Bruschetta with Smoked Salmon, Red Onion, and Creme Fraiche; Bruschetta with Cannellini Bean Puree, Truffle Oil, and Chives

A few weeks back, a Mexican chef interviewed by Lynne Rossetto Kasper on her not-to-be-missed weekly radio program, The Splendid Table, made a somewhat interesting comment. The gist of his argument was that recipes are really just the implementation of various cooking techniques. Therefore, home cooks would be best served by collecting techniques, not recipes.

One of the most simple, yet versatile, techniques for the fan of Mediterranean fare seems to involve putting a creative and complementary combination of any number of ingredients on toasted bread. The people of Pamplona call them "pinxtos" - a broad term used throughout the Spanish Basque Country for any number of small plates, many of which happen to involve good things atop toasted bread. In France, they are called canapes. And in Italy, of course, they are called bruschetta - the so often butchered Italian term which is properly pronounced with a hard sound, as if the "sch" were a "k."

Here's a recipe (pictured above) for bruschetta that I came up with over the weekend using some leftover wild sockeye salmon (the first of the season). The day before, I hot smoked the salmon with apple wood chips on the charcoal grill.

• Take one baguette and slice medium-thick slices on a long diagonal
  

• Rub each slice, front and back, with garlic glove and drizzle with olive oil

• Bake in 325 degree oven until slightly toasted

• Top with salmon slice, dollop of crème fraiche, sliced red onion, and snipped chives.

• Add cracked black pepper, sea salt to taste

• Drizzle platter with olive oil and serve

Yes, when it comes to salmon, you have to use wild sockeye. Nothing else comes close.

Needless to say, there are no end to the combinations. Here's another one that I made after picking up one of those super-expensive jars of sub-par black truffles from Whole Foods. The bruschetta turned out fine, but the truffles were definitely not worth the money.


The topping is a bean paste made from cannellini beans, minced garlic, and olive oil crushed and combined in a mortar and pestle, then spread on the toasted bread (as above except cut in rounds) and topped with the truffle slices and chives. The last touch is to drizzle with white truffle olive oil.

Two Days of Polenta

I used to subscribe to Fine Cooking magazine. It was alright, I guess, for the first year. But after awhile I grew increasingly weary with reading the same rehashed articles about Thanksgiving dinners, Fourth of July grilling techniques, and oft-repeated “twists” on other traditional holiday dining recipes. But there was one somewhat intriguing regularly-occurring article that I always found pretty interesting. The author prepares a particular dish – often a roast or slab of meat of some sort – and then the remainder of the article includes a number of second- and third-day recipes using the leftovers.

For an article on this concept, polenta has potential. Here are two meals from my last batch of that age-old staple of Italian peasant cooking that has, in recent years, become a mainstay of gentrified Italian restaurants. I stay away from the quick cook brands. Tradition is important in the Mediterranean. And forty-five minutes of continuous stirring really isn’t that bad when you've got All Things Considered on the radio. I roll with Moretti, which is available at the local Italian specialty store.

DAY ONE:

Polenta with Garlic-thyme Infused Olive Oil, Italian Sausages, and Stinging Nettles

The availability of stinging nettles at the Farmers @ the Firehouse in the 'burgh provided the impetus for this dish. I had never made them before, but figured I'd seize the day. I just blanched them for a minute and then sauteed them with minced garlic and olive oil. The only issue was that they really retain their water, so one needs to press them well after the one minute boil (which by the way renders the stinging parts harmless).

A couple of grilled sausages - one sweet and one hot - completed the plate. As for the olive oil - A few springs of thyme and some crushed garlic heated gently in olive oil for a few minutes, then strained and drizzled over top of the polenta. Grated pecorino and cracked black pepper to serve.

DAY TWO

Pan-fried Polenta, Poached Egg, Salad Greens, and Sliced Tomato

I find the best way to save the polenta for day two is to form it into a log shape, roll it tightly in plastic wrap, and refrigerate. When it is time to use, you just slice it up. Old timers in the Italian American community, particularly from Friuli Venezia Giulia in the northeast of Italy, used to tell me that one needs to cut it with a string or suffer mysterious "bad" consequences. A knife works fine, too.

