VIC'S RECIPES

Cream of Mussel Soup

2011-11-08T06:55:00.015-05:00

The only time I had Billi Bi was many years ago at Le Refuge, a French Restaurant in Old Town, Alexandria. It was a rich dish, redolent of saffron and, clearly, thickened with egg yolk. I loved it. Not so much the veal kidneys that completed the meal.

This recipe for Billy By is a far cry from the mussel soup I had long ago. Yes, it IS delicious. Maybe even more so. And it is rich because it has cream (although I have cut the cream in half from the original recipe). But it is not cloying, and since I only served two, I had enough of the broth left over that I thought about poaching shrimp in it the next day. I imagine it would also be good for braising rice.

I didn't serve any crackers with it, but they would have been welcome. What I most wanted to eat with it were Pepperidge Farm Goldfish - but they are like potato chips - too dangerous for me to have in the house. This is a recipe for homemade goldfish crackers from Smitten Kitchen I have long wanted to try. Now I really have a reason to go for it.

Why You Should Eat Mussels

According to Francis Lam, "They're cheap, they're tasty, they are actually good for the environment, and they're infinitely variable."

Keep mussels in the refrigerator for no more than two days. Do not store them in water because fresh water will kill them. When you are ready to cook, put them in a large bowl, add plenty of water, swish around, and drain. Do this about three times. Then wash them quickly, using a cloth on the shells. They aren't gritty like clams so this should be easy. If any have a "beard," pull on it to extend it out from the shell as far as you can, and snip it off with kitchen shears. That's it; you're ready to go.

Cream of Mussel Soup

Potage Billy By

Adapted from The Art of Eating Cookbook by Edward Behr

Serves 4

1 large onion or 2 shallots, chopped

1 stalk celery, peeled and chopped

3 or 4 branches fresh parsley

1/3 bay leaf

3 or 4 branches fresh thyme

1-1/2 cups dry white wine

2 pounds mussels, cleaned

1 cup heavy cream (the original recipe calls for 2 cups of cream)

Black pepper

A lemon to juice

Salt, only if necessary

Put the white wine in a pot large enough to contain all the mussels. Add the onion, celery, parsley, bay leaf, and thyme. Turn the heat to medium, and cook gently (you don't want to boil away the wine) until the onion and celery are soft, five to ten minutes.

Raise the heat to high, add the cleaned mussels, and cover the pot tightly. It will take from 2 to 8 minutes for the mussels to open. After 2 minutes, stir the mussels, and start removing the open ones (with their shells) when half have opened so the open ones don't overcook while the rest are opening. After 8 minutes, discard any mussels that have remained unopened. Once all the mussels are open and removed from the pot, take the cooked mussels from their shells, and set aside.

Strain the broth. A fine metal strainer should do the job, but if the broth has any grit left in it, strain it again through a cloth-lined strainer or a coffee filter.

Wash the pot or use a smaller clean one, and put the strained broth in it. Bring the broth to a boil, add the cream, and bring back to a boil, stirring. Let it cook for 2 to 3 minutes to thicken just a little, then add the shelled mussels, and heat them through for about 30 seconds. At this point, you do not want to overcook them.

Add black pepper and a little lemon juice. Start with about a teaspoon of lemon juice, and add another teaspoon if that's not enough to brighten the taste. Serve immediately.

Print recipe.

Ten Years Later

2011-09-11T13:47:00.009-04:00

I could not bring myself to watch the September 11th memorial services downtown, just three blocks from where I work. And I never want to reward the terrorists and re-live September 11th all over again each year. But this is the Tenth Anniversary, and it is impossible to remain passive today.

When we moved to our new office from West Chelsea at the end of October last year, I came across a file. In it was a copy of The New Yorker published on September 24, 2001, with a copy of an email I sent to a friend in California in response to his question how was I doing and what was New York like. I decided I would post it on this sad anniversary in a world that remains forever changed.

October 10, 2001, 3:33 a.m.

Hey, Friend,

Here we are, already four weeks later. I guess I have so much to say; it's hard to distill it all.

