Pithy and Cleaver: The Obsessions of Two Cooks

Hi friends--You're Missing Out!

2009-04-01T16:47:00.005-04:00

Update your feeds, change your bookmarks!
Come join us at the newer, awesomer Pithy and Cleaver! We've got Thai crab salad! And Fire and Spice nut mix! Sunchoke soup and double-vanilla french toast (with homemade vanilla-infused bourbon) and LOTS of fun stuff up ahead.

Our new address is: http://pithyandcleaver.com

Please come see us!

HEY GUESS WHAT!

2009-03-24T07:29:00.001-04:00

Hello, amigos!

Big news here at Pithy and Cleaver--we're moving!

That's right! We've packed our bags and headed on over to www.pithyandcleaver.com

We hope you'll update your blogrolls and join us at our new home!

Love,
Maggie and Shiv

Spiking Dessert: Eggless Tiramisu with Marsala and Kahlua

2009-03-22T14:00:00.001-04:00

Hey readers! You can check out this post on the fancy new Pithy and Cleaver! Just head over here!

Everyone is writing about Twitter these days, perhaps because it's really happening, or perhaps because everyone wants to figure out what the heck it's good for. Quick answer: it's great for wasting time. But I've also found that Twitter is a pretty interesting way to connect with people I may not have gotten to chat with otherwise, as well as a chance see a behind-the-scenes look at bloggers I admire. And it's a useful forum for asking for advice on recipes and restaurants.

I was daydreaming about dessert when I asked my twitter-people (tweeps? Are we really calling them that?) whether they had any tips on tiramisu ingredients or technique. The kind person who contributes to Twitter for Everyday Food magazine responded, volunteering an easy recipe for me to try. How cool! But to me, their recipe just isn't the real thing. These days, mascarpone is easy enough to find (especially in New York) so there was no way I was substituting a bar of reduced-fat-cream cheese. I wanted to grate some nice dark chocolate into it, too, not just use cocoa powder. Instant espresso isn't really my game (it just tastes off to me, even in baked goods) and the recipe didn't call for any alcohol!

We here at Pithy and Cleaver don't mind baking with booze. Shiv did invent a Mint Julep Pie, after all. I was further encouraged when I stopped at the farmer's market for a bottle of fresh cream. The woman from Milk Thistle Farm who sold me a bottle of lovely heavy cream offered her advice: for that true sophisticated tiramisu taste, I should go to a nice liquor store and buy a decent bottle of marsala. It just wouldn't be the same without it. "One last thing," she warned. "Don't soak the ladyfingers too long. And don't overbeat the cream, it's so full of milk fat, it will turn into butter."

Trying not to think of the giant tub of near-butter I was about to serve my unsuspecting guests, I headed for the liquor store with a plan. For this grown-up tiramisu, there would be not one, but two kinds of booze. Good freshly whipped cream, good chocolate, real coffee (spiked with Kahlua!) and real mascarpone, with a touch of marsala. Decadent, for sure.

And really delicious. Like, eye-rolling, expletive-dropping delicious.

This is the perfect dessert for company, since it requires no oven and must be assembled a few hours ahead. It's dramatic looking—your guests will be so impressed, they cannot imagine what a breeze it was to put together. It's rich, but not cloying. Traditionally, tiramisu has raw egg yolks in it, but this eggless version is worry-free. And don't be scared of all the alcohol, the taste is just sophisticated, not too potent.

Eggless Tiramisu with Marsala and Kahlua
serves 9-12

2 cups very strong decaf coffee or espresso, cooled
1/3 cup plus 1 T sugar, divided
3 T Kahlua
2 cups mascarpone
3 T Marsala wine (unsalted-buy at a liquor store, not "cooking wine")
36 savoiardi (Italian ladyfingers)
1 1/2 cups very fresh heavy whipping cream
small bar good-quality dark chocolate for grating (I used four Valrhona 70% cocoa feves)

Prepare layering ingredients: chill a large bowl and the beaters of an electric mixer (a hand mixer is fine.) Prepare coffee and let cool in a wide-low dish (a loaf pan or baking dish works well.) Add 1 T sugar and the Kahlua, set aside.
Place mascarpone in a large bowl. Fold in reminiang 1/3 cup sugar and marsala. Using chilled bowl and beaters, whip cream until soft peaks form. Do not overwhip! Gently fold half of the cream into the mascarpone mixture, then add in the rest, folding carefully until just mixed.

To assemble tiramisu, have 8 1/2" trifle bowl (or other straight-sided serving bowl) next to coffee mixture. Dip savoiardi one at a time into coffee mixture briefly-count "One" as you dip one side, then turn and count "One" before removing. Place in bottom of bowl until a layer is formed (You may have to break a few ladyfingers before dipping to evenly fill bottom layer. When bottom of bowl is covered, carefully add about a quarter of the mascarpone and cream mixture, smoothing the top with a spatula. Grate chocolate on top, evenly covering the cream (you should still be able to see the cream through the chocolate.) Cover with another layer of soaked savoiardi, then another layer of cream, followed by chocolate shavings, repeating until you have four layers and all your cream has been used up. Wrap well with saran wrap and refridgerate at least two hours before serving. You can wait overnight, but the whipped cream condenses a little.

The Old Fashioned Way: Nicole Rees's Simple Cream Scones

2009-03-19T09:15:00.008-04:00

Hi readers, we've moved!
Read this post, and new ones, at the new Pithy and Cleaver! Thanks for updating your book marks. We hope you like the new design.

Living in a 450 square-foot apartment is tricky if you love to cook and bake. Wall shelves help, as does a freestanding counter island. Baking pans are stacked in unnatural positions and wedged in tiny cabinets, and we have a bread board hanging on a nail on the wall. Luckily, we did manage to find an apartment with a dishwasher—though it's insalled directly under the sink, rendering it impossible to rinse dishes and put them into the dishwasher with any sort of grace. Needless to say, we don't have lots of big kitchen appliances.

Every time I read a cooking magazine or pick up a new cookbook, I am reminded of my longing for a food processor and (sigh) a Kitchenaid mixer. So many recipes call for these tools without explaining any alternatives. That's why I was so excited to receive a copy of Baking Unplugged from the kind folks at Wiley publishing.

In Baking Unplugged, Nicole Rees provides recipes for old-fashioned treats that don't call for any fancy equipment. With a whisk and a spoon (and a few other low-tech tools you probably already own), she makes breakfast treats and old-fashioned desserts to satisfy a sweet tooth. The yeasted cinnamon rolls sound amazing, as do the lemon squares with grated hazelnuts in the dough. (That one is very high on my to-make list.) Her directions are simple and clear, though I do wish there were pictures of the finished dishes. A long introduction explains baking down to the simplest techniques and ingredients: she wants to impart all the knowledge of old-fashioned baking the way your great-grandmother might have done.

Many of Rees's techniques and tricks for baking by hand make perfect sense, and I wish more cookbook and magazine writers would follow her lead and at least mention how a dish might be made without a mixer. Besides, it is kind of satisfying to put a dough together the old fashioned way. However, I'm unlikely to follow her all the way down this road. Whipping cream with a cold whisk may be possible, but I'm not that eager to try when a small electric hand mixer can do the job in a fraction of the time. (And without the arm cramp.)

I had never made scones before attempting the recipe in Baking Unplugged, and I was amazed at how quickly they came together. You could easily bake these in the morning before friends came over for tea or brunch. (Though they can also be frozen and rewarmed with decent results.) Straight out of the oven, they are trancendental. They're simple, tender, and flaky, with none of the off, stale flavors you find in coffeeshop scones (plus, a fraction of the cost!)

I used local cream from the farmer's market for this recipe, which I highly recommend. Because the scones have more cream than butter, and no other flavorings to distract you, the taste is one of farm-fresh dairy. They're not greasy at all. They were a touch too sugary for my liking—perhaps this is what the author means by "retro" baking. I'll scale down the sugar a tiny bit when I make them again (and watch the sugar in other recipes in the book.) I just may not have quite the same intense sweet tooth as Nicole Rees. But I'm glad her sweet tooth guided her toward writing this book.

Cream Scones
From Baking Unplugged by Nicole Rees; Wiley 2009

Makes 8 scones

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar (I would consider a little bit less)
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
3/4 cup heavy whipping cream plus 2 T for brushing
1/3 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" pieces
sugar for sprinkling (crunchy turbinado sugar would be good)

Preheat the oven to 375°. Stack two baking sheets together and line the top one with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir the vanilla extract into the heavy cream. With a pastry blender, cut the butter into the flour until a few pea-sized lumps remain. With a fork, gradually stir in enough of the 3/4 cup heavy cream until the mixture just starts to come together. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and very gently pat into an 8" round about 1 1/2" high. Using a chef's knife or bench scraper, cut the dough round into 8 wedges. Transfer the wedges to the baking sheet, spacing the scones at least 1" apart. Brush the tops with the remaining heavy cream and sprinkle liberally with sugar. Bake in the top third of the oven for 15 to 18 minutes or until the tops are golden. Transfer the scones to a wire rack to cool slightly, 3 to 4 minutes. Serve warm with jam.

PS: I've added the book to our Amazon sidebar over there --------> so you can pick yourself up a copy.

My One and Only: Salmon with Soy-Honey and Wasabi Sauces

2009-03-17T13:57:00.003-04:00

Dear readers: please come see us at the Newer, Awesomer Pithy and Cleaver. Click here to see this salmon on the new site!

There are plenty of foods I'll experiment with. I'll tinker with tomato sauce, I'll riff on risotto. But for me, no salmon recipe can unseat this one as my favorite. (I'll admit, I haven't yet tried Shiv's Seduction Salmon with Honey Mustard.)

Before we moved to Oregon and became flannel-wearing Northwesterners, I don't remember eating much salmon. As soon as we got settled, though, my mother was grilling it up (in the rain) with the best of them.

This recipe, for me, is the taste of home. It reminds me of my parents' dinner parties, during which our little dachshund would attempt to steal a napkin from some unsuspecting guest's lap and shred it to bits. (And then eat it, which was a pretty bad idea.) The salmon was served with a big salad and crusty loaves of bread, sometimes a dish of couscous with raisins alongside. Giant, thick filets of fish were consumed—even those who didn't plan to take seconds always did. It's hard to keep from licking up any remaining sweet soy-honey sauce from the plate. Whenever Matt and I travel west to see my folks, this is the dinner we request.

My mom has actually moved on to a new recipe, and that's fine, but this is the one for me. If you have a grill, you can cook the fish quickly outside, but if you only have a broiler, that works just as well. It isn't too smelly, I promise. Just be sure to leave it quite rare, like true Northwesterners do.

Salmon with Soy-Honey and Wasabi Sauces
Gourmet, May 2001
Serves 4.
If you're only serving 2, I would still make all the sauce, since it's delicious.

For salmon
1/2 cup sake
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1/4 cup rice vinegar (not seasoned)
1 tablespoon finely grated peeled fresh ginger
1 6 to 8 oz piece thick salmon fillet per person

For sauces
2 tablespoons soy sauce (I use reduced-sodium)
1/4 cup honey
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
2 teaspoons wasabi powder
1 tablespoon water

Lime wedges for serving

Briefly marinate salmon:
Stir together mirin, soy sauce, vinegar, and ginger in a shallow dish. Add fish, skin sides up, and marinate, covered, at room temperature 10 minutes. Preheat broiler.

Make sauces: Boil soy sauce, honey, and lime juice in a small saucepan, stirring frequently, until thickened, about 4 minutes. For wasabi sauce, stir together wasabi powder and water in a small bowl.

Broil fish, skin sides down, on oiled rack of a broiler pan 5 to 7 inches from heat until fish is still pink inside, 5-6 minutes. Do not overcook! Serve salmon drizzled with sauces, with lime wedges for squeezing.

Soy-honey and wasabi sauces can be made 2 hours ahead and kept, covered, at room temperature. Salmon is good with lightly steamed/sauteed vegetables (pea shoots, asparagus, shitake mushrooms) tossed with a tablespoon of hoisin.

A guaranteed crowd-pleaser: Pesto lasagna with spinach, mushrooms, and artichokes

2009-03-16T09:50:00.000-04:00

Given that I am a total misanthrope, it comes as a surprise to some how much I love entertaining. Ever since I figured out how to boil water without setting the house on fire (somewhere in my early twenties), I've taken ridiculous pleasure in having my nearest and dearest over for a home-cooked meal. The current flaw in this pleasure: in my tiny Brooklyn kitchen, it's hard to manufacture a meal for more than, say, four people at a time. As such, I am sure you can imagine my initial panic when Bench and I decided to have a dinner party for eight; fortunately for everyone, I had this recipe tucked in my back pocket.

A riff on traditional white-slash-green lasagna, this particular recipe gets a little extra heft from sauteed mushrooms and a whole lot of personality from minced artichoke bottoms (I tried to make this happen with artichoke hearts, but...just...no. Texturally, they just didn't do what I wanted them to; they were too flighty and fibrous where I wanted solid and defined) and about thirty pounds of garlic. Though you can do everything The Hard Way (make your own pesto, wash and chop adult spinach, grate your own parmesan--none of which, seriously, I would have done if I'd known the party was going to be switched at the last minute from Saturday to Friday; totally unnecessary when you're pressed for time), you really don't have to: premade pesto is an excellent way to shave off some prep time, and bagged, prewashed baby spinach makes it almost TOO easy. You can probably even use those lasagna noodles that don't require pre-boiling (which I, being a cowardly sort, have never tried) and you can definitely use pre-grated cheese.

I love serving this at parties for several reasons: it's delicious (obviously), it's impressive, it's easy to assemble, vegetarians will eat it, it multiplies well, and you can do it at a leisurely pace in advance or you can make it in a hurry on a Friday night. Basically, it's my go-to, no fail, always appropriate, guaranteed-to-elicit-queries-for-the-recipe party superstar. My repertoire holds no equal. I hope it's the same for you.

Pesto lasagna with spinach, mushrooms and artichokes

a little oil for the pan
about 16 lasagna noodles
6 oz baby spinach, roughly chopped
8 oz mushrooms, finely minced
15-oz (usually 1 can) artichoke bottoms, minced
2 lbs. (4 cups) ricotta cheese
1 cup pesto
1/3 cup toasted pine nuts (or minced walnuts)
4 large cloves garlic, minced
1 head garlic
1/2 tsp. salt
fresh black pepper to taste
3/4 cup grated parmesan
1 1/2 lbs. mozzarella cheese, grated

Preheat your oven to 350; slice the top off the head of garlic, drizzle it with olive oil and wrap it loosely in foil. Bake until soft and fragrant (about one hour) (Note: if you are preparing the lasagna in advance, this would be a good time to turn off your oven. If you are NOT preparing this in advance, roast the garlic while you're prepping the rest of the filling and keep the oven hot). Once it's cool enough to touch, squeeze the garlic out of its skin and mash it into a paste. Set aside.
Set a large pot of salted water to boiling; cook the lasagna noodles for 4-5 minutes (until tender but still al dente). Drain them and lay them out flat on foil or parchment while you get the filling ready.
Heat some olive oil in a large pan; over medium-low heat, saute the mushrooms with a bit of salt until they have released all their liquid, and then re-absorbed it (about 3-4 minutes). Add the artichoke bottoms and saute for 2-3 minutes more; add the minced garlic and saute for two more minutes. Remove from heat.
Mix together: ricotta, artichoke-mushroom mixture, pine nuts, roasted garlic paste, pesto, pine nuts and spinach. Set aside.
Lightly oil a 9x13 pan. Line the bottom with one layer of noodles, then spread 1/3 of the filling over the noodles, followed by 1/3 of the mozzarella and 1/3 of the parmesan. Add another layer of noodles, filling and cheese. And once more.
Bake for about 50 minutes at 350 degrees; if the top starts to scorch, cover it lightly with foil.

Flirting with disaster: Turkey meatballs for the masses!

2009-03-12T09:47:00.000-04:00

It's probably become kind of apparent by now that my general approach to cooking is...well...kind of lax. I rarely measure, I just kind of throw stuff in a pan. Sometimes this works, sometimes this comes back to bite me in the ass. And sometimes, both will happen at once, as was the case when I last made meatballs.

My starting point for these meatballs came from a recipe recommended to me by a lovely friend of mine (who also passed along her secret, awesome twist), a true virtuoso in the kitchen. After seeing her breezy, effortless way with these little delights, I was entranced, and immediately came home to try them. They were an unqualified success, and so I, of course, misplaced the recipe before the evening was over. Never to be seen again. Which meant I was, more or less, SOL when Bench requested a repeat a few days ago. Fortunately, these setbacks have never really stopped me; and so I trotted home, ground turkey in hand, to recreate the magic on a wing and a prayer.

Reasons why (in this particular instance) this cavalier attitude presented a slight problem:

I messed up my liquid-to-solid ratio and oversoaked the crackers (standing in for the breadcrumbs--this is the secret, and IT IS AWESOME), resulting in a saltine porridge instead of a moist, crumby cracker dough, which meant I needed to compensate by adding vast quantities of additional crackers to dry out the Meat Dough.
I came home with far more ground turkey than was really necessary. However, in light of problem 1, this turned out to be a blessing.
I could not remember how to actually apply the heat to these things in order to cook them. Bake? Fry? What temperature? What? (In the clinch, I turned, as I so often do, to Mark Bittmann, who showed me the way when it comes to baking meatballs, turkey or otherwise).
I failed to add two very important components: Salt and Pepper. Which I realized after I'd rolled out half the meatballs. Re-rolling raw meat=not particularly enjoyable.

However! By the time I actually got them in the oven, I'd actually gotten the hang of this endeavor, and think I might actually be able to make them from memory from here on out. I served them with a lovely spinach fettucine tossed in ricotta and lemon zest--highly recommended!

Light and lovely turkey meatballs

12 oz ground turkey (or pork; I'll never tell!)
1/4 lb saltine crackers (about one tube if you buy one of the big boxes), crushed
1/2c milk
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 medium onion, diced
2 tsp fresh sage, finely chopped
Salt and pepper

In a medium-sized skillet, saute the onion in a bit of olive oil until just translucent. Turn off the heat and add the sage; mix thoroughly.
Meanwhile, moisten the crushed crackers in the milk; don't let them get too soggy! Squeeze out the excess moisture.
Add the crackers, egg, onions and sage to the ground meat; mix thoroughly. if the mixture is too wet, crush some dry crackers into the mixture until you reach the desired consistency. Add salt and pepper.
MEANWHILE! Preheat your oven to 350. While it's cranking up, roll the meat dough into balls approximately 1.5" in diameter; place them on parchment-lined cookie sheets. When the oven's ready, bake the meatballs for about ten minutes.

Weeknight Entertaining: Port-Braised Lamb Shanks with Coriander, Fennel, and Star Anise

2009-03-10T20:45:00.001-04:00

Hi readers, we've moved!
Read this post, and new ones, at the new Pithy and Cleaver! Thanks for updating your book marks. We hope you like the new design.

Let's say you want to have a special evening. There's a fancy bottle of wine you've been saving, and you've invited a few friends over for a home-cooked meal. You have something to celebrate.

But you don't know exactly what time they're arriving—they could be stuck at work, or their train could take forever to come. If you plan a dish with too many last-minute preparations, you'll be bustling around while your friends relax and catch up. And you clearly don't have time for lots of shopping and complicated prep between the time you leave work and the time they come over. It's a challenge, the weeknight dinner party.

But take a deep breath. There is no reason you can't entertain on a weeknight, even have a truly decadent, enjoyable meal, without any stress. That's what braising is for. Everything is prepared in advance. You can gently reheat these port-braised lamb shanks for 45 minutes or an hour or longer while your guests arrive, while you drink toasts and eat lovely cheese, and the meal will be none the worse for wear. In fact, it will just get better.

It always amazes me how recipes for braised dishes fail to emphasize the value in cooking ahead. Cook for three (or more) hours the evening before your party, and let the pot cool off outside before you stash it in the fridge overnight. The flavors will mingle, and, most importantly, the fat will separate from the cooking liquid. On game day, you skim the now-solidified fat from the surface before reheating. And this dish has plenty. It's quite satisfying to remove it, knowing you're saving your guests from a greasy meal.

So the lamb reheated happily on the stove, and we sipped the wine and ate lovely cheese from Fromaggio in Essex Market. And Matt asked Peter to be his best man in our wedding, and they were both blushing and adorable, and the lamb fell off the bone as I tried to serve it, and it was as tender as can be.

Port-Braised Braised Lamb Shanks with Coriander, Fennel, and Star Anise
Adapted from Bon Appetit, March 2006
Serves 4

2 1/2 tsp ground coriander
2 tablespoons fennel seeds
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 large lamb shanks (about 5 pounds)
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 large white onion, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
10 garlic cloves, peeled
3 celery stalks, cut crosswise into 1 1/2-inch pieces
2 carrots, peeled, cut crosswise into 1 1/2-inch pieces
1 small leek
3 cups ruby Port
2 1/2 cups low-salt chicken broth
2 1/2 cups beef broth
6 whole cloves
2 whole star anise
2 bay leaves
1/2 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper

The day before the party, prepare and braise the lamb shanks. Measure coriander, fennel, and pepper in a heavy skillet. Toast on medium-high heat until aromatic and slightly darker, about 2 minutes. Transfer to spice grinder or mortar and pestle; grind finely. Rub each shank with spice blend, reserving a tablespoon or so. Sprinkle each shank with salt.

In large pot, heat port to a simmer. Simmer until reduced to about 1 cup, about 20 minutes. Add broth, boil until liquid is reduced to about 4 cups, about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, eat 2 tablespoons oil in heavy large dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add shanks to pot. Cook until brown on all sides, about 20 minutes. Remove to bowl. Add remaining 2 tablespoons oil to same pot. Add onion and next 4 ingredients; sauté over medium heat until vegetables begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add remaining spice blend and stir 1 minute. Add hot liquid when reduced, scraping the pan and using the liquid to deglaze.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Return shanks to pot. Add cloves, star anise, bay leaves, and crushed red pepper. Cover pot and place in oven. Braise lamb until tender, 2 to 2 1/2 hours.
When cooked, uncover and cool slightly. Remove shanks from sauce, holding on a plate or bowl, and strain sauce. Return shanks and sauce to pot. Cover and keep refrigerated up to two days.

The day of the party, skim fat from top of the dish. Rewarm, covered, in a 350°F for 45 minutes to one and a half hours (until warm) before serving.

Place 1 lamb shank on each of 4 plates (can be served on top of polenta). Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper. Spoon sauce and over lamb and serve.

The department of mycological affairs: Seared tuna with multi-mushroom ragout

2009-03-09T10:48:00.001-04:00

The other weekend, we were lucky enough to wrangle a brunch invite from the Lovely A and her man B (huevos con migos cooked up by real live Texans? HELL YES!), and Bench and I were tasked with bringing along some fruit. So, we popped into one of my favorite stores ever, Union Market, to peruse their produce section. En route to picking out the fruit, my eye was caught by the mushroom bar.

Oh man, oh mercy.

They had mushrooms i'd never even SEEN before! Black trumpets! Hedgehog mushrooms! Mini chanterelles! They also had some of the most beautiful oyster mushrooms I'd ever encountered. Needless to say, I stopped in front of that display like I'd walked into a wall of glass. Bench, recognizing the symptoms, just handed me a bag, and with the acquisition of a gorgeous (if GIGANTOR) piece of yellowfin tuna, the evening meal was planned: Seared tuna with multi-mushroom-miso ragout.

I decided that miso was going to be a central flavor in this meal, and so I marinated the tuna in a slurry of red miso, rice vinegar, and sesame oil; the mushrooms were sauteed slow and low with miso, sake, garlic, and honey (low and slow is pretty much my watchword for mushrooms these days), resulting in a tangy, complex, meaty ragout. The tuna was cooked fast and high in my cast iron skillet, its simple seasoning an excellent match for the robust mushroom sauce.

Basically, this was a nice, quick weeknight meal elevated to gourmet ridiculousness with the application of a few specialty mushrooms; it will taste just as lovely with whatever mushrooms you happen to find at your local. This dish is not elitist! This dish does not judge!

Seared tuna with mushroom sauce

1lb nice tuna steak, cut into four portions

1lb mushrooms, sliced (any combination your heart desires! I used black trumpet, hedgehog, shiitake and oyster, but crimini, portobello, button white, or any other combination will work)
2 tsp red miso, divided
1/3c sake
1/4c seasoned rice vinegar
1 tsp sesame oil, divided
2 tsp olive oil
2 tsp honey
2 cloves garlic, sliced

Make your marinade: combine 1/2 tsp sesame oil, the rice vinegar, and 1 tsp miso in a zip top bag. Mix it thoroughly, add the fish and then refrigerate for up to one hour.
Meanwhile, make your sauce: over medium-low heat, saute the garlic until it's just aromatic. Add the mushrooms; stir until they've released their liquid.
Add the miso and the honey. Continue to saute until the mushrooms have re-absorbed their liquid.
Add the sake and stir until the sauce starts to thicken slightly. Reduce heat to low.
In a well-seasoned skillet, heat the remaining sesame oil with the olive oil over high heat. Remove the fish from the marinade and pat dry.
When the oil just starts to smoke, plop your fish down in it and cook for 3-5 minutes a side (turning once) until it reaches your favorite level of doneness. I like mine still flopping around, so I tend to find myself closer to the three-minute end of the spectrum.

Dinner from the Pantry: Orzo with Garlicky White Beans and Chicken Sausage

2009-03-05T20:04:00.013-05:00

Hi readers, we've moved!
Read this post, and new ones, at the new Pithy and Cleaver! Thanks for updating your book marks. We hope you like the new design.

