And that was it: quality kid food that treated me pretty well too on a rainy evening. And I baked more potatoes than we needed so I can make blue gnocchi for Sunday.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Blue Food
I've got the boy to myself this weekend, so I made him shepherd's pie- one of his favorite dinners. It conveniently helped use up a bunch of leftovers and remnants to make some room in the fridge. I made a broth from the chicken and lamb bones plus some veggie scraps, then got a roux going while some blue potatoes baked. After I whisked the broth into the roux, I added leftover braised cabbage, carrots, onion, a little of the parmigiana sauce that I saved, and the very last of our frozen peas. Once all thick and bubbly, a good schmear of the potatoes mashed with a little yogurt made tops that got gently brown under the broiler to finish.
And that was it: quality kid food that treated me pretty well too on a rainy evening. And I baked more potatoes than we needed so I can make blue gnocchi for Sunday.
And that was it: quality kid food that treated me pretty well too on a rainy evening. And I baked more potatoes than we needed so I can make blue gnocchi for Sunday.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Anticipatory Parmigiana
Shopping with a kid can be a fun random-vegetable generator for the home menu. It can also involve many pleading lunges for the infinite variety of ghastly sugared crap all conveniently arrayed about three feet off the floor for maximum grabability. For the most part, though, it's enjoyable, and we end up bringing home things I wouldn't normally get, like eggplant in April. They were too big and shiny to resist, and it's hard to argue with a 3 1/2 year-old who begs you to buy vegetables for him.
When I make this, I never bread and fry the eggplant slices. It's unhealthy, way too messy, and it takes forever. Instead I peel and brush them with a little olive oil and broil them until they're light brown and bubbly. With the addition of a jar of our own tomatoes- blended, strained, and reduced- plus herbs, a little pesto, and lots of fresh mozzarella on top, it made a nice tribute to out-of-season goodness. I'm ordering tomato, pepper and eggplant seeds right now, and it was a treat to taste a preview of what we'll be doing in fine style a few months from now.
When I make this, I never bread and fry the eggplant slices. It's unhealthy, way too messy, and it takes forever. Instead I peel and brush them with a little olive oil and broil them until they're light brown and bubbly. With the addition of a jar of our own tomatoes- blended, strained, and reduced- plus herbs, a little pesto, and lots of fresh mozzarella on top, it made a nice tribute to out-of-season goodness. I'm ordering tomato, pepper and eggplant seeds right now, and it was a treat to taste a preview of what we'll be doing in fine style a few months from now.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Giving Shanks
Today was not as warm, but the sun was out, and there was a nice breeze, and after a morning spent cleaning the studio (including scraping tons of rock-hard paint off the glass tabletop that I use as a palette) I was fed up and ran outside to get some exercise. This involved turning all the lovely composted manure into those beds which were to have hardier things planted in them. Pre-turning, I dug up the last dazed, haggard leeks and green onions that had somehow kept going with no protection at all. I added a few parsnips and some salsify from the root bed as well, and cut a mighty salad of early greens.
So a couple of lamb shanks anchored a good stew of our roots & leeks with a splash of wine, rosemary, garlic, spices, and finished with our last bag of frozen peas and shredded sorrel. I couldn't resist adding a carrot for color, but everything else in this stew is local and we grew all the vegetables; the lamb and polenta both come from nearby. Even the rosemary is ours, from the plants I dug and brought in last fall. I chose a 2001 Carver Sutro petite sirah to go with this, and it did well; it's a sexy wine with buxom California fruit on a strong tannic chassis that still has a lot of life left in it. I will try to keep away from our others for a few more years in the hope that the two halves combine more seamlessly over time.
So a couple of lamb shanks anchored a good stew of our roots & leeks with a splash of wine, rosemary, garlic, spices, and finished with our last bag of frozen peas and shredded sorrel. I couldn't resist adding a carrot for color, but everything else in this stew is local and we grew all the vegetables; the lamb and polenta both come from nearby. Even the rosemary is ours, from the plants I dug and brought in last fall. I chose a 2001 Carver Sutro petite sirah to go with this, and it did well; it's a sexy wine with buxom California fruit on a strong tannic chassis that still has a lot of life left in it. I will try to keep away from our others for a few more years in the hope that the two halves combine more seamlessly over time.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Fools For April
Today it was warm. Rainy, yes, but warm. 65 degrees, balmy, no-jacket required warm. The smell of rain and dirt and leaves borne on the breeze (a warm breeze, mind you) was enough to send me into spasms of joy. I did the only logical thing and bought a shitload- that's the technical measurement- of manure for preparing the garden beds. Milo actually came into the garden with me for a bit wearing his "farmer shirt" and rain boots, but no pants. He was eager to learn how long it would be until he could be outside with "no clothes or shoes, or anything, because the air feels so freshing."
