposed to his American girlfriend in front of a Monet and caught the rapt attention of everyone in the gallery and bowed when we all clapped after she said yes; the Berthillon ice cream I finally got my hands on (not for long); the tour Mike gave us of his fifteenth century restored home in the Marais (the freaking fifteenth - did you hear me? - century), etc., etc., etc. It was more fun than I could ever have imagined, and we plan to do it next year when we will be armed with Clotilde's newest book.

The other great thing that happened is that Mandi arrived on Easter Sunday for a ten-day holimoon in New York. What's a holimoon, you might ask. It's a vacation you take with your 6-year-old daughter because you promised to take her to Disneyland as soon as she reached the height requirement. But it's also a honeymoon because you are both with your husband of 23 days. There you have it. Six-year-old Reagan was absolutely beautiful and so much fun. My heart was captured immediately. And Scotty, who Mandi calls a spunk (I won't go into that one, but you can probably figure it out; it rhymes with a word that begins with h and has three more letters), is fabulous too. We waited and waited for that ten days and then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. Mandi vacationed the whole time; didn't spend one day working while she was here; ice skated at Wollman, went to the American Girl Place, spent an evening at McSorley's hosted by Geoffrey, went to the farm for the weekend, which included having a beautiful dinner at Margaret and Tom's in Vermont on Saturday night and tobogganing down Walter's field on Sunday morning. Mandi, Scott, and Reagan cleaned my entire apartment before flying back to Australia on Tuesday and left me enough licorice to last a normal person six months. (I won't tell you how long it lasted me; suffice it to say, it's all gone.)


Why after so long did I finally sit down to write? It's because today, at long last, is ice cream day! The sky is September eleventh blue (sigh), the temperature is in the high sixties, and everyone who is outside is strolling around with a smile on her face and an ice cream cone in her hand.

I won't wait so long again. Welcome, spring. I hope you stick around a while.

Happy Lunar New Year

Welcome Year of the Rat!

It's nice to have something to celebrate in early February when all the other holidays are over, and the doldrums come slipping in like a gray fog to hang around until April when the first buds appear, and the birds start to chirp. That seems like miles away, doesn't it? But - this is easy if you live in NYC or San Fran (right, EB?) - it's great to get a group of friends together and find a place to have a happy and delicious Chinese meal to celebrate the Lunar New Year.

If what I said doesn't inspire you to get off the couch and put your cozy blanket away, head over here. And while you're there, meet two new friends, Todd and Diane, if you haven't made their acquaintance already. (If they don't get you into a festive mood that makes you want to get out, just settle in till spring and wait for Ice Cream Day*.)

If you want to really get in the spirit of the thing, there are a lot of great Chinese cookbooks out there. I, personally, have three favorites and don't think you can go wrong owning all three because they are so different one from the other.

The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking is to me the "bible" of Chinese cooking, written, surprisingly, by an American, Barbara Tropp. It is an in-depth, scholarly tome that is fascinating to read and eminently usable if you want to get into Chinese cooking in a serious way. It's a lot of fun to compile a list of basic ingredients suggested here and head to Chinatown with two shoppping bags, which will be full of interesting stuff as you head home.

Susanna Foo Chinese Cuisine is a wonderful book. When I first wrote this post, it was out of print. The good news is that it's available again. This book is totally different from the Barbara Tropp book. The food is very light and often easy to make. The recipe for fried rice is a revelation.

The Breath of a Wok is a beautiful book that is just as interesting to read as it is to cook from. It's also different from the other two and worthy of note as a paean to Chinese culture.

I highly recommend all three of these books. If you want to pick just one, check out the reviews at Amazon. That will help you make up your mind which one is for you.

*Ice Cream Day is what I call the first glorious spring day - sometimes as early as March 20th; sometimes as late as April 10th - when every person in New York City heads outside and with a smile on his or her face walks around the City, generally with an ice cream cone in hand.

Chipotle Shrimp

Adapted from Mexican Everyday by Rick Bayless

It's been a sort of rough week with one thing and another, and I'm glad to be able to write about something fun. You may remember that I found a recipe for a delicious aperitif, Eve, on a blog called Supper in Stereo. (If you don't remember, you should check it out. It's really good.) Supper in Stereo is one of the few blogs I regularly frequent, and I think if you read it once, you will too. The other day I noticed this recipe there. It looked easy and sounded good, so I snagged the ingredients I needed at Fairway as I was heading out of town last night and made it today. It's delicious; way better than I imagined it would be; and it's really easy to put together. Trust me. This is a major keeper. I served it over The Best Way to Cook Rice, and we drank Champagne (why not?) with it. I'm busy thinking about what other accompaniments would go well with it. In the summer maybe cucumber and watermelon salad? Creamed corn? Olivia you and Chris have GOT to try this, and pass it along to Althea.

I have never, and I mean never, not one time, heard anyone criticize a Rick Bayless recipe. Mexican Everyday is the book of his that I use the most, but I don't think you can go wrong with any book written by him.

One 15-ounce can Muir Glen fire-roasted diced tomatoes in juice, drained
2 to 3 canned chipotle chiles en adobo*
1 tablespoon chipotle canning sauce
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
1 to 1-1/2 cups chicken broth
Salt
Two pounds large shrimp peeled**
About 1/4 cup loosely packed chopped cilantro (do not omit this, unless you are one of the unfortunates to whom cilantro tastes like soap)

Put the drained tomatoes into a blender or food processor with the chipotle chiles and chipotle canning sauce and process until smooth. Alternatively, you can do this in a bowl with an immersion blender.

In a large skillet (I use my All Clad paella pan***), heat the oil over medium heat, add the garlic, and stir until fragrant. Be sure not to let the garlic go past a very pale gold color, or it will be bitter. Pour the tomato mixture into the pan and cook, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes. Add one cup of broth or water and cook until the mixture reaches a fairly light tomato-sauce consistency. After you have done this once, you will figure out how thick or thin you like the sauce. Add salt to taste, but be sparing because the broth may be salty, and sometimes the shrimp are salty.

(At this point I heat the reserved 1/2 cup of broth [easy to do in a Pyrex cup in the microwave] so that if I want to thin the sauce after the shrimp are added, I won't overcook the shrimp waiting for something cold I added to the pan to heat up. Overcooking the shrimp is what you want to avoid; therefore, you don't want to have to thicken the sauce after the shrimp are added, or they will go past the perfectly cooked state.)

Add the shrimp to the pan. This is when you can stir in a little of the reserved 1/2 cup of heated broth. Stir until the shrimp are just cooked through. The amount of time will depend on the size of your shrimp.

Serve sprinkled with cilantro.

*The only other time I made a recipe with chipotle chilis en adobo, I didn't like the taste at all, so I approached this recipe with some trepidation. The brand I found at Fairway was Roland. I don't know if it has anything to do with using a different brand or not, but this time I liked the taste a lot. becks & posh has a recipe for homemade chipotle chilis en adobo. It looks like a snap to make once you have dried chipotle chilis; plus, if you make it yourself, you can then control the quality of the other ingredients, so I am going to get my hands on some and try it.