At Supper restaurant in the East Village, they treat every table to a bowl of white beans soaked in garlicky olive oil. Piled onto bread, these beans may very well be one of the best dishes the restaurant has to offer. (Though you shouldn't miss the Priest Stranglers or the perfect roast chicken.) I learned to reproduce those beans for a quick appetizer by trial and error when I first moved to the city, and "the bean thing" has since become a staple in our household. Having a can of white beans and a head of garlic around means I'll never be without a snack for surprise vistors, or short on food for a party.

But a girl cannot live on bread and beans alone, so I whipped up an extended remix, full-meal version here. Garlic, beans, and olive oil are still the stars of the show, but this hearty dish has a bit more to offer: salty sausage, fresh herbs, and sweet leeks flavor the pasta. A squeeze of lemon and a shaving of parmesan finish it off.

You may have everything in your pantry and freezer to make this right now. You may even be trying the eat-down-the-pantry challenge that everyone's writing about on Egullet and The Washington Post. Here is my offering to those watching their budgets and to those whose tiny apartment freezers and pantries are just too crowded. Just make sure anyone you might want to kiss has a bite of the garlicky stuff too.

Orzo with Garlicky White Beans and Chicken Sausage
serves 2

4 cloves garlic, smashed and chopped roughly
3 tablespoons olive oil
8 fresh sage leaves, washed and torn
1/2 tsp fresh oregano leaves
2 or 3 leeks, washed carefully and chopped
3 spicy italian chicken sausages, sliced in rounds (the ones I used were fully cooked)
1/2 cup wine or pasta water
1 can white beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 lb orzo
salt
parmesan and lemon wedges for serving

In a large saute pan or 3.5 qt dutch oven, saute garlic, sage, and oregano in olive oil until garlic begins to turn translucent. Add leeks and saute several minutes until softened. Meanwhile, boil water for the orzo. When leeks are softened, push them to the side of the pan. Add sliced sausages to open space and cook, turning occasionally, until brown (if you started with raw sausages, check to make sure sausage looks cooked through.) Salt pasta water generously and cook pasta according to package directions. Deglaze saute pan with wine or pasta water ladled from the cooking pasta. Add beans, cook 10 minutes. When pasta is cooked al dente, add to bean mixture and toss. Salt generously and serve with parmesan and a lemon wedge for squeezing.

Improvising Indian: Chickpeas and Greens Simmered in Yogurt

2009-03-04T09:00:00.001-05:00

Hi readers, we've moved!
Read this post, and new ones, at the new Pithy and Cleaver! Thanks for updating your book marks. We hope you like the new design.

I would love to invite a group of friends to my apartment for an Indian feast. I'd to try the tandoori chicken from a recent Cook's Illustrated (recipe here on The Bitten Word), charred under the broiler with a coating of garam masala, ginger, and chili powder. Perhaps I'd even make an attempt at naan with onion or garlic and a mango salsa. For dessert, an assortment of tropical sorbets, or maybe a coconut tapioca?

But when I saw a recipe for spinach simmered in yogurt with turmeric and coriander in last month's Food and Wine, I didn't want to wait for a big party. Perhaps it's end-of-winter braised-meat fatigue, or a vitamin deficiency as the cold weather drags on, but a bowl of greens is an appealing supper all on its own to me. Especially after trudging home through the slushy puddles overflowing every gutter in the city.

The very first mesclun leaves are appearing at the Union Square farmer's market, but I needed piles, since greens cook down to nothing. Don't underestimate—you probably need a bunch of greens per person if you're serving this as a main course. And if even if not, since it's delicious. I picked out spinach and nice-looking mustard greens at Whole Foods. To make it a bit more substantial, I added two cans of chickpeas for a tangy spin on chana saag. (I increased and varied the spices too after a taste—chickpeas take quite a bit of spice.)

I would not use frozen spinach for this, even if someone else gives you permission. Since the dish only simmers for a few minutes, fresh greens elevate it above takeout Indian. The mustard greens are pleasantly potent, and the spinach stays sweet and fresh. You could probably make this ahead, as well, cooking the spices and chickpeas and wilting the greens, then just combining it all with the yogurt to warm through when your guests arrive.

Chickpeas and Greens Simmered in Yogurt
Serves 2-3 as a main course
Inspired by Food and Wine, February 2009

2 bunches spinach, rinsed carefully
1 large bunch mustard greens
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 yellow onion, minced
5 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 teaspoon chile flakes
2 teaspoons ground coriander
2 teaspoons turmeric
1 teaspoon garam masala
1 teaspoon curry powder
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, chopped
2 cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 cups plain whole-milk yogurt
Salt

Carefully wash spinach and mustard greens and place in a large pot. The water clinging to the leaves will help steam the greens. Cook, covered, over moderate heat until barely wilted, stirring occasionally. Transfer to colander. Press excess water out of greens and set aside to cool. Coarsely chop.

Heat the oil over medium heat in a dutch oven, add the onion and saute until translucent. Add garlic and chile flakes and cook until fragrant. Add coriander, turmeric, garam masala, curry powder, and ginger, and toast one minute, stirring. Add the chickpeas and tomato paste, tossing to coat. Add 1/2 cup water to deglaze, and cook until evaporated. Add another 1/2 cup water, and cook 20 minutes, stirring frequently. When garbanzos are tender, lower the heat and add chopped greens and yogurt to the pot, stirring, five minutes, until the yogurt begins to separate. Season generously with salt and serve with rice.

You Salty Tart: Fresh Plum Tart with Goat Cheese and Walnut-Thyme Streusel

2009-03-03T09:00:00.002-05:00

Hi readers, we've moved!
Read this post, and new ones, at the newer, awesomer Pithy and Cleaver! Thanks for updating your book marks. We hope you like the new design.

Salty desserts are all the rage. It seems we're not satisfied anymore with simple sweets, we need them with smokey bacon! and Maldon salt! (And infused with the cereal-milk of our childhood dreams, but I haven't tried that yet.)

This tart isn't a brand-new invention, though—it's from a 2003 Bon Appetit recipe. Anticipating the trend, I guess.

It's a fun, light-feeling dessert, with a nutty crust and fresh, uncooked goat cheese and ricotta filling. If you wait for plums to be in season, you'll get even tastier results. It's quite impressive-looking, and doesn't even require that you make pie crust!

The thing about salt in desserts, though, is that you have to be careful. One minute, you're fun and edgy, but a few pinches of Maldon later, you're serving pretzels with post-dinner coffee. So I've adjusted the salt a little in the recipe below. The sprinkle of Maldon or fleur de sel on top of the streusel is great, but the ricotta filling really didn't need it.

Plum Tart with Goat Cheese and Walnut-Thyme Streusel
Adapted from Bon Appetit

For the crust
1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/2 cup walnuts (about 2 ounces)
1/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
7 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 egg yolk

For the streusel
1 cup all purpose flour
2/3 cup walnuts (about 3 ounces)
1/3 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

Filling and Topping
8 ounces soft fresh goat cheese
8 ounces (1 cup) whole-milk ricotta cheese
3 tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper

4 large plums (about 1 pound), halved, pitted, cut into 1/4-inch-thick wedges
1/4 teaspoon fleur de sel (I used Maldon sea salt) for garnish

For crust:
Blend first 4 ingredients in processor until nuts are finely ground. If you don't have a food processor, chop nuts finely and add first 4 ingredients to a large bowl, blending with a pastry blender. Add butter; blend until coarse meal forms. Add egg yolk; blend until moist clumps form. Press dough onto bottom and up sides of 9-inch-diameter tart pan with removable bottom. Cover; chill 1 hour.

For streusel:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Blend flour, walnuts, both sugars, coarse salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom in processor until nuts are finely ground. (or chop nuts and use pastry blender in a large bowl.) Add thyme and blend 5 seconds. Transfer mixture to medium bowl. Add butter. Using fingertips, rub in until small moist clumps form.

Spread streusel mixture on rimmed baking sheet. Bake 8 minutes. Stir, then continue baking until golden brown, about 7 minutes longer. Cool streusel completely (mixture will become crisp).

For filling and topping:
Combine both cheeses, 1 tablespoon honey, 1 tablespoon oil, sugar, nutmeg, and pepper in large bowl; stir to blend well. Refrigerate while baking crust.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line crust with foil; fill with dried beans or pie weights. Bake crust until sides are set, about 15 minutes. Remove foil and beans. Continue to bake crust until golden brown, pressing with back of fork if crust bubbles, about 15 minutes longer. Cool crust completely.

Spread cheese filling in crust. Arrange plums in concentric circles atop filling, leaving 3/4-inch plain border. Sprinkle streusel lightly over tart. Refrigerate tart at least 1 hour and up to 4 hours.

Remove pan sides; place tart on platter. Drizzle with 2 tablespoons honey and 2 tablespoons oil; sprinkle with fleur de sel. Cut tart into wedges.

Killer Porcini Mushroom Tomato Sauce: Satisfying Vegetarian for a Crowd

2009-03-01T14:54:00.009-05:00

When you make dinner for nine people in a tiny apartment (or anywhere), it is not always perfect. The lasagna noodles may overcook and turn out a bit floppy, and you may run out of cheese for the topping. The pictures may be blurry and messy. But it's really just lucky you have enough chairs. And your guests are enjoying meeting each other, and there's plenty of wine.

While I'm not going to instruct you to recreate this exact lasagna, I wanted to share with you the recipe for the sauce I used. Because it's killer. It's earthy and deeply flavored, with the richness and strength of a heavy meat sauce, without any of the meat. Dried porcini mushrooms and their soaking liquid, along with an entire bottle of wine turn regular marinara into dinner-party material. It impressed vegetarians and carnivores alike. And this is not just a lasagna ingredient: this would be great on gnocchi or tagliatelle or piled onto shredded spaghetti squash and/or bitter greens.

Set aside a day to make this giant pot of sauce, and save it in portions in your freezer for a quick meal. It can simmer all day, and your patience will be rewarded.

A few notes on ingredients: I used an inexpensive ($5) Shiraz for this. Be sure to taste a sip to make sure the bottle is good before adding it to your sauce. Because wouldn't it be sad if the wine ruined it all! Also, I added one jar of pre-made Barilla marinara to the sauce base. I realize this is cheating, but I find it evens out the edges a little, and provides a neutral base for your fresh flavorings.

Killer Porcini Mushroom Tomato Sauce

1 oz porcini mushrooms
2 cups water
2 yellow onions, chopped
1/2 T fennel seeds
2 T tomato paste
6 cloves garlic, smashed and chopped
1/2 tsp fresh rosemary, chopped
1/2 tsp dried basil
1 large portobello mushroom, chopped
salt and pepper
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 bottle dry red wine (I used Shiraz)
1 28-oz can crushed tomatoes
1 28-oz can diced tomatoes
1 jar (24 oz) prepared marinara sauce (I used Barilla)
1/4 cup fresh oregano leaves

Soak porcini mushrooms in 2 cups boiling water for 30 minutes. Rinse porcini and chop, saving liquid. Pour liquid through a strainer lined with a paper towel to remove dirt and save. Meanwhile, saute onions in a large (at least 6 quart) heavy dutch oven over medium low, stirring often, about 20 minutes until translucent and beginning to color. Add fennel seeds and tomato paste, stir and let caramelize for a minute. Add garlic, rosemary, basil, and portobello mushroom, saute 1 minute more. Add a pinch of salt and several grinds of fresh pepper along with red pepper flakes.

Pour 2 cups of wine into the pan to deglaze, stir and scrape browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Cook until wine evaporates. Add both cans of tomatoes and their liquid along with prepared marinara. Add chopped porcini along with half their liquid. Let simmer (it should be just lightly bubbling) until reduced slightly, about 20 minutes, then add another cup of wine and the remaining porcini liquid. Continue cooking and adding wine a cup at a time until entire bottle has been added. This could take an hour.

Let simmer on very low heat at least 2 more hours and up to six, stirring occasionally. When ready to serve, stir in fresh oregano leaves. Taste for seasoning.

Lady Marmalade: Blood Orange Marmalade

2009-02-26T08:41:00.000-05:00

So, you know how I've been going on and on about winter citrus and its restorative effects on the dying winter soul? Well, let me tell you. I have not been returning the favor--I've had a whole pile of Meyer lemons and blood oranges languishing in my refrigerator for weeks, barely hanging on to this mortal coil. It got to the point where my guilt was so significant that I embarked upon the unthinkable: I decided to make marmalade.

This was An Event for two major reasons:

I've never made jam of any sort
Despite being half English, I've never really had much of a taste for the stuff.

However! When one is talking wasted citrus, one must rise to the unexpected challenge! Or attempt to, anyway. I'll admit it: it took me a few tries to get this one right. I didn't have a real recipe to work with, and I'd never worked with pectin; I also failed to properly measure the amount of fruit I was using, so I ended up with marmalade soup at the end of the first cooking. Cooking it twice, while probably not ideal, didn't seem to hurt the concoction too much. If anything, I think it may have intensified the citrus flavor.

Things I learned:

Using only the zest of the orange (discarding the pith and most of the rind) cut the bitterness factor significantly while still allowing the extreme...well...citrusness of the fruit to really shine.
Marmalade is far more delicious than I'd given it credit for (though, admittedly, my marmalade may not be...well...traditional.)
Many marmalade recipes call for a metric shedload of sugar. I believe that if you boil longer, you can get a similar effect without as much. I mean, 7 cups? Really?
Canning and jarring and jamming is nowhere near as daunting as I'd once thought. All you need are a big pot, a pair of tongs, a spatula (for getting the filled jars in and out) and a good book to read while you stir the pot.

Blood orange marmalade

8 Whole blood oranges.
3 Meyer lemons, sliced thinly
4c sugar
Pectin (I used one pouch of Certo brand liquid pectin, by Sure-jell)

Remove the outer layer of zest from the orange (if you want the marmalade texture, do this with a vegetable peeler; if you're lazy like me, you can use your microplane), taking care not to get too much of the bitter white layer beneath. Set the zest aside.
Peel the oranges and then slice them thinly and chop them roughly. remove any tough pith or seeds that you encounter, but save as much of the juice as you can!
Put the oranges and lemons in a deep saucepan; add the pectin and let sit for a moment.
Add the zest.
Add the sugar and then bring the contents of the pan up to a boil. Boil, boil, boil away (stirring as much as you can reasonably bear) merrily until it's thick, syrupy, and passes the spoon test.

To preserve your marmalade:

Get a bunch of canning jars.
Wash them in hot, soapy water
Boil them mercilessly for about 15 minutes, then remove them from the pot.
Ladle your marmalade into your clean, sterilized jars. Gently seal the tops and boil them at a rollicking, high temperature (with at least 1 inch of water covering them) for 5 more minutes. Turn off the heat, but leave the jars in there until the water is lukewarm (I tend to leave the jars in the waterbath overnight). This should activate the vacuum seal on the jar, characterized by the sort of dip in the middle. If you don't have a vacuum seal by the time the water cools, remove the jar and try again with a new lid.

Pancakes for Dinner: Vegetarian Pa Jeon

2009-02-25T16:10:00.003-05:00

Hey readers! We've moved! Come check us out at the newer, awesomer Pithy and Cleaver! You can read about Pa Jeon on the new site right here.

February 24th was International Pancake Day. And I made these tasty Korean pancakes for dinner. But it was totally a coincidence.

When I started looking at recipes for Pa Jeon, I was not even aware of the existence of Pancake Day, which apparently arose from an old tradition of using up eggs and fat before Lent begins. But here I am with a belly full of pancakes. And you should make these for dinner, pancake day or no.

It's a great tight-budget recipe, using a few pantry ingredients and giving you an opportunity to clean out the fridge. Depending on what you have around, these basically are free. Or, like, five dollars, max. Got some extra zucchini? Slice into matchsticks and throw it in. A few shrimp languishing in your freezer? Thaw, chop and add. I did a vegetarian version, but you could stir leftover cooked meat into the batter if you've got some around. Bits of sweet red peppers would be great, too. The only real essentials are a batter (preferably made with half rice flour, which gives it a sweetness and lightness, as well as crispy edges) and a vinegary dipping sauce.

I found the rice flour at a local asian market (M2M, in case you're in New York.) The package just says "Rice Powder" and it looks a little suspicious, but it tasted great and I've lived to tell the tale. It wouldn't shock me if Whole Foods had some, as well, maybe in the gluten-free section? In fact, I bet you could make these entirely gluten-free with minimal adjustment to the recipe, just subbing out the cup of wheat flour for something safely GF. Many soy sauces aren't gluten-free, though, so watch out for that.

While I was making these for the first time, I was struck by the similarity to latkes, an old favorite. Even down to the trick of adding a bit of seltzer to fluff up the batter! (Trick courtesy Cathy of Not Eating Out in New York.) These are a bit more soft and pillowy, though. Perhaps we should try dipping latkes in ginger-vinegar sauce. Now that's fusion.

Vegetarian Korean Pancakes (Pa Jeon)
adapted from Mark Bittman
Serves 2

For pa jeon:
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup rice flour
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 1/2 cups cold unflavored seltzer water
1 tablespoon canola oil, plus extra for the pan
1 cup garlic chives (scallions are ok), sliced in 2-inch lengths
1/2 cup carrots, peeled cut into thin matchsticks (if you grate them, they disappear into the batter)
1/2 cup shitake mushrooms, sliced
1 tablespoon prepared kimchi, chopped, plus additional for serving

For vinegar dipping sauce:
1/4 cup soy sauce
3 tablespoons rice vinegar (unseasoned)
1/4 teaspoon sesame oil
1 teaspoon sugar
2 teaspoons minced or grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds

To prepare dipping sauce, stir first first four ingredients in a bowl until sugar dissolves. Add ginger and stir, crushing slighly against the sides of the bowl. Let macerate, stir in sesame seeds when you're ready to serve.

In a large bowl, gently mix flours, eggs, seltzer, and oil until smooth. Let rest a few minutes while you prepare the vegetables. Stir in vegetables, including kimchi, tossing to coat. Heat a large seasoned cast iron pan over medium heat and coat with a bit of oil. When pan is hot, drop batter with a ladle to form 4 or five pancakes (smaller pancakes are easier to flip than large.) Spread out batter so it's no more than a half-inch thick. Turn heat down to medium-low. Cook about 4 minutes, flipping when pancake no longer resists, then cook about 4 minutes on the other side. Pancake should be crispy and brown, with no liquid inside. Remove to a plate. Repeat with remaining batter.

Serve hot with vinegar dipping sauce, extra kimchi, and hot sauce, if desired.

A shot of spice: Tequila-lime Shrimp with Spicy Corn and Roasted Red Pepper Risotto

2009-02-24T17:08:00.003-05:00

Hey readers, we've moved! Check out the newer, awesomer Pithy and Cleaver right here!

I got a phone call the other day from my old college roommate, Hannah. She's been living in Grozny and Sierra Leone since 2004, but she's working in New York for a few months. She was checking out apartments from Brooklyn to the Upper East side, looking for a room to sublet during her time in the city.

"I'm in your neighborhood, I think," she said, and we made plans to meet up after she saw the room. She called back two minutes later. "Um, when I said in your neighborhood, I meant in your building," she said. "Your name is on the mailbox downstairs." Sure enough, the room that she'd found randomly on craigslist was just two floors down from me! So for two months, we will pretend to be roommates again, and catch up after being many, many miles apart since graduation.

This meal, which we made with another college friend/former roommate (the lovely Jackie), was perfect for collaborative cooking. (I can take no credit for the recipe selection—Jackie chose these, and they were winners.)

The three of us took turns stirring while we drank some wine—none of the labor was too taxing. At the last minute, when the risotto has softened adequately, the shrimp cook up quick in a pan (or a grill, if you have it.)

Studded with corn and peppers and spiked with spice, this dish is not your mama's risotto. It has a real kick to it, balanced by the sweetness of red peppers and shrimp. Keep a glass of water (or a beer) handy.

Spicy Corn and Roasted Red Pepper Risotto
Adapted from Cooking Light

Yield: 4 servings

1 3/4 cups water
3 1/2 cups low-salt vegetable or chicken broth or stock
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 cup uncooked Arborio or other short-grain rice
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup thinly sliced scallions
3/4 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
1 jalapeno, chopped, seeds removed
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon hot sauce
2 cups frozen whole-kernel corn
3/4 cup chopped bottled roasted red bell peppers, removed from liquid

Combine water and broth in a medium pot and bring to a low simmer. Keep warm over low heat.

In a large saucepan, heat oil. Add rice, cumin, coriander, garlic, and jalapeno, sauté for one to two minutes until rice is slightly translucent. Stir in 1/2 cup of the broth mixture, cook until liquid is nearly absorbed, stirring constantly. Gradually add remaining broth, half a cup at a time, waiting and stirring until broth is absorbed before adding more. Cook about 20 minutes total—it's possible you may not need all of the liquid. Taste rice, it should be tender. Stir in scallions, cheese, hot sauce, corn (still forzen!) and roasted peppers. Cook and stir 3 minutes, until heated through. Top with Tequila-lime shrimp.

Tequila-Lime Shrimp
adapted from Health

2 tablespoons tequila
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 teaspoon bottled hot sauce
2 garlic cloves, minced
24 large shrimp, peeled and deveined, with tails on (about 1 1/4 pounds)
lime wedges for serving

After your risotto (see recipe above) has been cooking awhile, combine tequila, lime juice, olive oil, hot sauce, and garlic in a large tupperware container. Add shrimp, toss to coat, let stand ten minutes while you cook the risotto. Heat a large cast iron pan, grease with a small amount of olive oil. Add shrimp (cook in several batches if necessary.) Cook a few minutes per side until just opaque. Serve on top of risotto with lime wedges.

L'Avventura!

2009-02-24T14:10:00.003-05:00

Hello, ducks!

I'm jaunting off on a European adventure in, oh, twenty minutes, which means I'll be out of pocket for the next couple of weeks. I'll try to update from the road, but for the most part, I leave you in the lovely and capable hands of Maggie.

See you soon, lovelies!

cheers,
shiv

Almost like being in New York: Pretzel-crusted chicken

2009-02-23T09:54:00.003-05:00

I don't know if it's a New York thing or what, but I'm mildly obsessed with the street pretzel. There's no real explanation for it; street pretzels are uniformly dry, too salty/not salty enough, and unvaryingly stale within seconds. However, slathered in mustard, they're still one of my favorite afternoon treats. They're also, for the aforementioned reasons, sometimes a little too gross for me to deal with. It's on those days that I start to consider how I can bring a slightly less scary version of those flavors into my life; it took a very long and taxing week to finally inspire me to do something about it.

I had a dim recollection of a recipe for pretzel-crusted chicken in the November or December issue of Food and Wine; though I couldn't find the actual clipping in my files, a quick spin through the interwebs turned up this, which seemed as good a place as any to start. Naturally, I didn't follow the recipe to a tee; I omitted the oil, replacing it with a buttermilk and mustard marinade, and I swapped out the chicken breasts in favor of my new favorite poultry product, boneless chicken thighs. I also added in some thyme for zing, and (unsurprisingly) a tiny bit of raw garlic (emphasis on "tiny"). The alterations were minor, but the impact was massive--what I ended up with was a low fat powerhouse of flavor: oven baked, tangy, zingy, crunchy, moist and with far more nutritional merit than your average street pretzel.

Flavor-wise, I am very happy with how this turned out; the texture was also very pleasing...though I'll admit: next time, I'm probably going to go whole hog and pulverize the damn pretzels with a hammer. Food processors are great and all, but sometimes you need to work up an appetite, you know?

Pretzel-crusted honey mustard chicken
Adapted from Food and Wine, November 2008

1/2 lb hard pretzels, coarsely crushed
3/4c buttermilk
1/2 c wholegrain mustard
1/8 c honey
1 very, very small clove garlic (the sort that lurks near the heart of the bulb), finely chopped
2 tbsp fresh thyme, chopped
salt and pepper
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 egg, lightly beaten

Prepare your marinade: combine buttermilk, mustard, honey, thyme, salt and pepper. Mis thorougly and then combine with chicken in a ziptop bag. Marinate in the fridge for up to a day.
Smash the pretzels in your food processor (or with a hammer, if you've had a bad week). You should have fine crumbs and large chunks. Put in a shallow bowl and set aside.
When you're ready to cook, preheat your oven to 400F. Remove the chicken from the fridge and from the marinade; set aside. Combine egg with marinade and mix thoroughly; use this mixture to dredge the chicken thighs before coating them in pretzel chunks. Be sure to coat thoroughly!
Bake in the upper third of your oven for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the chicken's juices run clear.
Optional: make a little sauce out of buttermilk, mustard and honey. DO NOT USE LEFTOVER MARINADE. Unless you like salmonella.

Spicy and Quick: Chipotle Tortilla Soup

2009-02-19T11:37:00.003-05:00

Hi friends! We've moved! Please come check out this entry and many more at the newer, awesomer Pithy and Cleaver!

What do we eat when we're not eating macaroni and cheese?

Leftover macaroni and cheese.

When that's (finally) gone, it's time for something lighter and brighter. Something spicy enough to clear out the sinuses. And something Matt can easily reheat for a quick bite before heading out to teach his nighttime class at NYU. (I'm sure the girls would all have crushes on him while he explains Matlab wearing his cute little corduroy jacket...if there were any girls in these sorts of classes.)

I am not going to claim that this recipe is one bit authentic. But it's slightly better than the recipe my mother picked up at Trader Joe's once: dump a container of salsa, a can of beans, a can of corn, and some broth in a pot, stir. And it really does the trick, quickly and cheaply—about five dollars a person, maybe less if you don't have to shop in Manhattan.

You could make a vegetarian version with veggie broth, though I used a container of turkey broth that's been in my cupboard awhile. I know! I'm all out of homemade stock. But given the smoked chiles and the kick of acidity from lime and tomatillo, this is flavorful enough with the boxed stuff. Not that I'd stop you if you have real stock to spare.

