Hummus and Baba Ghannouj

I am not a huge fan of the holiday potluck. I know, I know. It is good for institutional morale. It allows co-workers to socialize about their private lives. It gives the staff a few hours respite from an otherwise gruelling work year. All of that is very nice. The thing is, I don't want to eat other peoples' food.

Over the holidays, I do enough cooking as it is. Thus, I keep things very simple when it comes to workplace socials. Hummus and baba ghannouj are pretty much my standards. They are healthful, easy to prepare, and transport well. I also like to provide something that vegans can eat. The holiday party, I find, usually affords slim pickings for those who eschew meat.

This year, I also made up a batch of pita chips for dipping. Simply cut a pita bread in half, then run a paring knife around the edges to separate the two sides of the half moon. Then cut into triangles. Baste with olive oil and sprinkle with sesame and poppy seeds. Place on a baking sheet in a 350 F oven for 10 - 15 minutes or until golden brown.

Hummus (by Ina Garten)

• 4 garlic cloves
  
• 2 cups canned chickpeas, drained, liquid reserved
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1/3 cup tahini (sesame paste)
• 6 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemons (2 lemons)
• 2 tablespoons water or liquid from the chickpeas
• 4 dashes hot sauce

Not possessing a food processor, I make hummus with an immersion blender. Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and blend until coarsely pureed. Taste, adjust seasonings, and serve at room temperature.
 
Baba Ghannouj (by Alton Brown)

• 1 eggplant
• 2 cloves garlic
• 2 ounces fresh lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons tahini
• 1/2 bunch parsley, leaves only
• Salt and pepper

Pierce some holes in the skin of the eggplant and roast in a 375 degree F oven for about 30 minutes. In the summer months, one might prefer to implement a method labelled "extreme grilling" by BBQ Master Steven Raichlen. Fire up your charcoal grill. When the charcoals are ready, place the eggplants directly on the embers. Turn frequently until the skin is charred and blistering, about 20 minutes. This imparts a smokiness unmatched by the indoor oven.

Remove eggplant from the grill and let cool.  Peel away the skin and discard. Place the eggplant flesh in a colander and drain for 10 minutes. In a bowl, combine garlic, lemon juice, tahini and parsley and pulse with a hand held immersion blender to combine. If you have a processor, use it instead. Add the eggplant flesh. Season with salt and pepper and pulse to combine. Adjust the flavor with more Tahini or lemon juice if you prefer. If it's bitter, add a little honey to taste.

Squash Risotto with Roasted Chestnuts, Sage, and Pancetta

Big score at the antique store today. We have a high end Vestax turntable awkwardly rigged via the lone audio output to an aging, leftover boom box speaker. It's not pretty, but it let's us listen to music produced in the 1970s and 1980s in the manner that it was intended - on vinyl. I am always flipping through records in thrift stores and antique shops in hopes of adding to K's small collection of absolute classics from the 80s alternative scene - Depeche Mode, PIL, U2, REM, and New Order. Usually, I just end up searching in vain through seemingly-endless racks of polkas and Perry Como.

Once in while, however, I hit the jackpot. A dollar-a-piece record bin at a nearby antique store yielded some serious classic rock albums - Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, the Doors, the Police, Johnny Cash. The guy at the check out counter was groaning that he didn't get to them first.

What better way to celebrate the antique store score of the month than to crank out a classic risotto dish to the scratchy, folk country tunes of "After the Gold Rush."

It's a Jamie Oliver recipe. He's gotta be a Neil Young fan.

Squash Risotto with Roasted Chestnuts, Sage, and Pancetta

• One butternut squash
• 1 tbsp coriander seeds
• 1 tsp red pepper flakes or 2 dried red chili peppers
• Salt and pepper
• 10 slices pancetta
• 3 1/2 oz chestnuts (or walnuts)
• 1 bunch sage
• Sea salt and freshly-cracked pepper
• Olive oil
• Mascarpone cheese
• 1 cup risotto
• 1/2 small onion, finely diced
• 2 tbsp white wine
• 4 cups chicken stock

Preheat oven to 375 F. Cut squash in half, scoop out seeds. Separate seeds from stringy pulp and set aside seeds in a small bowl. Crush coriander seeds and chili peppers in a mortar and pestle. Place squash halves in a roasting dish, drizzle with olive oil, and dust with coriander/chili powder. Roast for 30 minutes. While squash is roasting, put squash seeds and chestnuts* in a dry pan over low heat until aromatic - five minutes. When squash is soft, remove from oven and cover with the pancetta, sage, chestnuts and seeds. Return to over and roast for 10 minutes or until pancetta is crispy. Remove from oven. Remove pancetta, sage, chestnuts, and seeds and set aside. When squash has cooled slightly, peel and remove the cooked flesh. Chop half of the squash fine and the other half in larger a larger dice. Set aside.

Prepare the risotto according to package instructions. Heat 4 cups of chicken stock in a sauce pan. Finely dice 1/2 a small onion. Heat onion in 2 tbsp olive oil over medium heat on another burner until onion is soft, about 7-8 minutes. Add 1 cup of risotto rice and cook for 1-2 minutes until roasted and covered with oil. Add wine and cook 1 minute. Add 1 cup of warm chicken stock. Cook, stirring constantly, until the stock has evaporated. Continue adding stock, one ladle at a time, while stirring constantly and only adding more stock when the rice becomes dry. The risotto will be done in 20-25 minutes.

When risotto is finished, add all of the finely chopped squash to the pan and some of the larger pieces until the ratio looks right. You will have some leftover large pieces. Save for other uses. Serve the risotto topped with the reserved pancetta, sage, chestnuts, and seeds. Add a dollop of mascarpone cheese to each serving. Place parmigiano reggiano cheese on the table.

*You can use vacuum-packed, shelled chestnuts for this recipe. If you buy them in the shells, score them with a sharp knife and put in microwave for 10-20 seconds. Watch them closely or they will burn. Then open them up. The store where I bought mine sold me moldy ones, so I used walnuts instead.

Review - Jaleo in Washington D.C.

Jaleo, on 7th Street just north of the Mall, is consistently excellent. Ever since my first visit back in 2003, I always make a point to visit whenever I hit our nation's capital. This is where one goes to get real-deal tapas. It seems as if the word "tapas" is getting thrown around way to much these days. I don't like it. Sure, the word translates to "little plates." But real tapas should be the types of food that you can find in Spain. Small plates of buffalo chicken wings are not tapas.

Jaleo is the place for real tapas. Owner Jose Andres makes sure that all the authentic tapas are on the menu, but he also offers new and inventive little plates using seasonal American ingredients. Even better, his waitstaff always seem well trained. They don't rush you. They encourage you to hold onto the menu and order more tapas on your own schedule, not theirs. They bring out a dessert menu and offer you a coffee. Sometimes, they even make you ASK them for the check... just like Spain. I am sick and tired of being rushed out of restaurants by undertrained, uncaring waiters. Jaleo is a refreshing change.

But it is the food that keeps me going back to Jaleo. What was on the menu this time? Three absolute classics.