Reheating is simple. Warm the olive oil in a nonstick pan and fry both sides until slightly crispy. Pan fried day-old polenta makes a great brunch item when topped with a poached egg and served on a bed of greens. I added a leftover sliced kumato, too. It's a pretty decent alternative when you need a half-way edible tomato in the off season.

If you are fan of sweet over savory for brunch, polenta cakes are equally delicious when drizzled with honey or maple syrup.

Salads of Beets and Radicchio

I thought that I hated Joanne Weir's cooking style. But the other night I was watching the Create Channel (one of the few channels that our rabbit ears antenna actually picks up) and came across her show, Cooking Class. It was pretty good. It seems that all these years I thought Joanne Weir was Sara Moulton and Sara Moulton was Joanne Weir.

Joanne's show inspired me to do more with beets. A freshly-sliced hunk of gorgonzola from Pennsylvania Macaroni Company's cheese counter made all the difference. Generic blue is not the same.

Here is her recipe. A springtime harbinger of a summer of salads, perhaps?

Watercress and Beet Salad with Gorgonzola and Walnuts

• 2 pounds medium-size beets (red or gold), washed
• 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon water
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 2 1/2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 1 small head radicchio, torn into 2-inch pieces
• 3 ounces Gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
• 1/2 cup walnut halves, toasted
• 1 1/2 cups loosely packed watercress, stems trimmed, for garnish
  

Preheat the oven to 375°F.

Place the beets in a shallow baking pan and drizzle with the oil and water. Roll the beets to coat with the oil. Season with salt and pepper, cover with aluminum foil, and bake until the beets are tender and can be easily pierced with a fork, 60 to 80 minutes, depending on the size of the beets. When the beets are tender, remove from the oven and let cool. Pour the oil from the bottom of the pan into a small bowl and reserve. When the beets are cool enough to handle, peel the beets and cut them into wedges.

In the meantime, whisk together the red wine vinegar and the reserved oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper. In a bowl, combine the beets and radicchio and toss with all but 1 tablespoon of the vinaigrette. Place the beets on a serving platter. Scatter the Gorgonzola and walnuts over the top. Toss the remaining 1 tablespoon of the vinaigrette with the watercress. Season with salt and pepper. Top the beets with the watercress and serve immediately.

Since I only used a quarter of the radicchio for Joanne Weir's recipe, I came up with another salad using up the remainder and added some leftover items in the pantry and refrigerator. By the way, taking off the outer layers of the radicchio appears to help limit the bitterness but this is definitely a salad for the fan of radicchio's distinctive flavor.

Radicchio, Walnut, and Macadamia Nut Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette

• 1/2 - 3/4 radicchio, thinly sliced
• 5-6 radishes, thinly sliced
• 1-2 scallions, white and lower green parts, sliced 1/2 inch on bias
• 1/4 cup walnuts, toasted in oven and roughly chopped
  
• 1/4 cup macadamia nuts, toasted in oven and rough chopped
  
• Crumbled gongonzola cheese
• EV olive oil, good quality balsamic vinegar from Modena (makes a big difference)
  

La Tarta de Santiago

In April-May of 2005, I walked 300 miles across northern Spain from Burgos to Santiago de Compostela following the ancient Catholic pilgrim route known as the Camino. They say that there is no way to truly prepare for a walk like this - No way to know how your body, particularly your feet, will be able to handle the burden. By day five, I had terrible blisters. By day six, I had pains darting through my shins and ankles. By day eight, I was ready to quit and go home.

Pain. It’s the one constant on the Camino. But there is one way that pilgrims deal with it… They talk about what’s for dinner. At the end of every day of walking, pilgrims pair up or gather in groups to find a restaurant serving menú del día, a fixed price meal where each diner gets to choose an appetizer, entrée, and dessert from a short list of options. It was while walking the Camino that I first had a tarta de Santiago. A specialty of Galicia, it is basically an almond-flavored cake topped with powdered sugar and marked with the distinctive cross of Santiago.