I had a lot of trouble sleeping the first two weeks, and I am still having bad dreams that wake me up. All of us here talk about it, talk about it, talk about it. Of course, the first day we were in the daze of horror. Then we were propelled by the adrenaline that gets you through the shock. We were all stopping each other in the street, "Are you okay?" which had a new and twisted meaning, being stunned all over again when you got the wrong answer, "I took my nephew's dental records to the family center because my sister just couldn't do it." "We're okay, but my girls lost five friends. You know, all these thirty year olds." Can you imagine, friend, all these young people your son's age? Then the good answers. "No, we're okay, and so are our friends. We all work in midtown." That was always good news - "We work in midtown. Our friends work in midtown. Our kids work in midtown." By the third week the total surprise was gone. Now the chilling realization has hit that "life as we know it is over" is not a sound byte. It's the real deal. The Holland Tunnel is still closed. Trucks and vans in and out of the City are stopped for inspection. And instead of its being a pain, it's a comfort. Yes, okay. We'll wait. Check it out. The National Guard is at the airport and on some street corners. Police are everywhere, and people stop at the firehouses, which are surrounded by bouquets of flowers and thank-you notes, to say hello and shake hands and drop off homemade cookies and have their little children meet real heroes. While we were eating lunch in our conference room yesterday, a plane flew over so loud and so low and so close, we all just stopped everything - talking, eating, chewing, swallowing - and looked at each other. When the noise faded, we said, "Oh, F16." Then the architect who designed our space stopped by and told us that the FBI has taken over a lot of space in a building right near our office to set up headquarters - he says now it's the safest neighborhood. People consider safety issues. Do I have comfortable shoes handy in case I need them? What will happen next? Is there anything I used to do that I shouldn't do now? But what I notice, again and again, is it's not fear that drives us. It's sadness. Sadness for those people lost, those families changed, our city brutalized, and the extreme sadness that a person in this century can inspire so much hatred that he can call for the annihilation of a group of people - the Americans, the United States - and summon a response.

As I sit at my computer at work, I look out the window at the Empire State Building. We left last night in the dark, and it's lit up Red/White/Blue. A girl who works with us was walking with us, and she said "Oh look how pretty the Empire State Building looks." She is right, and now it is amazing to see. There is a certain time of day, before sunset, when the sun somehow reflects a certain way, and our office all of a sudden has a golden glow. The light bounces off of windows outside and shines all over, and our space just shimmers. It is a beautiful time of day, somehow serene and peaceful, and it's a good time for me to stop, reflect, and in my own way say a little prayer and think how glad I am to be here.

I, like you, don't know how this will all play out and wonder and worry. So far, the response seems to be with clear thinking, planning, determination, and restraint. What I do know is that I have a different and revised appreciation for what my mother saw as an adolescent and young adult in wartime England. She spent most of her teenage nights sleeping in air-raid shelters. One of her classmates ran into a phone booth during an air raid and died when the booth crashed around her. Her mother, my grandmother who I never knew, went into the house to make everyone a cup of tea, leaving the protection of the back yard shelter, and died from implosion when a bomb fell on the house next door. My mother's next door neighbor's severed head, still in his air raid warden's helmut, was outside when she left the house one morning. One night, sheltered with a friend in the Underground in Liverpool, my mother's girlfriend had to pee, and there was no place to go; however, there was an empty Scotch bottle lying against the wall, which she used as a urinal. They left, and when they came back, discovered someone had stolen the bottle, leaving them helpless with laughter! I wonder, if she were alive, what my mother would think of all that's going on now.

You and I, we're from the "Hell, no, we won't go" generation and have never experienced these personal feelings of patriotism before. It's not like seeing the movie or reading the book The Right Stuff and feeling warm and fuzzy. To me, what everybody, especially those in the Arab world - to whom it probably came as quite a shock - learned on September 11th from those people whose plane crashed in Pennsylvania was that young, "indulgent" Americans also have some things they are willing to die for -- and do it with only minutes to think about it and plan it, not years and without the promise of 72 virgins waiting for them in Paradise.

A friend of mine told me that he has a friend whose son is in the Service on board a ship. His captain said they had received a request from the captain of a German ship in their area to arrange a rendezvous of both ships. So they pulled alongside the German ship, where everyone on board, in full military regalia, stood and sang The Star Spangled Banner. Stories like that make me cry.

Six paragraphs long,

Victoria

French Apple Cake

2011-01-22T12:38:00.008-05:00

In two weeks’ time, I’m going to spend the afternoon with my childhood best friend. We haven’t seen each other in - I hate to say how long - 42 years, if I’m counting correctly. We’ve been able to keep track of each other all these years because our parents were friends. In fact, when my dad died in 2006, Sharyn’s father sat next to me at the funeral, holding my hand.

I have lots of memories of Sharyn - her bronze patent leather Capezios for Easter Sunday; her New Year’s Eve birthday; trick or treating in the snow after an early winter storm; taking tap dancing lessons together. I never pick up a jar of Kosciusko Mustard without thinking of her because I remember how much she liked it.

The big question now is where should we go to lunch?