Pulpo a la Gallego

Few restaurants outside of Spain can make this quintessential Spanish dish famous in the verdant northwestern region of Galicia. They always mess it up. I think it is because Americans are skittish about eating an octopus and the places that offer it on their menus don't sell enough of it to perfect the preparation. At Jaleo, the octopus is fork tender - not burnt or rubbery - with just the right amount of garlic, oil, and smoked Spanish paprika. Save a piece of bread to mop up the oil and juices. That's how the Spanish roll.They probably learned it from the Italians.

Croquetas de jamón serrano

When I go out to eat, I always order things that I don't like to make at home. These little fried things called croquetas don't look like much, but they are one of the greatest of Spanish tapas. Deep fried in good-quality olive oil, croquetas are stuffed with a luscious filling of béchamel and small pieces (chunks or thin ribbons) of cured jamon serrano - mountain ham. They are such a pain to make at home. Deep frying always makes a mess and béchamel is sometimes a real bear. The benchmark of a good Spanish restaurant is how well they make their croquetas. If they are not on the menu, you are not in a Spanish restaurant.

Arroz cremoso de setas y Idiazábal 

As evidenced by the national dish of Spain, paella, the people of the Iberian Peninsula love their rice. I make risotto with abandon, and mushroom risotto with dried porcini and fresh crimini is one of my regular meals around the house. Jaleo knows how to make a great rice dish as well. This one, which I had never had there before, makes use of a medley of mushrooms and a sheep's milk cheese from the Basque lands. Awesome.

I went during a lunch break from a day-long marathon of archival research and therefore failed to order a glass of Rioja. No wine at a Spanish table. Inexcusable.

Moorish Chickpea and Spinach Stew

I'm riding the Amtrak. In general, I don't have much regard for them these days. American rail travel, especially along the closely-connected cities of the eastern seaboard, really should have a system like Spain and Italy. Over there, it's easy and affordable to take the train. Here, Amtrak likes to play this game where one minute a city-to-city ticket costs X. Then, when you check again five minutes later, that very same ticket costs X to the third power. It's almost as if our rail system is designed to dissuade rail travel.

Not a surprise, I guess, considering that General Motors once bought up all of the nation's highly-efficient street car lines and ripped them out in order to sell more cars.

Today, Amtrak is at least saving me the headache of negotiating the traffic around DC. I need to visit for some research at the National Archives, Smithsonian, and Library of Congress. But DC is not just the land of museums, it is also the realm of King of José Andrés. Andrés' restaurant, Jaleo, is among the best Spanish restaurants in the United States. A native of Asturias, in the north, Andrés knows his stuff. I like him, too, because despite his celebrity status, he does not appear to have let the fame go to his head. He also does work on public television. Kudos José!

In advance of my visit to Jaleo later tonight, I made one of those quintessential Spanish dishes that Andrés includes in his book, Tapas: A Taste of Spain in America.

Moorish-style Chickpea and Spinach Stew

•  9 oz dried garbanzo
• Pinch baking soda
• ¼ cup olive oil
• 6 garlic cloves
• 2 oz sliced bread, no crusts
• 2 tbsp pimenton, Spanish paprika
• 1 pinch saffron
• 2 tbsp sherry vinegar
• ½ pound spinach
• 1 tsp cumin
• Salt and pepper

Soak chickpeas in cold water overnight. Drain and rinse. Combine chickpeas with 2.5 quarts water. Bring to a boil, then reduce to simmer and cook for 2 hours. Every 10 mins add a cup of cold water to slow down simmering. By the end, the water should just cover the chickpeas.

Heat olive oil in small sauté pan. Cook garlic until brown, 3 minutes. Remove and set aside. Brown bread on both sides, one min per side.

Remove bread and allow to cool. Add pimento, saffron, and cumin and then sherry vinegar to deglaze pan and prevent pimento from burning. Leave pan off heat

In a mortar, mash garlic and bread into a thick paste.

Reheat chickpeas to a boil and add spinach, reduce heat and cook for five minutes. Add pimenton mixture and garlic paste. Simmer for another five minutes and season to taste.

This recipe can be done with canned chickpeas. Substitute one can of chickpeas for the dried, rinse well, and place in a medium sauce pan. Add one cup of water. You could use stock instead to make up for the loss of flavor from not simmering the dried chickpeas, which produces a fine broth.

Spicy Carrot Juice with Apples, Ginger, and Cayenne

It seems like every year we put out stomachs to a serious test on Thanksgiving. At K's parent's house, scratch the turkey. Instead, it's roasted pork with gravy, a locally-made chicken roll, and tons of delectable sides, including the prized Polish dumpling of her maternal grandparents' upbringing - kluski.

We have the (sometimes ignominious) charge of making the kluski every year. Some years, they turn out light and airy and are lauded by all. Other years, they are so dense that they hit your tummy like a hod of cement funnelled down your pile hole. It is two days after Thanksgiving and we are still recovering from the overeating.

Banal though it may be, the observation of post-holiday over indulgence merits some discussion. If ever there were a reason to own a juicer, this is it. Detox time. It seems as if we spent much of the three-hour drive back home conversing about what kind of juice to make upon our return. In the end, we opted on our standard.

Spicy Carrot Juice with Apples and Ginger

• 6 large juicing carrots
• 1-2 apples, preferably a sweet, juicy variety like honey crisp
• 1-2 Tbsp fresh ginger
• Juice of one lemon
• Pinch of cayenne pepper
• Optional - one clove garlic

I swear by my Breville juice machine. It is kind of a pain to clean, but has a powerful 700-watt motor and a wide, three-inch-diameter mouth that facilitates a quick and painless juicing process. This recipe cries out for a beet, if you have one. It adds another dimension to the flavor, as well as a lovely deep red color.

The Ultimate Italian Cookie

Si Signore. This is the stuff. My favorite Italian cookie. Hands down. Sure, I love a good biscotto... especially with a nice long espresso or some vin santo, the digestivo of choice in K's old neighborhood, the "Altra Arno," in Firenze. She still knows how to make real-deal biscotti, with a nice lemon anise flavoring and twice-baked so that they will break your teeth if you are not careful. Just the way they should be. The point, after all, is to dip 'em.

My preference, pignoli, are of a spongier, springy sort of sweet. They couldn't be simpler to make. The only hang up, really, is the skyrocketing price of pine nuts these days. Trader Joe's is the best place to find them at the cheapest price. But "cheap" is no longer a word that belongs in the same sentence as "pine nuts." One must also be wary of the country of origin when purchasing pine nuts. Those of a substantially lesser quality come from China. Go figure.

Lidia Matticchio Bastianich's Pignoli (Almond Cookies with Pine Nuts)

• Butter, softened for the pans, if using
• 1 pound canned almond paste
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 3 large egg whites
• 1 1/2 cups pine nuts

Preheat the oven to 350F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper, or grease them lightly. Crumble the almond paste into a mixing bowl of an electric mixer. Beat until crumbled fine. Sprinkle the sugar over the almond paste while continuing to beat, until the sugar is incorporated. Beat in the egg whites, one at a time, and continue beating until the dough is smooth. 