If you're not a huge fan of spicy, I'd dial down the chili powder and red pepper flakes but keep the chipotle, which gives the broth a lovely smokey flavor. And fast. Sometimes you just need the kind of dinner that goes from pantry to table in half an hour. We ate huge bowls full along with sweet corn bread (I know, how gauche) until we were stuffed.

Quick Chipotle Tortilla Soup
serves four

2 small onions, chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, smashed and sliced
1 tablespoon paprika
2 tsp ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
dash red pepper flakes (optional)
1 qt low-salt stock or broth
3 chipotle chiles in adobo (about half a can), chopped
2 14-oz or 1 28-oz cans fire-roasted diced tomatoes, including liquid
1/4 cup water (I just add this to the empty tomato cans to clean out the remains)
1 can cannelini beans, rinsed and drained
10 oz frozen corn kernels (one package)
3 tomatillos, chopped
1/2 red pepper, chopped
juice of two small limes
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped

for serving:
1 avocado
handful cilantro, chopped
several handfuls tortilla chips
queso fresco (if unavailable, use mild feta or jack cheese)
lime wedges

In a large dutch oven or heavy soup pot, saute chopped onion in olive oil until translucent. Add garlic, paprika, cumin, coriander, chili powder, oregano, and pepper flakes if using. Stir and saute until fragrant, about one minute. Add stock, chipotles, tomatoes, water, and beans. Simmer ten minutes to let flavor mingle. Add corn, tomatillos, red pepper, and lime juice, simmer an additional 15 minutes. Stir in cilantro and taste. Go light on the salt, since the tortilla chips will add a bunch. Slice avocado and divide between bowls, saving a little for a garnish. Put a handful of crumbled tortilla chips in each bowl. Ladle soup on top, and top with additional cilantro, avocado, chips, and crumbled queso fresco. Serve with lime wedges.

Valentine's day massacre: Four cheese macaroni

2009-02-18T10:32:00.000-05:00

If you heard a large clanging noise this past Sunday night, it was probably the sound of my arteries slamming shut. I took a page from Maggie's book and decided to make mac and cheese as a post-Valentine's Day-Valentine meal; I knew full well that it was going to be a cholesterol nightmare, but I threw caution to the wind and went for it anyway. If you are looking for a lighter or lower fat mac and cheese, this is not the recipe for you. Consider yourself warned.

So! What made this macaroni so crazy? Well, let's start with a solid pound of grated cheese (four kinds). And then move on to the quarter pound of prosciutto. And from there, to the caramelized shallots and two heads of roasted garlic.

Hungry yet?

Just devising this recipe made me drool like some prehistoric beast; I certainly growled like one once or twice as I assembled it--I lost some quality acreage on my knuckles while grating the cheese. I based the recipe on one that I found in Bon Appetit last month; I was intrigued by their tip to use eggs instead of bechamel for the custard. Though it took some care to achieve (you have to be very careful when mixing the eggs and the cheese sauce if you want to avoid scrambled eggs), it was worth it--the casserole was cheesy, gooey, creamy deliciousness from top to tail, without the trauma of whisking hot milk into flour (though the addition of some tangy buttermilk to the cheesy custard certainly didn't hurt the cause, either).

The topping might have been my favorite part, though--breadcrumbs with parmesan, garlic, and a hint of nutmeg, just to keep things interesting. It's a flavor that most will find hard to place, but it adds a lovely complexity.

Basically, this is a panful of cardiac arrest--and worth every single bite. Make it for someone you love (especially if that someone is yourself) today.

Death mac: Four cheese mac and cheese

1/4 stick butter
6-8 medium sized shallots, sliced thinly
1/4c all purpose flour
1 1/2 c buttermilk
2 c milk
1 lb shredded cheese (a good mix: parmesan, gruyere, manchego, cheddar)
1 tbsp dijon mustard
6 oz pancetta or prosciutto, diced
2 large eggs
2 heads roasted garlic, pureed

1 lb shell pasta (I used whole wheat in an attempt to be...um. Healthy. Yeah.)

Topping
1/2 c breadcrumbs
1/2 c parmesan cheese, grated
2 tbsp onion powder
2 tbsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp nutmeg
salt

Heat the butter in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Add the shallots and saute until caramelized.
Add prosciutto/pancetta; saute for 3-4 minutes more
Add flour, cook for 2 more minutes
Add milk; bring to a simmer
Add cheese, mustard, and garlic puree. Continue to simmer until cheese is melted. Season to taste with salt
Whisk eggs into medium bowl; gradually whisk in 1 c cheese sauce. GRADUALLY is key--you don't want the eggs to curdle
Add egg mixture back into cheese sauce
Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 400 and cook the pasta in salted water according to package directions.
Prepare topping: breadcrumbs, parmesan, onion and garlic powders, salt.
Add cooked pasta to sauce; turn out into buttered casserole dish.
Top with breadcrumb topping.
Bake 25 min or so, until everything is bubbly and brown and irresistible.

Marc Meyer's Five Points Mac and Cheese

2009-02-17T08:00:00.002-05:00

I am one of those people who gets dish envy at restaurants. And orderer's remorse. Hopefully, if we go to a restaurant together, you know me pretty well, so you won't be shocked if I ask for a taste of whatever you have that looks so good. And if I ultimately steal your plate and finish every last morsel.

Recently, we went to Five Points restaurant with a large group for brunch. Almost everyone ordered something different, and soon the plates were passed around for tastes. My friend Lindsay had brought along her younger sister, whom I'd never met. But of course I found myself scarfing down the remains of her macaroni and cheese. It was just. So. Good. Crazy-creamy with a strong cheese bite, a rich-but-not greasy or gluey sauce that kept each noodle moist. Divine. I tried to memorize each flavor, which clearly required more than one delicate spoonful. For the good of mankind, right?

So far, Marc Meyer's brunch book had not steered me wrong. His frittata method is great, and the lemon-ricotta pancake recipe has allowed me to faithfully duplicate the Five Points dish to a tee. Why would this be any different?

The ingredients are inspired. His secrets are canned evaporated milk and a block of cream cheese that melts into the sauce. Sharp cheddar and/or gruyere. Good milk and a touch of cream with quite a bit of freshly grated parmesan stirred in. If it worked, this would be my new favorite recipe for the classic dish—no whisking flour into a bechamel! I have been trying to perfect my macaroni and cheese for a long time: I've tried baked and broiled, cheese sauce and simple white sauce, a thousand variations. I have faith in Meyer's ingredients.

But it didn't work as written in the cookbook, so I'm not giving you the recipe yet. I want to play with the proportions first—as soon as we can stomach more mac and cheese. Scaling down restaurant recipes is tricky. Perhaps the sauce quantity needs to be doubled, perhaps more. The sauce looked great, but after baking as instructed, the dish was dry, lacking the creaminess of the restaurant version.

Stay tuned.

Too much is never enough: Black forest cookies.

2009-02-16T10:18:00.000-05:00

Get six bakers in a room and you will get six different opinions on what makes The Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookie. For me, it's got to be chewy, and soft, and (of course) so chocolatey you could implode. I mastered a certain form of chewy while I was in high school--though, what I considered "chewy" was really just, you know. "Undercooked." Which is fine for me, because I am a huge fan of cookie dough; it is not, however, (necessarily) appropriate when one is going to be sharing the cookies with anyone but their fellow dough-hounds. So, a few years ago, I embarked on a great quest to figure out how to make cookies that...well...cook (without being crunchy).

My journey took me to many places: the land of extra baking powder, the thicket of shortening, the back alley of egg-whites-only. Some truly dark, dark places. In the end, the answer wound up being simpler than I could have imagined: refrigerate the dough, and keep it cold. Alarmingly obvious, right? Of course, it makes perfect sense: the cookies I tend to favor are at least 40% butter; if you put it in the oven when it's already started to melt (this applies also to hot cookie sheets--be sure to cool yours for a few minutes between batches!), you're kind of cruising for a bruising.

My journey ALSO took me to a wonderful land: the land of the black forest cookie. Much as I love the traditional chocolate chip cookie, there's only so many times I can make the exact same recipe (in the name of science, of course) before I feel a deep and abiding need to mess with it. In this case, I started thinking that there simply wasn't enough chocolate involved in the chocolate chip cookie, and that it was my moral obligation to sort that out--enter the cocoa powder and the two kinds of chips. Of course, such a decadent disaster was not for the untrained palate; all that chocolate could kill someone without the appropriate background. So, I opted to cut the sweetness a little by throwing in some nice, tart dried cherries. It was at that point that the stars aligned, the heavens opened, the angels sang, and I was fairly certain I was on to something.

And then Bench ate an entire batch in one sitting, and I knew it for sure.

The texture on these things is impossible to explain; they're chewy, sure, but also somehow velvety. They're cohesive, but have a delightful crumb. They're great in milk, and great shoved into your mouth fistfuls at a time.

Try these. Seriously.

Black forest cookies

2 sticks butter, softened
¾ c sugar
¾ c brown sugar
2 eggs
2tsp (or more) vanilla
2 ½ c flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
¼-1/2 c cocoa powder
12 oz chocolate chips (a mix of white, milk, and dark)
1/2 c dried cherries, chopped

Preheat oven to 375°F. cream together butter and sugar
Add eggs then vanilla.
Sift together dry ingredients; slowly mix in to butter mixture.
Chill batter for approximately one hour. Drop on to ungreased cookie sheets (about a dozen per sheet), chilling batter between batches.
Bake for ten minutes. Remove from pan to cool. Be sure to rinse the pan in cold water between batches--you need it to be cool when the batter hits it.

Barbecue While You Shop: Slow Cooker BBQ Ribs

2009-02-11T22:35:00.000-05:00

I don't mean you can make ribs in the oven or grill while you shop online. You can, but this is better. The weather is great for a minute! Go outside!

These ribs cook while you're gone at work, while you're asleep, while you're hanging out with your kids, or while you're wandering Soho, checking out the sales at the art supply store and Sur la Table. I highly recommend the latter. (Though I think I managed to buy the only thing in there that wasn't discounted.)

I really think slow cookers are worth the counter space, especially for busy folks. And I have precious little counter space. A lot of people have visions of mushy stews and everything tasting the same when it comes out of the crockpot, but really, anything that you braise can be slow-cooked, especially if you're willing to do a little prep work.

They may not be for the purists among you, but for the rest of us, these ribs are tasty, and cheap, and easy. Isn't that a worthy trifecta?

Slow Cooker BBQ Ribs
Serves two

1 full rack pork spare ribs, trimmed and cut in half
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
2 oranges
1 lemon
2 bottles of beer
1 dried chipotle pepper
1 18-oz (or so) bottle barbecue sauce (I recommend Stubb's)
hot sauce for serving

Rub ribs with paprika, garlic powder, and chili powder. If you have time, refrigerate after rubbing for 1-3 hours. Zest oranges and lemon. Juice oranges and lemon, adding juice to the slow cooker. Crumble chipotle and add to slow cooker. Bring ribs to room temperature if you refrigerated them. Brown each half of the rack of ribs on both sides in a heavy skillet. Add first half to slow cooker, pour a little barbecue sauce on top, then add second half. Add beers, then top off with more barbecue sauce. Add about 3/4 of the bottle of barbecue sauce total. Ideally ribs will be just submerged in liquid. If you have time, cook ribs for 10-12 hours on low. This way they will be most tender. If not, cook for five hours on high. Remove ribs from liquid (discard liquid), serve with the rest of the barbecue sauce and hot sauce.

If you're preparing these overnight, refrigerate ribs submerged in the cooking liquid (in a casserole, not your slow cooker insert) during the day. Before heating, remove fat from surface. Reheat in the oven, finishing with a quick broil to crisp them up if you want.

Simplicity itself: Honey mustard salmon

2009-02-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

Lean in, I'll tell you something: this dish is my secret weapon.

Honey mustard salmon! It's simple, it's elegant, it's delicious. It's also ludicrously easy to make, and (incidentally) has been the star player in every successful seduction of my adult life, platonic or otherwise. I bring this up only because it's the week before Valentine's day, and if I were not going to be playing a show on the day itself (shameless plug 9pm at the National Underground, for all you New Yorkers! Ask for Autobahn da Fe! www.autobahndafe.com /shameless plug ), this is the dinner I would be making for Bench to usher in another year of ~~his fealty~~ happiness and harmony. I typically pair it with roasted asparagus, but it really plays well with most vegetables; most recently, I paired it with cauliflower and purple potatoes.

Aside from being texturally unimpeachable and just generally delicious, this dish has two major things going for it:
1. It has precisely four ingredients, including the salmon.
2. It takes approximately 45 seconds to assemble.

It's really the perfect meal for those days when you want to make an impression but have a thousand other things to take care of before you can do so. Go ahead and clean the bathtub! Run to the bank! Go to the nail salon! Live dangerously! All you need is ten to fifteen minutes to get this dish from fridge to plate (if you're using filets; slightly longer if you adapt it for a bigger slab o' fish), so you can get home (or emerge from your lair) with as little as twenty minutes to go time (I'm giving you an extra five minutes to actually round up the ingredients in your pantry). Your date will be putty in your perfectly manicured hands. I am not kidding. Putty.

Be sure to make him/her do the dishes.

Honey mustard salmon

2 salmon filets

1/4c honey
1/4c wholegrain mustard
1 tbsp soy sauce

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees
Mix the honey, mustard, and soy sauce.
Coat the salmon with the glaze
Put the salmon in a roasting dish and whack it in the oven until the center is opaque (5-10 minutes, depending on how rare you like it. I prefer it pretty much still flopping around, so I tend to give everyone else's portions a 3-4 minute head start before putting mine in.)

Adventures with Kaffir Lime: Green Curry Stir Fry

2009-02-08T10:13:00.001-05:00

Hey readers! We've moved! Please come check out the new site over here!

I think one of the greatest gifts of a city as big as New York is that even long-time residents can discover new things here. Not just new restaurants opening every day but treasures that have been hiding, tucked down a little street or just one subway stop farther, for years and even decades. I love how new the city continues to be to me, even five years in.

One of my best friends recently returned from three amazing weeks on honeymoon in Thailand. They sunbathed and explored and took a cooking class that included a guided tour of the unfamiliar fruits and vegetables of an outdoor market as well as instruction on ten thai specialties. I am jealous, to say the least. Upon her return, she imparted this bit of wisdom to me: "Thai cooking," she said, "isn't especially hard, in terms of technique. You really just need the right ingredients."

That was enough for me to finally get in gear. I knew there was a Thai market in Manhattan's Chinatown. I think I even poked around it once several years ago, on a Chinatown trip during which my roommate bought two teeny-tiny (probably illegal) turtles. She was determined to race them in the bathtub of our first apartment. At the time, I wasn't ready for kaffir lime leaves.

But older and wiser, I looked at a map and wandered down below Canal to a quiet stretch—a steep block that I hardly remembered was there. My walking companion worried that we were lost. But there it was. Dreaming of the flavors of green curry, I returned to Bangkok Center Grocery determined to find the right ingredients, the real stuff. The shop is tiny but packed with goodies. The sweet young man who was minding the store pulled kaffir lime leaves from the refrigerated section for me, and I scored a knob of galangal and a bunch of thai basil—they even had two different kinds!

The scent of kaffir lime leaves is transporting. Fragrant doesn't even begin to describe it. Track some down where you live, and soon. Toss the paired leaves (they remind me of stick-on mustaches) in a pan with veggies of your choice and they'll infuse your dish with musky lime flavor with a hint of bay. The leaves enliven jarred curry paste and elevate an everyday stir fry to something special.

It's no honeymoon in Thailand, but it did make me appreciate my city.

Green Curry Stir Fry
Adapted from Ken Hom
Note: this is really just a method, good for whatever stir-fry ingredients you are craving. Feel free to adapt further with other vegetables or add meat.

1.5 tablespoons vegetable oil
2-3 tablespoons Thai Green curry paste (I used Thai Kitchen brand, but you can also make your own.)
1 large onion, sliced
1 block tofu, pressed to rid of excess liquid and cut into squares
1 tablespoon prepared lemongrass (from a jar)
3 tablespoons chopped garlic
1 tablespoon finely chopped galangal or ginger (I actually prefer ginger and find galangal a little mustardy)
4 kaffir lime leaves
1 tablespoon fish sauce
2 teaspoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large globe eggplant or 2-3 japanese eggplants, sliced in one inch slices
2 carrots, sliced in 2" long, thin planks
1 small can bamboo shoots
14 fl oz can coconut milk (I used light)
3 tablespoons water
1 small can water chestnuts, sliced
2 red peppers, sliced
large handful fresh thai basil leaves
lime wedges for serving

When the vegetables are sliced, heat a wok or large frying pan (sometimes I do both so as to not crowd the vegetables and steam them) and add the oil. Make sure it's quite hot. Add the green curry paste and stir-fry for two minutes, then add the tofu and stir fry for another minute. Add the onions, lemongrass, garlic, galangal or ginger, kaffir lime leaves, fish sauce, sugar and salt, and stir fry for another 2 minutes. Add the eggplant, carrots, and bamboo shoots and stir fry one minute, then add coconut milk, water, water chestnuts and red peppers. Turn the heat down and simmer for 20 minutes or until eggplant is cooked and silky. Stir in basil leaves and serve at once.

Less tang, more character: Mushroom risotto

2009-02-05T08:38:00.000-05:00

When I was but a wee whippersnapper and newbie to the world of cooking, the first "complex" dish I undertook was risotto. This was right after Jamie Oliver's first cookbook came out, and people were starting to figure out that you could actually make this crazy stuff at home! Of course, with that knowledge came plenty of grousing, largely about how tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime consuming it was, how teeeeeeemperameeeeeeeeental it was. You know the drill. Naturally, this wave of petulance and frustration attracted me to the dish like nothing else (you may have noticed a behavioral pattern here): it was hard, which meant I had to master it! Of course.

The part that confused me: it wasn't that hard at all. It wasn't that persnickety. Yes, it was time consuming, yes it required a certain amount of my attention. But as I discovered (to my extreme surprise), risotto is ultimately a pretty simple basic formula (rice, liquid, patience), which you can then dress up any way you like. The first risotto I made featured goat's cheese and dried cranberries; since then, I've come up with several lovely variations that I pull out on various occasions, including the mushroom variety I whipped out the other day at dinner for our lovely friend Claire.

I'm particularly fond of this risotto because it is so light--the original recipe doesn't even call for any cheese (though, really. Like I'm going to skip the cheese. Come on. But it can be done!)--but so incredibly flavorful that it feels terribly indulgent. I am inclined to credit the inclusion of the liquid trifecta (a combination of marsala or madeira, white wine, and stock) that is used to pull out the creamy starch in the rice; it's unexpected and subtle, but adds a certain sweetness (as do the peas) that complements the meatiness of the mushrooms.

I won't lie: you do need to be kind of vigilant. To get the right consistency, you will need to stand at your stovetop for 40 minutes or so, gently massaging the starch out of the rice (emphasis on gently) and plying it with liquid. But, it's not a complicated endeavor--you can quite merrily drink wine and chat with guests while you do it, as it won't really require a great deal of concentrated focus. Your guests, however, will not need to know that. I encourage you heartily to let them think that you are, in fact, the most brilliant multitasking chef-host-genius ever to walk the earth. No one will dare question your bold statement once they taste this stuff.

Mushroom Risotto

1c arborio rice
2 large portobello caps, cut into pieces 1/2"x1/2"
6oz shiitake mushrooms (stems removed and reserved), coarsely chopped
6oz white button mushrooms (stems removed and reserved), finely chopped
2 shallots, chopped fine
1c frozen peas
1 head garlic (roasted and pureed)
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2c grated parmesan cheese

1c marsala wine
1c white wine
2-3c stock (ideally, a combination of mushroom--which you can make by simmering the stems you reserved above in some water--and chicken)

Saute the mushrooms in 1 tbsp oil, 1 tbsp butter on medium-low heat until reduced in size by approx 2/3. Deglaze pan with slug of marsala wine, set liquid aside.
Saute the shallot in remaining butter and oil (and some salt) until shallots are golden
Add rice, stir until coated with oil and translucent (about 1 min)
Turn up heat to medium, add 1c of the stock and stir until all absorbed.
Add the cooked mushrooms and garlic puree.
Add the remaining stock and wine, 1 cup at a time, until the rice is soft and creamy.
Add peas and cheese. Cover and set aside for 10 mins or so. Serve with a shaving of parmesan on top.

More Winter Citrus: Meyer Lemon Pasta with Seared Scallops

2009-02-03T21:30:00.000-05:00

A craving hit about 4pm. There was no way around it. I needed Meyer lemons, and nothing else would do. They'd be perfect in Amanda Hesser's recipe for creamy lemon pasta with arugula. Imagine my delight when the first display in Whole Foods was a basket full of lemons and a big sign—Meyer lemons on sale! I happily snagged two...or so I thought.

In the grocery store, I often give myself permission to alter recipes beyond recognition. Creme fraiche is three dollars and packed with fat—no problem, I'll use Fage yogurt! Real parmesan and arugula beyond my budget? (And I often feel like cooked arugula is a touch too bitter.) No worries, we have other hard cheese and vegetables at home. This continues until I have pretty much nothing a recipe calls for, except those precious Meyer lemons.

People who don't live in New York may not have to wait in line 20 minutes to buy groceries. But that is not a rare occurence here, and I guess I'm getting used to it. The line at Trader Joe's snakes around the entire store, and Whole Foods is a madhouse at prime hours. We have tiny refrigerators. We shop daily. So we wait in line with everyone else. When I finally reached the checkout counter, there was no turning back.

To my dismay, it turned out some of the lemons nested in that display, despite any signage to the contrary, were NOT Meyer lemons at all. I was heartbroken. I should have looked closer when I grabbed them. But with one tiny Meyer lemon, and one boring Eureka lemon, I had to soldier onward.

What I'm saying is this: this slightly disappointing meal was not Amanda Hesser's fault. You should probably try her recipe, not mine. And you should check your lemons carefully before you wait in line.

The sauce wasn't quite creamy or lemony enough. The peas and scallops didn't really integrate together, and though each element was nice enough, it just didn't cohere. But there is potential in this one, it's worth trying another variation. A little salty proscuitto would certainly help. Or follow the recipe exactly for once.

Meyer Lemon Pasta with Seared Scallops
Adapted from Amanda Hesser

1 pound angel hair pasta
4 scallops per person
1/2 cup grated hard cheese + additional for serving
2 Meyer Lemons (I only had one, but you really should use 2)
1 cup frozen peas, thawed according to package directions.
3 slices proscuitto, in 1 inch pieces (recommended)
1/2 cup greek yogurt (or creme fraiche)
salt and pepper to taste

Zest the lemons and juice one of them. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil for pasta and prepare pasta (al dente) according to package directions. Remove small side muscle from scallops and discard. Heat a cast iron pan on high heat with a bit of olive oil. Salt and pepper scallops. Sear scallops to desired doneness (about 2 minutes per side, depending how hot your pan is.) Remove scallops and toss proscuitto strips briefly in hot pan. When pasta is cooked, reserve one cup of the pasta cooking water and drain pasta. Return pasta to cooking pot, add back in pasta water, yogurt, and toss to coat. Add lemon juice, zest, proscuitto strips, cheese, and peas, stirring and tossing to distribute sauce. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve with scallops on top.

Sunshine in a bowl: Triple garlic chickpea soup

2009-02-02T11:35:00.002-05:00

In my neverending quest to poke Winter in the eye, I have three stalwart friends: sharp cheese, sunny citrus, bright garlic. The holy trinity of deep winter, if you will. Rare, however, is the occasion where I manage to give them all equal prominence; usually one will take the wheel while the other two bicker in the backseat. So, I'm sure you can imagine my thrill when I devised a recipe that allowed all of them to shine equally.

I was inspired by Orangette's chickpea salad, a quick recipe that, in its simplicity, transforms the humble ingredients to something ethereal in its deliciousness. It being Winter, I decided to transform it from a salad to a soup; being me, I also opted to chuck in plenty of garlic, done up three ways: roasted, sauteed, and raw (I know, I know--raw garlic sounds kind of scary; but I promise you, it just adds a wonderful sharpness to the flavors).

The triple garlic action gave the soup a wonderfully heady, complex flavor (at once mellow and sharp), while the parmesan imbued a creamy saltiness that balanced it perfectly. The lemons sang without screaming. All the flavors were present and accounted for, clear without being overwhelming.

Next time, I think I might add a bit of sauteed pancetta--I think the salty chewiness of it would accent the rest of the flavors beautifully--but I would not go so far as to say that this tangy bowl of sunshine NEEDS such an accent; I'm just a little greedy that way.

Triple garlic chickpea soup

3x15 oz cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained
2 heads garlic (1 roasted, one separated into cloves, peeled and sliced)
1/2c shredded parmesan cheese
juice and zest of 1 lemon
1-2 medium sized onions, peeled and diced
2 quarts water or stock

Preheat your oven to 350.
Slice the top off one of the heads of garlic; drizzle it with olive oil and wrap loosely in foil. Meanwhile, rinse and drain one of the cans of chickpeas; toss with some olive oil and salt and place on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake until the garlic is soft (about 1 hour) and the chickpeas are golden but not burnt (about 20 minutes)
Meanwhile, heat some olive oil over medium-low heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan; saute the onions until translucent and then add half the sliced garlic. Sautee for another minute or two, until everything is extremely aromatic.
Add the remaining two cans of chickpeas to the saucepan and let cook for a moment with the onions.
Add the water (or stock); bring to a boil then reduce heat. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Add lemon juice, parmesan cheese, roasted garlic, and the remaining garlic.
Using a hand blender, puree the soup until a nice smooth consistency, adding more water/stock if it seems too thick
Add roasted chickpeas
Serve with a garnish of lemon zest and parmesan cheese.