**I personally don't devein my shrimp, but if you prefer to, by all means do so.

***This isn't a "must-have" pan, but I do use it more than I thought I would. The All Clad paella pan and the 13-inch braiser are essentially the same pan with different lids. I got the paella pan, which has a flat lid, and then ordered the domed lid that fits the braiser so I have two for the price of one.

Recipe Index

Appetizers
Bruschetta - Real Garlic Bread
Eggs in Tuna Sauce
Pesto Torta
Stuffed Mushrooms - For Bill

Breads
Savory Bacon Bread Pudding
Tiny Corn Muffins
Banana Nut Bread

Breakfast
Raised Waffles

Condiments
Immediate Gratification Jam
Mayonnaise
Non-Traditional Aioli
Pesto

Desserts
Apple Raspberry Crumble
Apple Torte
Almond Cake
Baked Apples
Baked Banana Splits
Luisa's Chocolate Cake
Chocolate Torte
Creme Anglaise & Raspberry Coulis
Creme Brulee
Crème Pâtissière
Extra Rich Brownies
Fallen Chocolate Cakes
Hungarian Plum Dumplings
Italian Carrot Cake
Licorice Ice Cream
Linzertorte
Miracle Ice Cream Technique
Olivia's Brownies
Open-Face Ice Cream Sandwich
Orange Sponge Cake
Orangette's Roasted Pears
Puff Pancake With Strawberries
Plum Torte
Poires Belle Helene
Profiteroles
Berries & Vanilla Ice Cream

Drinks
A Kamikaze for Valerie
Eve, An Apple Vermouth Cocktail
Fresh Margaritas
Margarita Redux
Pegu
The Best Sangria

Eggs
Eggs in Tuna Sauce
Frittata with Pasta
Omelette Moliere

Fish
Baked Salmon
Baked Stuffed Bluefish Fillets

Grains
Jane's Wild Rice

Meat
Barbecue Brisket
Baked Eye-of-Round
Barbecue Ribs in Spicy Sauce
Beef Saute with Cream and Mushroom Sauce
Beef Stew for Bill
Cold Meat Loaf
Curry for Leftover Lamb or Beef
Lamb Chops in Parmesan Batter
Meatball Goulash

My Moussaka
Pork Tenderloin Teriyaki
Roast Leg of Lamb
Sausages with Porcini Mushrooms
Stifado - A Sort-of Beef Stew
Lamb Salad with Pine Nuts

Notes
A Cook's Notes One
Happy Lunar New Year
I Love Paris
Recipe Index
The Subject of Dessert
What Happened to Seven?

Pasta
Macaroni & Cheese
Bolognese Meat Sauce
Fettuccine All'Alfredo
Fettuccine with Zucchini in a Saffron Cream Sauce
Fresh Pasta
Fresh Tomatoes Ready for Sauce
Green Beans with Tomatoes
Luisa's Pasta with Ricotta
Marcella's Miracle Sauce - For Bill
Pasta Amatriciana
Pasta Shells with Sausage
Penne A.O.P.
Penne with Balsamic Vinegar
Pesto
Tomato and Onion Sauce - for Bill
Spaghettini Aglio e Olio - For Bill
Ziti Salad

Poultry
Chicken & Pear Salad
Chicken Breasts with Cream Sauce
Classic Chicken Salad
Chicken Country Captain
Coronation Chicken
Ed Giobbi's Chicken Cutlets
Fried Chicken
Gizi's Chicken Paprikash
My Chicken Legs - for Bill
Paella a L'Americaine
Siamese Chicken Curry
Spicy Roast Chicken

Rice
Basmati Rice Pilaf
Randi's Rice Salad
Susanna Foo's Fried Rice
The Best Way to Cook Rice

Salads
Apple & Endive Salad
Cacik (Turkish Cucumber Salad)
Chicken & Pear Salad
Classic Chicken Salad
Cold Beet Borscht Salad
Cucumber & Sour Cream Salad
Fennel & Olive Salad
Garlic-Scented Tomato Salad
Orange Salad - For Bill
Radish & Fennel Salad
Randi's Rice Salad
Ziti Salad
Lamb Salad with Pine Nuts

Sandwiches
Bruschetta - Real Garlic Bread
Mozzerella in Carozza

Sauces
Hollandaise Sauce
Pesto

Seafood
Chipotle Shrimp
Crab Cakes
Crabmeat Mandeville
Grilled Shrimp Skewers
Paella a L'Americaine
Red Curry Shrimp
Shrimp Mixed Grill
Shrimp Cakes
Shrimp Creole
Shrimp in Lobster Sauce - for Bill

Soup
Carrot Vichyssoise
Lentil Soup
Luisa's Tomato Bread Soup
Minestrone alla Romagnola
Pasta e Fagioli
Summer Minestrone

Vegetables
Asparagus
Big Baked Onions
Broccoli - for Bill
Caponata
Cauliflower Gratin
Cold Beet Borscht Salad
Creamed Lima Beans - for Bill
Crunchy Brussels Sprouts
Crustless Zucchini Quiche
Doing the Tomatoes
Eggplant with Marinated Tomatoes
Fresh Tomatoes for Sauce
Fried Onion Rings
Fried Red Peppers - For Bill
Green Beans with Tomatoes
Hunkar Begendi - Turkish Eggplant Puree
Molly & Luisa's Rice-Filled Tomatoes
Mushrooms with Garlic
Oven Fries
Potato Gratin Dauphinois
Puree of Butternut Squash
Stuffed Mushrooms - For Bill
Sweet & Sour Red Cabbage
Sweet Potato Puree - for Bill
Tomatoes Stuffed with Zucchini
Turnips Dauphinoise

Fresh Tomatoes for Sauce

Adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

A lot of Marcella's recipes call for tomatoes that are ready for sauce. Last summer when the tomatoes were glorious, I accidentally stumbled on how good it was to get them "ready" and have them on hand. I swear next year when the tomatoes are glorious I am going to do a ton and put them up for the winter because they were so delicious, and if any of you haven't read the blog Cream Puffs in Venice, now is the moment to read about doing the tomatoes.

I want to mention a fabulous product at this point. Bella Cucina Artful Food's Organic Passata al Pomodoro. When I first wrote this post, December 31, 2007, Bella Cucina had a stand in the Market at Grand Central, which I discovered one day when I was stopping at Murray's to get some fresh ricotta. The week before last I shuttled over to Grand Central specifically to get a jar, and the stand was gone! These tomatoes are truly wonderful, surpassing anything I have found in a jar or a can. They are, however, smooth so if you want texture, they aren't for you. Other than that, they are fabulous. They are so good that I gave Amy a case for Christmas. That was easy. Their main HQ is in Virginia Highlands in Atlanta, and Wright went to pick them up for me. I hope she likes them as much as I do. So I don't know if anyone in New York carries these tomatoes; I'm going to try to find out; otherwise, I guess they would have to be shipped from Atlanta. Bummer.

The solution, of course, is to do your own.

There are two ways to prepare fresh, ripe tomatoes for sauce. First, you can blanch them by plunging the tomatoes in boiling water for a little less than a minute. Drain, skin, and cut into coarse pieces.