We can’t go to Pearl Oyster Bar. Sharyn’s from Maine, so taking her to a restaurant in New York City that is modeled after a Maine lobster shack would be rather ridiculous, even if Rebecca Charles’s salt crusted shrimp is one of the best things to eat in the world.

Should we go to The Four Seasons because it’s fancy? Swifty’s because Jane recommended it? Brio because the Italian food is so good tourists from Italy eat there? Girasole because it’s in my neighborhood? The Lincoln because it’s hot? The Lexington Candy Shop with its old fashioned soda fountain because it’s fun?

Ah ha. The Trustee’s Dining Room at The Metropolitan Museum.

The food is excellent, the room is comfortable, the view is lovely, and we can talk without interruption. After lunch if it’s a nasty day, we can wander around the Museum; if it’s nice, the Park.

Then we can go back to my apartment and have a cup of tea (everybody drinks tea, right?) and a piece of this plain, not-too-sweet but lovely cake before Sharyn meets Doug for a dinner where he is the guest speaker.

This cake is just the ticket for a restorative afternoon snack. It’s adapted from Around My French Table by Dorie Greenspan - the creator of World Peace Cookies, which, I believe, would get democrats and republicans working together if someone would just make a lot of them and lug them to Congress.

World Peace Cookies

French Apple Cake
Adapted from Around My French Table by Dorie Greenspan

¾ cups all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
A pinch of salt
4 large apples - 4 different kinds are best because you can have crisp, soft, sweet, and tart
2 large eggs
¾ cup sugar
3 tablespoons dark rum - I use Goslings Black Seal
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ pound unsalted butter, melted and cooled (1 American stick)
Softened butter for coating the cake pan

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Butter an 8-inch springform pan.

In a small bowl stir the flour, baking powder, and salt together with a fork.

Peel the apples. Cut them in half, and cut four large pieces off around the apple, leaving just the cores, which you will discard. I find this easier than using an apple corer. Cut the pieces into chunks, about an inch big. A little larger than an inch is fine.

Break the eggs into a large bowl, and beat them with a whisk until they foam a little. Add the sugar, whisk to blend, then whisk in the rum and vanilla. Add half the flour and whisk until incorporated, then whisk in half the melted butter. Repeat this step by whisking in the other half of the flour followed by the rest of the melted butter, and mix until the batter is smooth and thick. Using a rubber or silicone spatula, fold in the apples, turning until the fruit is coated with batter. You will find there are more apples than batter; this is how it’s supposed to be.

Scrape the mixture into the buttered springform pan, and spread it around with the spatula until it’s as even as you can get it. It won’t be perfect because there are so many apples.

Put a piece of parchment on a baking sheet - I use a half sheet pan - and put the springform pan on it. Slide the baking sheet with the springform pan on it into the oven. Bake until the top of the cake is golden brown and a knife or cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. This will take about 50 to 60 minutes.

Transfer the cake to a cooling rack, and leave it for 5 minutes.

Run a blunt knife around the edge of the cake. This should be easy as the cake will probably have already pulled away from the sides of the pan, but still be sure to open the springform pan slowly to make sure no apples have stuck to the sides.

It may be eaten warm or at room temperature and is particularly delicious with some lightly whipped cream with a little sugar and rum in it. The cake should keep well for 2 days, but do not cover it. You can put a strip of wax paper on the cut ends.

Print recipe.

Zucchini Parmesan

2010-09-14T11:23:00.008-04:00

It's been five months since I wrote my last post!

Since then, John came to New York from Atlanta with his swing band from The Lovett School

John, Second from Left

to perform in the 2010 Essentially Ellington Competition at Lincoln Center,

Clarke

left to study in China for fourteen months, an experience he's sharing in his blog,

and a cold spring turned into a very hot summer, followed by what seems to be an early fall.

Whew!

John, Vic, and Clarke at Sea Island 1997

I didn't stop cooking during all this time - no, not at all. I was just extra-busy at work and took a break from writing.

I think this recipe was worth the wait.

Last year's blight stopped even one tomato from rearing its head in the garden,

Summer 2009

but this year five tomato plants yielded enough fruit for us to eat lots of tomatoes for the last six weeks of summer and also make a few quarts of plain homemade tomato sauce.

We put in a couple of zucchini plants so they would be ready with the tomatoes, and when I found a locally-made whole milk mozzarella at our local farmstand, The Berry Patch on Route 22 in Stephentown, New York,

I started thinking about the surprisingly delicious zucchini parmesan Peggy and I ate in a restaurant on West 27th Street for lunch one day.

Before I opted to make it the same way I make eggplant in the summer, I checked to see if Marcella had any ideas.