Light and Hearty: Open Faced Turkey Meatball Sandwiches

2009-01-29T23:27:00.002-05:00

Whether you need something health(ier) to serve at a Super Bowl gathering, or just a comforting meal after a tough winter week, these are just the ticket. While these aren't quite as quick as picking up meatball subs from Speedy Linguine down the road, they won't weight you down as much. The recipe makes a giant pot—we'll have them for quite a few meals since they freeze and reheat well. I love how the bread soaks up extra sauce, but when you get tired of meatball sandwiches, you could also serve the meatballs and sauce over greens or pasta.

My friend Laura taught me this method of making meatballs—there really is no need to fry them. They cook up in the sauce in half an hour, absorbing the lovely flavors of tomato and wine while they simmer. Turkey works great; they are completely satisfying without unnecessary fat. I also added a bit of ground buffalo since they were selling it at the butcher counter, but you can make these all-turkey, or mix turkey and beef or pork or lamb. Mixing the meatball mixture by hand really is best—it might be a good time to take off (and clean!) any rings you're wearing rather than filling all their creases with raw meat. (Yum!)

You could make this with homemade sauce if you've got it around, but a jar of your favorite brand works as a great base for this quick doctored up version. If you're really pressed for time, just use the jarred stuff, making sure it's really simmering before you add the meat.

Open Faced Turkey Meatball Sandwiches
Serves at least four

Doctored Spaghetti Sauce
1 T olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 cup mushrooms, sliced
1 T tomato paste
2 cloves garlic, sliced
1/2 tsp each dried oregano and basil
1/3 bottle dry red wine
1 can diced tomatoes
2 jars spaghetti sauce (I like Barilla)

Saute onions in olive oil in large dutch oven a minute or two. Add mushrooms, saute until onions become translucent. Add tomato paste, stir and let caramelize slightly. Add garlic, oregano and basil, and use wine to deglaze, scraping bits from the bottom of the pan. Add tomatoes and spaghetti sauce, stir and let simmer 20 minutes while you make meatballs.

Light Meatballs
1 lb ground turkey
1/2 lb ground buffalo
3/4 cup panko or breadcrumbs
1/4 cup grated hard cheese (romano is good)
1 egg, beaten
2 cloves garlic, chopped
herbs—a teaspoon total: try basil, oregano, thyme, fennel seed
salt and pepper
Doctored spaghetti sauce: use recipe above, or do however you like it.

In a large bowl, gently mix all ingredients above (except sauce) with your hands. Try not to overmix. Roll lightly in your hands to form small balls, do not squeeze together too much. Collect meatballs on tray, cookie sheet, or cutting board as you complete them. Add to simmering sauce. Bring sauce to a bubble. Simmer uncovered for 30 minutes, stirring twice. Check one to make sure meatballs are cooked through before serving. Add salt and pepper to taste.

For sandwiches:
1 baby baguette or hoagie roll per person
Meatballs in sauce
Parmagian or Romano for grating.

Slice bread in half, removing some of the bread filling in each half if you desire. Ladle meatballs and sauce onto each bread half. Top with freshly grated cheese. Serve with fork and knife.

Family Heirloom: Secret-Ingredient Oatmeal Cookies

2009-01-29T08:00:00.011-05:00

We have a new favorite person in our family. Meet my niece, Molly! She's pretty cute, right?

Four generations gathered in St. Louis to admire her last week. In between the feeding and playing and rocking to sleep, our talk turned to recipes.

I love how someone's neighbor's method for bread becomes a family tradition, how the recipe on the back of some box, or in some crumbling local compendium ends up getting passed down as a favorite.

We're lucky to have a family cookbook, compiled some time ago in honor of my great grandmother Malvene and great aunt Myrtle. From meatball stroganoff to "jury wafers" named after a recipe torn from a magazine in a jury-duty waiting room, the collection is both dated and wonderful. I have no idea when the recipe for tomato gelée was last used, let alone the one for eingemachs (a sort of beet marmalade that cooks for an entire day.) I confess, the only thing I've made recently is these oatmeal cookies.

So, Molly, here is my favorite family recipe. Some day, you can make a batch for your mom and dad, and they will tell you how we made them at your house when you were five weeks old. They're so good, we just couldn't stop eating them—chewy with a hint of caramel from the brown sugar and just the right amount of spice. Don't forget the secret ingredient—it's the unsweetened cocoa powder that makes them great.

Feel free to halve the recipe unless you plan on sharing.

Oatmeal Cookies
From the M and M Cookbook

1 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 tsp salt (scant)
2 eggs, beaten
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda
2 T unsweetened cocoa powder
3 cups oats (not instant)
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup nuts, chopped (optional)
1/2 cup raisins

Mix all ingredients in order in a bowl. Chill at least 1 hour, then make little balls. Bake at 325 for 10-12 minutes, let cool on cookie sheet for a minute before cooling on a rack.

Makes 10 dozen tiny cookies.

Something a little more straightforward: Blood orange grain salad.

2009-01-26T10:06:00.004-05:00

I'll come out and say it in explicit terms: I hate winter. I hate being cold, I hate that the MTA freaks right the hell out the second there is a drop of precipitation, I hate hat hair, I hate that I appear to return to my primordial reptile roots (or, at least, my skin does) as soon as the central heating gets turned on. Hate.

I love, however, Winter citrus. And while it is not an acceptable substitute for Spring, this California dreamer accepts that sometimes, it is as good as it gets. And, frankly, one could do a lot worse than this seasonal bounty--Tangerines! Meyer lemons! Blood oranges! Little puffs of sunshine in an otherwise bleak and depressing season!

I took my first real stand against Winter this past weekend, when I got my hands on some blood oranges. I had gotten it into my head to make something involving tempeh (pulled pork had been on the previous night's menu, and I was feeling a need to be a bit more virtuous), but wanted to veer away from my traditional Mirin-soy glaze; I wanted something comforting, something almost autumnal, but still bright and brisk. Sort of the culinary equivalent of walking in the deep woods on a crisp but sunny day. So, I snagged some radiant, bloody beauties, some sprouts and some squash, and decided to see what sort of random alchemy I could muster in my kitchen.

I ended up making a warm grain salad with a blood-orange, maple syrup and white balsamic glaze; it worked beautifully upon serving, the dressing's sweetness offset perfectly offset by the delightful tang of some soft, creamy goat's cheese. I will fully admit, however, that it lost a little something when consumed as the next day's lunch--the goat's cheese is vital to the dish really achieving on a flavor level (it really wakes up the citrus), and I didn't pack any. I hope to remedy that next time I make this--I would really like the dressing to stand on its own. My suspicion is that this can be fixed by changing up the acid; I will probably use a dark balsamic next time, as opposed to a fig-infused white balsamic, possibly mixed with a little bit of cider vinegar for kick. A bit of lemon juice might not go terribly amiss, either.

Don't let my conjectures put you off this recipe, however--for an experiment, I was happy with it--its soft, complex sweetness sated the cravings my body was experiencing for something warm and comforting, and it cheered me up immeasurably with its sunny charm. I hope it will do the same for you!

Recipe has been adjusted to reflect my musings.

Blood orange tempeh and kamut salad

DRESSING:
1/2 c maple syrup
Juice of 3 blood oranges
1/3 c olive oil
1/2 c balsamic vinegar (at this point, i'd recommend avoiding anything fruit-infused or of the white balsamic variety)
salt
1 tbsp fresh thyme

1 packet tempeh

1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/8" cubes
2-3 red onions, peeled and cut into eighths
8 oz brussels sprouts, outer leaves removed, quartered
1/4 c dried cranberries

1c kamut
3c water

Preheat your oven to 350;make the dressing: combine maple syrup, orange juice, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and salt.
Place squash, onion, and sprouts in a roasting dish. Add 1/3 dressing. Cover with foil and roast for 30min. Remove the foil after 30 min, then continue to roast until squash is nice and soft
Prepare the kamut as per packet directions (typically 3 parts liquid to 1 part grain).
Cut tempeh into 1" cubes. In a skillet, heat some olive oil and fry the tempeh over medium-high heat until golden brown. Reduce the heat and add 1/3 dressing, stirring until the liquid is nice and syrupy.
Add thyme to final 1/3 of dressing
Combine tempeh, vegetables, kamut, and cranberries in a large bowl with remaining 1/3 dressing. Toss well.
Serve with a garnish of goat's cheese!

Just Let Go: Walk Away Roast Chicken

2009-01-25T19:00:00.000-05:00

Shiv and I have started a recipe index for Pithy and Cleaver—the link is on your right. We've been busy in our tiny New York kitchens and there's quite a list of things we've cooked! Apparently we like dessert a little. We've tried out all kinds of recipes for vegetables. And despite Shiv's protests that she's afraid of poultry, we've cooked up quite a few birds for P&C.

But I've been holding out on you, and I'm going to make it up to you now. This recipe is my go-to, the chicken recipe that all others must be measured by. It's easy. No trussing, no fussing, no basting, no worrying. And it's delicious. Make it for a date, make it for your roommates, banish all fear of cooking when you see how easy this is to master. Then you can buy the Zuni cookbook, if you like, but you just might stick with this method, courtesy of Boston chef Gordon Hamersley.

Here's the main trick. Rub the chicken all over with a paste made from herbs, mustard, and olive oil. Throw it in a pan on a bed of root vegetables (Hamersley calls for potatoes and onions, but I like to add yams and whole heads of garlic.) You don't need to tie it up, you don't need to say a prayer, just throw it in the oven and come back an hour and a quarter later. The bird takes care of itself, and the potatoes benefit from the lovely juices.

Too simple, you say? Well, ok. Two things to keep in mind. First of all, don't skimp on the chicken. Buy a small fresh one, ideally organic and not pumped up with all kinds of hormones. If you're feeding a crowd, do two small chickens! They'll cook more evenly and not dry out, and they're more likely to be flavorful to begin with. I got this lovely white plume Bobo chicken from Jeffrey the butcher (feet on! ack!), though I've also gotten flavorful antibiotic free chickens from the farmer's market, too.

Second, if you happen to have the chicken a day early and you want to improve the flavor even more, dry the chicken thoroughly with paper towels and toss some kosher salt on the outside. It's really not hard to do, and does make a difference. Apparently the salt draws moisture from the meat which is then reabsorbed, effectively brining the chicken without waterlogging it. If you don't have time, skip it. Hamersley's original recipe doesn't call for it anyway. If you don't do this, add a little salt and pepper to the mustard paste. When you're all done, take the lemons out and cook the carcass for stock!

Walk Away Roast Chicken, salted Zuni Style
Adapted from Gordon Hamersley and Judy Rodgers
serves three, depending on the size of your chicken

3/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
freshly ground pepper
1 whole roasting chicken (about 3-1/2 lb.)
2 Tbs. olive oil
2 Tbs. Dijon-style mustard
1 tsp. dried thyme (or 1 Tbs. fresh, chopped)
1 tsp. dried rosemary (or 1 Tbs. fresh, chopped)
1 lemon, halved
1 small onion, cut into thick chunks
2 small new potatoes, halved but not peeled
2 yams, peeled and cut into chunks
2 heads garlic, optional
1/2 cup water, stock or wine if you want to make gravy

A day ahead, remove any fat or innards inside the chicken. Pat chicken dry with paper towels—if it's moist, it will steam. Place on a platter or dish. Sprinkle the kosher salt over the chicken and add ground pepper. Season the thick sections a little more heavily than the skinny ankles and wings. Cover loosely and refrigerate. Check the chicken the day you want to cook it, you may want to dry it with some paper towels.

When you're ready to cook, heat the oven to 375°F. In a small bowl, combine 1 Tbs. of the olive oil, the mustard, thyme, and rosemary. Squeeze the juice from one lemon half into the herb mixture; squeeze the juice from the other half into a small bowl and reserve. Reserve the squeezed lemon halves. Spoon the herb mixture over the chicken, rubbing to coat the bird thoroughly. Put the reserved lemon halves inside the chicken's cavity.

Put the vegetables in a roasting pan. If you're using garlic heads, cut the top quarter-inch off the head, exposing the cloves. Season the vegetables with salt and pepper (and a little additional rosemary, if you like, and toss them with the remaining 1 Tbs. olive oil. Scatter the ingredients around the pan to make room in the center for the chicken.

Put the chicken in the pan, breast side up. Cook until the meat is tender and the juices run clear at the thigh, 1–1/4 to 1-1/2 hours. By this time, the potatoes and onions should be tender. Check the temperature of the chicken with a meat thermometer—it should measure 165 degrees at the thigh.

You can serve straight from the pan after five minutes of letting the bird rest, or fancy it up as follows: transfer the vegetables to a serving platter. Pour the juices from inside the chicken's cavity into the roasting pan and transfer the chicken to a cutting board and let it rest. Spoon off and discard as much fat as possible from the juices in the roasting pan or separate with a gravy strainer. Set the pan with the juices over medium-low heat and pour in the reserved lemon juice along with 1/2 cup water, stock, or wine. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Cut the chicken into pieces. Pour the pan juices over the chicken and serve.

Danger omelet: The Spanish tortilla

2009-01-20T08:19:00.007-05:00

Much like learning the tango, the first attempt at the eggy, starchy Spanish tortilla is not for the faint of heart. Deceptively simple, it requires strong arms, a steady hand, and a certain appreciation for danger. Simply put, it's the kind of harebrained business that I simply cannot resist trying on a schoolnight.

My interest in eggs is a recent development, and I've spent the last year cultivating it; though Bench is the household's undisputed King of the Scrambled, I must say I've become quite the glad hand at poaching, and I have been feeling of late that I am ready to step up my game. Omelets seemed like a sensible next step, moreso when I discovered that attempting the right kind of omelet presented the very real possibility of completely trashing my kitchen. That kind of a disclaimer is like waving a red flag in front of me; resistance is futile. The description that did me in is by Ximena at Lobstersquad:

"(T)ortillas require nerves of steel. Blood must be summoned, upper lip stiffened, oven mitts worn, and prayers said. Please understand that the Italian method of starting on the stove top and ending under the grill is strictly for little girls. Likewise the French sissified folding thing."

I mean, really--how's a girl like me supposed to resist a description like that?

To my chagrin (and Bench's delight), the tortilla was not quite as much of a production as I'd feared. Yes, it required flipping. And yes, it had a truly terrifying amount of oil in it. But, the prodigious quantity of olive oil involved kept everything well-lubricated and unstuck, which was a godsend when flipping the incredibly heavy cast-iron skillet over during the tortilla-turning process (plus a goodly amount of it drains off before you mix it in with the eggs).

Though success is, in fact, dependent upon truly posting one's courage to the sticking place (hesitate for a second, and you're screwed), at the end of the day it is a potato omelet: no more, no less. I assure you: if I can do this, you can do this. And once you have, it's a tremendous trick to have up your sleeve--its versatility means you can pull it out for just about any meal; plus, it's excellent cold, so you can make it ahead of time. Smother it with ketchup for a fantastic hangover breakfast, or pair it with a salad for a delicious light meal.

I leave you with these pieces of advice:

Invest in oven mitts.
Be sure to have lots of paper towels on hand to drain the oil off the potatoes
Be brave! You can totally do this.

Spanish tortilla (Tortilla de patates)

1-1.5 lbs medium-sized waxy red or white potatoes, peeled
1 medium-sized white or Spanish onion
6 eggs
2 tbsp milk or half and half
tons and tons and tons of olive oil (somewhere around 1/2-3/4 cup)

Cut each potato into quarters, and then slice thinly (contrary to popular belief, you don't actually need a mandoline, though I'm sure it helps). Place in a towel-lined colander to drain a little.
Meanwhile, quarter and thinly slice the onion as well.
In a heavy, large skillet, heat all but two tablespoons of the oil at medium-high heat. Add the potatoes, drop the heat to medium-low, and cook (stirring occasionally) until just tender, about 7 minutes. Add a bit of salt and pepper.
Add the onions, and keep cooking until everything is soft, about 10-15 more minutes.
Using a slotted spoon, scoop the potato mixture on to a baking sheet that has been lined with paper towels to drain. Reserve the oil that remains in the pan for later use.
In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and milk together with a bit of salt. Add the potato mixture, mashing it about slightly to break up the potatoes a bit. Let this mixture sit for about ten minutes.
Meanwhile! Take the 2 tbsp of oil you set aside earlier and put it in a heavy, 10" skillet (I used my cast iron--I recommend you do the same). Keep at medium high heat until it just starts to smoke. Pour the egg/potato mixture into the pan and flatten it with a spatula until the top is more or less level. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, shaking the pan and running around the edges with a small spatula, until the top has started to set, 6-10 minutes.
Take a rimless plate that is larger than the pan, place it face down on top of the pan. Using oven mitts, flip it over quickly and turn out the omelet onto the plate. Then, replace the pan on the stove and gently slide the tortilla, uncooked side down, back into the pan. Reduce the heat to VERY low and keep cooking until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 3 more minutes.

A Ploy for Mae Ploy: Sweet Chili Sauce Lettuce Wraps

2009-01-19T11:00:00.000-05:00

A couple of years ago, I was out west on vacation when I got an excited call from Virginia. Matt was at his friend Ramon's, and just had to tell me. Ramon made these awesome vegetables! They were really awesome! He used some really awesome sauce!

Luckily in his enthusiastic state he found out the same of said awesome sauce, and our love affair with Mae Ploy sweet chili sauce began. Thanks to Ramon, chili sauce veggies are a standard weeknight dinner around our place. Sometimes I add rice noodles and bits of mango, sometimes it's just a big mess of eggplant in a wok. It sort of doesn't matter, you could drink this stuff out of the jar. It's quite sweet and not that spicy, great with pork or chicken and a squeeze of lime. The discussion usually goes roughly like this:
Me: "Chili sauce for dinner?"
Matt: "Awesome!"
The rest of the ingredients don't really interest him.

This particular iteration was a winner, though. I was craving a big pile of colorful veggies wrapped in lettuce. I also wanted to try out a technique for chicken recommended by Jaden of Steamy Kitchen. Marinating chunks of chicken in cornstarch and egg white improves the texture and makes a light coating on the chicken bites while thickening the stir fry sauce. I used good organic chicken thighs, some ripe red peppers and crispy green beans, and plenty of chopped scallions, but you could adapt the recipe for whatever looks good at the market. Just make sure to get real Mae Ploy, the other brands aren't nearly as good.

One warning: this is not really dinner party food unless you're going super casual. It's a bit sloppy, and the veggies have a way of slithering out of their lettuce pockets.

Sweet Chili Sauce Lettuce Wraps
serves 2 generously

1 lb boneless skinless chicken thighs
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 egg white
canola or other flavorless oil
1 lb green beans, ends removed
1 zucchini
1 cup mushrooms
2 red bell peppers
3 scallions
1 tangerine
1 teaspoon fish sauce
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon prepared lemongrass—you can buy it in a jar!
1/4 cup Mae Ploy brand sweet chili sauce
1/2 teaspoon Sriracha
Romaine or butter lettuce leaves (6 whole leaves)
1/2 lime, squeezed plus lime wedges for serving

Wash lettuce leaves and leave intact, drying on paper towels. Cut chicken into 1 inch cubes, place in bowl. Add egg white and cornstarch, stir. Let marinate 20 or 30 minutes in the fridge while you prepare vegetables. Slice green beans, mushrooms, zucchini, peppers, and scallions for stir fry. Do not mix. Remove peel from tangerine and slice into bite size pieces, removing seeds.

In a wok or frying pan, saute green beans in a bit of oil over medium heat, stirring occasionally until beans begin to wrinkle. Remove beans from pan. Add mushrooms and zucchini to pan, adding oil if pan is dry. Add fish sauce and soy sauce, saute, stirring occasionally, until vegetables have lost their liquid.

Meanwhile, heat another wok and add oil. When wok sizzles, add chicken. Let cook 2 minutes without disturbing. Add lemongrass. Turn and stir, cook a few minutes more. Add red peppers to vegetable pan (where the mushrooms are), cook over low heat while you continue to cook chicken in hot wok. Add half of the chili sauce to the chicken. When chicken is fully cooked (check a piece), add scallions, tangerine, and all vegetables to the wok. Add remaining chili sauce and Sriracha. Stir and make sure everything is warm. Serve on lettuce leaves with limes, extra Sriracha, and lots of napkins.

Maintain, maintain, maintain: Seasoning your cast iron pans

2009-01-18T12:15:00.005-05:00

I had the incredible good fortune yesterday to score a 10" cast iron skillet for $5. No lie. I was on the prowl for one because I've got it into my head to make a Tortilla Espanola for dinner Monday night, and virtually every recipe I've come across has been adamant in specifying that if you hope to get out of the tortilla alive, you need to cook it in a cast iron skillet. Not being one to flout authority, I figured I'd bite the bullet and heed their advice.

The pan I got advertised itself as pre-seasoned; I didn't believe it for one second, and wasn't going to be satisfied until I'd seasoned it myself. The seasoning of pans is one of those topics where there are as many opinions are there are chefs. Some advocate oiling the pan and then heating it on the stovetop; others filling it with a few tablespoons of lard and baking it at 500 degrees until it's run dry. I prefer a simpler, less scary method:

Preheat your oven to 350
Oil the pan using vegetable shortening (you could use lard, too, I suppose. Just use something that's unlikely to go rancid). Lube it up generously, but wipe away any obvious excess.
Put a rimmed cookie sheet or some cleverly folded foil at the bottom of your oven to catch any drippings
Place your pan in the oven, upside down, over the cookie sheet/foil and bake it for about an hour. Remove from the oven and let cool thoroughly. Repeat as necessary.

That's it! Some purists would argue that you need to repeat this process after every use of the pan; I'm not sure I've ever met anyone who has that kind of time. In my opinion, you can get away with reseasoning every couple of months, particularly if you use your pan to cook things with a decent amount of fat on them (every bit of grease helps in keeping your pan happy!).

Take care of your pan, and it will take care of you!

Spiced Hot Cocoa Rice Pudding

2009-01-16T09:00:00.002-05:00

Winter is tricky. It's freeze-your-face-off cold, and the days are short and dark. It's enough to make anyone crave comfort food. On the other hand, we're all trying to eat a little healthier.

This recipe may not be totally guilt free, but it's pretty impressive on that front. And so rich tasting you only need a few bites. As in risotto, the rice gives off velvety starch, thickening the pudding on its own, with the help of creamy nonfat yogurt. Considering it doesn't call for eggs or cream or even 2% milk, it came out shockingly rich and fudgy, like Mexican hot cocoa frozen in time. No one would ever guess how light it really is.

For me, though, if you're going to eat chocolate, it should really be darker. This pudding lacked the bitter edge of serious chocolate. If you're a milk chocolate fan, then this recipe is for you. But if you like your chocolate intense and deep, consider using really good (expensive) and truly dark chocolate—maybe with a 75% cocoa content. I bet it would be nice with a bit of brewed (decaf) espresso thrown in, too. Yum. For Valentine's day, perhaps?

Or go the other way. It's kind of sad to lose the lovely simplicity of rice pudding by throwing chocolate into the mix. Chocolate overshadows the custardy, nutmeggy flavor of classic rice pudding, to the point where the nubby texture of rice seems out of place. I can't guarantee that this pudding will be perfect without the chocolate, but it's an interesting method to start with. Try dialing back the ginger and increasing the nutmeg, adding raisins, orange zest, etc. Let me know how it goes!

Spiced Hot Cocoa Rice Pudding
Adapted from Martha Stewart
Serves 4

1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
3 tablespoons sugar
Pinch of coarse salt
1 vanilla bean
3 1/2 cups skim milk
1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup Arborio rice
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 pinch nutmeg
1 tablespoon Grand Marnier
1 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped, or chips
1/4 cup plain nonfat yogurt, preferably Greek-style

1. Make the pudding: Whisk together cocoa powder, sugar, salt, and milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Split vanilla bean and scrape into saucepan, add bean too. Bring to a simmer; remove from heat.

2. Melt butter in a medium saucepan over low-medium heat. I love using enameled cast iron for this sort of thing. Add rice; toast, stirring constantly, until edges are translucent, 1 to 2 minutes. Add hot milk mixture; bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat; simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until rice is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid, about 20 minutes. Add ginger and cinnamon. Cook another 10 minutes or so. If rice is not tender and has already absorbed the liquid, you can add a little more milk or water (or brewed coffee!) and let it absorb the way you do with risotto. Keep in mind that pudding will thicken as it cools—leave it a little loose and liquidy.

3. Remove from heat and remove vanilla bean. Add liquor and chocolate; stir until chocolate has melted. Stir in yogurt. Pour into a serving bowl or individual dessert bowls. Cover and refrigerate until cold, about 2 hours. Top with light whipped cream or more greek yogurt. Don't tell anyone it's healthy.

Slow Cooker Lamb and Lentil Soup

2009-01-15T09:00:00.008-05:00

Hey readers, we've moved! Please come check us out at our new site: pithyandcleaver.com! You can view this recipe and many more over there.

At Fromaggio in Essex Market, I spied a box of French Puy lentils for eight dollars. Seriously? Eight dollars for lentils? I knew if I brought them home Matt would be unimpressed. Unless, of course, they sprouted into a magic beanstalk.

Luckily, I live near a little Indian market with shelves piled with inexpensive spices (amchoor powder, anyone?) and dried goods. Squelching my desire for a collection of curry powders and mango pickles, I scored a cheaper bag of pretty green french lentils and headed home to look at recipes.