Next, is the food mill method, which produces a smooth sauce, and it is the one I use almost exclusively. Wash the tomatoes, cut them length-wise in half, and put them in a saucepan. (At this point, I add a little salt to taste, but you don't have to; you can add salt to the recipe you will use them in.) Turn on the heat to medium and cook for 20 to 30 minutes, depending on how thick the tomatoes are getting. I use the disk with the smallest holes to puree the tomatoes and all their juices through a food mill into a bowl, but you can use the disc with the largest holes if you want a coarser sauce. I put them away in one-cup increments. If you like, you can add some fresh basil before you put them away.

Marcella's Miracle Sauce - For Bill

Adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan

Another one for Bill.

Serves 6

It's New Year's Eve morning. I'm in the country, and there are about 8 inches of freshly fallen snow outside. It's still snowing; the fire is stoked; Walter has headed to the mountain, and I'm sitting here with the new kitten, Sylvano (a gorgeous six-month-old mackerel tabby), writing, drinking tea, listening to Trio Mediaeval, and loading music into my new Macbook. Friends are coming over for dinner, and I am going to make chicken paprikash. The only thing that would make it better would be if I had a larder filled with my own jarred tomatoes. Next summer, which seems so far away, no matter what I am going to "do the tomatoes."

I have a new email friend. Her name is Erin, and this is her blog, Spice Dish. It's really fun to read, so check it out right now. You will enjoy it and laugh a lot. Erin now lives in San Francisco, and I have been thinking about her as I sit looking out the window at the trees and the field and the birds. There's not a soul nor building in sight, and the scene outside is (corny as it sounds) like a winter wonderland. There is no place I would rather be right now. No place at all. The reason Erin came to mind is that I imagine San Fran to be a place that is pretty much the same all year long - at least weather-wise. I could be wrong about this. The only time I was ever there, we were headed to Pebble Beach, and Dick wouldn't stop for anything - either on arrival or departure. So I am wondering if Erin would enjoy spending this morning here with me having a nice breakfast before heading home to celebrate New Year's Eve in a SF way. If we could only apparate..........

I have posted already Giuliano Hazan's recipe in which he made an adaptation of his mother's original, and his is very good. But it's high time I posted the original because it's one of those miracle recipes that is so much more than the sum of its parts. (Believe it or not, it's the first tomato sauce Molly ever made from scratch.) And if you use fabulous butter, excellent tomatoes, and Maldon Salt, it is so delicious you will find yourself just wanting to eat this sauce straight out of the pan. I usually add a little romano to parmigiano-reggiano if I am going to use cheese with pasta because I like the sharp taste, but with this sauce I usually use parmesan on its own.

2 cups of ripe tomatoes that have already been made ready for sauce or 2 cups canned Italian plum tomatoes cut up with their juice (a 14-1/2 ounce of diced tomatoes will be fine here)
5 tablespoons butter (don't have a fit - this is sauce for a lot of pasta)
1 medium onion, peeled (did I really have to tell this this?) and cut in half
Salt
1 to 1-1/2 pounds pasta
Freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese for the table

Put the tomatoes in a saucepan, add the butter, onion, and some salt, and cook uncovered at a slow simmer for 30 to 45 minutes until the fat floats free from the tomato. I find it usually takes closer to 30 minutes. Stir occasionally, mashing any large piece of tomato in the pan if there are any with a wooden spoon. Taste and add more salt, if necessary . Discard the onion, and toss the sauce with pasta.

This is enough sauce for 1 to 1-1/2 pounds of pasta, which you want to sauce lightly. If you're making less pasta than that, you can freeze the leftover sauce. If you do this, do it without the onion and without any cheese.

Pegu

I was going to say that at this festive time of year, I love to have a good cocktail, but truth be told, I love a good cocktail any time of the year! This drink may be better to have in the summer when you're looking to cool down, but let's fact it, most of it live lives where we are not hanging around in the scorching summer sun and need a cool-down at the end of the day. So since we are inundated with air-conditioning and don't find ourselves in a room at sunset where fans overhead are trying to tame the sweltering heat, and I just became aware of this cocktail, I tried it and am passing it along to you now - even though it's December. Don't drink one again until the middle of June if you like, but do try it immediately. Immediately means go collect what you need for the drink right this minute, make it, and sip. The worst that can happen is you'll add it to your repertoire for next summer; the best that can happen is you'll have an extra drink to enjoy between now and June. I have to pass this along to Mary because her brother Ken is quite the bartender.

I got this drink, which is called the Pegu, from Vintage Cocktails. It has an interesting history. Apparently, it was the drink of choice at a men's club called - not surprisingly - Pegu in Burma, either in Rangoon proper or the outlying town of Pegu, during the 1920's, where, I am sure, ceiling fans were actually required to cool bodies and tempers at the end of the day. Walter doesn't like it as much as I do. Maybe my new-found affection for it has to do with the fact that we are watching Jewel in the Crown these days (thanks to Netflix), and I can imagine British officers in India putting a few of these away at the end of the day. Anyway, give it a go, and see what you think. I'm interested in your opinion.

1-1/2 oz. gin (I say use Plymouth!)
1/2 oz. triple sec* (Bols, if you can find it)
3/4 oz. freshly squeezed lime juice
2 dashes Angostura Bitters (I suspect that orange bitters would be perfect here, but they are much harder to find)

Put everything in a metal cocktail shaker and shake until the towel you are holding the shaker with sticks. You want this icy, icy, icy.

*I NEVER use Cointreau (or Grand Marnier) as the orange-flavored liqueur in a cocktail. This one originally calls for orange curacao, and I think Bols triple sec is the best of the bunch.
Pour into martini glasses and imbibe. Ummmm.......

The Subject of Dessert

The subject of dessert is very personal. I don’t eat dessert every day, but if I did and could eat anything I wanted, it would be two small (very small - in fact, cookie-scoop size) "dots" of ice cream with either fruit or a cookie. I love ice cream and think the Italians who, apparently, eat gelato for breakfast on scorching days in the summer are brilliant. Nevertheless, I do enjoy eating dessert once a week, usually on Saturday nights, and I do serve dessert any time I have company, so I have gathered a number of dessert recipes that I particularly enjoy to make, to serve, and even sometimes to eat. They are posted on this blog, and I hope you will enjoy them too.

I always have individually wrapped pieces of dark chocolate around, often Dove Dark, which is supposed to be good for you since it has high levels of anti-oxidants. (Amanda Hesser once wrote that a bar of chocolate and a glass of cognac was her favorite dessert.) Walker’s Shortbread in its many forms is delicious and has no fake ingredients – just lots of butter to make it "sandy" and taste great. I also love Pepperidge Farm Bordeaux Cookies and like them most served with Haagen Dazs Coffee Ice Cream. This is especially good with a few whole blueberries tossed over the ice cream. I don’t eat Bordeaux Cookies often - it's too easy to eat a lot of them, but they are hard to beat in terms of taste and crunch if you're talking store-bought cookies. And may I please stick in a plug here for McVities Hob Nobs, a "nobbly" British "biscuit" made from oats. Another great dessert for company is to hand out Haagen Dazs Ice Cream Bars since people tend to eat at someone else’s house what they would not eat at their own. They taste great and are packaged ready to open and hand out. Everyone is like a little kid getting something from the ice cream truck. Just don’t offer choices, or you will have too many to buy and too many hanging around the freezer after your company goes home. Get your favorite bar. I go for vanilla ice cream covered in dark chocolate. (In fact, I could go for one right now despite the fact that it’s before noon, and the winter weather outside is nasty.) The other day I actually saw a Haagen Dazs miniature vanilla ice cream bar covered with almond-studded milk chocolate at the food store - so keep your eyes peeled!