I recently picked up a copy of 1080 Recipes by Simone and Ines Ortega. It’s a beautifully illustrated book, a standard in Spanish households for years that has been translated into English for the first time. When I came across the recipe for tarta de Santiago, it rekindled good thoughts of that 300 mile walkathon and the postre that kept me going forward. So I asked K to drag out the family heirloom Kitchenaid mixer that she has on permanent loan from her mom, and we got to work.

Although I love the book (and generally disagree with an unfavorable review by Lisa Abend at Slate.com,) it is pretty clear that the authors are not Galicians. The cake should really have a consistency somewhat akin to a pignoli cookie with an almost flourless cake-type density. Their recipe, I surmise, calls for far too much all purpose flour. Without any indication, the recipe also makes enough batter for two full tartas.

One tarta remains still half-eaten on the kitchen counter top. The other in the back of the freezer with little hope for a future.

Scrambled Eggs with Asparagus and Caciocavallo Cheese

I’m not much for breakfast fare. Let me clarify that statement. I am not much for what passes in Pennsylvania for breakfast fare. Here, it’s always the same tired menu items. Western omelette, eggs benedict, side of bacon, home fries, french toast, blueberry pancakes.

I don’t make it to the West Coast often. (If I’m gonna be cramped up in a plane for that long, I’m going across the pond.) But when I do, I take advantage of the one thing they really do well… breakfasts. A visit to San Fran nearly fifteen years ago still conjures memories of some inventive breakfast items using the bounty of California produce. And a more recent trip to Portland, Oregon, afforded what was probably the best breakfast of all time - Not surprising considering what is the best American farmer's market I've ever visited is right across the Willamette.

The difference, I guess, is simple. Whereas in Pennsylvania we like to appease the conservative old timers with comfort foods, the Left Coasters like to get inventive and adventuresome for liberal young folks eager for something different. I’ll take the latter any day.

In that spirit, here's a breakfast/brunch item that I made up after seeing something similar at the prepared food bar at the East End Co-Op in the ‘burgh. 

Scrambled Eggs with Asparagus and Caciocavallo Cheese

• 1/2 bunch green asparagus
• 3 eggs
  
• 1/2 cup caciocavallo cheese, grated (substitute another cheese as needed; milder seems best for this so as not to detract from the asparagus, which should be front and center)
• Chives, salt, pepper to taste

The recipe is self-explanatory... Cook your asparagus by either dropping in boiling water and blanching for one minute, or, if you like them a little charred, in a cast iron pan with a little olive oil over medium heat for 5 minutes or until tender. Chop into one-inch lengths. In a non-stick skillet, add your beaten eggs that have been seasoned with salt and pepper. Add 1/4 cup of cheese and make scrambled eggs adding the asparagus pieces midway through the process. Reserve some asparagus for the plate. Plate the eggs and add the remaining caciocavallo cheese, chives, and cracked black pepper. Serve with remaining asparagus on the side.

Simple, indeed, but two key points...

One: Make sure that the eggs are the absolute best eggs that you can find. It behooves me how many magazine articles, cookbooks, and food shows fail to emphasize the need for good eggs. A yoke should be bright orange; not dull yellow. And the cage-free chickens that bear them should have been allowed to eat scraps and bugs and other goodies of nature; not just manufactured feed. As a society, we need to strive for a world in which we can get our eggs from a person who raises his or her own chickens... not from a factory. As individuals, we should actively seek out this increasingly-common alternative in our own communities.

See for yourself in this telling photo from the blog of the Artisan Bakeshop, a neat bakery with several locations in Massachusetts. Bakers know their eggs...

Two: The secret to good scrambled eggs is LOW heat... high heat will render the eggs tough and rubbery. Keep the burner low and lightly fold the eggs working inward from the edges of the skillet. Make minimal use of your wooden spoon... you don't want to over mix them. Just as the curds start to form, remove your pan from the burner, fold the eggs once more, and they are done. The optimal texture is at the point that they are just to the point of not being runny.

The best side for this brunch/breakfast item is a fruit salad. Here, I used mangoes and kiwis.

If you can't get caciocavallo, a cow or sheep's milk cheese common in southern and central Italy that is shaped like a tear-drop and tastes of a milder provolone, use any cheese of your liking.