Maybe it's just me, but I'm stingy with my homemade stock. We can only store a few containers of it in our teeny freezer, and I hate to be caught without any. It's hard to deem an unknown recipe stock-worthy. (Remember Elaine carefully budgeting her sponges on Seinfeld? It's like that...sort of.) So I was pleased to realize I could make a huge pot of hearty lentil soup while still saving some stock for a winter cold. I used lamb to deepen the flavor of the tomato broth, and spiked it with a little sake (sherry would work great if you have it.)

In a flash of inspiration before I served this up, I added a bit of homemade pesto to the pot. I save this in ice cube-sized portions in the freezer, and it deepened the flavor nicely.

I hate to give exact times in a recipe for slow cookers. You alone know how hot or slow your machine cooks, and how mushy you like your lentils. In my six-quart Cuisinart slow cooker, this took a long time. You could probably speed it up by cranking up the heat. Or just go about your business and let it cook all night and the next day unsupervised. That's the beauty of these things.

Slow Cooker Lamb and Lentil Soup
Serves at least 4 with leftovers

2 lamb shoulder chops with bone or about 1 pound other stew meat
1 strip bacon, chopped roughly
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 cup chopped mushrooms
1 clove garlic, chopped roughly
3 carrots, chopped
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon harissa (optional)
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried basil or a bunch of fresh basil leaves if you have them
1/2 teaspoon oregano
freshly ground pepper
1 28-oz can whole tomatoes with liquid
3 cups chicken or turkey stock
2 teaspoons sherry or sake or wine
1 cup green lentils
2 tablespoons prepared pesto
Pasta (corkscrews or shells are good)
grated cheese for serving
Salt and pepper

Place first twelve ingredients in the slow cooker. Pour tomatoes over. Fill empty can with water and add that water to slow cooker as well. Add stock, sherry or sake or wine, and lentils, stir, leaving meat on the bottom of the pan. Cook on high one to two hours, depending how hot your slow cooker is. Turn to low and cook at least 8 hours. Check lentils and carrots at this point. If they seem too crisp to you, keep cooking. When ready to serve, remove meat from bones and discard bones. If you like, whir this for thirty seconds with an immersion blender to thicken the broth, or blend a few ladlesfull in a food processor. Leave the rest chunky. Stir in the pesto. Boil water on the stovetop and prepare pasta according to package instructions, a large handful per person is plenty. Place pasta in bowls and ladle soup over, garnishing generously with grated cheese, salt, and freshly ground pepper.

Fair and fowl: Cherryaki Roast Duck

2009-01-13T13:26:00.001-05:00

When I first took a stab at cooking poultry, I did so with a silent promise to myself: Thou shalt take these lessons you learn and ultimately use them to cook a duck. Why this particular piece of fowl was so important to me, I couldn't begin to tell you; why I couldn't bring myself to START with this is no easier to explain. Suffice it to say, it had something to do with compressed air blowers, chinese restaurants, and the general fatty nature of the duck.

Mostly the fatty part, I think. Despite the fact that it is, truly, what makes the duck delicious, I find the sheer volume of fat that comes attached to a duck a little daunting. But, after our little trip to the Essex market, I was determined to be daunted no longer. So, I turned (as I so often do when looking for info about basic technique) to Mark Bittmann, who not only had several excellent tips on roasting duck, but an excellent suggestion for how to solve the fat conundrum: harness the power of steam!

By steaming the duck before roasting, you melt some of the prodigious fat layer, allowing it to drip out of the duck before you commit it to the oven. You're left with a delicious bird (with a significantly more manageable fat quotient) and a cup or two of nicely rendered duck fat, which you can whack in your freezer and use intermittently in place of butter or oil. Steaming the duck also gives you an early opportunity to add flavor to the bird; flavoring the steaming water imparts a subtle flavor to the meat. Since I decided I wanted an asian-style duck (I have a moderate obsession with peking duck), I used star anise, mustardseed and cinnamon; I used the same flavors during the roast itself, and in the sauce/glaze. Hitting the seasonings three times made the taste of the meat unbelievably delicate and luscious.

Being the sensible, frugal girl that I am, I used some of the fat I'd rendered out to roast up the potatoes. Believe me when I tell you that you should try doing that, too. It's not for the faint of heart, but good goddamn, it is delicious.

Roast Cherryaki Duck

1 duckling, 4-6 lb

To steam:
2-4 c water
2 sticks cinnamon
2 tsp mustard seed
3-4 star anise, whole

To roast:
2 tsp cinnamon
kosher salt
1 orange, zested and then sliced
1/2 large yellow onion (or one small red onion), sliced

For the sauce:
1/2c cherry preserves
1/2c soy sauce
1/2c chicken stock
1/4c white wine vinegar
2 cinnamon sticks
3 pieces star anise
1/4c honey

Start by steaming the duck on your stovetop--put a rack in a nice, large pan, and then fill it with about 1-2 inches of water. Add spices. Prick the skin of the duck all over with a sharp knife or fork (take care not to prick the meat--you have about 1/4 inch of fat before you hit it), and then place it breast side down on the rack. Set heat to high, cover tightly and steam for about 45 minutes, replenishing the boiling water when it starts to run a little dry. I used my wok for this, wrapped in about eight hundred wasteful (yet effective!) layers of foil. Let it cool for at least 15 minutes before doing anything else with it.
While it's cooling crank up your oven to 375 and start the sauce--put the preserves, soy sauce, honey, cinnamon, star anise, stock, and vinegar in a small saucepan; bring to a boil, then drop the heat to keep it simmering.
Once the duck's cooled a bit, rub the skin (on both sides) with a little kosher salt, orange zest and cinnamon, and stuff the body cavity with sliced onions and oranges. Place breast-side down on a rack in a roasting dish, and baste. Cook for 15-20 minutes (depending on the size of the bird). Remove from oven, flip over, baste the other side. Crank your oven to 425, then roast for 15-20 more minutes, until the skin is nice and crispy.

giant duck salad

2009-01-10T15:46:00.025-05:00

When Matt and I went to France last fall, we rented a tiny apartment in Montmartre for the week so we could pretend to be locals. Montmartre seems like the Carroll Gardens of Paris: the place where regular folks can actually afford to live, and though it's not quite in the center of things, there are cheese stores and nicer apartments and perfect neighborhood restaurants to brag about. Each day we took the subway to the more central parts of the city to see museums and markets, and while we enjoyed some fancy meals there, our favorite dinner was in a casual place a few blocks from the apartment.

It was at Le Relais Gascon that I had my first French Cassoulet. It was eye-rollingly delicious with creamy beans and meltingly rich meats. But sharing the spotlight was the salad of my dreams. These are serious salads—the menu warns that they are "Salades Géantes". I think we laughed out loud when it arrived in its hulking bowl. Each salad is topped with a mountain of freshly fried, fragrantly garlicy potato slices. Inside, lardons and warm goat cheese, crisp greens and perfect vinagrette. You could order it with tomatoes and green beans, foie gras or sausage, ham, smoked salmon, duck, etc, etc. I've been trying to recreate it ever since.

A trip to Essex market provided the excuse. I picked up three beautiful bits of cheese at Formaggio, and while we could make a whole meal out of that unbelievable cheese, a salad would serve as a good foil. I chose a loaf of bread and some bitter frisée, some cheap red peppers and endive. I added some potatoes for the essential salad topping. To gild the lily, my new best friend Jeffrey the Butcher sold me the duck.

I probably should have sprung for the breast. The magret duck breasts were huge, more expensive than Shiv's entire Long Island duckling. I chickened out (ducked out?), saving my money for our fancy cheese plate, and just chose a leg. I think I've learned tonight that duck legs are good for braising, and for making confit, but really nothing special roasted. Nothing special, except for one thing—the fat. One duck leg provided the perfect amount of amazing, fragrant, musky fat to crisp up our potato slice topping. Divine. But when I try this again, it won't be with the leg.

Not much meat is needed for this recipe, especially if you're serving it with a cheese plate. But go with your own appetite. And feel free to riff on the vegetables—kirby cucumbers are a good addition, or tomatoes if they're in season. Corn cut off the cob would be great. I experimented with a vinaigrette with red wine vinegar, a touch of soft goat cheese, and a few blackberries, but your favorite simple vinagrette may work better.

Giant Duck Salad
Inspired by Le Relais Gascon

1 teaspoon Five Spice Powder
1 clove garlic, chopped
1/4 cup orange juice
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon honey
1 dried chipotle
1 duck leg (or try a breast, cooking time will vary)
2-3 medium waxy potatoes
1 head frisee and 2 heads endive (or substitute greens of your liking)
vegetables for salad: red peppers, cucumber, etc, sliced
vinaigrette (your favorite recipe)

1-2 hours before cooking, break chipotle in to three pieces or so in a small bowl. Pour a half cup of warm (not boiling) water over, let sit five minutes. Rub duck leg with Five Spice and garlic. Place in a sealable plastic bag, add orange juice, soy sauce, balsamic, and honey. Add chipotle with its soaking liquid, seal bag and shake a bit to mix ingredients and distribute the marinade. Marinate an hour or two, turning to coat the duck leg if you remember. Preheat oven to 350. Remove leg from marinade, let excess drip off. Heat an ovenproof skillet (I used cast iron) to low-medium heat, and place leg, skin side down, in it. No grease is needed since the duck will give off fat. Let brown for 10 minutes, then turn and cook five minutes more. Meanwhile, slice potatoes about 1/8" thick, leaving skin on. Add potatoes to pan when browning is complete, turn duck leg skin side down, move skillet to oven. Cook 40 minutes, flip potatoes and turn duck, then cook another 40 minutes or until duck is cooked. Meanwhile place salad and salad vegetables in a bowl, and make the vinagrette. When duck is cooked, let rest a minute. Remove skin and cut meat from the bone into small pieces. Add to salad and toss with vinagrette. Place crispy potatoes on top and serve.

In other P&C news...
Thanks to the magic of Craigslist, I have acquired a digital SLR of my very own! Perfect to celebrate the hundredth post of Pithy and Cleaver (and the recent birth of my baby neice!) Please bear with me as I learn how to use it.

Everything but the Quack: 100 posts, two ducks.

2009-01-10T15:03:00.000-05:00

Hey! It's our 100th post! We'd like to thank you all for joining us on the journey so far. We don't know about you, but we're having a blast!

We celebrated the milestone by having brunch at Spitzer's Corner and then taking a field trip to the Essex Street Market (also known as Shiv's New Favorite Place Ever). Our first stop while there was Jeffrey's Meats, an institution that's been filling the Lower East Side's butchery needs for more than 75 years. The shop (booth 36 at the market, if that helps) is run by the charming, eccentric Jeffrey himself, who flirted shamelessly and gifted us with goat's cheese as we chatted with him about the duck products we were after. Unsurprisingly, we walked away happy--I with a whole duckling (everything but the quack!), Maggie with a gorgeous leg--and charmed by the promise that when we next came by, we could even get the quack, if we'd just call ahead.

Admittedly, I'm trying to live quack-free these days, so I probably won't be taking advantage of that offer. I will, however, be cooking the bejiggety out of that duck tomorrow night (as will Maggie); watch this space to find out the outcome of our Adventures in Waterfowl!

Here's to a hundred more, a thousand more, a zillion more!

P.S. Has anyone else heard about PETA's new campaign to rebrand fish as "sea kittens"? Does anyone find it as bizarre as I do? Like, sufficiently bizarre that you're not sure whether or not it's a joke?

Winter Vitamins: Pomegranate Spiced Carrots

2009-01-08T15:00:00.000-05:00

It's January, and I think we're all feeling it. A bit too much sugar (I'm looking at you, peppermint brownies), a little too much bubbly (though this was a great discovery), and the first long rainy trudge back to work. And it's really just the beginning of winter. In these situations, colorful vegetables help.

Something is always broken in our tiny East Village home. Water drips from all corners of the ceiling when it rains, the chimney smokes until you can't breathe, and the sliding "doors" to the bedroom don't QUITE close. This week, as soon as it went down below freezing outside, the thermostat went on the blink. It was cccccold, so I really wanted to crank the oven on and leave it on a long time. (I suppose I could have really warmed myself up by doing an exercise video, but really, I wasn't feeling that virtuous.)

This recipe scored on both the vegetable and hot oven counts, plus it promised to use up the last few cups of pomegranate juice lurking in my fridge from a long-ago brunch. The recipe called for pomegranate molasses, which I fully intend to try someday when I can snag a cheap bottle, but cooking down juice on your own works fine. Heeding the warnings on Epicurious, I cooked the carrots halfway before adding the sweet glaze. It caramelized up nicely and didn't set off the fire alarm. (Well, I had already unplugged the fire alarm. That thing goes off if you cough in our apartment, and it's really loud.)

These are really zingy, with really bright flavors. They're not your regular sleepy roasted root veg. The cardamom and cumin are a strong foil for the fresh sweetness of pomegranate, mint, and basil. It's a little loud, as winter vegetable dishes go, but packs a welcome vitamin punch. Which might be what we all need.

Pomegranate Spiced Carrots
adapted from Bon Appetit

Serves two generously as a side dish

2 cups pomegranate juice
1 cup orange juice
olive oil for roasting
2 tablespoons finely grated peeled fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
pinch ground nutmeg
pinch cayenne pepper
2 pounds medium carrots, peeled, halved lengthwise
1/3 cup pomegranate seeds (optional, I didn't have them.
1/3 cup pine nuts, toasted
2 tablespoons thinly sliced fresh basil leaves
2 tablespoons thinly sliced fresh mint leaves

Preheat oven to 400°F. Put carrots in roasting pan, sprinkle with olive oil, toss to coat. Roast carrots 30 minutes, stirring once. Meanwhile, pour pomegranate and orange juice in a small saucepan. Boil to reduce by half. Mixture will be not quite thick. Add ginger, cumin, cardamom, nutmeg, and pepper to pomegranate mixture. After carrots have cooked 30 minutes, reduce heat to 350°. Toss carrots with glaze and roast until carrots are tender and liquids are reduced to glaze, stirring twice and mixing in water by tablespoonfuls if needed to prevent burning, about 30 more minutes. Season with salt and pepper. (Can be made 4 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature. Rewarm in 375°F oven 10 minutes before serving.)

Transfer carrots to platter. Sprinkle pomegranate seeds (if using), pine nuts, basil, and mint over carrots and serve.

Whetting the appetite: Zucchini rolls with roasted garlic ricotta

2009-01-07T13:03:00.000-05:00

So, despite what you might think, my New Year's menu was not all about sugar and booze--I actually made something with nutritional value! You know. To ring in the year right. After much deliberation, I decided that I needed something that fit the following criteria:

Vegetarian-friendly (my veg friends have grown weary of hummus).
Finger-sized (we had no plates).
Green.
Resplendent in some sort of cheese product.

Conveniently, a few days prior, I'd seen an episode of Easy Entertaining with Michael Chiarello where he made a salad from thinly sliced strips of grilled zucchini. It looked amazing, and seemed like a good starting point--though the gorgeous strips of squash seemed to be crying out for something more than a simple vinaigrette. Something like a filling. Something involving roasted garlic.

*Cue the lightbulb over my head*

I cobbled together a filling of ricotta cheese, roasted garlic, and chopped fresh basil; it was sufficiently pleasing that I'm considering making some ravioli out of it, or possibly smearing it all over my toast. I also made about four times as much filling as I'd bought zucchini--be ye not so stupid! I strongly advise that you go for the gusto and grill up more zucchini than you think you might need--not only will you probably have just enough, but if all else fails, you can save it as a snack or put it on a sandwich.

Also, use a mandoline to slice the zucchini if you have any regard for your fingers at all.

Really, though, just be sure to make enough. We ran out, and it almost got ugly.

Zucchini rolls with roasted garlic ricotta

5-6 medium-sized zucchini
Olive oil
Salt
Splash of white wine vinegar

For the filling:
1c ricotta cheese
1 head garlic (you’ll be roasting this, so don’t freak out immediately)
1 small handful basil, chopped finely
Juice of ½ lemon
Olive oil

Preheat your oven to 350F. Cut the top off your garlic and drizzle it with olive oil. Wrap in foil (wrap tightly, but leave some head room at the top) and bake until soft and melty—about 45 minutes. Set aside to cool.
Meanwhile…cut off the ends of the zucchini, then slice it as thinly as you can (I understand a mandoline would be tremendously useful here; I will let you know when I’ve had a chance to test that theory). Brush each side lightly with oil and then grill over medium heat (flipping a few times) until it’s slightly translucent and very pliable.
Place cooked zucchini in a large bowl, covered with a kitchen towel. Splash on a little white wine vinegar, toss gently and leave to steam for a few minutes.
While the zucchini steams, make the filling—toss the ricotta, basil, lemon juice, olive oil and roasted garlic (which should squeeze out of its papery skin gorgeously once it’s cooled) with a little salt into the bowl of your food processor—whiz away until it’s well-mixed and smooth!
To assemble: place about a teaspoon of filling on the end of each zucchini strip, then gently roll it up. You don’t need to affix it with a toothpick, though you certainly could if you wanted to. Serve with balsamic drizzle and a dusting of chopped basil—if you’re so inclined!

If You Can't Have an Island Vacation, Have an Island Salad

2009-01-05T19:16:00.012-05:00

Anyone else need a vacation to recover from their vacation?

If you're not quite ready to face work yet, maybe you and I should take off for somewhere sunny. Aruba, anyone? Maybe the Dominican Republic?

In college, my a cappella singing group was hired to perform for a week at a Club Med in the D.R. I had never been to a tropical resort before, and pushed the group to do something more adventurous/cultural with our January break. Of course, I was wrong, and singing for our all-you-can-eat suppers (and a flipbook's worth of pina coladas) was the perfect way to spend a winter week after exams. It was heavenly, in the way that only long days on the beach with great friends, trashy novels, and unhealthy beverages can be.

If you can't make it there, maybe this salad will help ease the pain.

My mom saved the recipe from an old Gourmet magazine, and though it's a little dated, it's kind of fun. She added some toasted cashews, and subbed romaine for the cabbage. The touch of curry powder makes the dressing bold and warm, if not exactly tropical.

Pina coladas may not be part of your New Year's resolutions, but if you have one, I won't tell...

Island Pork Tenderloin Salad
from Gourmet (May 2003)

For pork
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 pork tenderloins (2 1/4 to 2 1/2 pounds total) See note below.
2 tablespoons olive oil

For glaze
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic
1 tablespoon Tabasco

For vinaigrette
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon fresh orange juice
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon curry powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup olive oil

For salad
3 navel oranges
5 ounces baby spinach, trimmed (6 cups leaves)
4 cups romaine lettuce
1 red bell pepper, cut lengthwise into thin strips
1/2 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup cashews, toasted
2 ripe California avocados

Prepare pork:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Stir together salt, pepper, cumin, chili powder, and cinnamon, then coat pork with spice rub.Heat oil in an ovenproof 12-inch heavy skillet over moderately high heat until just beginning to smoke, then brown pork, turning, about 4 minutes total. Leave pork in skillet.

Make glaze and roast pork:
Stir together brown sugar, garlic, and Tabasco and pat onto top of each tenderloin. Roast in middle of oven until thermometer inserted diagonally in center of each tenderloin registers 140°F, about 20 minutes. Let pork stand in skillet at room temperature 10 minutes. (Temperature will rise to about 155°F while standing.)

Make vinaigrette while pork roasts:
Whisk together juices, mustard, curry powder, salt, and pepper, then add oil in a stream, whisking until emulsified.

Prepare salad ingredients while pork stands:
Cut peel, including white pith, from oranges with a sharp knife, then cut oranges crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick slices. Toss spinach, cabbage, bell pepper, cashews and raisins in a large bowl with about 1/4 cup vinaigrette. Halve, pit, and peel avocados, then cut diagonally into 1/4-inch-thick slices.

Assemble salad:
Cut pork at a 45-degree angle into 1/2-inch-thick slices. Line a large platter with dressed salad and arrange sliced pork, oranges, and avocados in rows on top. Drizzle some vinaigrette over avocados and oranges. Pour any juices from skillet over pork.

NOTE: Be careful to buy pork tenderloins that don't have too much saline injected in them. My mom likes the ones from Trader Joe's, and there are probably others, but many supermarket brands are quite waterlogged. Then be careful not to overcook.

Cookie conundrum, part 2: Dark chocolate and ginger crinkles.

2009-01-01T14:33:00.005-05:00

First of all: Happy new year! We just woke up.

I was going to write about these cookies yesterday, but time got away from me (glitter waits for no blog!) and before I knew it, people showed up and then it was 2009 and there were fireworks and champagne. Years come and go so quickly here!

So! Cookies. I found these in an issue of Everyday with Rachael Ray that I read as we flew out to visit Bench's parents (I may not like her shows, but I will grudgingly admit that her magazine ain't half bad). I didn't stand a chance: Dark chocolate AND crystallized ginger, in cookie form? Sign me up! I could barely wait to get back from the windy city to give them a try.

This is the first cookie recipe I've used that requires baking chocolate; it does not, however, require a double boiler, so the fiddly quotient remains pretty low. In addition to the baking chocolate, it requires a half cup of good cocoa powder--enough to render the dough the driest I've seen. Fortunately, it stands up to a good manhandling (I ended up kneading the dough, more than stirring it), and comes together really well once you start rolling it into little balls. So, don't fret if your dough doesn't quite seem dough-like in the bowl. It meant to do that, really.

They're called crinkles because of the cracks and patterns that form as they bake; I think it's also an apt description of the cookies themselves, which manage to be both crispy and chewy at once. Also delicious. Never forget the delicious.

Dark chocolate and ginger crinkles
Adapted from Everyday with Rachael Ray, January 2009

1 stick (4oz) butter
4 oz unsweetened chocolate, chopped (about 1/2 c)
1 3/4 c granulated sugar
1 1/2 c flour
1/2c unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 large eggs, beaten
3/4 c crystallized ginger, finely chopped
1/2c mini chocolate chips
1c confectioners' sugar (for rolling)

In a medium saucepan, melt the butter and unsweetened chocolate over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally until smooth.
Meanwhile! Preheat the oven to 350F. Whisk together all the dry ingredients (except the ginger and chocolate chips) until well combined.
Whisk the eggs into the butter/chocolate mixture--be VERY CERTAIN that it's nice and cool (i.e., room temperature), otherwise you will end up with scrambled eggs. Then, add the wet mixture to the dry until incorporated. Like I said, it gets a bit dry, so don't be afraid to get in there with your hands and really mash things around.
Add the ginger and chocolate chips.
Place the confectioners' sugar into a wide, shallow bowl. Form the dough into 1-inch balls and then coat with confectioners' sugar. Bake on cookie sheets that have been lined with parchment for about 15 minutes, rotating the pans after ten minutes or so.
When they're done, let them rest on the cookie sheet for a few minutes before transferring to racks to cool all the way.

Cookie conundrum, part 1: Amaretti

2008-12-31T11:55:00.004-05:00

I almost didn't make these. I thought they were going to be ridiculously, ridonkulously difficult--I mean, they sell tins of these things at Balducci's for, like, $10 a pop! That must mean they're ridiculously scary and difficult! Despite my reservations, however, I was determined to avoid making a plain sugar cookie to represent half of the black and white ball; I was going to tackle these crazy confections if it killed me!

It, um, didn't. Clearly. In reality, I'm not sure these could actually have been easier.

Three ingredients. These things have only three ingredients. They also require only one bowl--the one on your food processor. The most complicated thing about them is the fact that you have to pipe them on to the baking sheet, and that's not so much complicated as just requiring a certain amount of precision (these cookies puff up exponentially in the oven, so you really want to make sure your batter drops are no more than 3/4 of an inch, or else you will find yourself with an amaretti sheet cake).

As an aside, these are the only cookies I've ever made that turned out to look exactly the way I'd anticipated (i.e., exactly like any store-bought variety, except better because it's homemade), if that gives you any sense of how easy this recipe is, and how formidable an achievement it will seem to your audience.

And thus, I declaim these cookies an excellent party food--they're elegant, delicious, store for days in an airtight container, and won't drive you crazy. You don't need to admit anything to your partygoers; let them think you slaved.

Chewy amaretti cookies
Adapted from Gourmet magazine, January 2009

1 (7oz) tube pure almond paste (not marzipan!)--roughly 3/4 c
1 cup sugar
2 large egg whites, at room temperature for 30 minutes

Preheat your oven to 300 degrees F. Line rimmed cookie sheets with parchment
Pulse the almond paste and sugar in a food processor until about the consistency of sand.
Add the egg whites and pulse again until smooth.
Transfer to a pastry bag and pipe on to prepared sheets in 3/4" rounds (1/3" high)
Bake until golden and puffed, about 15-18 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through.
Cool cookies in pans on racks until COMPLETELY cool.

The jackpot question in advance: New Year's Eve.

2008-12-30T15:58:00.001-05:00

So, I never actually got around to baking anything for the holidays. The spirit, as they say, did not move me (something about airports and snowstorms pulled the thunder from my kitchenaid). I'm hoping to turn the tides this week, having questionably decided to throw a New Year's Eve party!

The party itself is to be styled as a Black and White ball, so my initial plan was to make two cakes (one for each color). I then determined that that was more or less guaranteed to drive me utterly mad, given that the day job required at least some of my attention over the first few days of the week. So, instead I compromised on cookies--one dark (dark chocolate and crystallized ginger crinkles) and one light (amaretti). I have made neither in my lifetime--it's a whole new world of cookie!

I will keep you posted!

Something Nice: Spicy Molasses Gingerbread Cake

2008-12-29T15:41:00.005-05:00

When we got back to New York, our apartment smelled a little stale. What better way to warm it up and celebrate being home again? Seriously, I would bake this one just for the scent. You probably already have the ingredients around, even if you've been out of town awhile. And a slice of spicy gingerbread cake just might make unpacking easier.