Roll 1 tablespoon of the dough into a ball between your palms. Drop the dough ball onto the plate of pine nuts. When you have formed several dough balls, roll them in the pine nuts to coat lightly on all sides. Transfer them to the prepared baking sheets, and press them lightly to slightly flatten them and help the pine nuts adhere to the cookies. Repeat with the remaining batter and pine nuts. 

Bake the cookies until lightly browned and soft and springy, about 15 minutes. Remove and cool completely on wire racks before serving. The cookies can be stored in a covered container at room temperature for up to a week.  

Note: If you don't want to pay the premium for pine nuts, another type of nut is an option. As the photo indicates, I ran out and had to used chopped almonds to finish the batch. 

Review: A Not So Fond Farewell to Pat's King of Steaks

Although I'm not a fan of the restaurant where he made his bones, I do appreciate the rambling musings of Mr. Anthony Bourdain. Indeed, I wholeheartedly applaud one of the observations that he makes in his recent book, Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook. The Food Network is pure evil.

Bourdain dislikes them because they turned the fine art of food into a reality TV circus with inane shows like Throw Down with Bobby Flay, Iron Chef America, and The Next Food Network Star, while sacrificing, in the process, the earlier and far more educational programs like Molto Mario and Essence of Emeril.

Another unsavory repercussion of the growth of the Food Network, as I see it, is that their many "road food" shows have come to impart mythical status on local spots that many of us know and love, thereby resulting in those very places jacking up their prices to cash in on McMansion-dwelling, Food Network-worshipping couch potatoes flocking in from the suburbs by the hundreds.

On a recent conference in Philadelphia, I took a nice autumn walk from Center City down through the 9th Street Italian Market in order to visit an old friend - Pat's King of Steaks. I almost never eat cheese steaks these days, but Pat and I have a history dating back to the days when my friends went to grad school in Philly. To my astonishment, my order of a "Wit Whiz" was met with a brusk response of "That will be $9.50."

$9.50 for a wit whiz? You have got to be @#$%ing kidding me.

Sure, there is a thing called inflation. Yes, gas costs of delivery vehicles are greater now than in years past. But none of that explains the audacity of charging $9.50 for sliced steak with onions topped with processed cheese spread.

As I looked around, I realized that the locals - once a familiar sight at Pat's - were noticeably absent. Everyone was an out-of-town tourist. You can call Philly folks what you will, but stupid they are not. The local folks have already moved on to the hundreds of other cheese steak peddlers located around the city that charge a more reasonable price for the EXACT same product.

Forever more, I will do the same.

Rosemary Cod with Vanilla-Scented Rutabaga

The rutabaga doesn't get much respect these days. It's a shame, Andres Viestad explains, since the rutabaga was one of those hearty tubers that sustained generations of Scandinavians eking out a living in the snow and ice of fjord country. That's why I consider his book, Kitchen of Light, to be top notch. Weaving unexpected historical and cultural anecdotes through the narrative of a cookbook, believe it or not, is not so common these days. I like Jamie Oliver a lot, but his somewhat narcissistic books could surely lose a few pages plastered with his craggy, smiling mug in favor of a bit more text about the culinary history of his country. 

Rosemary Cod with Vanilla-Scented Rutabaga

• 2 1/2 pound cod fillets
• 1/2 vanilla bean
• 4 tbsp unsalted butter
• 1 lb rutabaga, cut into one inch dice
• 2 small spris rosemary
• 1/2 tbsp olive oil
• freshly ground pepper and sea salt

Soak the fish fillets in an ice water bath for 15 minutes and pat dry. Preheat over to 400F. Bring a large pan of lightly salted water to a boil and cook for 25-30 minutes or until soft. Drain and then return rutabaga to pan to dry, 1 or 2 minutes only. Put the rutabaga in a food processor or food mill. (I used a potato ricer which worked well) Return mashed rutabaga to the pan. Cut vanilla bean in half lengthwise and use a small sharp knife to scrape out the seeds. Add to the mashed rutabaga. (You can save the vanilla pod and add to a can of sugar to scent it) Stir in the butter and season with salt. Make a small incision in the cod and insert the rosemary sprig. Season with salt and pepper and rub with oil. Place fish in a roasting pan and roast in the oven for 15 minutes or until fish flakes easily. Serve cod fillets with a scoop of mashed rutabaga.

Beet Soup; Wilted Spinach with Smoked Salmon and Rasberries

Once again, Strand didn't fail to deliver. I remember first relying on this Greenwich Village used book superstore when taking a class at Columbia in the mid-1990s and seeking out hard to find academic texts on the American immigrant experience written in the 1970s. Thank you Oscar Handlin. To this day, Strand remains, hands down, the best used bookstore in the country. (Though Powell's in Portland, Oregon does come pretty darn close)

Today, Strand is my go to store for cookbooks. My recent find... a hardbound copy of Kitchen of Light: New Scandinavian Cooking with Andres Viestad. I'd been in search of the book since my chance discovery of the PBS series New Scandinavian Cooking a few months prior. Viestad is one of the show's hosts.

I have to admit, I never thought that I would appreciate Scandinavian food. But with his culinary talents and obvious passion for his native country of Norway, the affable Herr Viestad has totally shattered my prejudices. His approach to the food culture involves traditional Scandinavian ingredients prepared, as I see it, with a definite Mediterranean twist. I guess that explains the "New" part. That said, the TV show and companion book are fantastic.

Now all I need is a bottle of aquavit. Even better, Viestad tells you how to make your own.

Beet Soup

• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 red onion chopped
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 1 pound beets, peeled and cut into 1-inch dice
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 carrot, chopped
• 3 cups homemade chicken stock (Viestad calls for goose or duck stock - I have yet to venture down this road)
• 1 tsp chili powder (I avoid the cheap McCormick stuff from the grocery; go to Penzseys and get a nice one. They are also an online purveyor)
• 1 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1/4 cup sour cream or yogurt 

Saute onions and garlic in a medium-sized pot over medium heat until softened and light brown. Add beets, bay leaf, carrots and chicken stock and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 40 minutes until beets are soft. Transfer to a blender and puree in batches; or use an immersion blender to puree in the pot. Season with chili powder, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Ladle into bowls and serve with a dollop of sour cream.

Wilted Spinach with Smoked Salmon and Rasperries

• 1/2 cup sour cream or creme fraiche
• 16 raspberries
• 2 tbsp raspberry vinegar or white wine vinegar (I used pomegranate vinegar)
• 1 tsp sugar
• 1/2 pound spinach leaves
• 8-12 thin slices smoked salmon
• Olive oil
• Sea salt and black pepper

Prepare the dressing by combining creme fraiche, half of the raspberries, vinegar, and sugar in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper and whisk together. Place spinach on overproof plates, sprinkle with oil, and place under the broiler for 1-2 minutes until starting to wilt. Place salmon on top of spinach and drizzle with stripes of the dressing. Garnish with remaining raspberries and whole peppercorns. Note: I substituted a hot smoked salmon "candy" that I found in the seafood department at Whole Foods. But the more traditional gravlaks salmon is more widely available and even more appropriate for this recipe.