We picked a couple of Asian cabbages that were bolting; these tough-ass plants are not going to win any beauty contests, but damn if they didn't soldier on all winter long in their little plastic tunnels. Now that the days are longer, they're stretching up flowers in celebration. And we're eating them. There was a fair amount of coconut shrapnel left from The Bludgeoning last night, and a good-looking kabocha squash, and some tomato purée and a bit of canned coconut milk. So using big chicken legs I combined it all with requisite spices into a good creamy curry, keeping it mild for the boy.
Meanwhile, the chopped cabbage got a thorough wilting in oil seasoned with whole caraway, cumin, fennel, mustard, and fenugreek seeds, plus onion and pepper, then simmered low with a little salt and kimchi juice. I forgot to put on a pot of brown rice, so we had it without grain, which was just fine. I found a 2003 Selbach-Oster Zeltinger Schlossberg Riesling Spätlese in the fridge, and was I happy I did- it's everything you want in a curry companion: lightly sweet, bracingly acidic, tropically perfumed, and honey-peachy going down. Chutney in a bottle. Freshing indeed.
We picked a couple of Asian cabbages that were bolting; these tough-ass plants are not going to win any beauty contests, but damn if they didn't soldier on all winter long in their little plastic tunnels. Now that the days are longer, they're stretching up flowers in celebration. And we're eating them. There was a fair amount of coconut shrapnel left from The Bludgeoning last night, and a good-looking kabocha squash, and some tomato purée and a bit of canned coconut milk. So using big chicken legs I combined it all with requisite spices into a good creamy curry, keeping it mild for the boy.
Meanwhile, the chopped cabbage got a thorough wilting in oil seasoned with whole caraway, cumin, fennel, mustard, and fenugreek seeds, plus onion and pepper, then simmered low with a little salt and kimchi juice. I forgot to put on a pot of brown rice, so we had it without grain, which was just fine. I found a 2003 Selbach-Oster Zeltinger Schlossberg Riesling Spätlese in the fridge, and was I happy I did- it's everything you want in a curry companion: lightly sweet, bracingly acidic, tropically perfumed, and honey-peachy going down. Chutney in a bottle. Freshing indeed.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Tilting at Windmills
This is my first entry in the Royal Foodie Joust contest, and underwent a bunch of last-minute changes due to weather and whim. The required ingredients were some form of seafood, citrus (lemon or lime) and coconut. Initially I wanted to make ceviche with scallops and coconut ice cream, but figured ceviche was too obvious. Plus it's still cold here, so cold food didn't seem right. I did want to make the ice cream, though, so I modified it and bought some nice tuna instead of scallops. The coconut had been sitting on the counter patiently awaiting its fate. (Which was to have holes drilled in it, then get bashed apart with a hammer on the kitchen floor.)
To begin, I marinated the fish in kimchi juice and coconut water. I made the coconut-saffron-preserved lemon ice cream by simmering coconut milk, coconut water, and grated coconut meat along with our last preserved lemon (minced) and some saffron threads plus agave nectar and a bit of curry powder. While it was churning, I made a mango salsa with lime juice, togarashi, fish sauce, and a pinch of brown sugar. I also caramelized shiitakes with garlic and ginger until they were all crispy, and I floured, egged, and rolled the tuna in a mixture of panko and grated coconut. Once the ice cream was nearly ready, the fish went into a bit of hot oil to brown.
I intended to finish the dish with grated smoked coconut, but the rain precluded getting the smoker going, so I used a little more of the fresh. All the flavors worked pretty well together, and the ice cream melted into the salsa forming a wonderfully unctuous sort of tropical paella sauce that contrasted nicely with the crunchy warm fish and mushrooms. There was a good balance between sweet, savory, and spicy, as well as warm and cold. Not bad at all for what were essentially really fancy fish sticks.
If you want to vote for this entry, please go here. At least I already have a coat of arms.
To begin, I marinated the fish in kimchi juice and coconut water. I made the coconut-saffron-preserved lemon ice cream by simmering coconut milk, coconut water, and grated coconut meat along with our last preserved lemon (minced) and some saffron threads plus agave nectar and a bit of curry powder. While it was churning, I made a mango salsa with lime juice, togarashi, fish sauce, and a pinch of brown sugar. I also caramelized shiitakes with garlic and ginger until they were all crispy, and I floured, egged, and rolled the tuna in a mixture of panko and grated coconut. Once the ice cream was nearly ready, the fish went into a bit of hot oil to brown.