This improved overnight in the fridge, so I recommend making it the day before and refrigerating (tightly wrapped in saran + foil) for a day before serving. The ginger mellows and permeates the entire cake with a little rest.

Though it's lovely with whipped cream, you could also serve this for brunch with a dollop of greek yogurt and some sliced pears. It's quite spicy and not too sweet, surprisingly moist and rich tasting. The fresh ginger is easiest to mince if you store it in your freezer.

Spicy Molasses Gingerbread Cake
Adapted from David Lebovitz

just under 1/2 cup fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon powdered ginger
3/4 cup molasses (I used blackstrap, which is quite strong.)
just under 1/4 cup maple syrup
1 cup sugar
1 cup vegetable oil (peanut is recommended, but I used canola)
1 cup water
2 tsp baking soda
2-1/2 cups flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 vanilla bean
2 eggs, beaten lightly

Position the oven rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a 9 by 3-inch round cake pan or a 9 1/2 inch springform pan with a circle of parchment paper, or butter the inside (I did this, and it didn't stick at all.) Place pan on a cookie sheet to prevent spills.

Peel, slice, and chop the ginger very fine with a knife (or use a grater or food processor). Mix together the molasses, maple syrup, sugar, and oil. In another bowl, sift together the flour, cinnamon, cloves, cocoa, and black pepper.

Bring the water to the boil in a saucepan, stir in the baking soda, and then mix the hot water into the molasses mixture. Stir in the ginger.

Gradually whisk the dry ingredients into the batter. Add the eggs, and continue mixing until everything is thoroughly combined. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and bake for about 1 hour, until the top of the cake springs back lightly when pressed or a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. If the top of the cake browns too quickly before the cake is done, drape a piece of foil over it and continue baking.

Cool the cake for at least 30 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the cake to loosen it from the pan. Remove sides from the pan to serve.

Best Recipe of the Year: Mom's Cioppino

2008-12-24T23:48:00.018-05:00

This is it.

This is the best recipe I have to offer in 2008, my vote for tastiest homemade entree we've had this year. (That goat cheese cheesecake was pretty darn awesome, too, but it's not exactly a balanced meal on its own.)

Cioppino is a tomatoey fish stew with a touch a fennel and saffron, green peppers and deep red wine. Traditionally, a fish stock was brewed with the heads and bones from the catch of the day, and fish cubes and clams, fresh shrimp, or other shellfish are added at the last minute. With each spoonful, I could picture the Portuguese or Italian fishermen who first cooked this onboard their ships along the coast of California. Perfect for a drizzly, cold day at sea (or on land), cioppino is meaty and warming, somehow both delicate and bold.

We used to make a seafood caesar salad every year on Christmas Eve, taking advantage of the Dungeness crab season. But you don't really feel like something cold that night, especially when the weather is grim, so several years ago my mom switched to cioppino for this occasion. Her recipe has evolved over the years, and it seems to be constantly improving.

I urge you to make this dish as soon as you can get your hands on some nice seafood—maybe for New Years? Feel free to play around with the fish a little depending on what's fresh—I imagine scallops could be added, or you could use grouper instead of halibut. This year we used salmon and red snapper, little manila clams and fresh, sweet shrimp. Cioppino is great dinner party food—totally impressive but you can easily prepare the soup base a day ahead, and just plop the seafood in when your guests arrive. Don't skip the garlicky aioli (sort of fake-oli since you start with a jar of mayo). The punch of garlic and creaminess stirred into the soup is essential.

Please don't fear the long recipe—it's really not a tricky one.

Mom's Christmas Eve Cioppino
(Adapted from from The New York Times Cookbook & other recipes)
10 servings

4 T olive oil
3 cups chopped onion
1 leek, trimmed, washed well, & finely chopped
2 to 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 green, yellow, or orange bell pepper, cored, seeded, cut into thin strips
1 Yukon Gold or other small potato, halved and sliced, optional
2 sticks celery or one small fennel bulb, sliced, optional
4 cups chopped imported peeled tomatoes (canned, diced)
1 cup fresh or canned tomato sauce
1 small can tomato juice
salt, freshly ground black pepper
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp dried basil
red pepper flakes
1/4 tsp saffron (or up to 1 tsp.)
1/2 tsp grated orange zest or 2 strips of orange peel
juice from one orange
2 cups chicken broth if making soup base ahead, or fish stock if finishing in the same day
1 cup water or broth
1 cup red zinfandel or white wine—use something decent!
1-1/2 to 2 lb. firm-fleshed fish such as striped bass, sea bass, halibut, or salmon cut into 2-in. pieces (2-1/2 lbs. for bone-in steaks, bones to be used for fish stock)
1 lb. raw shrimp shelled & deveined (wild fresh rock shrimp were superb)
2 doz. well washed small clams in shell
1/2 lb crabmeat or 1 hard shell crab, cooked in shell & cracked
1 qt chicken or fish broth to add as needed for desired consistency

optional seafood additions
1/2 lb bay scallops
1/4 cup shucked oysters in their liquor
1/2 lb lobster tail cooked in shell

Fish stock for approximately 4 to 6 cups
Buy bone-in fish steaks for the soup. Cut the meat into 2-in. pieces and refrigerate, putting all the bones and skin in a pot with an onion studded with 2 cloves, a carrot and celery stick (or fennel bulb trimmings) cut in pieces, bay leaf, and peppercorns to taste, and cook in water to cover (approx. 4 to 6 cups) for 2 hours.

Aoli
Mash 2 cloves garlic, chopped; add 1 cup mayo & squeeze of lemon juice.

Grilled Croutons
Thinly slice enough of a baguette on the diagonal for 2 pieces per person. Lightly brush each piece with olive oil and bake in 350° oven til crisp.

1. Cook onion & leek in olive oil, stirring often, until just lightly browned. Add garlic, green pepper, and celery or fennel if used & cook til they wilt. Add potato, if used, tomatoes, tomato sauce and juice, salt & pepper to taste, bay leaf, oregano, thyme, basil, saffron, and 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes. Add chicken broth (or fish stock if serving the same day) and orange zest or strips and juice & cook slowly for about 2 hrs, stirring often to prevent burning. More chicken or fish stock may be added if desired.

2. Add broth & wine and cook 10 minutes more. Soup may be made in advance to this point, or, if using fish stock, do this step 30 minutes before serving, just before step 3.

3. Twenty minutes or so before serving, return soup to the boil and add fish pieces (you will be adding seafood in order of how long it needs to cook—don't overcook!) Cook about 4 minutes and add scallops if used. Cook 3 minutes, stirring gently. Add clams, shrimp and other shellfish. If using fresh crabmeat instead of a whole crab, put it directly in individual soup bowls just before serving so that it doesn’t get lost.

4. Cook stirring gently about 5 minutes or until clams open. Serve in very hot soup bowls with a grilled crouton on each bowl, and aoli and red pepper flakes on the side. Stir aoli into each serving at the table.

Soup base can be made ahead and frozen; add fish stock, fish, and seafood after thawing.

Something Warm: Spicy Steak with Peppers

2008-12-23T19:25:00.014-05:00

Oregon's Willamette Valley is known for mild, gray, and drizzly weather. It rains, yes, but it rarely snows. Perhaps once or twice every few years there will be a storm, sometimes with some dangerous freezing rain, but all is usually melted by noon. I didn't own a real winter jacket until I moved east in 2000.

This is my parents' patio. Don't think we'll be dining outside this visit.

Luckily, we stocked up on groceries on Saturday. The unsalted roads have been treacherous since then. So it's a homebound week for reading and drinking tea, wrapping presents, and giving Matt the opportunity to win handily at Scrabble. I'd be embarrassed at how often I lose, but he's really quite skilled at it. We've been taking long walks through the snowdrifts, monitoring the progress of each potential route out of the neighborhood. Tomorrow we hike to the store if there isn't a way to drive, though I bet we could survive another week on the contents of my parents' voluminous freezer.

We had planned some dinners out which we have had to cancel. Sad as I am to miss my glimpse of Portland's dining scene this week, my mother always has something good to cook. Like this recipe she found in the New York Times last year was a winner: thin steak rubbed in smoky paprika and cumin, grilled rare and piled with slightly caramelized onions, jalapeno, and sweet peppers. It's a bit like a spicy cheesesteak without the cheese. The perfect warm, filling bite after a long walk through the snow. Though I could also imagine whipping this one up in the summer and serving with an icy margarita, if that's your thing.

My mom served it on grilled bread as an open faced sandwich. The steaks were a bit thick, even after the butcher butterflied them, so she flipped the steak to cook the second side slightly. (The New York Times suggests cooking only one side, but they're working with a truly thin steak.)

Grilling required shoveling a path through the snow to the outdoor barbecue, which was a bit ridiculous, but you could make a credible version of this in a cast iron pan. Though you may want to disconnect your fire alarm first. If you happen to have a little cheese around, you could try turning this into a full-on Spicy Pepper Cheesesteak. I bet it would be awesome.

Happy holidays from the Wild West. I hope you are all warm and cozy wherever you are.

Spicy Steak with Wilted Peppers
Adapted from The New York Times

1 large skirt steak, about 2 pounds (we used New York Strip instead)
1 teaspoon smoked Spanish paprika
1 teaspoon ground cumin
Fine sea salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, slivered
1 medium-size red onion, sliced thin
2 jalapeño chilies, cored, seeded and slivered
3 red bell peppers, (or a mix of red, yellow, and orange if available), cored and slivered
1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
1 tablespoon slivered fresh basil leaves.

1. Use a large, sharp knife to butterfly skirt steak (or have butcher do it) and cut into 4 portions. Combine paprika, cumin, 1/2 teaspoon salt and pepper and rub onto outer side (not cut side) of steak. Place spiced-side down on a platter. Set aside.

2. Preheat grill or grill pan to very hot. Meanwhile, heat oil in a skillet. Add garlic, onion, jalapeños and a dusting of salt and sauté over medium-low heat until soft. Add bell peppers, increase heat to medium-high and sauté until bell peppers just begin to wilt but are still slightly crisp, about 5 minutes. Remove pan from heat.

3. Grill bread until just barely toasted and place on platter.

4. Place steak spiced-side down on grill or in pan and sear, close to source of heat, 2 to 3 minutes, until just starting to brown around edges but still nearly raw on top. (If your steak is not super thin, flip steak and cook one minute on other side.) Transfer to a serving platter, seared-side down. Briefly reheat peppers, add vinegar and basil, stir, then pour over steak, spreading to cover meat. Serve over toasted bread.

Yield: 4-5 servings.

It's a Cass Blaster Blitzkrieg*: Chicken and mushroom casserole.

2008-12-23T14:04:00.000-05:00

It's hardly uncommon knowledge that I loathe the cold. What can I say? I grew up in California, and ten years in New York has done NOTHING to thicken my blood. I hate not being able to feel my fingers. I hate the fact that the MTA pretty much shuts down when the slightest flurry occurs. I hate that I cannot wear cute shoes and/or skirts out in the world between November and May.

I do, however, love cold-weather food. You know what I mean--the heavy, creamy, dreamy foods of winter, resplendent in cheese and bacon and all manner of things bad for your cardiovascular system. Comfort foods, designed to take your mind off the fact that half your band is still stranded in Las Vegas (not that I'd know about that *ahem*) and that you stopped receiving messages from your toes about three days ago: Pastas. Fondue. Casserole.

Oh, casserole. I was so late to your party, and I'd like to apologize now. I love you even more now that I've determined that you don't actually have to be a crazy cholesterol bomb to be both hearty and satisfying. I credit Heidi over at 101 Cookbooks for showing me the light--I stumbled across her recipe for mushroom casserole, and it was like a shot of adrenaline straight to the brain. Heidi's exquisite site is all about healthy and delicious, so I knew that if SHE was exhibiting it, it had to be both amazing and extremely unlikely to strike you dead. Plus, it's easy and versatile--it was no trouble to satisfy my inner semivore and toss in some cooked chicken (from a bird I'd roasted earlier), or to swap out the rice in favor of kamut (a variety of whole wheat) instead of rice (which I certainly recommend trying--it's chewy and unlike anything else). I also found myself without cottage cheese or sour cream, so I substituted in some plain yogurt (my new favorite ingredient). Basically, it's a good, basic recipe that stands up beautifully to whatever you wish to throw at it. Frankly, I suspect it would rule with a mushroom medley and a little blue cheese, or perhaps something involving bacon. I will let you know if i try this.

So! If you're looking for something to eat this winter that is hearty and healthy, I say give this recipe a go--but feel free not to follow it too carefully!

And, my darlings, this is probably my last post before the holidays; as you can see, I did not get it together to make any cookies or find any holiday spirit, but I hope you had better luck with that than I. I also hope that wherever you are, you are warm, you are safe, and you are with the people you love.

Happy holidays, y'all.

Chicken and mushroom casserole
Adapted from the always awesome 101 cookbooks.

2 tbsp fresh tarragon, chopped
2 tbsp fresh thyme
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium-sized onion, diced
8-10 oz mushrooms, finely diced
2 large eggs
1c lowfat yogurt
2c prepared rice or grain of your choosing
1/2 c + 2 tbsp parmesan cheese
1/2c breadcrumbs
Optional: 1c cooked chicken, cut into small chunks

Prepare your grain; set aside in a nice, big mixing bowl.
In a large saute pan, heat a glug of olive oil over medium to medium-high heat. Saute the mushrooms until they're brown and juicy; then, add the onions. Once the onions start to get translucent, add the garlic and saute for a couple more minutes.
Turn off the heat, add the herbs.
Meanwhile, add the eggs to the yogurt, blending well.
Add the egg-yogurt mix (or rather, as much of it is needed to bind the other ingredients--you don't want this thing too wet), mushroom-onion mix, 1/2 c parmesan cheese, and chicken to the rice; mix well and then turn it out into a lightly buttered casserole dish.
Preheat your oven to 350. Then, mix the breadcrumbs and the remaining parmesan cheese (and some more herbs, if you're feeling festive) together; sprinkle this mixture liberally atop the casserole.
Bake covered for 20 minutes, then uncovered for 20.

* The first person to identify that quote gets a special prize (besides my undying respect and devotion, that is)! Leave your guess in the comments.

Snow and Crabs (No, Not Snow Crabs)

2008-12-21T14:02:00.003-05:00

Greetings from the wild west.

We've gotten inches and inches of snow, and may well be trapped in the house for the duration of our holiday trip. They don't salt the roads out here, so you can stand at my parent's front window to watch the cars slide down the hill sideways.

But you could do worse than sitting at my mother's table with a giant Dungeness crab in one hand and a cracking utensil in the other. It's sort of a messy business, requiring a shower afterwards, but an incomparable treat. I've been to Baltimore, and I know they like their crabs, but these big guys are the real thing as far as I'm concerned.

Happy holidays—I hope you're not stuck in an airport somewhere.

Overcoming a fear of poultry, Part 2: Herbed tzatsiki chicken.

2008-12-16T13:30:00.001-05:00

When it comes to certain things, I'm a bit of a slow study. On this list: playing the trumpet. Speaking German. Baking bread (as you've probably already realized). Experimenting with herbs.

I know, I know. Herbs are great! Herbs are your friend! Well let me tell you: when I learned how to cook, I went from burning pots of water to cooking acceptable meals in about two months (I was in college, I was a kept woman; it's not like I had anything else to do); my haste to learn--and not kill us all in the process--was so great that I seriously glossed over some of the basics. Like, you know. How to flavor my food. For years, the only herb I had any clue how to use was basil. I could make eighteen types of stir fry, but I couldn't identify tarragon in a lineup. It took ages before I could even handle sage; longer still before I invited rosemary to the party. Now, many moons later, I also count among my friends thyme and oregano (and I'll fully admit that i still have no idea what to do with tarragon). Thank goodness; making random things out of what I find in the fridge has become much easier since I've started to foxtrot with herbs.

Example: Last week, I found myself with three lemons, a shedload of garlic, some greek yogurt and my newly requisite freezerful of herbs. Having discovered not too long ago that plain yogurt is a kick ass marinade for chicken, it seemed like a no-brainer: grab some poultry, some skewers, and whip up a greek tzatsiki-style marinade! I'd be hard pressed to think of a quicker, easier way to inject a small dose of summer sunshine into a dreary December evening.

Because I'm lazy, I put this garlicky delight together using my food processor, which reduced prep time to approximately three minutes--including the chopping of the herbs--so it's definitely a great meal for a weeknight (though you can marinate the chicken for up to three days, and it gets better with every passing second). Easy, healthy, and tasty, I'm chalking this one up in the "Epic Win" column on my Adventures in Poultry spreadsheet.

Herbed tzatsiki chicken

Approx 1lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into approximately 2-inch cubes. Thighs would also work; I just went with what was on special.

Marinade:
5 cloves garlic
1c greek-style yogurt (I used lowfat)
2-3 tbsp fresh thyme, removed from the stem
2-3 tbsp fresh rosemary, chopped
zest from 2 lemons
1tbsp olive oil
pinch salt

Make the marinade: whizz everything except the chicken together in your food processor until it's a lovely, green-flecked and aromatic paste. If it's too thick, loosen it up with a little water.
Combine chicken and marinade in a large zip-top bag; set it in your refrigerator to marinate for at least one hour and up to three days.
Thread on to bamboo skewers that have been soaked in water.
Fire up your grill (or your grill pan) to a medium to medium-high heat and cook those suckers for about 8 minutes. Turn the skewer every two minutes or so to ensure even coloring all around.

Beware: I like this SUPER garlicky; you might want to reduce the amount of garlic, as it will stick with you for a day or two. But, if you prefer to keep vampires at least ten feet away (as I do), go crazy!

Say it's your birthday: Malted Milk Cake

2008-12-14T16:14:00.000-05:00

Today is Bench's birthday! Saturday was the wonderful A's birthday! If I've ever had a better reason for baking a cake, I can't think of it! (Okay, so, maybe there was ALSO the tiniest bit of an ulterior motive--I got my hands on the Baked cookbook the second it came out, and have been dying--DYING--to take it for a test drive.) I floated the idea past Bench, with the proviso that he select the cake that I would attempt. Clever lad that he is, he accepted the challenge readily. After much deliberation, the decision was made, and the Malted Milk Cake gauntlet was thrown.

A few notes on the cake itself: the boys from Baked are very careful to tell you that white cakes are very delicate (something I did not actually know, having not ever made a white cake before. Yes, I know.), and that freezing the layers for a spell before frosting them might be a good idea. Seeing how enthusiastically the cake stuck itself to the parchment, the pans, the COOLING RACK (resulting in some rather nasty-looking divots in what became the middle layer--thank goodness frosting hides most ills), it seemed like an extremely sensible idea. I recommend it highly, as these cakes are fragile little buggers before they've had a bit of a chill. I personally decided to be an extremist and freeze them overnight, moving them to the refrigerator the next morning.

Another thing that the boys from Baked recommend is that you level off each layer of cake with a knife before assembling the cake; I'm going to come out and say that unless the workings of your inner ear could double as a level, you should probably skip that part. Seriously. I considered trying it and then remembered what happens when I try to split english muffins--let's just say that the problem would be considerably worse by the time I finished. I did take a serrated knife to the sides, just to even them out, but you can skip that part, too, unless it would bring you personal satisfaction. My feeling is: if you're baking a cake for someone and they call you out on aesthetics, they are clearly missing the point of your labor of love and you should probably just keep it for yourself. Or make them wear it as a hat. Whatever.

The frosting was quite fun, in that it was my first stab at buttercream in, oh, let's say, ten years. Thank goodness I'd had some recent exposure to Good Eats' episode on the stuff; thanks to the magic of Alton Brown, I knew more or less what to expect, and had in my back pocket the best advice you'll ever hear about buttercream: add the butter one piece at a time, waiting for it to incorporate completely before adding the next piece. It is time consuming, but totally worth it, as you walk out with a gorgeous, silky frosting (though, really, anything with a full pound of chocolate in it is going to be pretty splendid no matter how you slice it).

Despite the profusion of chocolate, I will admit: this was not my favorite frosting recipe (I have now confirmed what I have long suspected--I am a cream cheese frosting kind of girl). It worked tremendously well with the cake, however, as the robust, not-too-sweet density of the frosting was a perfect foil for the delicate dreaminess of the cake. As someone who typically regards cake as a vehicle for frosting, it was definitely a new experience to be more excited by the cake itself.

Frosting aside (and really, there was nothing wrong with it; it just wasn't my cup of tea), I still count the whole endeavor as a success: not only was it it was my first white cake (and my first triple-layer cake!), but it was a tremendous excuse to have a couple of my favorite people over, drink sauternes and anything else we could get our hands on, and determine that suspenders are better than xylophones. And at the end of the day, isn't that the whole point of baking? Win!

Malted milk cake
Excerpted from Baked, the cookbook. It is awesome and you should go buy it immediately, because this recipe is just the beginning of its amazingness. You should also try their chocolate babka if you ever make it to the bakery itself. Or a cinnamon chip scone. Trust me.

For the cake:
2 1/4 cups cake flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup malted-milk powder
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup solid vegetable shortening, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups ice water
4 large egg whites, at room temperature

For the frosting:
10 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
10 ounces milk chocolate, finely chopped
1 3/4 cups heavy cream
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
4 sticks (1 pound) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch chunks, softened

MAKE THE CAKE: Preheat the oven to 325°. Butter and flour three 8-inch cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk the flours with the malt powder, baking powder, baking soda, salt and nutmeg.
In the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with a paddle, beat the butter with the shortening until creamy. Add the sugar and vanilla and beat at medium speed until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Beat in the dry ingredients in 3 batches at low speed, alternating with the ice water, occasionally scraping down the side of the bowl.
In a clean bowl, beat the egg whites at medium-high speed until soft peaks form. Fold the egg whites into the batter. Divide the batter between the pans, spreading it evenly, and bake the cakes for 40 to 45 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the cakes cool in the pans for 20 minutes, then invert them onto a rack (note: it might be worth putting a piece of parchment paper on the rack first, otherwise you might lose a bit of the cake to the grid of the rack, as I did) and let cool completely. Peel off the parchment. (A tip: Wrap the individual layers in foil and freeze them for at least an hour before even attempting to frost them. You will not regret this.)
MEANWHILE, MAKE THE FROSTING: Place the chocolate in a large bowl. In a small saucepan, bring the cream to a boil, then remove from heat. Add the corn syrup; immediately pour the mixture over the chocolate. Let stand for 2 to 3 minutes, until the chocolate has melted, then whisk until smooth. Let cool to room temperature.
Transfer the mixture to the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with a wire whisk. Gradually beat in the butter at medium speed, a few chunks at a time, and beat until thoroughly incorporated between additions. The frosting should be smooth and silky. Refrigerate the frosting just until it is thick enough to hold its shape, 10 to 15 minutes.
Place one cake layer on a serving platter and spread 1 1/4 cups of the frosting over the top in an even layer. Repeat to form 2 more layers. Spread a thin layer of frosting over the side of the cake and refrigerate briefly until firm. Frost the side with the remaining frosting. Garnish the cake with malted-milk balls and refrigerate briefly to firm up the frosting before serving.
Remember to share. You will be sorely tempted to keep it all for yourself.

Frankies Spuntino's Cavatelli with Brown Butter, Sage, and Faicco's Hot Sausage

2008-12-13T19:40:00.013-05:00

Frank Bruni outed our favorite restaurant last week in the New York Times. It was hard enough to get into Frankies Spuntino before the article. Now, good luck!

Still, I urge you to go to the restaurant. I urge you to put your name in (they won't take reservations, and won't take your name over the phone—they have to "see the whites of your eyes," they once told us), grab a drink at the cheap bar down the block, and bide your time until you can order this pasta. Go ahead and order the antipasto plate with its delicately sliced prosciutto and lovely roasted vegetables, but don't skip this cavatelli. It's hot and spicy and rich, perfectly al dente. We devoured it (for the umpteenth time) the night we got engaged, late after calling our families to spread the news and tipsy with champagne and the sparkle of Matt's great-grandmother's ring. But it's really great on an ordinary day, too.

Today, walking around in the cold winter sun after a stop at the Strand, I steered myself westward. Faicco's pork store, where Frankies gets its sausage, is a worthy destination. Even if its 28 degrees out. Not only do they make terrific sausage, but they sell a variety of fresh and cured meats as well as imported canned goods and pasta. I picked up a braciole (pre-rolled!) for Sunday Ragu along with the craveable spicy sausage. I harvested the last of our sage, though we could have added more, since the sage loses its bitterness in the sauce and really is an essential flavor in the dish.

The elements of the recipe are simple: short, stubby cavatelli (ideally fresh, though I substituted another short dried pasta), brown butter, sage, and sausage. A little garlic. The sausage infuses the sauce with savory heat. I'll continue to tweak when I try this again, but here's the gist:

Cavatelli with Brown Butter, Sage, and Hot Sausage
Inspired by Frankies Spuntino (if only they would give me their recipe!)
Serves Two

1/2 pound cavatelli or short pasta
3 links hot sausage (I heartily recommend Faicco's if you're in New York.)
3-4 T butter
1 cup sage leaves. Don't be stingy.
3 cloves garlic, chopped
parmesan, salt, pepper for serving

Bring water to a boil. Brown sausage, whole, until mostly cooked. Remove from pan and slice into coins. Cook pasta according to package directions—do NOT over cook, pasta should be quite al dente. Meanwhile, add butter to the pan, cook over moderate heat about 5 minutes until beginning to color. I may have stopped too early, this should get quite nutty. But do not burn! Add sage leaves and garlic, cook for a minute to infuse flavors. Return sausage to pan, toss. When pasta is cooked, drain and add (along with a few tablespoons of pasta water), cook for a minute over low heat, stirring. Add salt and pepper to taste, serve with parmesan and red wine.