Sopa de Ajo

The new Martin Sheen movie, The Way, has just hit selected theaters. When I first learned that Sheen and son Emilio Estevez were collaborating on a feature length film about pilgrims walking the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain I was a wee bit skeptical. For one, I doubted how one could create a feature length drama about people getting up before dawn and walking for miles on end while incessantly complaining about their blisters, bunions, and back pains. More importantly, however, I was worried that a film about El Camino, if successful over here, would result in an influx of Americans over there. I have walked that very pilgrim trail on several occasions and the noticeable absence of Americans is one of the things that makes it great.

The Sheens, to their credit, did a nice job putting together a pleasant film that really did capture the experience of walking the Camino de Santiago. It also brought back a lot of memories.

On the Way, Alto del Perdón, Pamplona-Puente La Reina, 2010

The end of the road, Santiago de Compostela, 2005

One of the features of the many restaurantes strewn along the length of the Camino de Santiago is the seemingly ubiquitous sopa de ajo - garlic soup. When I walked the Way in 2005, people would tell the story of this one unnamed pilgrim who would ramble on and on to anyone who would listen about the garlic soup that he hoped to consume at the end of the day. I never met this mysterious person, but I did have plenty of garlic soup that summer.

Far from an Iberian gourmet delicacy, sopa de ajo is just one of those inexpensive Spanish country foods that has the same comfort food reputation as chicken noodle soup does here in the states.

I'll take the former any day.

Sopa de Ajo

• 1 cup olive oil
• 5 ounces day old bread
• 5 cloves garlic
• 1 tbsp chopped onion
• 6 1/2 cups boiling water
• 1 tsp Spanish smoked paprika
• 1 spring fresh parsley
• salt and pepper

Heat oil in a skillet, add bread slices in batches and fry for two minutes or until golden brown. Remove and drain on paper towels. Drain off oil leaving 4 tbsp. Add garlic and onion and cook over low heat for 5 minutes or until softened. Remove from heat and sit in the paprika. Preheat oven to 350 F. Put the friend bread in an ovenproof casserole that can be used on stove top. Discard garlic and pit the onion paprika mixture onto the fried bread. Add the boiling water and season with salt. Stir, add parsley and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer for five minutes. Transfer the casserole to the oven and bake for seven minutes until it forms a crust. Crack eggs onto the crust, season with a pinch of salt, and return to the over. Bake until whites are set and serve immediately.

A nice rioja goes well with Sopa de Ajo. In this instance, we had a bottle of Sidra Asturiana, a sparkling cider from the northern region of Asturias and also pretty commonplace throughout the Basque Country.

Abruzzo Lamb Stew with Cheese and Egg Sauce

The mountain people of the Abruzzo, the region of my paternal grandparents, made their living as shepherds. To this day, one can still find evidence of traturri - the migratory trails on which sheep herders led their flocks from the Abruzzo mountainsides where they spent their summers to the low-lying grasslands of southern Italy that afforded a milder climate in the winter. One of these age-old routes documented by historians stretched from Ateleta, the home town of my family, to the vicinity of the Biferno River in neighboring Molise. Some cultural historians argue that the guarded, quiet, and introspective characteristics of the people of Abruzzo stems largely from their lonely, migratory past as shepherds.

Considering the region's long history of sheep herding, it is no surprise that the culinary traditions of the Abruzzo center around agnello - lamb. This recipe comes from the book, La Cucina: The Regional Cooking of Italy, an excellent resource (organized by region of Italy) for those who want to delve into the long-held recipes of the Italian people.

Lamb Stew with Cheese and Egg Sauce

• 2lbs boneless lamb stew meat, cut into cubes (from the leg or shoulder)
• All purpose flour for dredging
• 1/2 cup police oil
• 1 medium onion, sliced
• Pinch grated nutmeg
• 1 cup chicken broth (or other meat stock)
• 1 cup dry white wine
• 1 large egg, beaten
• 1 tbsp grated pecorino (locatelli is the most widely available that is decent)
• 1 tbsp lemon juice
• Salt and pepper

Put flour in a plastic bag and add meat, shake to dredge. Heat olive oil in an earthenware pan and add lamb, onion, nutmeg, salt and pepper. When meat has browned add the meat broth and wine. Cook slowly for about 2 hours, covered. Mix egg, pecorino, and lemon juice and add to the pan. Cook for several minutes until thickened and serve hot.

The wine of the Abruzzo is the widely-available Montepulciano D'Abruzzo, an excellent medium-bodied red.

Summer Tomato Pudding with Hard-Boiled Quail Eggs, Capers, and Red Onions

Believe it or not, one can still make some pretty neat discoveries at the local library. While tooling through the DVD section of the Cinnaminson Branch of the Burlington County Library the other day, I finally gave a second glance to a television compilation that I had seen on the shelves many times before but that never piqued my curiosity enough to actually flip it over and read the back cover. The reason, I imagine, is because the cover is so ridiculously unappetizing.

Here it is. You be the judge.

As it turns out, however, Two Fat Ladies reconfirms the age-old adage of never judging a piece of media by its cover. Two Fat Ladies is a fantastic cooking show. The fat ladies, Jennifer and Clarissa, travel around Great Britain on a motorcycle with sidecar and make periodic stops in historic locations where they prepare a meal for the friendly folks residing there. Fat lady #1, Jennifer, makes classic English fare, sometimes with a nouveau cuisine twist. Fat lady #2, Clarissa (who resided in Portugal for a number of years) introduces Mediterranean cooking techniques and ingredients to the English palette. The show, which aired on the BBC in the 1990s, was the top-rated cooking program in England. 

Two Fat Ladies' Summer Tomato Pudding

• Plum tomatoes, dropped in boiling water and peeled
• Sliced, day-old bread, crusts removed
• 2-3 cloves crushed garlic
• 1 handful fresh basil
• Extra virgin olive oil
• Fresh squeezed juice of one half lemon
• Tabasco sauce
• Worcestershire sauce

Run 4-5 tomatoes through a foodmill, removing seeds and skins creating a strained tomato juice or passata. Season with dashes of tabasco and worcestershire sauce and the juice of one half lemon. Dredge both sides of bread in tomato passata and use to line the bottom and sides of a medium sized glass bowl. Cut smaller pieces as needed to make sure than the bowl in completed lined. Dice remaining tomatoes and combine with crushed garlic, basil, salt, pepper, and 1/4 cup olive oil. Pour tomato mixture into bread-lined bowl and cover the top with additional bread slices dipped in the passata. Place bowl on a platter and put a saucer on the top. Weight the saucer with a heavy cast iron skillet so that it compresses the pudding. Place in refirgerator for at least six hours or overnight. When ready to serve, remove from refirgerator and invert the bowl on a serving platter to remove. Slice and serve with capers, diced red onion, olives, roasted red peppers, and/or hard boiled quail eggs.

I was not planning to serve my tomato pudding with quail eggs, but a trip to the local farmer's market turned up that very ingredient - uncommon though it might be. Quail eggs are pretty little things and taste great. As might be expected, the preparation was simple. Boil about 2 inches of water in a pan and, once boiling, add the eggs. Remove from heat immediately, cover, and let stand for five minutes. Then remove the eggs and place into an ice water bath to stop the cooking. Peel and serve. Another trick is to bring the eggs to room temperature before putting into boiling water. This will lessen the chance that they will crack.