I intended to finish the dish with grated smoked coconut, but the rain precluded getting the smoker going, so I used a little more of the fresh. All the flavors worked pretty well together, and the ice cream melted into the salsa forming a wonderfully unctuous sort of tropical paella sauce that contrasted nicely with the crunchy warm fish and mushrooms. There was a good balance between sweet, savory, and spicy, as well as warm and cold. Not bad at all for what were essentially really fancy fish sticks.
If you want to vote for this entry, please go here. At least I already have a coat of arms.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Slammon
This morning I did some much-needed shopping, and also picked up some things for the garden; the experiments at overwintering some of the veggies have been so successful that I started a bunch of things in the ground a month early, figuring that the plastic will protect them from the colder nights. Time will tell, but they're all hardy things and should be fine (until we tear them from the ground and devour them, that is.) I also picked a bunch of beautiful turnips, which I shredded along with our horseradish, plus fennel, pak choi, jicama, leek, carrots, and daikon and packed into the fermenting crock to make a hot slaw to accompany all the grilled and smoked things that lurk right around the corner.
For tonight, post slaw-making, I took the 10-grain/burdock mixture from osso buco night and formed it into patties, floured them, and fried them in the fry oil from last night. Want to make something good taste better? Cook it in (gently) used French fry oil. I didn't stuff them with cheese or anything, since I ate our last hunk of stanky taleggio as a snack while cooking. Because of the high proportion of polenta in the mix, these ended up like the mutant children of hush puppies and arancini. But in a delicious, crispy way.
And I braised shredded fennel until it was meltingly tender, and pan-roasted the fish, and cooked the greens from our turnips in the fish pan to wilt them and clean it, and opened some wine. A 2005 (I know, I swore off them, but there wasn't anything else that felt right) Jadot Vosne-Romanée. I have mixed feelings about Jadot, but this was a pretty good deal so I bought it. Now that it's been open for a bit, it might be relaxing, but from now on all the 05's go to their room until 2010 or later. Unless someone else bought it. Or there's no other pinot to match with salmon. Or it's Tuesday. Or Thursday.
For tonight, post slaw-making, I took the 10-grain/burdock mixture from osso buco night and formed it into patties, floured them, and fried them in the fry oil from last night. Want to make something good taste better? Cook it in (gently) used French fry oil. I didn't stuff them with cheese or anything, since I ate our last hunk of stanky taleggio as a snack while cooking. Because of the high proportion of polenta in the mix, these ended up like the mutant children of hush puppies and arancini. But in a delicious, crispy way.
And I braised shredded fennel until it was meltingly tender, and pan-roasted the fish, and cooked the greens from our turnips in the fish pan to wilt them and clean it, and opened some wine. A 2005 (I know, I swore off them, but there wasn't anything else that felt right) Jadot Vosne-Romanée. I have mixed feelings about Jadot, but this was a pretty good deal so I bought it. Now that it's been open for a bit, it might be relaxing, but from now on all the 05's go to their room until 2010 or later. Unless someone else bought it. Or there's no other pinot to match with salmon. Or it's Tuesday. Or Thursday.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Seoul Food
Well, not really, but Korean-inspired at least. To begin, I ground some local grass-fed beef stew meat with garlic, herbs, salt, and (after separating some for Milo) togarashi. I let it sit while I cut sweet potato fries and chopped pak choi, and while the fries were going cooked the meat and then sautéed the greens in the burger pan with a little lemon and soy sauce. Topped with homemade kimchi, these were damn fine burgers. The togarashi gave them an intense flavor with good heat, and the kimchi added a pickly crunch with more heat from our homegrown cayenne peppers. This is a keeper, and could become sausage, meatballs, or a filling for peppers, etc. in a second. They unsurprisingly went particularly well with a couple of beers.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Ravioli
Sometimes having nothing easy in the fridge can be a jumping-off point for a much better meal than the standard go-to things that I grab or make by default. In this case, as with Easter breakfast, a couple of eggs saved my bacon. I mixed up some pasta dough, and while it was chilling in the fridge I took Tuscan kale, pine nuts, feta, garlic, and lemon juice and spun them all in the food processor for a bit. We're running low, but there is still some guanciale in the house (got to order more cheeks and hang them up for summer) and I minced and crisped it in a pan then folded the little lardons into the kale spread.
Milo helped me roll out the dough, with parsley in the top sheet, and thus were ravioli fabricated from next to nothing. For the sauce, I grabbed a jar of our cherry tomato purée from the pantry- it's yellow because the bulk of our crop come canning were yellow and orange- and enhanced the velvety goodness with a knob of butter, olive oil, a smashed clove of garlic, and herbs, then let it simmer to thicken. Gorgeous sweet sauce, slightly bitter yet pork-bolstered filling, toothsome pasta: the elements all played well with others. And to finish, another salad of baby greens from the garden. Plus, we got to enjoy this delicate dish with the rest of both the Sancerre and the Sangiovese, which is how life should be.