Even though I like dark chocolate and eschew milk chocolate, the exception is a Cadbury Dairy Milk Chocolate Bar, but only one that is actually produced in the U.K. It is really delicious with the most wonderful mouth-feel. Perhaps I like it because I spent so much time in England as a child; I don't know. I can tell you that the Saturday after Deathly Hallows was published, I snagged my favorite British candies, Rowntree Fruit Gums, Rowntree Pastilles, and Smarties, in addition to the aforemention Cadbury bar, at Fairway as I headed out of town, and sat in the backyard upstate reading and eating sweets. It was truly wonderful; a gorgeous weekend, a fabulous book, and eating candy just like a little kid (a little kid whose mother doesn't care about tooth decay). So sometime you should try a Cadbury chocolate bar. You might just like it.

By the way, if you live in or happen to be in New York City, I would recommend that you eat dinner at Pearl Oyster Bar. The only problem is unless you are prepared to wait, you have to get there early. By early I mean be standing outside at 6:00 p.m. when the door opens so you can mill about with all the other people waiting to get in. Eat whatever you like for dinner, it will be good, and – this is why this is in the dessert section - if you want dessert (and I recommend it), go straight for the chocolate mousse, which is the best – the absolute, total, and very best – chocolate mousse I have ever had. Unfortunately, Rebecca Charles, the owner of Pearl, did not put the recipe for this mousse in her lovely cookbook.) However, if it’s summer, skip dessert at Pearl and wander down to Bleecker Street, turn left, and go into Rocco’s Pastry Shop (Rocco’s, NOT the shop next door to Rocco’s, or you will be mad at me) and get a large lemon ice, which will refresh your palate as you wander around the Village walking off your dinner. (Let me admit here that one summer evening Olivia and I ate dinner at Pearl, had the chocolate mousse, and still went to Rocco’s for the lemon ice.) While you’re at Rocco’s, you might as well get some pignoli nut cookies (like macaroons studded with pine nuts), some biscotti regina (sesame seed cookies), and some quaresimale (Lenten almond cookies available here all the time) for when you get home and for when you get up the next morning. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.

Eve, an Apple Vermouth Cocktail

Adapted from Paul Clarke

Lately I've been reading a fine blog called Supper in Stereo, where I found this recipe, which Paul Clarke had posted on Serious Eats. The best word to describe this cocktail, originally concocted by Audrey Saunders of the Pegu Club on West Houston Street (formerly of Bemelmans Bar at the Carlyle), is lovely. It is a delightful aperitif, very light and appetite-stimulating, which is, of course, the point of a preprandial drink. It would also make a nice gift for those of you who want to go handmade for Christmas, or if you want to bring an unusual host or hostess gift when you go to a dinner party.

With my Benriner mandolin , I sliced the Macintosh apples very thin. Since I didn't have organic specimens, I peeled them, but I would probably leave the peels on organic apples to color the infusion a light pink. I had to use two jars because I didn't have one large enough to hold eight sliced apples and one liter of vermouth. By doing that, I was able to use all eight apples.

Definitely try this.

1 liter Noilly Prat Extra Dry vermouth (make sure it’s a fresh, unopened bottle)
8 Macintosh apples

Cut the apples into v-e-r-y thin slices. Put the slices in a large jar and completely cover the apples with the vermouth. (Save the bottle the vermouth was in, and wash it to use later. ) If you have to use two jars because you don't have one that's big enough, divide the apples between the jars.

Put a top on the jar, and refrigerate it for five days, shaking the jar carefully once a day.

Strain the liquid from the jar through a fine sieve. Put the strained liquid in the washed vermouth bottle, and put the cap on the bottle. Refrigerate.

To serve, pour four ounces of the flavored vermouth into a saucer champagne glass or a martini glass.

Print recipe.

Orangette's Roasted Pears

Adapted by Orangette from A New Way to Cook by Sally Schneider

Well, the warm weather has finally fled, and I'm not sick of the cold yet. In fact, fall going into winter seems all new and crisp again - as it does every year. All things cozy make me smile. Smelling the heat on in the morning; wrapping myself in a soft bathrobe after a hot shower; warming my hands on a steaming cup of tea or coffee; wearing my down jacket, so light yet so warm; pulling my gloves out of the drawer for the first time this year.

And today the post in Orangette, one of the food blogs I read regularly (and if you don't, now is the time because it's perfectly delightful), is about roasting pears. Does that sound like the coziest thing you've heard of in a long time? It does to me. In my Poires Belle Hélène recipe, I quote Nigella as saying about pears, "When they're good, they're wonderful, but I am beginning to think Ralph Waldo Emerson was being optimistic when he wrote, 'there are only ten minutes in the life of a pear when it is perfect to eat'." I'm sure roasting them will circumvent that problem completely.

While I'm on the subject of pears, in case you have not discovered this fragrant liqueur, let me introduce it to you, Belle de Brillet. It is very beautiful and absolutely delicious. Since it is sweet, I find a little goes a long way. It comes in a beautiful pear-shaped bottle, and if you're looking for a gift to bring to someone on Thanksgiving, this would be a great choice.

Roasted pears, here I come.

Addendum

Nick went to the Williams/Amherst game on Saturday to watch the Ephs trounce the Lord Jeffs and then headed off to party with some friends in Vermont. He swung by the farm on the way home for an early Sunday dinner. Since I keep vanilla sugar in the cupboard, these pears were a snap to make. I did core them - after they were cut in half - with an apple corer held at an angle. I used Bosc pears, and they worked fine in the recipe and were mighty good topped with vanilla ice cream that melted and oozed all around, enhancing the already-present vanilla scent. Leftovers were not up to speed, however, so make what you think you will eat (enough for second helpings if you have company). This recipe is a real keeper - comfort food at its best - as good as baked apples, gingerbread, and bread pudding.

To Serve 4

1 cup granulated sugar
1 vanilla bean
4 medium ripe pears (about 1 ½ lb.), preferably Comice or Bartlett but Bosc work too
2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces
Water

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Place the sugar in a small bowl. With a thin sharp knife, split the vanilla bean lengthwise and scrape out the seeds. Add the seeds to the bowl of sugar. Using your fingers, rub the seeds into the sugar until evenly dispersed. (Discard the spent pod, or bury it in a canister of sugar – soon it’ll have a wonderful fragrance, and you can use it in most any recipe.)

Peel the pears and halve them lengthwise. Core them, but leave the stems intact. Place them cut side up in a large baking dish and drizzle them with the lemon juice. Dust liberally with some of the vanilla sugar. (I used ¼ cup.) Dot with butter. Add 2 tablespoons water to the dish.

Slide the dish into the oven, and bake the pears, basting every ten minutes with the pan juices and turning them once or twice, for 40 minutes to 1 hour, or until they are glazed, cooked through, and very tender. The syrup in the dish will thicken and darken as it cooks, but if it evaporates too quickly – before the pears are ready – add a tablespoon or two more water to the dish as needed.