Un cappuccino perfetto

I have crazy-high expectations for cappuccino. The coffee has to be sweet, not bitter. The serving size should be modest, not sloshed into a cauldron the size of a 19th century dyers' kettle. There should not be a burnt aftertaste. I want to drink it from a porcelain or glass, not from stryofoam, cardboard, or plastic. Another marquee characteristic of a perfect cappuccino is the quality, consistency, and presentation of the frothed milk.

Needless to say, Starbucks doesn't get it right.

So unless you are fortunate enough to have access to a small, independent, purist-owned Italian cafe like Pittsburgh's La Prima, the only hope for a good quality cappuccino rests in the home kitchen... or a vacation in the Mediterranean.

Fortunately, my very good friend is something of an espresso connoisseur. He has great hardware, including a sweet-looking La Pavoni with built in burr grinder. Grinding the beans right before brewing, by the way, is one of the keys to a good espresso. His most recent addition is a 100 dollar Nespresso milk frother. Simply add milk, turn it on, and in three minutes you have a perfect froth. No need to fiddle with the frothing attachment on the espresso machine itself... no matter what the brand, that thing is hard to master.

For now, I'll continue to use my stovetop Bialetti with pre-ground Kimbo coffee for my morning espresso. A hand held milk frother from Ikea, which costs about a buck, does a surprisingly good job frothing up both soy and whole milk and suits my purposes well enough.

Until I finally decide to upgrade my equipment, my friend will be seeing more of me than he might like.

Panzanella (Tomato Bread Salad)

A former student of mine - now friend - has the same last name as a salad. Trying to escape that odd association, I guess, could be the reason that he goes by the nickname "Z." Probably not. Having the nickname "Z" is just cool. Maybe I should go by "C."

Back when Z was a student in my University of Pittsburgh course on Italian American Studies, he appeared on the local PBS affiliate's cooking program and skillfully prepared the quintessential Italian salad with which he shares a name - panzanella. He did a great job. Now, ten years later, one can turn on WQED on a late Saturday evening and STILL find young Z excitedly chopping up an array of garden fresh vegetables, herbs, and stale bread and tossing them together with olive oil and balsamic vinegar to create a sublime summer dish.

I told him that he should have negotiated braodcast royalties.

Panzanella (Tomato Bread Salad)

• 4-5 heirloom tomatoes, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
• 1/2 cucumber, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch pieces
• 1/2 large red onion, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
• 10 basil leaves, torn
• 1 cup day-old bread
• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
• 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
• Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients and let rest for at least one half hour before serving so the flavors meld and the bread soaks up the juices from the tomatoes. I've seen this prepared with very small sized vegetables but prefer with larger-sized pieces. Good quality heirloom tomatoes make all the difference in this salad. I always keep an eye out for Striped Zebras and Cherokee Purples. If you do not have access to heirloom varieties, try an ugly ripe instead of plum tomatoes or run of the mill slicing tomatoes.

Anchovy-Stuffed Fried Leaves of Sage

The two raised garden beds behind the Worth are far from fecund. Three towering trees - perfect for screening views of the neighbors sorely neglected back yards - are probably the culprit. There's just not enough sunlight for a bountiful harvest of sun-loving vegetables. The appetites of urban critters may also be to blame. This year's hot pepper plants mysteriously disappeared, without a trace, one hot summer night.

That said, the little urban garden does provide a modicum of sustenance. Kale and collards grow extremely well, as do green beans and lettuces. Thankfully, most herbs - with the notably exception of cilantro - appear to absolutely love the little corner of the space that thankfully gets a few hours of sun. I use Italian parsley, basil, rosemary, mint, and thyme with utter abandon. The lone sage plant, however, has received limited attention. It's as if those neglected, now-oversized leaves are just crying for consumption.

As it turns out, sage leaves are perfect for an inventive Italian spuntino that features the freshness of the herb and the umami savoriness of a good-quality anchovy. The dish, according to the Italian gastronomic tome La Cucina: The Regional Cooking of Italy (recently published in English for the first time), was once popular in the southern Tuscan town of Piombino.

I've never traveled to Piombino, and from a quick glance at its location I don't think I ever will. It's situated on a little cape jutting out into the Mediterranean Sea and with a connecting ferry to the Island of Elba.

Picturesque? I imagine so.

Too many tourists to tolerate? Most definitely.

Anchovy-Stuffed Fried Leaves of Sage

• 24 large sage leaves
• 1 and 1/2 cups all purpose flour; extra for dredging
• 6 good quality anchovies; preferably salt cured; rinsed
• 1/2 cup white wine - my standard is an inexpensive pinot grigio
• 1 large egg white; beaten until foamy
• Olive oil

Dredge sage leaves in flour; cut anchovies in half lengthwise and sandwich each half between two sage leaves; squeeze them so they stick together; meanwhile, whisk flour, wine, egg white, and a few drops of oil to form a batter; dredge sage leaf sandwiches in batter and fry until golden brown in hot olive oil - about three inches deep in a large saucepan; serve with lemon wedges and a basil or sage leaf to garnish.

Since this tasty little dish hails from Tuscany, I figured it would be a good excuse to open up a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino.

But, then again, there's always a good reason to open a Brunello.

Spaghettini di Cacio e Pepe

I like the outdoors. My brother, however, is a fanatical outdoorsman. I think we get it from our dad, who once hiked the 100-mile wilderness at the end of the Appalachian Trail, and our maternal grandfather, who fished, hiked, hunted, and canoed all over Pennsylvania and Maine.

On a recent trip to the Adirondacks, therefore, I gladly agreed to my brother's request to accompany him on a wilderness canoe trip along a historic Adirondack route known as the "nine carries." The gist is this: You pack up your canoe with gear, paddle through a series of small lakes (known as ponds up north), and then carry your gear and canoe over backcountry portage trails between each pond. Nine carries in all. Because of the ruggedness of the carry paths, the guide book recommends taking three days for the trip. We did it in six hours. We would have done it even more quickly if not for the very bad "short cut" advice delivered by an unnamed Mass-Hole who sent us up a shallow, beaver dam ridden waterway.

After an outdoors excursion like the nine carries, spaghettini di cacio e pepe seems like the perfect meal. It is simple - only three ingredients. It cooks up fast - six minutes for al dente spaghettini. It requires one pot - excellent for minimalist situations like camping. It is nourishing - perfect to rebuild lost calories. And, most importantly, it is immensely tasty in its simplicity. I guess that is the reason the dish has been popular among hardworking southern Italians for generations.

Spaghettini di Cacio e Pepe/Little Spaghetti with Pecorino Cheese and Black Pepper

• 1/2 pound spaghettini
• 1/2 cup finely grated Locatelli brand Pecorino Romano; plus extra for tableside
• 1 tbsp freshly ground black pepper
• 1tsp olive oil (optional)

Cook spaghettini in salted boiling water according to package instructions, about six minutes. Drain but DO NOT rinse. Toss well with pecorino cheese and black pepper. Serve with additional cheese at the table. I prefer to use a miniscule amount of olive oil to gently heat the black pepper before tossing the spaghettini as it helps release the aroma and flavor of the spice. After draining the pasta, I just reuse the hot pot by adding the olive oil and pepper and heating for 30 seconds. Then add the pasta and cheese, mix well, and serve.