Is it Last Minute Already?

2008-12-11T09:46:00.010-05:00

Photo from Amazon.com

Whether it's "last minute" yet or not depends on your personality...do you thrive in malls teeming with shoppers? Or do you prefer making a list and checking it off in the warmth of your own home, where you can control the soundtrack?

You still have a few days left to order Christmas gifts and get Amazon free shipping, though Chanukah is a little earlier, starting on the 21st.

There are some deals to be had. Case in point: the Silpat, pictured above. People love these things. Usually around $20, they're on special for $10 right now. Or, gift yourself a few of these, and use for homemade treats (praline? yes!) to give away (or keep!) We've added a link to it in our Amazon widget below, along with other kitchen goodies we know and love.

While you're at it, please support the publishing industry. We're struggling a little around here. A few recommendations: All About Braising by Molly Stevens. Throw in a Lodge Enameled Dutch Oven for an amazing gift! And if someone you know doesn't already own Marc Meyer's brunch book, do them a favor and get it for them. If you'd rather order from Barnes & Noble, enter code D9E4E3T for 10% off until Dec 18th.

More gifts addendum!
While we're at it, how about a set of pretty measuring spoons with a handwritten cookbook of your favorite recipes? Or a silicone whisk to prevent scraping enamel cookware. We just received these gorgeous pepper and salt mills and we LOVE them.

Lighter Bite: Buffalo Salmon

2008-12-11T09:20:00.001-05:00

Is it possible I still feel stuffed from Sunday brunch?

Craving something lighter and zingier and fresher, I knew we'd have a big salad for dinner Wednesday. But as I was clicking around, I remembered this recipe I'd cut out a long time ago. I was introduced to Frank's Hot Sauce at a Superbowl party last year, and have been a little obsessed ever since. It's not very spicy—that's not the whole point—it's mostly vinegary. It's classic on fried chicken wings but possibly even better on grilled or broiled ones, so I was up for the experiment. Why not salmon?

Answer: because salmon is not chicken. It's possible we should treat our chicken like chicken and our salmon like salmon. The buffalo sauce and fish were incongruous, the taste of salmon made me crave a sweeter sauce (I promise to post about my mother's classic soon), and the taste of Frank's made me crave chicken. It was a mismatch.

Whether you try this (and it could just be an acquired taste) or just pour some lovely Frank's Hot Sauce on some cooked chicken, I do have one recommendation. Pair it with a nice salad: arugula tossed with slightly steamed asparagus, a bit of crumbled feta, and a citrus vinaigrette. Perfect and light.

You'll recover from last weekend just in time to start planning the next one.

Buffalo Salmon (unencrusted)
inspired by Gourmet Magazine
serves 2

1 lb salmon or arctic char (char might actually be better)
1/2 cup Frank's Hot Sauce + 2 T
olive oil

Preheat broiler. Pour hot sauce in a baking pan place salmon in it, turning to coat. Remove any bones you notice. Let marinate 1 minute. Heat cast iron pan over medium heat with a bit of olive oil in it. When pan is hot, cook salmon skin side down for 3 minutes. Turn, cook 2 minutes more on other side. Turn skin side down, place in broiler. Cook a few minutes until done (this will happen quickly, do not overcook.) Place salmon on serving plate, brush remaining 2 T hot sauce onto top of fish. Serve with salad.

The leavening: Bread, for newbies (such as myself)

2008-12-08T13:27:00.005-05:00

I am a carboholic. Bread, booze, you name it--odds are I love it. A nutritionist would say that it has something to do with the soporific effects of the carbohydrate, that it instills in the eater a sense of well-being and calm. I'm not so sure about that; though I will say that nothing makes me sleepier and happier than a few glasses of bourbon, that is hardly the point. Dopamine rush or not, the ACTUAL point is that I am a sucker for a good starch, and nothing better typifies my adoration than a perfect loaf of bread.

I've been interested in making bread for many a year, but like others, I was intimidated. I mean...you have to let things FERMENT. you have to KNEAD. You have to FEED the YEAST. For that kind of trauma, I might as well have a puppy, right?

(What was that about missing the point?)

Of course, such ridiculousness was fueled by the fact that I was living in Park Slope, the kind of neighborhood where you can go to the corner bodega and pick up a loaf of fresh rosemary sourdough at 2am; my perspective changed somewhat once I moved to Bed Stuy, where the grocery stores close at 7 and the bodegas sell beer by the bottle. If I wanted rosemary bread, I was going to have to make it my OWNSELF. And so, I rolled up my sleeves and set to work.

Inevitably, my journey has been marred by many a loaf of truly subpar attempts (though Bench, to his credit, will fall upon whatever disaster loaf I've concocted as though he's not eaten in a week and pronounce it heavenly, thereby inspiring me to keep trying), but I think I've finally gotten the hang of a basic loaf. The turning point? Stumbling across this recipe. This guy? This guy knows how to write about baking a loaf of (really straightforward, non-fancy) bread. The loaves I've churned out according to this recipe have been highly edible. Delicious, even!

Better than tasty loaves, however, is the weird feeling of confidence I find myself with at the moment. Though I'm hardly about to go out and start my own bakery, I suddenly find myself understanding what dough is meant to feel like at different stages, what the appropriate water temperature for proofing yeast feels like, and the pure, visceral delight of ripping open a fresh loaf and smearing a slice in butter. Best of all, I've realized that bread is not this strange, mysterious, fussy thing: Bread is earthy; it's forgiving; it's adventurous; it will take a lot of abuse before it decides to stop being your friend. Measurements don't need to be exact--bread is all about feelings. Just throw together the basic ingredients until it starts to work.

Plus, it smells freaking awesome as it bakes. Just saying.

Easy! Delicious! Basic! Bread!
as written by S. John Ross; please see his site for more detailed instructions and good common sense.

1-1/3 cups very warm water (100-110 degrees F or so)
1 rounded tbsp. sugar
2 teaspoons salt
2 tbsp. butter (vary as needed; see below)
3 rounded cups all purpose flour
1 rounded cup whole wheat flour
1 tsp. active dry yeast

In a mixing bowl, dissolve the sugar and salt in the water; sprinkle the yeast over the top. Stir to dissolve, then let sit for 10 minutes.
Add the softened butter, then about 2/3 of the flour to the bowl (1/2 c at a time), and mix until the dough pulls away from the side of the bowl. Turn the dough out on to a floured board and flour your hands. Knead gently, mixing in the remaining flour slowly until the dough becomes a smooth mass (you can also do this in your mixer, with a dough hook. As I have no counter space, I prefer this method, but I know you might not).
Put the dough into a mixing bowl that has been coated with oil or butter; turn once to coat and cover the bowl with cling film and a kitchen towl. Put it somewhere warm to rise for about 45 minutes (I like to preheat my oven to its lowest setting while I knead, shut it off and put the dough into the OFF oven to rise. As S. John says, the inside of the oven door should be hot to the touch, but not enough to burn).
After 45 minutes, take the dough out of its warm place, and punch its daylights out! Then, give it a quick knead, adding more flour if necessary, and shape into a loaf. Place on a cookie sheet or pizza stone that's been given a light dusting of cornmeal; put it back in its warm place for a second rising, keeping it nice and toasty under a blanket of paper towels (or, the cling film and kitchen towel from the first rising). 45 more minutes, undisturbed!
Remove the towel and clingfilm! Bake at 350 (don't bother preheating the oven if you're in a hurry) for 30-45 minutes, or until the loaf sounds hollow.

The recipe is very forgiving and likes additions (like a handful of chopped herbs)--I tossed in some rosemary and thyme at the end of the first knead. Most delicious indeed.

Feeding a Crowd: Make-ahead Brunch

2008-12-06T23:59:00.021-05:00

Mission: feed ten people (including vegetarians) a brunch feast including sweet and savory on a Sunday morning without panicking, running out of burners, wishing you'd moved to the suburbs where they have real kitchens, or missing out on the fun once your friends show up and start mixing mimosas!

With mushroom sauce already made and in the fridge, grits cooking overnight, and french toast soaked in custard and ready to bake, we sat around this morning calmly drinking coffee. No last minute pancake-flipping, no slaving over a waffle iron—it's always best to make food that multiplies easily for a crowd. We popped everything in the oven as people arrived. Kielbasa would have been cooked on the grill, if we hadn't run out of propane at that very moment (doesn't that always happen?) It was fine, really, since I'm sure those kielbasa went a long way toward seasoning my less-broken-in cast iron pan.

These sorts of events make me wonder: will we get as much joy-per-square-foot out of our home when it's, say, twice as big? When we no longer work and sleep and cook and hang out in one room?

Make-Ahead Brunch Menu for Ten

Overnight Slow Cooker Grits
Mushroom-Sauce Baked Eggs
Kielbasa
Baked Cafe au Lait French Toast (recipe here)
Fruit Salad
Bialys with Lox from Russ & Daughters)
Pom-Orange Mimosas
Coffee

I would definitely repeat these eggs, though I'm not sure about the french toast. The bitterness of the coffee was pretty good when balanced with maple syrup, but it didn't thrill any of us. My tip for overnight french toast is to soak the bread overnight in about 3/4 of the custard mixture, reserving the rest to pour over the top the next morning after the initial amount has been absorbed. These can bake in the same oven as the eggs.

Pom-Orange Mimosas
One bottle sparkling wine, cava, or prosecco
2 cups orange juice (freshly squeezed is great!)
1 or 2 cups pomegranate juice

Mix in pitcher and serve in flutes!

Slow Cooker Grits
2 cups stoneground grits
9 cups water
1 T butter
about 1 cup grated cheddar cheese

Combine grits, water, and butter in electric slow cooker. This cooked on low for 10 hours. Different brands of grits and slow cookers will vary, but after 10 hours these were not quite done and had not absorbed all the liquid. We turned it up to high for about 20 minutes, then took the lid off and stirred while the water evaporated a bit for another 30 minutes or so, adding the cheese as the texture got thicker.

Earthy Vegetarian Mushroom Sauce
1 T butter
splash olive oil
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2 medium yellow onions, chopped
1 T fresh herbs (I used sage, oregano, and rosemary), chopped
1 teaspoon or so concentrated tomato paste (I like the kind that comes in a tube)
2 pounds crimini mushrooms
3 large portobello mushroom caps
1 cup wine (I used white, but red would be great if you have it around)
sprinkle curry powder
sprinkle dried oregano
pinch sugar
1/2 teaspoon balsamic vinegar or a little less
salt and pepper to taste
Splash milk or cream
1/4 cup yogurt or creme fraiche

In a large dutch oven, saute onions and garlic in butter and olive oil over low heat a few minutes, stirring occasionally, until translucent. Meanwhile, slice the mushrooms. I did half of them into medium sized slices for a nice texture, while the other half were diced smaller for a finer sauce. Add the tomato paste to the pot and stir until the onions are coated, this will help them caramelize a bit. Add the mushrooms as you slice them and stir to incorporate. Add wine, fresh and dried herbs and spices, sugar and balsamic, stirring and cooking on low-medium heat until mushrooms look fully cooked. Add salt and pepper to taste. (At this point, I cooled the mixture overnight to reheat the next morning.) Reheat sauce if necessary, stir in milk and yogurt.

Mushroom Baked Eggs
Mushroom sauce (see above)
12 free-range eggs
Freshly ground pepper

Preheat oven to 400. Split sauce between two ovenproof glass dishes (a pie plate works fine). Make indentations for eggs. Crack eggs into indentations, grind pepper on top and bake for 10-15 minutes. Do not overcook—they may not look as done as they are! Serve on top of grits.

Still waiting for that holiday spirit: Sweets and treats on the brain

2008-12-06T10:24:00.003-05:00

Okay. I think I've finally recovered enough from Thanksgiving to once again take quill in hand and start blogging again. It's good to be back!

As you've probably gathered from the calendar, the holidays are fast upon us. As you've probably gathered from this post's title, I am still trying to get into the spirit of things. At the moment, I'm trying to prime the pump (so to speak) by pondering what exactly it is I'm going to be making throughout the season. I have come to the rather stunning conclusion that most people are going to be getting gifts of food from me (sorry to ruin the surprise, people I love!); likely suspects include dulce de leche, lemon curd, and the surprisingly successful chocolate covered mintmallows. I am, however, looking for a few more items to round out the insanity; perhaps something that involves actual chewing.

Conveniently, all the food mags are conspiring at this VERY MOMENT to give me a push, inundating me with (food) pornographic photographs and suggestions for luscious creations that I could try. Unfortunately, none of the recipes are ringing my bell. And so, I turn to the internet. This looks mighty intriguing (now that I have big blue, anything involving meringue is sounding more and more attractive); these don't look bad, either.

Any suggestions? What do you make for the holidays?

Thanksgiving Secrets and Leftover Treasures

2008-12-01T19:44:00.007-05:00

Clearly Shiv's been busy. I have to admit, I'm a little jealous of that feast—mint julep pie???

The thing is, I'm also jealous of the leftovers. We could have tupperwared some up from our Virginia celebration, but the long car/train ride wouldn't have been great in terms of food safety. I'm sure plenty of you are in the same position—what if you need leftovers and don't have any?

The answer is to roast up a couple of turkey legs (cheaply available post-holiday). I cooked four of them for about twenty minutes at 450 and 45 minutes at 400 after rubbing them with a little mustard, olive oil, and thyme. Why? My cravings for leftover turkey are threefold:

First, the meat will be perfect in an old-school casserole I'll make tomorrow: bechamel, broccoli, pasta, cheese, and turkey meld beautifully and some breadcrumbs will brown on top. My mom used to make a similar one with leftover chicken, but turkey's even better.

Second, the bones! If you still have a turkey carcass in your fridge, or you roast up some pieces like I did, please consider turkey stock. More flavorful than chicken broth, with a deep richness, turkey broth is the cold-battler of choice at our place. Matt grew up with it, and chicken broth just won't do when he has that pitiful nose-red-from-kleenexes look going. Tonight I'm trying the slow-cooker method (carrots, onions, roasted bones with a bit of the meat, and necks in the slow cooker with enough water to come within an inch of the top of the container. I'm cooking it for a few hours on high then switching to low for a total of 12 hours.) I particularly love turkey broth as a base for a greens-and-white-beans soup.

Finally, the secret, which I promised you back when we were talking about brisket.

My future mother-in-law's secret to easy Thanksgivings (and other turkey-based entertaining) is to always be one gravy ahead. The gravy from the previous turkey is frozen and rewarmed for the current meal. There is no last-minute gravy-making as you juggle side dishes and pies, carving and tablesetting, bread slicing and salad-making. You already have the gravy. Then, you make the next gravy later, while someone else is doing the dishes, or the next day, if you chucked the whole roasting pan and turkey carcass in the fridge to deal with later. Make your soup, make your gravy, freeze it, and then you'll never be harried on Thanksgiving again.

Of course, to get one gravy ahead, you either have to make volumes of gravy at some point and have leftovers, or create your own leftovers (as I did tonight) and make a gravy to save.

Consider it a gift to your future self.

Wrapping up

2008-12-01T13:26:00.002-05:00

Hi everybody!

So, we've finally recovered from the holiday (more or less), so we're going to set about posting those photos and recipes that we're missing. So, bear with us as we backtrack and patch up the holes.

In the meantime, check out what the final feast looked like.

It tasted even better than it looked.

Happy December, everybody!

Control group: Meet your chefs!

2008-11-27T18:27:00.002-05:00

Whew. The guests are starting to arrive. We are so far ahead of schedule (don't ask me how) that there isn't even any need to move quickly, much less panic. Everything is lined up on the bar, ready to pop into the oven. The turkey is gorgeous and aromatic (we turned on the oven; it helps), the potatoes are being peeled, and we're totally calm. I guess we've learned a thing or two about a thing or two about how to run this business over the last nine years.

So, you know. There might be a couple more updates, but I figured I'd take advantage of this lull to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, and hope that you are as happy, and as hungry, as we are on this fine day. Thanks for joining us in our insanity here at Pithy and Cleaver.

With love,
Shiv and Biscuit

Sourdough stuffing

2008-11-27T13:52:00.003-05:00

1:50: This post should have started earlier, as the stuffing is essentially done now, but still. Better late than never, and all that. I love that we're at the point that I don't actually need a recipe for stuffing -- it's just vegetables, sourdough, and all the herbs in the world. For serious: parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme (obvs), plus chives, and tarragon. Yarrrm.

Nothing you haven't seen before: Figs and prosciutto

2008-11-27T12:43:00.006-05:00

2:44: They are under the broiler, being professionally fabulous. T-minus 3 minutes!

1:45: They turned out so beautifully, I just had to give you a picture. Aren't they pretty?

Hi guys!

So, we're a bit crazed in here; we're assembling figs, my hands are full, Biscuit is juggling a thousand tasks. Delightful houseguest no. 1 is wrapping things in prosciutto, Delightful houseguest no. 3 is taking care of the dish backlog. My sister is lost and we're trying to give her directions. We're at capacity, which means we're probably not going to get to blogging the figs until later. Or at all, since ,you've seen these things before.

I will say: fresh mission figs. Coach farm triple cream cheese. 15-year old balsamic vinegar. Organic Sonoma County eucalyptus honey. Aw. Motherfuckin'. Yeah. This stuff's going to be good.

More later!

Do you think we have enough dessert? Tres leches bread pudding.

2008-11-27T10:49:00.003-05:00

12:20: Pudding is out, and smothered in dulce de leche. Having trouble not eating it all RIGHT NOW.

10:50: Eggs! Whipping! Milk! Being measured! Custard is GO!

Remember my obsession with dulce de leche? Notice that custard seems to be happening all over the place? Remember what I said about Biscuit's cat?

Yeah, because 5 pies just aren't enough, we're adding another dessert to the roster: Tres leches bread pudding, featuring a large jar of my homemade brew, a lot of brioche, and (of course) looooooooooooooooooove.

Main Event: Herb-Roasted Turkey

2008-11-27T10:32:00.010-05:00

4:41: More basting. The shallots are caramelizing. You don't even know.

1:50: Basting, basting. ...which would be easier with an actual baster. I tend to just slosh the stock across the top from a measuring cup, which works pretty well too.

12: 51: Turkey's looking good. Would be looking better if the oven had been on.

12:22: Ladies and gentlemen, the turkey is in the oven. Repeat: the turkey is in the oven. And it smells fucking AWESOME in here (not just the turkey).

12:03 pm: Okay! We're all buttered up, tucked in, and ready to go. As soon as a couple pies come out of the oven, I can rejigger the shelving in there, and in she goes.

11:47: Shiv here. Biscuit is violating the turkey. And by "violating," I mean smothering it in the wonderful, delightful herb butter. Also wearing it as a glove.

10:30 am: After my first not-entirely-successful attempt at roasting a turkey (Maple-Glazed), I decided to switch to a different recipe for Year Two. I've never looked back. The Herb-Roasted Turkey always ends up succulent and delicious -- and as a bonus, makes a gravy that is so mind-boggling, I wish I could go swimming in it. As of right now, the turkey has been rinsed out, I have some slave labor (hi, Zack!) peeling me a mountain of shallots, and the herb butter is coming up to room temp. Turkey! Pow!

Hors d'oeuvres: Maki, anyone?

2008-11-27T09:51:00.012-05:00

12:21: Unfortunately, the recipe for this is going to have to come later; it's go-time here, which means we're going to be doing more running around than blogging. Bear with us; all will be demonstrated in time!

11:58: finis! All that remains is to chill, cool, and plate. Though time consuming, this is far less difficult than you'd think. Don't be afraid to try it!

11:44: Still rolling the sushi. I am covered in peanut goo. Delicious, delicious peanut goo.

10:48: Wonderful, delightful houseguests have gone to procure soy sauce. Loves.

10:45: Soy sauce. A regrettable oversight. Bollocks.

10:19: Roll on, peanut filling!

10:06: The rice has been rinsed and is soaking. It'll keep doing that for another 30 minutes or so, whereupon we'll boil it up until it's good and sticky.

We may not be traditionalists, but we have traditions here at the Thanksgiving of Shiv and Biscuit. These traditions include: two gratins (always!), the herb and shallot turkey, and...

Sushi.

Vegetarian maki, actually. Spicy peanut rolls and avocado scallion rolls, to be exact. I couldn't tell you exactly how this tradition got started, because I was probably drunk at the time. As I tend to be at Thanksgiving.

I know, it sounds weird. But it is delicious, and has managed to keep a delightfully incongruous toehold upon our menu, to the delight and confusion of all.

I'll show you how as soon as I finish this slice of quiche.

Thai peanut maki

1 1/2 c dry-roasted peanuts, chopped fine
1/2c smooth peanut butter
1/4c boiling water
1 tsp sesame oil
2 tbsp good soy sauce
1 tbsp seasoned rice vinegar
1 tsp brown sugar (or honey)
ginger, grated
red chili flakes
star anise powder

In a medium-sized bowl, pour the boiling water over the peanut butter, whisking until completely combined.
Add the chopped peanuts, soy sauce, vinegar, sesame oil, and sugar/honey. Season to taste with the ginger, chili, and star anise. That's it!

To assemble:
1 package (10 sheets) nori seaweed (many grocery stores carry this now)
2c sushi rice
1/2c seasoned rice vinegar

Fill a drinking glass with water; put a butter knife in the water (sounds weird, but trust me)
Take a piece of nori. Place enough prepared rice on it to cover 1/2 of the sheet (once it's smoothed out), in a layer about 1/4" thick. Use the wet knife from the drinking glass to smooth and spread the rice--it's glutinous and sticky, so using a damp utensil is KEY.
Take a small handful of your filling and lay it out in a stripe along the center of the rice--it should be parallel to the long side of the rice field, about 1/2"-3/4" wide.
To roll, carefully take the bottom edge of the nori (the side that has the rice) and roll it carefully around itself, moving away from you. The part of the nori that doesn't have rice on it should wrap around the resulting tube once or twice; seal it down using water. The seaweed will be on the outside.

I know, the assembly part sounds confusing, but it's really not all that difficult. There are tons of videos on youtube--and, frankly, your nori packet should come with instructions. I hope you try this--it's a really unique finger food that is guaranteed to impress the hell out of your guests.

Hidilly Hi, everyone!

2008-11-27T09:31:00.003-05:00

Good morning, and happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

The quiche is done, the coffee is spiked, the hangovers are mostly at bay. We're 4 and a half hours to showtime, and there's still plenty to do. But fear not! We will keep you apprised, with new posts aplenty. Also be sure to check back with some of yesterday's posts--we'll be picking up where we left off with a lot of our prep work.

Up next: more stuffing! more desserts! more cream! more cheese! more shiv! more biscuit! more awesome!

Good Morning Quiche

2008-11-26T22:04:00.008-05:00

9:08: And they're out and lovely. I'm going to the store for OJ!

THANKSGIVING, 7:50 am: Good morning, campers! Bubble away, my lovely little quiches. Bubble, I say!!

10:58: Crust's out, and we are Done For The Night. WORD.

10:04 pm: This has been the taste of the holidays in my family since I started making it when I was...ten? The first time I had this was when my mom's best friend put together a gift basket with everything pre-shredded, and all we had to do was whack it in the oven. Luckily, the basket included the recipe, and I haven't had a single holiday -- Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving -- without it. It's actually really difficult to refrain from making this on "normal" days, but I like that I've managed to keep it a special-occasion breakfast. I have more happy memories than I can count, eating this while sitting around the tree or just curled up with a glass of orange juice (or, later, some good strong coffee!) Make the crust and grate the cheeses the night before, so when you wake up it's as easy as that first gift basket -- pop it in, and wait for it to bubble.

Holiday Quiche

24 oz frozen hash browns, thawed

1/3 c melted butter

1 1/2 c shredded swiss

1 1/2 c shredded pepper jack

1 1/2 c diced cooked ham (I use the first slices from a Honeybaked Ham)

1/2 c half and half

2 eggs

1/2 tsp seasoned salt

The night before: Squeeze the hashbrowns between paper towels to drain off extra moisture. Press into a 10 inch pie plate to form a solid crust. Brush the crust with the melted butter, being certain to brush the top edges. Bake at 425 F for 25 minutes. Let cool, cover with foil, and set aside.

The morning of: Mix the cheeses and ham, and pile in the crust. Beat the half and half, eggs, and seasoned salt, and pour evenly over the cheese. Bake uncovered at 350 F for an hour, or until the top has gotten brown and bubbly.

Mozzarella-stuffed Chicken Meatballs

2008-11-26T21:13:00.008-05:00

3:29: The meatballs are out of the oven!

9:54 pm: I was so wrong. Decanting the chicken was not the grossest. Wrapping the boconccini in the mashed up chicken was. Wow. Still, gross as it was, as Shiv says, it was strangely satisfying. Meatballs are now assembled, cookie sheeted, refrigerated, and waiting for hors d'oeuvres time.

9:36 pm: Shiv here: Biscuit is making meatballs. Getting the sausage out of its casing was expectedly gross, and yet strangely satisfying. That is all.

9:12 pm: I think we're officially in the home stretch of this evening, which means it's totally time for the grossest moment of the day: decanting chicken sausages from their casings. Euurgh.

PiePiePiePie Part 3A: Mint Julep Pie--the recipe

2008-11-26T20:11:00.002-05:00

**Now with 100% more picture! You'll see we attempted a brulee crust on the top (I think we'll use a blowtorch next time), and garnished it with sugared mint leaves. Yum!**

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! We're not going to torture you with liveblogging on this one--we'll just give up the recipe, pure and simple.

Prepare yourself!