Serve warm, with ice cream, crème fraîche, yogurt, or a glug of fresh cream.

Note from Molly: I could also imagine serving these as a savory side dish to roasted pork or game, if you used some interesting spices and a light hand with the sugar.

Crème Pâtissière

Adapted from The French Chef Cookbook by Julia Child

Cheryl sent over some eclairs this weekend. I tried not to eat mine, but I didn't make it; at least it was worth it. Anyway, it got me to thinking about this recipe, which you can use in eclairs, or profiteroles, or fruit tarts - but fruit tarts are another story. This will keep for 3 to 4 days refrigerated. It may be frozen. Is that the life? French pastry cream in the freezer.

Crème Pâtissière

6 egg yolks
A heavy-bottomed 2-1/2 quart non-reactive saucepan (Because you don't want to scorch the cream in the bottom of the pan, a heavy saucier is good to use because then you don't have a right angle to worry about. I usually use my All Clad stainless 3 quart saucier here, but I just got a Bourgeat copper saucier, and I will try that the next time I make this.)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups hot milk (I don't have to tell you whole milk, do I? It's Julia for heaven's sake.)
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon vanilla extract (the good stuff - I use Madagascar Bourbon Pure Vanilla Extract by Nielsen-Massey, which I keep in the refrigerator) and 1 or 2 tablespoons Amaretto or Frangelico*

Place the egg yolks in the saucepan, and gradually whisk in the sugar. Continue whisking until the mixture is thick, pale yellow, and forms a ribbon. Whisk in the flour, then whisk in the hot milk in a thin stream. Stir slowly and continuously over moderately high heat with a whisk until the mixture thickens. If it turns lumpy (this is scary), beat vigorously to smooth it out. Lower the heat, and continue stirring for several minutes to cook the flour and thicken the cream. Keep stirring over low heat until the cream has thickened.

Remove from heat; beat in the butter and the Amaretto or Frangelico. Put into a clean bowl. Film the top of the cream with a 1/2 tablespoon of Amaretto or Frangelico, whichever you are using, to prevent crusting. Chill.

*The original recipe calls for rum, and it certainly can be used here in addition to anything else you would like to flavor this with. I just usually use Amaretto or Frangelico because almond and hazelnut are flavors I favor.

Jane's Wild Rice

From Jane

Jane and Clarke were here a few weeks ago to check out NYU. Clarke is a junior in high school now, about to turn 17 (gulp), and it turns out that NYU is his school of choice. I mean it's where he wants to go. For sure. Hard as it is to believe, he's that old (and I'm this old), but it will be great to have him here, so I have all ten of my fingers crossed.

I was in Atlanta when Clarke was born, staying with Carolyn and John and finishing my own degree, and still there five months later on the day he was christened, which also happened to be my birthday as well as Jane's birthday AND father's day. Since Jane was in charge of activities, they were many, varied, and started early in the morning, ending late at night. There was a brunch for company, the christening itself, a father's day lunch for John and Lamar (his first father's day), and then a family birthday dinner for Jane and me. Every meal was great, but the food I remember most was dinner, and it included the following wild rice.

This wild rice is really good. Last summer Dan Tuczinski stopped at the farm for dinner on the way home from his office in Albany. I served this with a rotisseried chicken, a tart green salad, and some of Larry Eckhardt's corn that I got at my wonderful local farm stand on Route 22 in Stephentown, which was leftover from lunch and which I creamed for dinner. For some reason the combination of creamed corn with this wild rice took each to a new level of deliciousness. It was scrumptious. I know I will make them together again.

This wild rice heats heats well in the microwave. It sort of gets a little crunchy or something. But if you are going to be tempted to use leftovers cold as a salad, use olive oil instead of butter. But as it really tastes different, try it both ways to see how you like it. I admit I'm partial to the butter.

This isn't a real recipe; it's more of an explanation of what I think Jane did, and the way I make it now.

Get some wild rice - it doesn't have to be really wild, the cultivated stuff will do. Cook as many servings as you want according to package instructions but use chicken broth instead of water. The grains will get swollen and split. This is okay.

The amounts of the rest of the ingredients, of course, depend on how much wild rice you have made.

Toast a handful (or more) of slivered almonds or pecans cut in half lengthwise. Set aside a handful of golden raisins. (You can really improvise, adding whatever dried fruit appeals to you and what goes with what else you are serving.) Slice three to four scallions on the diagonal.

Melt a lump of butter (best if you are going to serve the rice hot) or a glug of oil (if you want to use leftovers to make a salad) in a frying pan or saucier (which I use). The amount of fat, of course, depends on how much rice you have made).

Sauté a small to medium coarsely chopped onion until it becomes translucent. Add the almonds or pecans, wild rice, and dried fruit. Cook until heated through, sprinkle on the sliced scallions, and serve.

Print recipe.

Luisa's Pasta with Ricotta

Adapted from The Wednesday Chef

This summer I found myself buying, and cooking, and eating tomatoes. I ate tomatoes till the cows came home - and beyond that. They were just so good and so fragrant and so pretty (the tomatoes, not the cows) that I couldn't stop. One weekend I got to stay at the farm until Monday morning because we had a meeting closer to there than the City, and I had a small trove of tomatoes left. Precious beautiful tomatoes that I knew wouldn't make it to the next weekend. So about 6:00 a.m. I cut them in chunks, and put them in my largest saucier with some Maldon salt and a few glugs of olive oil, and let them simmer while I did my morning stuff. After about 30 minutes - maybe 45 (but I don't think so) - I put them through the smallest holes of my food mill and then froze them in one-cup increments.

But what, you ask, did I do with them then? In one of Luisa's posts, there's a hidden recipe. It's like a little secret waiting to be discovered. Not only does she divulge the wonder of Pasta Setaro, but in the middle of the post, almost as an aside, she slips in her favorite recipe for pasta with tomato sauce and ricotta. And that's what I did with those tomatoes. I got Pastificio F.LLI Setaro in what has turned out to be the shape I like the most, mezze millerighe, delicious ricotta, and did the following. It's really yummy, and my best new recipe of 2007. This with a small arugula salad and a glass of chilled minerally white wine, is a perfect - perfect - combination. And if it's August, and the tomatoes are so ripe they are about to burst through their skins, it is ethereal.

1 cup of chopped tomatoes that have been cooked with olive oil and Maldon salt to taste for 45 minutes if fresh and 20 minutes if canned and put through a food mill. I can't give you a precise measurement for the olive oil because it depends on how many tomatoes you are cooking. But if I cook six fresh tomatoes, I use two glugs so you get the idea.

Make a chiffonade of basil, using two to four leaves. Set aside. Sauté a sliced clove (or two) of garlic in a little olive oil until fragrant and lightly colored. Add the tomatoes and cook until just heated through (because you've already cooked them). Turn off the heat. Add the basil, the add 8 ounces (for two as a main course and four as a starter) of pasta cooked al dente. Toss to coat with sauce and then stir in a couple of dollops of really good fresh ricotta. Add grated cheese if you like. I would use Romano or Grana Padano here instead of Parmigiana Reggiano. But that would be your choice, of course. And I would recommend adding it sparingly because it's the ricotta that shines here. Luisa says it's bliss, and I have to agree.