On another occasion, I added a twist to this classic recipe by enhancing it with some fresh arugula just before serving. The heat from the pasta wilts it nicely; the "pepperiness" of the arugula goes great with the black pepper; and the green adds nice color to an otherwise lackluster presentation. I'm not a huge fan of whole grain spaghetti, but for a recipe like this it works incredibly well.

Cappellini with Roasted Tomatoes and Basil; Sugar Snap Pea Salad with Mint and Champagne Vinaigrette

 

In the summer months, simple pasta dishes and throw-together salads using seasonal ingredients are a godsend. We don't do central air at the Worth (or any air conditioning for that matter) so it is best to keep the oven off and cooking times short or risk ruining the climate on the otherwise quite tolerable ground floor.
 

Tomato and basil as a sauce for pasta, of course, is pretty much standard Italian cooking. Over the years, I've made tons of variations. This one was inspired by a cookbook by Frank Stitt called Bottega Favorita: A Southern Chef's Love Affair with Italian Food. I am no great fan "Southern cooking" - all apologies to my Virginia-born cousin and his family - so when I first picked up this book I was a bit skeptical. I was wrong. A collection of well-researched, well-tested recipes culled from Stitt's Birmingham, Alabama, restaurants, the book is definitely worth adding to the library of any Mediterranean cooking enthusiast. So thanks to Signore Stitt... And also to Michael Colameco, the New York/New Jersey television and radio personality who recently invited Stitt on his weekly show and thereby introduced me to this excellent chef. 

Cappellini with Roasted Tomatoes and Basil

• 1/2 pound cappellini
• 1 can Muir Glen oven roasted tomatoes; or 10-12 fresh plum tomatoes roasted in oven at 250F for 2 hours
• 10-12 large basil leaves
• 4-5 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1/2 tsp crushed red chile pepper
• 2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup freshly grated parmigiano reggiano 

Prepare pasta water, heat to rolling boil, add salt. Heat olive oil over medium hear, add crushed garlic, lower heat and saute until garlic is soft - 2-3 minutes. Add cappellini to pasta water and cook for 2 minutes. While pasta is cooking, add basil and tomatoes to olive oil, increase meat to medium high and cook for 3-4 minutes. Drain cappellini, reserving 1/2 cup pasta water. Do not rinse. Add pasta to sauce and combine, adding reserved pasta water if mixture seems to dry. Serve with generous amounts of grated parmigiano-reggiano.

On hot, humid summer days here in the Northeast, the perfect accompaniment to a quick-cook summer pasta is a no-cook salad. This one is inspired by Joanne Weir's Williams-Sonoma cookbook titled Spring.

Sugar Snap Pea Salad with Mint

• One pound fresh sugar snap peas, ends trimmed
• 1 cup fresh mint leaves cut in chiffonade, reserving 3-4 whole sprigs
• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1 shallot, minced
• 2 tbsp champagne vinegar
• Small handful heirloom grape or cherry tomatoes, halved
• Salt and pepper

Blanch the peas in boiling, salted water for 2 minutes; add to ice bath to stop cooking; after five minutes, drain. Combine oil, vinegar, shallot, salt, and pepper into bowl and whisk until emulsified. Combine peas, mint strips, tomatoes in bowl and toss with vinaigrette. Let stand for 10 minutes and serve on plate with mint sprigs.

Pennete with Basil Walnut Pesto and Spring Peas; Spinach with Sundried Tomatoes and Kalamata Olives; Bruschetta with Avocado and Manchego

Sometimes, I am a stickler for tradition. But on an end-of-the-week weeknight when there’s not much remaining in the fridge or pantry, I really don’t mind taking ingredients from various Mediterranean countries and playing a game of mix and match. Here, a medley of various Old World items from Spain and Italy (and one from the New World) turned out great – and didn’t require a special trip to the store. The appetizer course could not be simpler. Toast the bread in the oven at 350 degrees F, then rub with a garlic clove. Spread with mashed, ripe avocado and layer with manchego shavings. Season with salt and pepper and drizzle with a good quality extra virgin olive oil.

Pennete with Basil-Walnut Pesto

With the price of pignoli (pine nuts) going through the roof, I replaced the traditional pine nuts with walnuts in this pesto recipe. Apparently, it's simply a matter of supply and demand. Food TV has bred a new generation of home chefs and the producers can't keep up with the need for this oft-touted item. I see good and bad in this.

• 2 cups tightly packed fresh basil
• 1/2 cup tightly packed fresh Italian parsley
• 1/2 cup walnuts, blanched, skinned
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1 cup EV olive oil
• 1/2 cup grated parmigiano reggiano (or pecorino romano)
• 1/2 cup pennete, penne, or other small tubular pasta
• 1/2 cup fresh English peas
  

Gently toast walnuts in oven (at 350 F) for a few minutes; or on stovetop in a dry cast iron pan for the same amount of time, until they become aromatic. Make sure to do the same with pine nuts if you are using them instead. Combine buts, basil, parsley, garlic, and olive oil in a food processor and pulse until it forms a paste. I combine the cheese and add salt and pepper to taste after the processor part is finished. Meanwhile, bring large pot of salted water to a rolling boil (add salt after the water boils to hasten the time it takes to come to a boiling point). When ready, add pasta and cook until al dente. Meanwhile, steam peas for 10 minutes or until just tender. Reserve. Drain pasta, reserving ½ cup of the water. DO NOT rinse pasta with water. Combine pasta with enough pesto to coat thoroughly and add reserved pasta water as needed to spread the pesto. Top with peas and additional curls of grated cheese.

Baby Spinach with Sundried Tomatoes and Kalamata Olives

I used baby spinach for this recipe, but mature curly spinach works fine too. Just make sure to remove the tough stems by pinching the leaf with one hand and using the other to pull the stem down. It will come right off.

• 1 pound of spinach
• 1/2 cup sun dried tomatoes, julienned
• 1/2 cup kalamata olives, pitted and coarsely chopped
• 1 clove of garlic sliced
• 1tsp crushed red pepper
• 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  

Over medium-low heat, saute sliced garlic in olive oil for 1-2 minutes until fragrant but not brown. Add spinach, increase heat to medium high and cook until just wilted, about 5 minutes. Add olives and sundried tomatoes. Add crushed red pepper and salt to taste.

Review: Amada in Old City, Philadelphia

I know Spanish food. To meet my heightened standards, a restaurant touting Spanish fare has to do one thing absolutely perfectly – seafood. It is the cornerstone of the Spanish table. If you don’t like seafood, don’t go to Spain. If you can’t make seafood well, don’t open a Spanish restaurant.