Mint Julep Pie

Crust:
1o Graham crackers
1 1/4c pecans
1/4c sugar
6 tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Filling:
1 cup milk
1 cup cream
3 egg yolks
4 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon flour
¼ teaspoon salt
1 envelope gelatin
1/4c water
½ teaspoon almond extract
1/2 c (or a little more. You know. Whatever) your favorite bourbon
Good handful mint, chopped

Ganache:
4-5 oz dark chocolate
1/4 c heavy cream

In your trusty food processor, whiz together all four crust ingredients. When it's a fine crumb, press it into your favorite pie pan. Whack it in the freezer for a half hour or so to set; then, pop it into a 350 degree preheated oven for 30 minutes or so (or, really, just until it's golden brown and aromatic). Set aside and let cool a bit.
Make the ganache: Chop up the chocolate with a serrated knife, and put in a small bowl. Heat the cream, and pour over chocolate, stirring until smooth and shiny.
Make the filling: scald the milk and cream in a double boiler. Meanwhile, beat together the egg yolks with the sugar, flour, and salt. Once that's a lovely pale yellow (and about tripled in size), gradually add the milk/cream mixture.
Return the mixture to the double boiler and cook over medium heat stirring constantly until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
Meanwhile, bloom the gelatin by combining it in a small bowl with the 1/4c water.
When the custard's done cooking, decant it into a cool bowl; add the gelatin and whisk until it's completely incorporated.
When it's cooled a bit, add the bourbon, the almond extract, and the chopped mint.
Spread the ganache evenly over the inside of the graham crust, and chill to set.
Once the ganache has set, pour in the custard.

Chill at least 4 hours, ideally overnight. Garnish with sugared mint leaves, or a brulee crust, or both, or something totally different. (You'll see which one we chose in the morning)

Ta da! Happy hunting, my lambs. Sorry we made you wait!

A dressing, a stuffing, a something delicious: Sourdough stuffing.

2008-11-26T18:16:00.007-05:00

6:47: Still tearing. I think we're gonna need a bigger bowl.

6:18: Last night, we baked up three parbaked sourdough boules from FreshDirect; showing admirable restraint, I managed to refrain from eating them then and there, so that they might be preserved for the current activity: tearing it into bite-sized chunks. Fun fact: bread is Biscuit's cat's favorite food. So, you know. We're going to have to be wily about where we leave it to get stale.

If you're anything like me, in your world the stuffing is the best part of the holiday meal. I grew up in a household where we cooked the stuffing inside the bird, so the whole business of cooking it in a pan (and, frankly, making it ourselves, instead of using Pepperidge Farms) is a little novel for me--and took some getting used to. However, now that I've been through a few of our Thanksgivings, I've seen the light! But, pan or bird, one thing remains the same: the stuffing is happening. The holidays have begun.

Cauliflower Gratin: Mmm.

2008-11-26T16:39:00.006-05:00

7:20: Everything's done aside from covering everything with cheeeeeese and baking tomorrow. FABS.

6:50: So. This has turned out to be pretty much as labor-intensive as I thought it was going to be. Still, it's pretty interesting labor, in that I don't usually a) completely deconstruct a cauliflower, or b) almost-puree the core and stemlets and cook them up like couscous.

5:57: Hey, Shiv here. Biscuit is eviscerating the cauliflower at the moment; we've been marveling at how tidy and compact the structure of the vegetable is--it's almost crystalline. Which makes it beautiful to look at, and a total pain in the ass to cut up.

4:43: Every year we make sure to include a couple things we've never had before, and for the moment, that's the Gratin of Cauliflower. I'm looking forward to this -- I think that cauliflower is totally underrated and creamy, and this adds some heat from both curry and horseradish. It also happens to be a totally complicated recipe, with multiple steps of pureeing and blending and such, so we'll see how that goes.

Cauliflower Gratin

3 heads cauliflower

4 tsp white wine vinegar

3 tbsp unsalted butter

6 tbsp minced shallots

1 bay leaf

a few sprigs of thyme, parsley

2 c heavy cream

2 tsp prepared horseradish

1/2 tsp curry powder

freshly grated nutmeg

2 c grated Swiss-ish cheese, like Comte, Emmentaler, or the Appenzeller used here

2 tbsp panko or fine bread crumbs

Remove and discard the green leaves from the cauliflower. Cut off the florets, and then cut and reserve the stems off of those. Reserve the florets. Cut away and discard the rough exterior of the core, then chop the interior of the core and the stems into small pieces and put in a food processor. (Breakdown: You should have just the florets part in a large bowl, and then the stems and inside of the core in the processor. Clear?) Pulse the processor until the contents are very finely chopped, just short of a puree.

Bring a saucepan full of water to a boil. Season with salt and 2 tsp of the vinegar. Add half the florets and blanch for two minutes. Drain and add to a large bowl. Repeat with the other half of the florets. Season the blanched florets with salt.

In the now-empty saucepan, add the butter and shallots. Over medium heat, cook for a few minutes until the shallots are translucent. Season with salt and pepper, and add the bay leaf, thyme, parsley, minced stems/core, and 2/3 c water. Cook for 5-6 minutes until most of the moisture has evaporated. Add the cream, and simmer a few more minutes. Remove from the heat, and discard the bay, parsley, and thyme.

Pour this mix back into the food processor. Add the horseradish, and blitz until mostly smooth. Add the curry powder, salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Blend well. Toss the resulting puree with the florets, and transfer to a 9x13 glass dish. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to a day.

Preheat the oven to 450 F. Sprinkle the gratin with the cheese and breadcrumbs. Bake for about 15 minutes, or until it's bubbling and the center is warm. Remove from the oven, turn on the broiler. Brown the top of the gratin in the broiler for a minute, and serve.

Observation:

2008-11-26T16:30:00.004-05:00

There's so much potential to unleash in just a cutting board and a sharp knife.

And we're back: Artichoke and prosciutto gratin with gorgonzola

2008-11-26T16:24:00.008-05:00

12:58pm, Thanksgiving day: The gratin is now prepped for the oven--we've added the cream, the gorgonzola and sage, and the love.

6:57: I realize this is not the most interesting of all our entries; it's just...we've done this one twice before, so there's not a lot of ruminating left to do. Mea culpa! We'll make it up to you; perhaps I'll tap dance.

4:57: The artichokes are merrily wrapped up, and are resting comfortably in the dish. Tomorrow, we smother them in gorgonzola, cream, and other wonderful things. We'll give you the play by play as it happens. Be sure to check back!

4:28: Wow. That is truly a mighty amount of prosciutto that we have obtained. Cured meat bonanza!

4:27: Artichokes, meet prosciutto. Prosciutto, meet artichokes. Let's have some fun!

This one is a perennial crowd-pleaser; also a ticking arterial time bomb, but worth every luscious, coronarial bite. It's a bit fiddly, as most dishes that require the wrapping of items in prosciutto tend to be, but it's fun and absolutely worth it. And when you're done, you have something that is so creamy sweet salty wonderful...it's hard not to absolutely adore.

Station break.

2008-11-26T15:22:00.002-05:00

And now, we take a short break to pick up one of the most important ingredients of all: booze.

When we return: gratins, mozzarella meatballs, and the event you're all waiting for: the Mint Julep Pie.

Don't go away, we'll be right back!

Overheard In The Kitchen

2008-11-26T13:32:00.023-05:00

2:02: "And I thought, there's no way I want to be wearing pants when I'm eating my body weight in cheese."

1:53: There's no other place to post this particular nugget, but it's ten to two, and the only thing we have left to do is whack things in the oven. BAM. Crazy organizational skills, yo.

1:41: "She's like an alcoholic Winnie the Pooh!"

1:34: "So, your stomach is Isaac Hayes?"

11:53: "Once the bone snaps, everything just fits right in."

10:26: "Can you fill this turkey up with water for me?"

10:10am: "Oh, fuck it. We're never going to save the world, it might as well be tasty."

11:57: "Oh, if it was a pony, you would *know* it was a pony."

11:04: "So, how are we keeping the cat out of the bread?"

10:29: "It's haaard! I've put it in and out so many times already today!"

9:22: "Okay, so, what are we going to do when Bench shows up and I'm up to my elbows in sausage?"

9:06: "'Pee vegetables' is my new favorite typo."

5:42: My heart will go on, performed as a surf-rock instrumental.

5:34: "I love this plastic wrap! It solves all the problems of previous plastic wraps."

4:17: "I need to make chicken stock soon; it's creepy having a chicken carcass in my freezer, even though I posed it so it looks like it's doing a little jig. Which was hard, since I'd cut off its legs."

3:09: "Yaay! Complicated!"

2:07: "Your mind is a cute and scary place."

2:01: "*gasp!* Normal-sized whisk!"

Together: "Yaaaaaay!!"

1:52: "I don't like the idea of things happening that I don't know about."

1:43: "Do you mind a little cheese cross-contamination?"
"I'm a cheese purist."
"...I'm not sure we can be friends."
"My cheeses must never touch."
"..."

1:31: "Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow."

Hors d'oeuvres: Cheddar Stuffed Mushrooms

2008-11-26T12:39:00.016-05:00

3:01: They're out, melty, delectable, and gorgeous. POW.

2:45: The mushrooms are in the oven; 20 minutes and they'll be irresistible.

12:24: Stuffing is in progress. Mmmmm.

12:04 pm: The giant mushrooms are coming out and getting buttered up. Also, the mix? BEING CHOPPED AND BREADCRUMBED, thank you very much.

6:02: Dear Biscuit: Of course, my lamb! Love, Shiv.

2:53: Dear Shiv: On posting the recipe, I realized that I completely neglected to add the breadcrumbs to the mix. Remind me tomorrow? Love, Biscuit.

2:24: The stuffing is mixed, cooked, and in the fridge. I think in my earlier distraction, I neglected to chop anything anywhere near as fine as might really be required, so remind me to give the mix a blitz tomorrow before it goes into the Giant Mushrooms of Domination. Next action on this one will be tomorrow afternoon!

1:52: So I got distracted. The mushroom stems and onion have been chopped, and the walnuts are toasting. Halfway there!

1:23: Holy crap, these mushrooms are huge. I think we could actually serve a few of these as entrees.

12:41: I have been threatened with bodily harm if these don't make a reappearance on the menu tomorrow. "You've ruined everyone else's mushrooms for me," he said. Oh, if I had a nickel.
First step: a bit of fancy knife-work. Chop-chop!

Cheddar-Stuffed Mushrooms

Adapted, again, from Gourmet Magazine, November 1997, by way of epicurious.

1 1/2 lb mushrooms (I'm using the "Stuffing-Size" mushrooms this time)

1 stick butter

2 tbps olive oil

2/3 c walnuts

2/3 c fresh parsley

1 sweet white onion

1 c grated extra-sharp Cheddar

1/2 c breadcrumbs

1/3 c Worchestershire

1/2 tsp salt

3/4 tsp pepper

1/2 c grated Parmesan

Remove stems from mushrooms. Chop stems finely. Finely chop parsley. Lightly toast walnuts and chop finely. Again with the fine chop on the onion. Saute the chopped stems and onion with 2 tbsp of the butter and the olive oil. Remove from heat, and stir in the remaining ingredients -- walnuts, parsley, Cheddar, breadcrumbs, Worcestershire, salt, and pepper. This can be done a day ahead, and refrigerated.

Melt remaining butter, and brush the mushroom caps all over. Arrange mushrooms on a large baking sheet. Divide mixture into the caps, piling up slightly. Sprinkle grated Parmesan generously on top. Feel free to stuff, cover, and chill a few hours ahead of baking. Bake at 350 F for 20 minutes, and serve warm.

Interlude: Grating all the cheese in the world.

2008-11-26T12:26:00.011-05:00

3:22: For the record, this is what 4.5lbs of grated cheese looks like (half a pound had to be sacrificed to the mushroom gods).

3:20: Oh, sweet merciful heavens, I HAVE FINISHED! Now, the bigger challenge: not stuffing it all into my face immediately.

2:58: (and yet, for all its sass, it doesn't take up much room once grated. Interesting.)

2:54 AIE! The pecorino likes to jump around--if you're using some of this, grate slowly.

1:53: 3 down, 2 to go. Somehow, I still have all my knuckles.

1:15: Also, a 1-qt ziploc bag holds half pound of grated cheese perfectly. In case you ever need to know that.

1:14: I clearly did not need to lift any weights at the gym this morning. Stand in awe of my mighty left arm!

12:57: Grating, grating, the process is slow and it's long! Grating, grating, this is my cheese grating soooooong!

12:42: Aaaaaaappppeeeennnnzeelllleeeeerrrrrr! (Grating a pound of cheese takes longer than I would like.)

12:26: We start with the Appenzeller, because saying it makes me happy.

We like cheese. We like it A LOT. Thus, I find myself staring down no less than 5 lbs of Appenzeller, New York State cheddar, Swiss, Pepper jack, and Pecorino Romano. Let's rock!

Going back to my roots (and tubers): Texas-style sweet potato casserole.

2008-11-26T12:13:00.016-05:00

1:42, Thanksgiving day: The (homemade) marshmallows have been applied to the casserole, because I am dumb and kind of forgot that I need to reheat the whole pan before applying the extremely flammable 'mallows. Clearly, I need more wine.

2:28 The casserole is about to go in the oven; we'll bake it for 45 minutes or so, then refrigerate till tomorrow, at which point we'll reheat them for serving. If you've got roots in the South, you know what else we'll be doing--topping them with a few of these. Divoon!

2:22 I have seriously got to get me one of these 10" Global chef's knives. Mmmm.

1:54: MASH MASH MASH MASH AAAHAHAHAHAHA! *ahem.* Also, is there a discernible difference between orange and yellow sweet potatoes (besides the obvious, of course)?

1:32: One of the tricks to this dish is to boil the potatoes with their skins on; when they're done boiling, you can just peel them with your fingers. I should also mention that you should let them cool first. As I probably should have done before I stuck my hands into a steaming colander of cooked potatoes. Ow.

1:25: That last one just refuses to finish cooking. But I am patient. It is only a matter of time before I bend it to my will.

1:18: Oh, ARSE. There are still two potatoes on the stove, aren't there? I should go check on those.

12:22: Cauldrons located. Not one, but two! It is indeed a beautiful world. The sweet potatoes (unpeeled) are now a-boilin'. Also, my face almost got burnt off, but that's cool.

12:17: "Biscuit, do you have a cauldron?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you have a pot that could double as a cauldron. I have to boil something."
"...I might?"

True story: I have a lot of family in the People's Republic of Texas, where the wide open spaces are wider and opener, the tacos are unparallelled, and even the vegetables come to the table with sugar and spice. This is a recipe that I didn't properly experience until I was nudging the tip of adolescence--the kind of dish that causes my Yankee mother to clutch her heart and make exclamations like "That's not a vegetable! That's dessert!" She may be right, but since when has that stopped me?

Introducing: Sweet potato casserole, Silk-style!

Sweet potato casserole

6-8 Large sweet potatoes
3/4 stick of butter, melted
1/4 c brown sugar
1/2 c granulated sugar
Ground cinnamon (to taste)
Ground nutmeg (to taste)
Dash of salt
1 tbsp vanilla
1/2c evaporated milk
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 1/2 c chopped pecans

Marshmallows to finish

Preheat oven to 350
Wash sweet potatoes (don't peel!) and place them in a large pot with enough water to cover (adding water as needed) until just done. Drain and let cool until they can be handled (heed that part of the step!), then gently peel off the skin.
In a large bowl, mash the potatoes. Then, add butter, spices, and salt. As I've said before, I use gargantuan quantities of spice--use however much you're comfortable with.
Add vanilla and milk.
Add eggs. Stir until the concoction is the consistency of thick, creamy mashed potatoes.
Fold in pecans.
Bake in a rectangular casserole dish for 45-60 mins (until it's just starting to brown.
To serve, place in a 300-degree oven for 15 minutes or so. Once they're warm, remove from the oven and place marshmallows all over the top. Broil the marshmallowed dish for just as long as it takes the 'mallows to get brown. Be vigilant! Do not overcook! Marshmallows like to set off the fire alarm, so be careful they don't burn.

And there you have it! A little taste of the South for your Thanksgiving table.

We Like the Bourbon, Part Three: Bourbon Cranberry Sauce

2008-11-26T11:47:00.011-05:00

1:14 pm: The cranberries are done; sparkling, ruby, tangy. They're so good fresh out of the oven, I'm thinking we might serve them hot this year -- assuming I can refrain from eating all of them right now. Aren't they gorgeous?

12:51: Even if I could adequately describe it, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you how good this stuff is making the kitchen smell. Suffice it to say, if you threw in a pine bough, you'd have the official, quintessential smell of the holiday season.

12:36: Hmm. We think one side of the oven might be hotter than the other, with one pan coming out mostly liquescient and the other with the berries still quite structurally intact. Interesting. We will keep you posted on how this affects the sauce.

12:00: They've been foiled up and whacked in the oven -- they look like those "frosted" "berries" you can get to decorate your Martha Stewart centerpiece on the holiday table, except prettier...and way more delicious.

11:50: This recipe has been a staple for years. The basic cranberry-sugar/tart-sweet combo gets a nice savory tweak from the bourbon -- and watching the liquor burst into fragrant steam when you stir it into the bubbling cranberries is one of my favorite moments of the day.

Bourbon cranberry sauce:
Adapted from Bon Appétit, November 1991, by way of epicurious.

1 pound of cranberries (I usually go with a bag and a half)
2 c sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/3 c bourbon

Preheat oven to 350 F. Combine the first three ingredients in a 9x13 inch baking dish. Cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes. Stir well, being sure to scrape up all the sugar on the bottom of the dish. Re-cover, and bake 30 minutes longer. Remove from the oven, and stir in the bourbon. Transfer to a bowl, and refrigerate until well-chilled.

PiePiePiePie Part 4: Bourbon pecan pie

2008-11-25T23:30:00.006-05:00

11:51: it's in the oven; would that the julep were so simple!

11:45: Toasting pecans; also observing the chilling of the mint julep pie. we are not yet convinced.

11:38: zesting, zesting, zesting.

We are, unsurprisingly, behind schedule, but we're struggling to catch up. At the very least, we plan to get the Bourbon Pecan Pie ready for action.

Please stand by.

Oh, yeah, here's the recipe! We got it from here, the great nexus of recipes. All hail!

Bourbon-orange pecan pie

1 Butter Pie Crust Dough disk
1 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1 cup light corn syrup
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted
3 large eggs
4 tablespoons bourbon, or to taste as appropriate
2 tablespoon grated orange peel
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups pecan halves (about 9 1/2 ounces), toasted

Roll out dough on lightly floured surface to 13-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch deep-dish glass pie dish. Trim overhang to 1/2 inch. Fold overhang under; crimp edges decoratively. Refrigerate 1 hour.
Preheat oven to 375°F. (I know you're supposed to do this part, but I rarely bother and it always comes out just fine: Line pie crust with foil. Fill with dried beans or pie weights. Bake until crust edges begin to brown and crust is set, about 17 minutes. Remove foil and beans.) Bake until golden brown, pressing with back of fork if crust bubbles. Transfer pie crust to rack. Maintain oven temperature.
Whisk brown sugar, corn syrup, and melted butter in large bowl to blend. Whisk in eggs 1 at a time. Stir in bourbon, grated orange peel, vanilla, salt, and then toasted pecans. Pour filling into prepared crust. Bake pie until edges puff and center is just set, about 50 minutes. Cool pie on rack at least 1 hour.

PiePiePiePie Part 3: Mint Julep Pie

2008-11-25T21:22:00.006-05:00

12:19 am: Biscuit here: Three out of three people think that the mint julep pie is effing delicious. ...Now we just need to figure out how to make it pretty. Ideas are already percolating. More details tomorrow when Mint Julep Pie Mark II comes out, and we post the recipe. Yessssss!

11:57: So far, so not quite what we were after--at least aesthetically. Stay tuned, we try again in the morning. Tips and tricks on how to bend a custard pie to your will totally appreciated.

11:19: I should not be trusted with custard. We think we can salvage the mint julep pie, but it may yet turn ugly. stay tuned.

10:58: Biscuit here. I redid the ganache with less cream, and the custard is on the makeshift double-boiler, but we may have had some crossed signals with regards to the "half-batch" we were going for, and it might or might not be thickening. This is totally the most fun dessert of the night!

10:46 the milk is scalding; i get schooled on how to blend egg yolks and sugar; biscuit creates a non-ganache that is really closer in personality to the best hot chocolate you've ever had.

10:33 the custard begins.

9:25: I'll be honest--this dessert is the wild card. We found ourselves with a large bottle of bourbon and a ridiculous pile of mint, and figured that the best way to dispose of both surpluses was to make a dessert from them; specifically, a pie modeled after that favorite of mine, the mint julep. The problem was that we had no recipe to riff off of, which meant that not only were we responsible for the art of the project, but the chemistry as well. So...we're experimenting here. Tonight's live blog will cover our testing phase; if we find something that works, we'll make a proper batch tomorrow.

Please be gentle.

PiePiePiePie Part 2: Baileys White Chocolate Cheesecake

2008-11-25T21:00:00.006-05:00

If I recall correctly, according to Alton Brown, the humble cheesecake is in fact not a cake, but a pie, so I feel fully justified in including this in the Pie category.

We've been making this one for a few years, and what isn't eaten immediately will transmogrify over the next day into the single most coveted leftover EVER. I won't bother denying that I have been caught sitting in my pajamas watching TV, with the entire remains of this cheesecake in my lap. The white choco and the Baileys are spectacular.

Bailey's White Chocolate Cheesecake

1 graham cracker crust (see previous), in a 10 inch springform pan
1 1/2 lb cream cheese
3/4 c sugar
3 eggs
1/3 (or 2/3!) c Baileys -- I tend to splash in extra
1 tsp vanilla
3 oz (although I always use more) good white choco -- Callebaut is my fave here

Beat the cream cheese and sugar together in a large bowl. Electric mixers work well, but I prefer to use a large wooden spoon and elbow grease; the moment when it comes together and goes creamy is like magic. In a separate bowl, whisk up the eggs, Baileys and vanilla, even if you think it's weird to pour Baileys into eggs. Pour the egg mixture into the cream cheese and stir up until well mixed and creamy again. Pop in the white choco, stir up, and pour into the graham cracker crust.
Bake at 325 F for about 50 minutes to an hour, until the edges are puffed up and the middle is dry. Garnish, if you really feel you need any, with crushed pecans.

PiePiePiePie, Part 1: 40-proof pumpkin pie.

2008-11-25T20:15:00.007-05:00

This one tends to go pretty smoothly (knock on wood). A few field notes:

1. I don't measure my spices in this thing. I used to smoke, so I run on the assumption that everyone who will be eating this pie suffers from a similarly depressed state of taste--thus, spices are hiiiiiiigh.

2. The liquor used is entirely at your discretion--I have, in times past, used bourbon, frangelico, butterscotch schnapps, and rum. The latter is really my favorite, as it adds a certain piratical bent to my humble pastry--and anything that makes me say "Arrrr!" is a good thing.

40-proof pumpkin pie

1/2 batch butter pie crust (enough for an open-top pie)

1x15-oz can pumpkin puree
1 c heavy cream
1/2 c liquor of your choice (this year, it's rum)
3/4 c sugar
1/2 tsp salt
cinnamon
ginger
cloves
2 large eggs

In a large bowl, lightly beat the eggs.
Add the pumpkin
Add the cream and liquor
Add the sugar
Add the spices (to taste) and salt
Mix everything thoroughly, then pour into your prepared pie crust.
Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes; then, reduce heat to 350 degrees, and cook for a further 40-50 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool on rack for min of two hours. Refrigerate till serving.

Delicious! Tradition! Arrrr!

Step 1: Pie crusts.

2008-11-25T19:03:00.007-05:00

7:50: Pumpkin and pecan pie dough in the fridge; graham cracker crusts in the pans! Go Team Efficient!

7:46:

"There's something about the smell of butter." --Shiv

"Yeah, especially high-fat European butter." --Biscuit

7:44 "Hear that? You just HEARD pie happen."

7:32: Food processor rules. I cannot do math.

7:04: We begin the important underpinnings of our sweet and delightful treats: the crusts. Biscuit's on your pate brisee, I'm pulverizing graham crackers. I get to play with Biscuit's 10-cup food processor; I fully expect to be unseated by its RAW POWER.

Graham Cracker Crust

10 Graham crackers
1 1/4c pecans
1/4c sugar
6 tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Pulverize the first three ingredients in your food processor until you have fine crumbs
Mix the butter in until it becomes slightly sticky.
Press into desired pans, lightly buttered

Butter Pie Crust Dough

For a double-crust pie, double the ingredients, divide the dough in half, and form two disks.

1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes; use a higher fat content European-style butter like Plugra for wildly-enhanced flakiness
3 tablespoons (or more) ice water

Blend flour, sugar, and salt in processor. Add butter and cut in, using on/off turns, until coarse meal forms. Add 3 tablespoons water. Using on/off turns, blend just until moist clumps form, adding more water by 1/2 tablespoonfuls if dough is dry. Gather dough into ball; flatten into disk. Wrap in plastic; refrigerate 1 hour. (Can be made 2 days ahead. Keep chilled. Soften slightly at room temperature before rolling.)

Makes one 9-inch crust.

Apologies for our terseness, but we've got some shit to do. I'm sure you understand. ;)

Game On!

2008-11-25T18:54:00.005-05:00

OK. It's Thanksgiving Eve Eve. 46 Hours to the main event. Which means it's time to cook!

On the agenda tonight:

Bourbon Pecan pie

Pumpkin pie

Mint Julep Tart (this one's an original, so bear with us)

Bailey's white chocolate cheesecake.

Gratin assembly (Artichoke prosciutto and Cauliflower cheese)

Grating of ALL THE CHEESE IN THE WORLD.

It's 6:54 pm. Liveblogging begins now. Say a prayer for our souls and sanity.