Margarita Redux

Adapted from Recipe for One True Margarita from Ceres & Bacchus




I love the margarita recipe I have already published here. It's delicious; it's smooth; it goes down VERY easily. But I have found a recipe that rivals - or equals (or maybe even surpasses) - mine. And it's a whole lot easier to make on the spur of the moment.

The week this recipe was posted was very hot in NYC. I was working hard - really slogging along - and as a diversion I checked out the Ceres & Bacchus website. Instead of the office, I was working at Walter's in a room with no A/C, and it was after 5:00 p.m. I got up and made two of these puppies, and I had one, and W had the other. He yelled "Yum." when drinking his, so I'm sure you get the idea.

The original recipe calls for Cointreau, but I have to admit that I'm a triple sec fan. I realize that Cointreau actually IS a triple sec, but it is higher in alcohol content and more syrupy than the triple sec I usually use, which is Bols. I have used Hiram Walker, which is Amy's favorite, and Leroux and lived to tell the tale. Maybe I'm not really a top shelf girl (only kidding; Jimmy Buffet uses Bols triple sec; that's good enough for me). However, for the sake of authenticity I got a small bottle of Cointreau to try. And I'm sticking to my guns; I'm still a triple sec fan. But you should try it both ways to see which you prefer.

If this drink isn't sweet enough for you, you can put in half a shot or so of Rose's Lime Juice or simple syrup to up the sweetness, but I prefer it without. And the Cook's Illustrated margarita, which a lot of people swear by, specifies tequila and triple sec in a ratio of 50/50. And that's what I use in my other recipe, so you could try that here if this drink isn't sweet enough for you. But once you start really messing around, it isn't the "true" margarita and not this recipe.

Do try this, and when you do, raise a glass to Ken, brother of Mary at Ceres & Bacchus, whose recipe this is. Thanks, Ken.




For One Drink

½ lime
kosher salt
2 shots tequila
1 shot triple sec
ice

Slice one wedge from the lime half and use it to rim your glass.





Place about ¼ cup of kosher salt in a plate.

Lay the top edge of the glass in the salt and turn to coat the outer rim all around. Ken says that it's better this way, because if you just dip the whole top of the glass in, the salt gets in your drink.

Juice the lime half directly into a stainless steel drink shaker. I use this wooden hand reamer.




Add tequila and the orange liqueur of your choice to the shaker along with some ice cubes. Shake well until the shaker is frosted




then pour the contents into a glass. I use a large wine glass. Put a few ice cubes in your glass along with half of the lime rind you squeezed into the drink, and go to town. Repeat as desired.

When I'm making two drinks, I get everything ready for the second drink in a little carafe.





That way when I pour the first drink from the shaker, I can add the ingredients for the second drink to the shaker right away without the ice cubes in the shaker having time to melt and dilute the drink. (Obviously, if you're making two drinks, rim both glasses with salt at the same time.)





To see just the recipe, click here.

Ed Giobbi's Chicken Cutlets

Adapted from Eat Right, Eat Well -- The Italian Way by Edward Giobbi

Serves 6

First of all, I think Italian food is healthy food, especially if you eat the way Italians in Italy eat - small portions of pasta, small portions of protein, lots of vegetables, and fruit for dessert. It was apparrently in 1977 that the Government started recommending a diet that was supposedly heart-healthy. In 1985 Edward Giobbi, an artist who happens to be be a great home cook and who is the person credited with Le Cirque's Pasta Primavera recipe, wrote a cookbook in collaboration with Richard Wolff, M.D., featuring "heart-healthy" recipes. In this book polyunsaturated fat was substituted for some of the olive oil. Now not only is what's good for our heart up for grabs, but also it looks like the recommendations made since the late 70's with regard to what is heart healthy are way off base. I, personally, use monosaturated oil, such as olive oil, instead of polyunsaturated oil, so when I don't want to use olive oil for whatever reason, I usually use grapeseed oil and occasionally expeller-pressed peanut or canola oil.

Why am I going through all this? Because in the following recipe beaten egg whites are used instead of the whole egg to bind the breadcrumbs to the chicken, and the result is very light and delicious, so go ahead and do it. However, I assume the original reason egg yolks are not included in this recipe is the supposedly heart-healthy reason, to avoid egg yolks.

Eggs are a subject about which I am quite a fanatic. To me an egg is nature's perfect food. An egg has all eight essential amino acids needed by humans to be a complete protein. Eggs are delicious even when prepared with no added fat, such as poached or boiled. Eggs are really delicious lightly fried in olive oil and served on top of pasta oglio olio. Eggs are delicious scrambled. Oh, forget it, eggs are just plain yummy, and avoiding the yolk, which, granted, has all the fat in an egg, eliminates almost half the protein and all the choline, which is great for your brain and also helps with the proper distribution of the cholesterol. And without any fat in your diet, you cannot absorb vitamins A, D, E, or K. So don't get in the habit of avoiding egg yolks completely, and for goodness sake, don't eat egg white omelets. If you don't want to eat eggs, have a smoothie!

By the way, Ed Giobbi's books are really nice. He illustrates them beautifully, and since he's a home cook, his recipes are very user-friendly, although some of his ingredients (like chicken feet) might be considered fare for the adventurous eater.

3 whole chicken breasts, split, skinned, boned, and fat removed
Salt
2 cloves garlic, sliced thin
2 lemons, one for juice and one for garnish
2 egg whites, lightly whipped
Breadcrumbs*
Vegetable oil (I use grapeseed)

Using a meat pounder, flatten the chicken breasts between two sheets of waxed paper. Salt the breasts and lay them in a bowl. Add the sliced garlic and the juice of one of the lemons and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours.

Remove the breasts from the marinade, dip them first in the in egg whites and next in the breadcrumbs. You can refrigerate them for a little while at this point.

Heat about ¼-inch oil in a skillet until hot. Cook the cutlets in the oil until brown; turning them once is best, but the proper-cooking police won't come get you if you have to flip them again. Just don't overcook them, but don't undercook them, either. Undercooked chicken is yuck.

When cooked, blot on paper towels, and serve with pepper and lemon wedges.

*I have never made this recipe with panko, but I bet it would work well.

What Happened to Seven?

Well, if you read my blog, you will see that I only posted two entries in June, and here it is July thirtieth - tomorrow's the last day of the month, and not one recipe got posted here during the seventh (my favorite number) month of this year.

First of all, I've been a little down because last July was when my lovely dad Anthony got suddenly and unexpectedly sick, and it only got worse from there, so I have been thinking about him - and missing him - a lot.

Next I have been really swamped at work and swamped at home with a little decorating (but I'm not complaining).

Then came Harry Potter. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix movie, which I saw at midnight the night it was released in a regular theatre in my neighborhood and then again a week later with everyone from work at the IMAX Theatre at Lincoln Square. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am. My least favorite HP book became my most favorite HP movie. Go figure. Go see it!

And finally, oh finally, 12:01 a.m., July 21, 2007. The release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The last book. (Hooray. Sob.) I had it in my hands at four minutes after midnight and read it s-l-o-w-l-y, starting Saturday morning and finishing it on Sunday at noon. I LOVED IT. I LOVED IT. I LOVED IT. I cried, and I laughed, and I cried some more, and I exchanged emails with my HP friends, and now I am listening to Jim Dale's recording. (No, not right this second.) I won't tell you - I can't tell you - how many copies of the books in different versions I got to wrap up and put away for posterity. I swear to you, I am a normal person.