It turns out she has a recipe called "Zucchini, Parmesan Style" in Marcella's Italian Kitchen.

This is my favorite Marcella book after Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, which is basically a consolidation of her first two books, The Classic Italian Cookbook and More Classic Italian Cooking (neither of which you could persuade me to give away as all the recipes did not make it into the combination). Essentials is a primer on Italian cooking; Marcella's Italian Kitchen is the way Marcella cooks in her home.

In this recipe the zucchini is cut lengthwise rather than across into rounds, and instead of breading the pieces of zucchini, they are fried with no coating

and layered with thin pieces of whole-milk mozzarella,

a sauce made from tomatoes, onions, and parsley,

and - this is brilliant - a mixture of eggs beaten with parmesan cheese and a little black pepper.

I promise you - this one's a keeper!

Zucchini Parmesan
Adapted from Marcella's Italian Kitchen by Marcella Hazan

Serves 4

1-1/2 pounds zucchini
Vegetable oil for frying the zucchini (I use grapeseed)
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons finely chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1-2/3 to 2 cups canned Italian peeled plum tomatoes, cut up, with their juice or 2 cups plain homemade tomato sauce
Salt
Pepper
2 eggs
1/2 cup freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano (real aged Italian parmesan cheese)
10 ounces whole-milk mozzarella, cut into thin slices

Marcella suggests soaking the unpeeled zucchini in water for 20 minutes to loosen any grit that is on them. My zucchini was straight from the garden and didn't need to be soaked, just washed very well. No matter what, wash the zucchini to remove any grit so that it feels smooth to your hand before you proceed.

Trim the ends on both sides of each zucchini, and cut lengthwise into slices 1/4-inch thick. If any zucchini is extremely long, cut that across into pieces that will comfortably fit into the bottom of the frying pan you are going to use.

Put enough vegetable oil into your skillet to come 1/2 inch up the side of the pan. Heat the oil until it is hot, then cook the zucchini slices on both sides until they turn a light golden brown. Don't crowd the pan while you are frying. Remove the zucchini slices, and blot on a paper-towel-lined plate.

I must warn you that when I fry the zucchini, it does splatter all over the top of my stove. I don't think you can avoid this so just be prepared to clean up when you are done. This recipe really is worth it.

While the zucchini is frying, in a separate small saute pan or small saucier, heat the 4 tablespoons of olive oil, and cook the chopped onion until it turns pale gold. Add the parsley, stir, add the tomatoes or homemade tomato sauce, salt if not already salted, and turn the heat to low. Cook until the sauce thickens and the oil floats free, about 20 minutes.

Beat the eggs in a small bowl. Add all but 1-1/2 tablespoons of the grated parmesan cheese to the eggs, add some pepper, and beat.

Spread a little tomato sauce over the bottom of a baking dish. Here I used a rounded Pyrex dish that I estimated would hold all the zucchini. You can use a rectangular dish - probably around a 2-quart size - but please estimate that for yourself remembering the contents of the pan will bubble up while it is baking.

Next, add a layer of the fried zucchini, cover the zucchini with slices of mozzarella - keeping in mind that it will cloak the zucchini as it melts, so the slices of cheese don't have to touch each other. Smear some tomato sauce over the mozzarella, and then add some of the egg and cheese mixture, spreading it with a spoon.

Repeat this procedure in the same sequence, ending with a layer of zucchini lightly covered with tomato sauce over which you sprinkle the reserved 1-1/2 tablespoons of grated parmesan.

Bake in the uppermost level of an oven preheated to 400 degrees for 30 minutes. Let the dish sit at room temperature for 10 to 15 minutes before serving.

Italians don't favor food as piping hot as Americans so Marcella suggests that this dish is also excellent when served at room temperature.

Print recipe.

Walnut Brandy Cake

2010-04-10T12:07:00.052-04:00

Adapted from :pastry studio

Spaetzle (or Spätzle)

2010-02-07T09:35:00.027-05:00

Walter and Margaret are first generation Americans.

Their parents moved to New York

from Budapest on April 19, 1939.

- with a short foray in London,

where they were married, in between.

They were absolutely gorgeous.

Walter, Sr., was 6 feet 3 inches tall and better looking than Errol Flynn.

Giselle, nicknamed Gizi, was 5 foot 2, blond and beautiful

- as pretty as any World War II pinup.

She had been educated in a Swiss boarding school

and was more exotic-looking than the suburban Westchester housewives who surrounded her.

She kept a Victory Garden,

worked outside the home, designed and crafted beautiful needlepoint,

Needlepoint Designed and Executed by Gizi

Needlepoint Detail

and founded Modern Knitting magazine.