The benchmark of Spanish restaurants in the United States are those owned by PBS phenom and master chef José Andrés. His Jaleo, in Washington D.C., is my favorite. Andrés hails from Asturias, a compelling seaside region on the northern coast known for some rich gastronomic traditions including an amazing white bean stew known as fabada. But in my experience Andrés' restaurants seem to make every Spanish dish perfectly.

I had high expectations that Amada in Philadelphia would do the same. The chef is not Spanish – he’s from Ecuador. That’s usually a red flag for me, but a look at his numerous accolades (He's an "Iron Chef") and a glance at the inventive menu online persuaded me to give it a whirl. The place has some excellent dishes that take traditional Spanish and spin them with a new twist. The empanadas filled with spinach and manchego were excellent. A jamón serrano salad with spinach, figs, spiced almonds, and cabrales cheese came out as a meaty log, the greens literally stuffed inside a shell made from thin slices of this delectable Spanish "prosciutto." The jamón , however, did not have the same taste and texture that you usually get with this Spanish ham… I suspect a domestic imposter may have been used instead of an imported. 

Amada's croquetas de jamón, traditional deep fried croquettes filled with ham-scented béchamel sauce, were equally inventive. Much smaller in size that those you normally get in Spain, these came served on dollops of a roasted vegetable and almond sauce called romesco. Tasty, indeed, but the consistency of the romesco was too grainy. A more thorough job pulsing the nuts into a fine paste was definitely in order. But overall the small plates were inventive and totally worthwhile.

A complimentary tuna spread served on toasted bread was tasty and the restaurant, which sports two bars off the seating area, offers three types of sangria. We tried the blanco and tinto. Both excellent.

But the seafood dishes were nowhere near my standards. There’s quite an extensive list of items that you can get a la plancha or "on the grill." Baby squid, or chiperones, had a fishiness that one wouldn’t encounter had they been recently removed from the sea. One of my all time favorite Spanish dishes, pulpo a la gallego, was equally unsatisfying. Cooked in a deep fryer, the delicate ends of the tentacles were burned to a crisp, leaving a charred, bitter taste in the mouth. Further, some of the pieces were perfectly cooked while others had the distinct rubbery consistency characteristic of overcooking. 

In the end, a return trip to Amada would be worthwhile only to try more of the non-seafood items. But a Spanish restaurant that can't do seafood well is really not a Spanish restaurant at all.

Pie Hole Rating: 2 of 5 stars

Review: The Crystal Room at Bedford Springs

You know what they say about hotel food. In general, I don't go there. But when you are dropping 300 bones a night at an Omni, you'd think that normal prejudices might not apply.

Not at Bedford Springs.

After years of talking about it, K and I finally decided to make it down to this magnificent hotel that takes its name from the seven southwestern Pennsylvania mineral springs that have long been viewed as a panacea for an array of medical ills. The hotel, in various forms, has been around since the mid-1800s. President James Buchanan stayed there as president on the eve of the Civil War. It grew immensely popular in the Victorian times when wealthy, big name capitalists and their fams came to escape the congestion of urban America. And by the mid-1900s, it was a getaway for middle class mid-western Americans including K's grandparents. Needless to say, a place this steeped in history and genealogy has long been on our "must visit" list. We finally made it.

Bedford Springs is pretty awesome. It's got one of the oldest indoor pools in the country and to this day is fed by nearby mineral springs. The renovation work in the 2000s spared no expense and the place, though practically rebuilt, has the air of the Gilded Age. Historical photographs and artifacts contribute to the overall ambiance of local history. A spa, outdoor pool, mountain hiking trails (sweet!), golf (who cares?), and the pretty cool nearby town of Bedford with intact business district round out the array of things to do.

The only downside to an otherwise stupendous trip was our dinner at the Crystal Room. As part of our package, we were promised a three-course meal. Unfortunately, however, we were given no advance indication that the three-courses actually meant a self-serve buffet. I shy away from the all-you-can-eat phenomenon. I just don't get it. It's unhealthy. It's a haven for germs. It takes away the excitement of reviewing a menu and ordering. And, most importantly, it's just not something that one does in the Mediterranean. I still can't comprehend how Omni equates a three-course meal and buffet. It confounds me.

Our server recorded my reaction to these events and quickly offered that our second course could be chosen from the menu. We thankfully obliged but were relegated to the buffet for our first course (salad) and third course (dessert bar). The menu offerings, though better than buffet fare, turned out so-so. I had what the menu called "Pecan Crusted Laurel Hills Farm Trout with brandied baby carrots, wild rice cake, Lancaster bacon-balsamic butter," but no bacon balsamic butter was to be found. K had "Brined Pork Chop with cipollini, candied apple risotto, garlic spinach, cider demi-glace" but the risotto mysteriously appeared as pureed sweet potatoes.


Sadly, the Crystal Room was pretty much a total bust... But I have to say that I kind of saw it coming. On the grounds of the hotel was a sorry collection of thirsty, wilting beds sporting a sign "chef's garden." I don't think so.

Pie Hole Rating: 1 of 5 stars

On Quiche, Julia Child, and the Chesire Cat

After recently reading My Life in France and watching the film Julie and Julia, I realized that I don't own a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck. So I recently took it out of the library and read it from cover to cover.

Now I'm glad that I don't own a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Don't get me wrong, I love Julia Child. I've seen all the episodes of The French Chef that one can get on DVD and online. She was knowledgeable, personable, and totally real on camera. Her story is awe inspiring. And sure, she convinced a lot of WASPy housewives to think differently about food at a time when ease and haste in the kitchen were paramount. That's pretty tremendous. But I personally don't want cream sauce on my fish or my mushrooms sauteed in a stick of butter. Or, for that matter, everything else slathered with a combination of the two. It's just not my bag.

Nonetheless, when recently charged with feeding my little cousin with something that she could help to make, I decided to thumb through Mastering in search of a recipe. She's a vegetarian, which eliminated a lot of Julia's favorites, and I settled on perhaps the most uninteresting thing in the entire tome - quiche. But Mastering really just provided the idea. I pretty well rendered it unrecognizable from its true French form. That's fine. I'm not a huge quiche person - I'll take an Italian frittata or Spanish tortilla any day. But these turned out well enough.


Broccoli/Cheddar and Spinach/Gruyere Quiche

-Preheat oven to 350 degrees F
-Make two 9-inch pie crusts using your favorite recipe (If you buy these frozen, which I admittedly did, follow Michael Pollan's rule about ingredients. A lot of the frozen ones are scary long in the ingredient department.)
-1-2 crowns of broccoli, stems removed, cut down into small florets
-Steam broccoli florets for five minutes; do not overcook
-1 bag or bunch baby spinach, washed
-Sautee 1 minced shallot in 1/2 tbsp; add baby spinach and cook until wilted, 5 minutes
-Drain spinach by pressing it against a colander to remove all moisture
-Shred 4 ounces of gruyere and 4 ounces of a good quality Wisconsin sharp cheddar
-Beat 4 large eggs in a bowl, add 1/2 cup milk or soymilk, and combine with broccoli and shredded cheddar
-Beat 4 large eggs in a bowl, add 1/2 cup milk or soymilk (plain) and combine with spinach and shredded gruyere.
-Pour filling mixtures into two pie crusts
-Bake for 30 minutes or until a knife inserted into the quiche comes clean

Even though my first impression of Mastering was kind of a bust, I expect that I will indeed attempt one or two of Julia's recipes in the future. After all, someone whose kitchen is in the collection of the Smithsonian deserves a second glance.