Well, almost.

I'll post more recipes in August. See you soon.

Chicken Breasts with Cream Sauce

Adapted from The French Chef Cookbook by Julia Child

Serves 4

When I was young, living in St Louis, and just getting my feet wet in the kitchen, I discovered my first Julia book, The French Chef Cookbook. This is the book that chronicals Julia's first foray into WGBH's television studio in Boston, where she attracted a loyal following, mesmerizing them with her cooking and her recognizable voice charmingly (and sometimes alarmingly) lilting up and down. I know everybody has Mastering, but this book is very nice and a good addition to your library if you don't already have it.

This recipe was written by Julia at a time when all the fabulous food we now have at our fingertips was not so easily available, and for the most part, we had to be our own butchers, so there are explicit instructions for how to prepare suprêmes yourself. Read the instructions carefully so you know exactly what a suprême is, and then if your store or your butcher has them already prepared, which is likely, by all means purchase them; if not, step up to the plate and prepare your own.

A suprême is the skinless and boneless meat from one side of a chicken breast. Nowadays these are easily available in any supermarket. Julia advises against cooking them in liquid, which would toughen them. In this recipe they are poached in a covered casserole, and although the dish is rich, it is delectable. You will need one suprême per serving.

Preparing Suprêmes for Cooking

Take a bone-in half breast from a chicken. Pull off the skin, then cut against the top of the rib cage pulling the flesh from the bone, and remove the meat in one piece. Find the tendon that runs underneath the suprême. You want to remove the tendon, so cut along it for about an inch; then try and grab it with a kitchen towel, and pull it out. Failing this, continue to remove it by cutting it. Trim the meat so it looks neat (I use my kitchen shears for this), and flatten the meat lightly with the side of a chef's knife or meat pounder. If you are not going to use it right away and need to refrigerate it, Julia suggests wrapping it in wax paper as opposed to plastic wrap or aluminum foil.

Cooking the Chicken Breasts

4 suprêmes
½ teaspoon lemon juice
¼ teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons butter
A heavy, covered flameproof casserole about 10 inches in diameter
A round of waxed paper cut to fit the casserole
A hot serving dish

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees

Rub the suprêmes with drops of lemon juice, and sprinkle lightly with salt. In the casserole, heat butter until foaming. Quickly roll the suprêmes in the butter, lay the waxed paper over them, cover the casserole, and place in the oven. The length of time it takes to cook the suprêmes depends on how thick they are. Check them after 6 minutes by presssing them with the tip of your finger; they are done when they feel lightly springy and resilient. If still soft, return to the oven for a minute or two more. Remove the suprêmes to a warm dish; cover, and make the sauce, which will take 2 to 3 minutes.

Wine and Cream Sauce and Serving

¼ cup chicken or beef stock
¼ cup port, Madeira, or dry white vermouth
1 cup heavy cream
Salt and lemon juice

Pour the stock and the wine into the casserole with the cooking butter, and boil down rapidly over high heat until the liquid is syrupy. Add the cream, and boil until lightly thickened. Season to taste with salt and drops of lemon juice. Pour the sauce over the suprêmes and serve.

Good accompaniments are hot buttered peas and rice pilaf.

Licorice Ice Cream

Adapted from A Sweet Quartet by Fran Gage

Makes 1 quart

The "sweet quartet" being sugar, almonds, eggs, and butter.

This is my first post using my brand new MacBook. I'm very excited to have it; at the same time, as user-friendly as it is, I am slowly wending my way around MacWorld and trying to learn how to use it effectively. So far I have lost my Blogger menu bar and can't link or change font sizes, and the spellcheck isn't working right either. But I will master it at some point and hope to have fun doing so. Chris, if you have any suggestions, let me know. I know O isn't reading my blog while she's in London.

In case you don't know, I'm kind of a licorice junkie. By licorice, of course, I mean the black stuff. The red stuff isn't really licorice, is it? I don't know how many people reading this also love licorice. I know Mandi does. I think Marsha does. I know Dorie Greenspan does. But Dorie Greenspan isn't exactly reading my blog. I have posed the theory that love (or even like) of licorice is on a gene because there seem to be whole countries made up of people who eat licorice - for instance Holland and Australia. But no one seems particularly interested in this theory. (I have the same theory about cilantro, because to some people it tastes delicious - I'm in that group - and to some people it tastes like soap - Walter is in that group. But that's a whole different topic.)

I'm thinking that I would like to come up with a variation of creme brulee that is licorice - or at least anise - flavored, so I'm pondering how to do this. Maybe using an anise-flavored liqueur like Sambuca or infusing it with star-anise, a la Jean-Georges. I'm also pondering who will eat it with me, but, I'll worry about that later.

This ice cream is lovely and delicate tasting with a delightful soft buff color. It reminds me of the licorice ice cream I had sent to my room at the Hotel Lutetia in Paris when Marsha, Jane, and I stayed there in 2006. The taste is so elusive, I'm not sure you would even recognize it as being licorice. But you might not be able to trust me about this.

Instead of following the instructions given below, you can adapt the no-fail Miracle Ice Cream Technique from Stephanie at La Cuisine instead with confidence.

1½ cups (12 ounces) whole milk
2 licorice-root tea bags (I use Yogi Tea)
⅔ cup (4½ ounces) granulated sugar
4 large egg yolks
1½ cups (12 ounces) heavy whipping cream

Put the milk and tea bags in a medium saucepan, and bring to a boil. Remove from the heat, and steep for 15 minutes. Press down on the tea bags, then remove them from the pan. Bring the infused milk back to a boil. While the milk is reheating, whisk the sugar with the egg yolks in a bowl. In a steady stream and constantly whisking so you don't scramble the yolks, pour the hot milk into the yolks. Return this custard to the saucepan, and cook it over low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the custard thickens, and coats the spoon. You know you are at the right point, if you remove the spoon from the pan, and when you run a finger over the spoon, the custard stays separate (meaning the line you make with your finger remains). It will register 160 degrees on an instant-read thermometer. Do not let the custard boil. Pour it through a fine sieve into a clean bowl, and stir in the cream. Put this bowl into an ice bath - either a larger bowl filled with ice or a sink filled with ice. When the custard is cool, remove the bowl from the ice, and cover it with plastic wrap. Refrigerate the custard for a minimum of 5 hours or overnight. At this point, when the custard is cold, follow the directions that came with your ice cream maker to turn it into ice cream.

Pesto

Adapted from Make It Easy in Your Kitchen by Laurie Burrows Grad

I have to admit it. I'm not in love with pesto, although I know it's Peggy's favorite pasta sauce. Maybe it's the way most Americans use it. In Italy it's not just plopped on a pile of pasta. Instead, it lazily coats pasta and green beans and potatoes, which sort-of meld together. But that combination doesn't do it for me either. Summer is coming and with it tons of beautiful basil, and the temptation to make pesto, which sounds so good and smells so good, sneaks back every time. I feel like I should like it. Having said all this, there are some things I like to do with pesto. I like to stir a little into soup, especially Marcella's minestrone served at room temperature in the summer; I like to stir a little into some pasta sauces; I like to stir a little into rice pilaf. In other words, it's a nice condiment to have hanging around to use sparingly. That's why I have a recipe for it. So here it is.