Margaret on the Cover of Modern Knitting Magazine wearing a Gizi Design
Photo Courtesy of mkdesigner at Etsy

She was also a fantastic cook.

I didn't meet Gizi until she was in her eighties, but I was lucky enough to spend two weekends at the farm with her learning how to cook some of her family's favorite dishes. Together we made her chicken paprikash,

which has more tomatoes in it than any recipe I have seen elsewhere, her goulash, a delicious dish made with yellow summer squash and sour cream, and, of course, what she called nockerli and what most everyone else calls spaetzle.

Gizi made the nockerli by mixing up the batter and flecking off small pieces of it from a little board, using a small paring-size knife that she would dip in water as she went along. Fleck, fleck, fleck, fleck, fleck - at a rapid-fire pace. Walter has the little board in a drawer at the farm. The first time I used it by myself, the nockerli were too big. Almost the size of gnocchi. Totally unacceptable.

So I went on a search for a spaetzle maker. Paprikas Weiss was still open at the time, and I thought I would have luck there. But I didn't. The spaetzle makers I got just didn't work. I really have no idea why, but the results were less than successful until I found this spaetzle maker,

at the time available from King Arthur Flour. It was more expensive than the others, approximately $40. It turned out to be worth every penny. I don't know why I had success with this one; it certainly looks like two of the other spaetzle makers I went through. But all I can say is this one is high quality, it works, and is a tool worth having. It's available now at Chef's Gadget, and if you're interested in making spaetzle - and who wouldn't be - I highly recommend you get one while you can.

Spaetzle is easy, delicious, and versatile because iit goes well with many dishes. Hungarians serve it as a side dish, drained then tossed with butter, salt, and pepper.

Germans drain it then cook it in a skillet in butter, sometimes in butter in which onions have already been sauteed. It's excellent both ways, but I only cook it in a pan with butter when it's left over.

This is not really a recipe. It's a set of instructions. Once you make it, you will get the hang of it.

For 4 servings

1 egg
A pinch of salt
1 cup all-purpose unbleached flour
Water - 1/4 to 1/2 cup
A walnut-size lump of butter
Salt and pepper to taste

Put the egg in a bowl and beat it with a little salt.

Add the flour,

stir with the egg, then add water until you get a batter - looser than bread batter but not so loose that it would pour off a spoon.

It has to be thick enough that when you put it into the spaetzle maker, it doesn't fall through the holes on its own. Let it rest for at least 30 minutes.

Put water into a pot, making sure the spaetzle maker spans the diameter of the pot, bring the water to a boil, and lightly salt it.

Put all the batter into the shuttle of the spaetzle maker,

put the spaetzle maker over a pan of boiling water, and very quickly (so the steam from the pan of boiling water doesn't clog the holes) start to move the shuttle back and forth over the water until all the batter is in the water. The nockerli - or spaetzle - will quickly float to the surface.

Cook for about a minute then pour into a strainer. Shake the strainer to remove some of the water.

Put the nockerli back in the now-drained pan off the heat, and add the walnut-size lump of butter. Stir while the butter melts, then add a little salt and black pepper to taste.

The Hungarian Way

Obviously, you can also cook it the German way in a skillet with butter and the optional sauteed onions once you have drained it.

The German Way

Print recipe.

Pureed Potatoes in the Manner of Joel Robuchon

2010-01-31T19:02:00.034-05:00

When I had been married for 18 years, I was accepted into a university program that was number one in the nation in its field , and I went back to a school 30 miles away to finish my undergraduate degree, which I had put off two times.

Around the same time, my husband decided to take a job 250 miles away from where we lived - in a place I didn't want to go - so we sold our apartment - and after seven long-distance moves together, he moved away and, instead of commuting, I took a "flat" in the basement of someone's house near the campus.

Over the next three years, I added only two cookbooks to my collection.

I discovered the first one in the very small book section of a major department store near school. There were two copies of this book there, and I eyed and drooled over it for seven months before summer came when I had a job and felt I could spring for it.

A hardback copy of Elizabeth David's French Provincial Cooking.

This is a wonderful book; probably the seminal book on "French Provincial" cooking. Alice Waters apparently got her inspiration from Elizabeth David, and Laurie Colwin loved her (along with Edna Lewis and the many contributors to Charleston Receipts).

I learned to make Elizabeth David's chocolate souffle with one hand tied behind my back (just kidding). But, no joke, I have enthralled many diners with that delicious recipe, which I gild by pouring chocolate sauce into then topping with loosely whipped cream.