Oh, and the melon wearing a chesire cat hat? Not suprisingly, the touch of a ten-year-old kitchen helper who for some reason wishes to see her new favorite piece of apparel on the internet.

Smoked Sockeye Salmon; Goat Cheese, Green Onion, and Thyme Tart; Strawberry Granita

When late spring makes its changeover into summer, I always make a point to leaf through Steven Raichlen's The Barbeque Bible. In my estimation, Raichlen is the very best when it comes to cooking on the grill. Why? Mainly because he doesn't incessantly rehash the same old tired American barbeque traditions like ribs and burgers and chicken wings. Instead, he takes you on a voyage of bountiful barbeque exploration around the world and documents the unique recipes that regions ranging from South America to Southeast Asia to the Mediterranean hold dear.

That's what I'm talking about.

Admittedly, however, I am still a barbeque neophyte. Our grill is a dented, dusty, rusty mid-sized Weber Kettle Grill that K pulled out of the dilapidated garage of her old apartment and salvaged as a memento of 10+ years living in the tree tops of Squirrel Hill. Sometimes you have to hit the grill's vent lever with a hammer to get it to open. Other times, one of the legs slips out of its socket and you have to prop the darn thing up on a garden stone to keep it from spilling its coals. But if it ain't broke - or in this case ain't completely broke - don't fix it. It reminds me of an old Amish draft horse that, though lumbering and half-blind, still gets the job done. Plus, I like its history.

The grill has been out twice this year. And when the grill comes out in June, it's usually because sockeye salmon is in season. Although there is some debate, sockeye is generally considered a sustainable fish that gets positive marks from the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch. Ours came from Alaska, via Whole Foods, which carries them for just a few short months.

The indirect heat, hot smoke method as spelled out by Steven Raichlen seems perfect for sockeye. Start your fire using natural all-wood charcoal and a chimney starter. When the coals are ready (20 minutes) pour them out into one side of the kettle grill. I use a piece of rolled up aluminum foil to form a barrier. Then drop mesquite wood chips that have been soaked in water for 20 minutes directly on top of the coals. Insert the grilling grate and oil lightly using a paper towl clenched in tongs. The salmon is then placed on the side of the grill NOT above the coals. Close the lid making sure the top vents are open and positioned above the fish. This will ensure that the smoke flows over the fish as it exits the vents. Keep the bottom vents open half way. The hot smoke indirect method generally takes 20-25 minutes for a 1 pound piece of fish... a little longer if you like the thin edges to become crispy fish candy.

The salmon keeps well and can be used in an array of other applications. I like to have some leftovers for the following morning to put on top a toasted onion bagel with cream cheese, chopped red onion, and capers, and drizzled with olive oil and cracked black pepper.


The flavor of smoked wild salmon is such that you don't need a sauce. But I chopped up some chives and mixed them with some creme fraiche just for good measure. On the side, we had a goat cheese, green onion and thyme tart that came from the Williams Sonoma Spring cookbook authored by Joanne Weir. I have had this book in my cookbook collection for years, but until this weekend had no idea that Weir was the author. K made the crust. She's got great baking skills, but her attention and/or obsession of late is with fiber arts... For now, clothes on our backs come at the expense of tasty treats in our stomachs.

As a finishing touch, I made a quick strawberry granita from some very small, super-sweet berries from the farmer's market. I just pureed them in the blender and added a touch of sugar, then poured them out into a large, edged cookie sheet and placed it in freezer. The rest is easy. Let it set for about 45 minutes, then use a wooden spatula to break up the ice crystals as they form. Put back in freezer and continue doing this every 30 minutes, making sure that no large ice clumps form and you have only fine crystals. Then serve with a few whole berries and a spring of mint.

Three Mushroom Risotto

Last weekend was one of poor decisions. The first was the choice to go to the Monroeville Mall. Seems the only place you can get a watch battery changed is way out in suburbia. We never, ever, go to malls. The only reason I tagged along was that George Romero used this particular one as the setting of his cult classic, Dawn of the Dead. Cool. Bad decision number two was when K had a momentary lapse in her meticulous health-conscious ways and bought a sour apple gum ball from a germ-ridden kids candy machine. She went down with the strep for the week.

After a week of uninteresting and bland fare – including my admittedly failed attempt at chicken soup (seriously, how the &%$@ do you make a decent chicken soup?) – I figured I would help ease her transition back into culinary normalcy with one of her favorites…. Il risotto.

Like bruschetta, risotto represents one of those techniques that the fan of Mediterranean food simply must add to his or her repertoire. Once you get it down, no recipes are needed and the possibilities are endless. There is the simple, like the classic saffron-scented Risotto alla Milanese. Or the complex, like Jamie Oliver’s 10,000-step roasted butternut squash risotto with chestnuts and pancetta from Jamie's Kitchen. Both are awesome. This time, I went with mushroom. Since it’s already June, I figured that we’d also have our last asparagus of the season.

Three Mushroom Risotto with Pan-roasted Asparagus and Mascarpone

• Handful fresh crimini mushrooms, sliced
• Handful shitake mushrooms, sliced
• ¼ cup dried porcini mushrooms
• ½ medium onion, minced fine
• ¼ cup cry white wine (I keep a 10 dollar bottle of Italian pinot grigio on hand for cooking – don’t use cooking wine or really cheap white. The priniciple alone)
• 2 tbsp butter or olive oil (I usually use just a small dollop of butter and the rest olive oil)
• 1 cup Arborio risotto rice
• 5 cups homemade chicken stock (again, I used Lynne Rossetto Kasper's)
  
• ½ cup grated parmigiano reggiano cheese
• salt and pepper
• 1 bunch asparagus
• 1/4 cup mascarpone cheese
  

Pour boiling water over dried mushrooms. Steep for 10 minutes to reconstitute. Strain and reserve water. Sautee sliced fresh mushrooms until cooked. Warm butter/olive oil over medium heat, add minced onion and gently sautee onion until soft. Add rice and cook for one minute making sure rice gets toasted and covered in oil. Add white wine and cook for two minutes. Ladle 2 cups of broth over risotto and stir, consistently, until liquid is absorbed. Continue adding broth ½ cup at a time and stirring constantly, adding more only when the pan runs dry. Continue for approximately 20 minutes until all broth is used. Add dried porcini and continue stirring at the 15 minute mark. After 20 minutes, check rice for al dente. When rice is ready, add grated cheese and most of the sliced mushrooms. Serve with reserved mushrooms on top and shaved parmigiano cheese and small dollop of mascarpone cheese. Pan roasted asparagus on the side.

I had some leftover mascarpone and figured I’d use it for a quick dessert. Fresh raspberries (California) surround a dollop of mascarpone, drizzled with the last of some eucalyptus honey that we brought back from Pamplona. Just spoon it into a bowl and microwave for 5 seconds to get the honey into a liquid state.