By the way, the recipe says it can be frozen, but I once read Paula Wolfert's recipe in Mediterranean Cooking and seem to remember she recommends freezing it before adding the cheese so I can't really help you out on this. I also seem to remember that Paula Wolfert puts heavy cream in her pesto (I might be wrong about this so don't arrest me), which seems like cheating - kind of like putting heavy cream in spaghetti carbonara or aoili. It generally makes it better, but if the authentic recipe police find out, they come and take you away.

1 cup tightly packed fresh basil leaves, stems removed, washed and dried
½ cup best quality extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese or a combination of Parmesan and Romano if you prefer the sharpness of the Pecorino Romano
2 tablespoons pine nuts
3 small cloves garlic, peeled
1 tablespoon freshly chopped parsley
½ teaspoon salt or to taste (remember the cheese is salty)
¼ teaspoon freshly ground white pepper (don't ask me why white, but what the hey - I have to use it sometimes since I keep it in a grinder on my counter)

Place all the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and process, turning machine on and off until well blended and smooth.

Place whatever you're not using right away in a container with a thin, thin, thin layer of olive oil covering the pesto, and refrigerate until ready to use. However, if you know you're going to freeze it, don't put in the cheese until you are ready to use it.

Oven Fries

Adapted from Joie de Vivre by Robert Arbor and Katherine Whiteside

Serves 4

Since this book seems to be staying in my head, I'm going to pass another recipe from it along to you. The author credits his cousin Nicole for this recipe, and I think you'll like it a lot. I do recommend that you check this book out for yourself. It's very pretty, and so far all the recipes I've tried from it really work, and there are a lot more I still want to try.

These potatoes are a great substitute for French fries (although the French don't call them that).

This is totally unrelated to this recipe, but Ann Patchett (Ann Patchett who wrote Bel Canto, a wonderful book) wrote this piece on Gourmet magazine's blog about why it's better to eat at home. I couldn't agree more so check it out to see her seven good reasons.

10 garlic cloves, 5 mashed and 5 whole
¾ cup olive oil
Salt and pepper
Rosemary
6 Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and kept in water to preserve color (Obviously, if you're going to cook them immediately, don't put them in water. Whatever you do, pat them dry before you put them in the olive oil mixture.)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Cut the peeled potatoes in half lengthwise, and make 3 to 4 wedges from each half. Mix the garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary in a bowl. Put the potatoes in the bowl and toss to coat with the olive oil mixture. Arrange the potato wedges on a sheet pan, one by one so that the rounded part is on the pan, and cook in the oven until tender and brown, about 30 to 35 minutes.

Immediate Gratification Jam

Adapted from Joie de Vivre by Robert Arbor and Katherine Whiteside

This is a happy book by a Frenchman who owns a few darling cafés, Le Gamin, in New York City. In it he describes Simple French Style for Everyday Living. It's wonderful to dream about this idyllic way to live. If you're reading this post, you obviously like - or love - to cook, so you've probably incorporated at least some of his ideas into your life already. If you get this book, and I encourage you to do so, you will find a few more.

Now that spring has finally sprung, and the sky is clear, and the air is fresh (even in NYC), and the trees are blooming at last, we don't have long to wait for bursting-with-flavor fresh summer fruits and vegetables to be available at farm stands everywhere.

This is a lovely simple recipe to have up your sleeve as strawberries and raspberries and blueberries appear, glistening temptingly in their little baskets. This jam is not preserved in airtight jars with wax seals. It's completely fresh, and you only make enough to last about a week because it keeps well in the refrigerator for that long. (And this is a perfect time to use the French jelly jars that we all have in our cupboards with those red plastic tops that sit in the drawer because we use the jars for drinking.) It is delicious on toasted French bread that has been buttered as lightly or liberally as your taste and waist allow. The crunch and the butter and the sweet fruit is a delirious combination that you should enjoy while you can. Then next winter you will dream about it longingly again and making it will become a summer tradition.

Strawberries, raspberries or blueberries*
Aproximately 1 to 2 cups sugar, depending on how much fruit you use

If the strawberries are large, cut them into four pieces; if small, cut into two pieces. The blueberries and raspberries do not need to be cut. Put the fruit in a bowl and toss with sugar until all the fruit is coated with sugar. Put the fruit in a saucepan. Add water to halfway up the fruit in the pan. Bring to a boil uncovered. Lower heat to a simmer immediately, stirring occasionally.

When the fruit has turned liquid, taste and add more sugar if it's not sweet enough. Once the extra sugar melts into the fruit, the jam is ready. It still looks runny but will firm up enough after it has been refrigerated.

*My favorite store-bought jam is a Swedish preserve, Queens Blend by Hafi, which I get at Ikea. It's made from red raspberries (remember, there are black raspberries) and wild blueberries and is as delicious a combination as I can imagine. So mix the fruits mentioned above at your whim.

Hollandaise Sauce

Adapted from Appetite by Nigel Slater

If you're not familiar with Nigel Slater, you should be. Now that his newest book The Kitchen Diaries:A Year in the Kitchen With Nigel Slater has received such good press here, more and more people on this side of the pond are finding out about him. The book that this recipe comes from is a one-of-a-kind book. It's about how to satisfy your cravings without slavishly following recipes. It is indeed about satisfying your own appetite. It's a wonderful book to have even if you have to order it from Amazon.uk.

This sauce, which is season-appropriate now as spring asparagus is crying out for it, is truly glorious even if it does seem like the scariest one to make. The real key is to heat it gently while constantly whisking and not letting it get too hot. This might sound like a contradiction, but you'll see, it's not. You will need a round-bottomed, heatproof bowl (I use stainless steel) and a saucepan for it to sit snugly on, as well as a plump balloon whisk. Approach this task with infinite patience and an absence of trepidation. Remember, this is supposed to be fun. And it is true that the proof of the pudding is in the eating. You will be well rewarded once you have mastered this sauce.

3 extra-large eggs (I don't really have to tell you free-range, do I?)
1 cup butter (This really IS 2 sticks. Don't get crazy, and don't tell Dr. Mehmet Oz. Get over it. As Nigel Slater says "We are talking heaven here.")
Half a lemon (maybe a little less if it's really juicy)
Salt

Separate eggs yolks from whites. Put the the yolks into a heatproof bowl. You can use a metal bowl or glass bowl. I usually use metal because it's light, and I can lift it on and off the saucepan to regulate the heat. (Refrigerate the whiles if you have another recipe you will use them for, but I hope it's not an egg white omelet, which, in my opinion, would not be an omelet at all.)

Fill a saucepan with water halfway up, and put it over a moderate heat. Sit the bowl with the yolks in it snugly on top of the saucepan, making sure it doesn't touch the water, then add a small splash of water to the eggs, and stir gently for a few seconds.

Cut the butter into twelve pieces. Add four pieces of butter to the egg yolks, and whisk firmly but slowly until the egg yolks have taken up all the butter. Slowly whisk in the rest of the butter. You will need slightly less