That same summer - because it was the only summer I had off since the program I was in went straight through the year from then on - I stayed in my friend's apartment in New York City and commuted by train to Greenwich, Connecticut, to work.

Every day I would pass a store-front that housed a catering business, and there were always a few cookbooks lying around on a window-seat, which I could see as I walked by.

There was one book that was there more than most.

I had never seen it before.

I had never heard of it.

So one day I walked inside to ask about it. The women I spoke with gave me a knowing nod and said, "Oh, yes. This is a wonderful book. A MOST wonderful book. But people don't know it. Why do you ask about it?"

I explained that I had just seen it there and was curious, and at the end of the day when I got off the Number 6 train at Lexington Avenue, I darted into Barne's & Noble. Sure enough, one copy of the book was there. I couldn't afford it then, but after years of buying pretty much whatever I wanted (within reason), I saved up, and by the end of the summer, the book was mine.

Simply French - Patricia Wells Presents the Cuisine of Joel Robuchon

This is an amazing book, which introduced me to Patricia Wells AND Joel Robuchon.

From this book I learned that pureed potatoes are completely different from mashed potatoes. That pureed potatoes are ethereal. They are the star of the meal, not the side. They are what the best food you eat is all about.

This is an adaptation of those potatoes, but, trust me - some of you know me well enough by now - these are the best pureed - not mashed - potatoes you will ever eat.

Over-the-Top Pureed Potatoes
Adapted from Simply French by Patricia Wells

Ingredients You Need

I can't really give you amounts; it will depend on how many people you are serving.

Russet or Yukon Gold potatoes
Heavy cream, heated
Butter (optional)
Sea salt to taste

Equipment You Need

A potato ricer or food mill
An electric hand mixer
A tamis

A tamis?

A tamis is a sieve. Mine is a beautiful stainless steel tamis that I got at E. Dehilleran in Paris.

You can push the potatoes through another strainer, and it will work well, but if you ever go to Paris, PLEASE add E. Dehillerin to your list of places you must go. And go there first.

Peel your potatoes, and cut them into chunks. (They are not all cut in this picture.) Halve or quarter them depending on the size of the potato.

Steam them (I use a basket steamer) until you can pierce them with a cake tester.

Remove the potatoes from the steamer. I just take the basket, lift it, and set it in a clean sink for a minute or two. They will be rather flaky at this point, not waterlogged. Then I remove the potatoes from the steamer and put them through a potato ricer

Oxo Potato Ricer

or a food mill

Oxo Food Mill

directly into a bowl.

Heat some heavy cream - for 2 to 4 people it's usually a 1/2 pint - in a little pan on the stove or in the microwave. Slowly add the heated cream to the riced or milled potatoes, beating the potatoes with a hand-held electric mixer. Don't be stingy. Be more than generous with the cream. When finished, these potatoes should "spread" out on the plate.

If you want, you can beat in some softened butter at this point - Joel Robuchon adds a lot. (I add butter sometimes - it depends on how decadent I have decided to be. I don't always add butter, but I do agree with Julia - butter is delicious. For this recipe, butter is not necessary but definitely yummy!)

Add a little fine sea salt to taste. I don't add much, and I don't add pepper - black or white. I keep unsalted butter in my larder; however, Clotilde mentioned in her post about the delicious Piege Cake that she uses salted butter. If that's what you use, it will, obviously, affect the amount of salt you add.

Now, push the potatoes through a tamis

or - if you don't have one - through a sieve into a heat-proof bowl.

Before serving, if necessary, heat the potatoes in the microwave for 3 minutes or over a double boiler for about 10 minutes until they are warm, then serve with whatever sounds good.

Don't be shy about heating leftovers in the microwave. They aren't as good as freshly made, but they are still a treat.

This is with Barbecue Brisket. It was made with heavy cream AND butter.

This is with Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc Fried Chicken. This was made with heavy cream and NO butter. (Don't let the color of the potatoes fool you; Yukon Gold potatoes are, well, gold.)

It's delicious both ways.

These pureed potatoes go with a myriad of dishes through the seasons. You are only limited by what sounds good to you.

Print recipe.

South of Broad-Way

2009-11-15T11:10:00.028-05:00

When I moved back to New York in 1986, there was a bookstore, unfortunately long gone, across the street from our apartment. The first time I wandered in, I found they had their own little lending library; they rented current bestsellers out for a week for $2.00. As I was picking up a book by an author I was unfamiliar with - The Prince of Tides - I heard a soft voice say "Hello. I'm here to pick up the books I ordered."

I turned around to find myself face-t0-face with a smiling Jackie Onassis, who it turned out lived exactly one block away from me. She lived on the fifteenth floor of 1040 Fifth Avenue; I lived on the fifteenth floor of 35 East 85th Street.

But I digress.

My friend Stephanie, who now lives in the north Georgia mountains, was born and bred in Atlanta. A gen-u -ine Cherokee Country Club deb-u-tante.

She was a golden girl, and the most beautiful bride I ever saw. When she stepped into the aisle of St. Philip's Cathedral on her daddy's arm, she took everyone's breath away.

She is on the short list of funniest people I know, and if for some reason I had to go fishing, she is the person I would choose to go with. We share a love of Pat Conroy's books, which for me started on that day in the bookstore on Madison Avenue, and when she told me how much she loved his newest book, South of Broad, I put it next in my queue of books to read.

I loved it too.

Conroy is an immensely gifted stylist, and there are passages in the novel that are lush and beautiful and precise. No one can describe a tide or a sunset with his lyricism and exactitude. My sense is that the millions of readers who cherish Conroy's work won't be at all disappointed -- and nor will anyone who owns stock in Kleenex.

Chris Bohjalian
The Washington Post
August 11, 2009

So in my search for side dishes that go well with Thomas Keller's fabulous fried chicken for a project I am working on, my thoughts naturally went to biscuits and cornbread. Southern cornbread.

In my book, Rule Number 1 is Don't Be a "Jerk" (with jerk being a different word). But it turns out, if you're from The South, Rule Number 1 is

Don't Put Sugar in the Cornbread

Southerners might drink their tea sweet, but they take their cornbread straight. So since this left out my (delicious) Tiny Corn Muffins, I decided to check out what Hoppin' John has to say about the subject.

Hoppin' John Martin Taylor is from Charleston, where he used to own a cookbook store. He has written a number of special cookbooks himself, is well-known in the food community, and has a website that is worth checking out for interesting articles and great recipes. If you happen to live in New York City, keep your eyes peeled; he is planning to open a restaurant here.

His cornbread recipe calls for stone-ground grits made into a batter, and cooked in an unwashed black iron skillet coated with bacon fat. My can of bacon fat is in the country where I can usually be found on Sunday mornings cooking bacon and eggs. Since I'm in the city this weekend nursing myself through the flu thank you very much, I didn't have bacon fat handy and wasn't up to cooking any, so I made the cornbread in a 9-inch springform pan coated with olive oil. Don't arrest me; I observed Rule Number 1 - no sugar.

Cornbread
Adapted from Hoppin' John Martin Taylor
Serves 6

Because you want to serve this hot, time it so it's done just before you want to serve it. Leftovers can be reheated in the oven.

Small amount of fat to grease the pan
1 large egg, at room temperature or heated in a bowl of warm (not hot) water for 2 minutes
2 cups buttermilk, either at room temperature or the chill taken off in the microwave
1-3/4 cups stone-ground yellow cornmeal
1 scant teaspoon salt
1 scant teaspoon baking powder
1 scant teaspoon baking soda

Grease the pan; I used a 9-inch springform pan. Hoppin' John recommends an unwashed 9 or 10- inch cast iron skillet. Put pan into a cold oven and heat to 450 degrees.

Put the buttermilk in a bowl large enough to hold all the batter. Beat in the egg. Then add the cornmeal and blend. When the oven has reached the 450 degrees, stir the salt, baking powder, and baking soda into the batter. Remove the hot pan from the oven, and pour the batter in right away. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until the top starts to brown. Serve hot with butter.

Turns out, Hoppin' John's recipe is the real deal. It was delicious with dinner,

and maybe even better heated in the toaster oven and slathered with butter this morning. With Thanksgiving so close, I'm starting to think about cornbread stuffing. If you're looking for an authentic recipe for cornbread, this is it.

Next time I'll make it in the black iron skillet. (Stephanie agrees it's the only way to go.)

Oh, by the way, any suggestions you have for side dishes with fried chicken, will be appreciated.

Print page.

Thomas Keller Meets Pat Conroy

2009-10-25T20:57:00.034-04:00

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, seven and a half 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 almost 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

2009-09-17T07:07:00.037-04:00

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

2009-08-17T10:24:00.043-04:00

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 closest 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

2009-08-04T10:24:00.050-04:00

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 in my sophomore year when 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 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. And the farmed salmon looked beautiful.

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!

Baking 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.

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

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.

Print Recipe

A Raffle

2009-06-25T11:30:00.006-04:00

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

2009-06-22T06:31:00.004-04:00

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!

2009-05-07T03:50:00.026-04:00

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 lightly 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

2009-04-10T07:42:00.015-04:00

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

2009-03-25T23:32:00.017-04:00

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 Idl ewild 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

2009-03-10T09:18:00.010-04:00

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

2009-02-12T21:22:00.046-05:00

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.

I make a mean chocolate torte thanks to Lora Brody as well as a delicious orange cake that I snagged from Clothilde, who calls it Le Gâteau Piège.

Marcella's carrot cake is also my kind of cake, simple and light, not dense at all.

So when my friend Sarah described this almond cake to me, I checked out my copy of Pure Dessert, my favorite cookbook of 2007, and the picture of the cake looked wonderful to me.

I knew right away THIS was a cake to check out. It had two versions so I tried the first (Almond Cake) one week, and the second (Almond Cake with a Crunchy Crust), 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.

Almond Cake with a Crunchy Crust

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 lunch. 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 - especially if you like the taste of almond macaroons or Italian pignoli nut cookies, which are made with almond paste. And you may have better luck than I. The gods might be with you even if they are not with me.

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)
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 with or without fruit. Berries and/or peaches would be good choices for the fruit.

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 whole 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)
1.5 ounces unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

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 whole unblanched 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.

Cool cake on a rack for 10 minutes - no more - before unmolding. If you leave it longer than 10 minutes, 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 with or without fruit. Berries and/or peaches would be good choices for the fruit.

Print recipe (Version Two).

The Devil Made Me Do It

2009-02-08T00:15:00.002-05:00

Non-Traditional Moussaka

2009-02-06T11:44:00.028-05:00

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

2009-01-28T21:59:00.017-05:00

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

2009-01-15T00:58:00.019-05:00

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

2008-12-24T13:31:00.004-05:00

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

2008-12-18T07:46:00.013-05:00

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

2008-12-14T17:36:00.022-05:00

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

2008-10-27T06:41:00.023-04:00

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

2008-10-16T07:30:00.003-04:00

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

2008-10-13T16:37:00.011-04:00

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

2008-10-13T08:21:00.003-04:00

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

2008-10-09T07:58:00.023-04:00

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 rece nt 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

2008-09-25T07:05:00.022-04:00

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"

2008-09-24T04:52:00.019-04:00

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

2008-09-18T05:29:00.013-04:00

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

2008-08-20T07:17:00.009-04:00

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

Serves 8 to 10

This is the best (and easiest) almost-flourless chocolate cake I have ever made. 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 you need to use a standing mixer because you beat four extra-large or five large eggs with one tablespoon of sugar until the mixture triples in volume.

1 pound high-quality semisweet chocolate, chopped (I like to use Scharffen Berger 62 per cent)
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 extra-large or 5 large eggs at room temperature
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
Confectioner's sugar for dusting the top of the cake (optional)
1 cup heavy cream, whipped softly, to top the cake

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees, and position the rack in the middle of the oven. Butter an 8-inch springform pan or an 8-inch by 2-inch pan with a loose bottom.

Line the bottom of the pan with a circle of parchment paper either bought all ready or cut to fit precisely. If you have to cut the paper yourself, the easiest way to do this is to the trace the pan bottom on paper and cut it with scissors.

Butter the paper liner, and dust the whole pan with cocoa powder (because flour would show white), and tap out any excess.

Place the chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl or the top pan of a double boiler set over a pan of gently simmering water. Do not let the pan touch the water. Stir occasionally until the chocolate and butter are melted. (Alternatively, you can do this step in the microwave, but do it in 30-second increments, stirring between each thirty seconds until it's all melted, being very careful not to burn the chocolate.) Stir to combine the butter and chocolate completely.

Remove the bowl or top of the double boiler from the pan of simmering water to get it away from the heat, scrape the mixture into a bowl large enough to eventually hold all the batter, and let cool for a few minutes.

Place the eggs and sugar in the bowl in bowl of your electric mixer. I use a KitchenAid fitted 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. This will take about 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 carefully fold in the remaining egg mixture, being careful 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 the cake from the oven, put on a cooling rack, and let cool completely to room temperature. The cake may deflate slightly, but it won't matter. Do not refrigerate. Cure for at least one day, and up to two, before serving.

The cake will pull away from the sides of the pan as it cools, but run a blunt knife all the way around the cake before you remove it from the pan to be sure it doesn't stick.

The top can be dusted with confectioner's sugar if you wish. (I have a holiday patisserie cake stencil set from Kaiser, which I use when I make the cake around the holidays.)

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

2008-07-27T08:28:00.016-04:00

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 S et aro or Rustichella D'A bruzzo pasta. I recently tried C av. Guis eppe 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

2008-07-19T15:58:00.030-04:00

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.

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