Milo helped me roll out the dough, with parsley in the top sheet, and thus were ravioli fabricated from next to nothing. For the sauce, I grabbed a jar of our cherry tomato purée from the pantry- it's yellow because the bulk of our crop come canning were yellow and orange- and enhanced the velvety goodness with a knob of butter, olive oil, a smashed clove of garlic, and herbs, then let it simmer to thicken. Gorgeous sweet sauce, slightly bitter yet pork-bolstered filling, toothsome pasta: the elements all played well with others. And to finish, another salad of baby greens from the garden. Plus, we got to enjoy this delicate dish with the rest of both the Sancerre and the Sangiovese, which is how life should be.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Awesome Buco
I had the boy all day today, so I wisely thought ahead and pulled some beef shanks out of the freezer to thaw. By late afternoon I was beat, but at least had the beginnings of dinner under way. I peeled and sliced some burdock I dug up a couple of days ago- nice big fat roots- and threw them into the rice cooker with yesterday's chicken broth and the local 10-grain blend augmented with extra brown rice, quinoa, and polenta since there wasn't quite enough. With the addition of some dried porcini, it cooked up into a kind of polenta-risotto hybrid that warrants more tinkering; the hands-off ease of it all is appealing for days spent pursuing Deconstruction Monkeys™ all over creation.
The meat received a most traditional post-browning braise with aromatics, wine, herbs, and tomato paste for a couple of hours, and I made mash with the rest of the dandelion and arugula. All together, the dense, nutty grain and burdock mix was an excellent substrate for the rich meat and liquid (I hadn't had time to chill it and remove the fat) and as always the mash was a perfect bright green counterpoint to all the various browns. The one drawback to cooking the shanks for this long is that the marrow mostly disintegrates into the liquid, but lacking that pleasure one can take solace in the super-tender meat. Some consolation can also be found in a 2000 Aquila Sangiovese by Sean Thackrey, which by his own admonition is never to be confused with Brunello but nonetheless makes "la bella figura" with semi-traditional fare such as this.
The meat received a most traditional post-browning braise with aromatics, wine, herbs, and tomato paste for a couple of hours, and I made mash with the rest of the dandelion and arugula. All together, the dense, nutty grain and burdock mix was an excellent substrate for the rich meat and liquid (I hadn't had time to chill it and remove the fat) and as always the mash was a perfect bright green counterpoint to all the various browns. The one drawback to cooking the shanks for this long is that the marrow mostly disintegrates into the liquid, but lacking that pleasure one can take solace in the super-tender meat. Some consolation can also be found in a 2000 Aquila Sangiovese by Sean Thackrey, which by his own admonition is never to be confused with Brunello but nonetheless makes "la bella figura" with semi-traditional fare such as this.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Oh, Right, Easter
I woke up this morning figuring that I should have planned something nice for Easter, but that since I hadn't- bad parent/husband that I am- I should pretend that I had and figure out what I could bust out convincingly. To begin with, we had eggs. A good start, and lucky, because the wife she likes the eggs so we're often low or out. And I had bought a big bar of organic super-dark chocolate last week, thinking to make the melty cakes again soon. So what I'm saying is I got a huge assist and came off looking pretty OK after all. I made crêpes.
When I make them, I like to have two kinds: a savory and then a sweet. It's the win/win of breakfasts, like getting to have waffles AND an omelet without feeling like a giant hog. The first was pesto and feta, topped with the leftover pesto chicken gravy. The second was chocolate-cassis sauce and kumquat marmalade (we mercifully also had a handful of mostly still good kumquats at the bottom of a fridge drawer.) I melted the chocolate and some butter in a double boiler, then whisked in some Vermont cassis to finish it. The sliced kumquats simmered in honey, 5-spice, and pear juice.
Man, is it nice to shoot using the morning sun for a change. I never use the flash, so in the evenings I have resorted to some pretty silly setups to try to get a decent shot. This was effortless.
Then, after a lovely day that included an egg-hunt and lunch at some friends', dinner was chicken broth from the carcass with tofu and fish balls made from the leftover snapper, pesto mashed potatoes, ginger, garlic, and a bit of activa to hold them together. I also made udon and blanched spinach in the pasta water. Finished with togarashi and black sesame seeds, it all made for a big bowl of goodness that provided a welcome change from the richer food of the day's earlier meals, and had excellent company in another Millet Sancerre.
When I make them, I like to have two kinds: a savory and then a sweet. It's the win/win of breakfasts, like getting to have waffles AND an omelet without feeling like a giant hog. The first was pesto and feta, topped with the leftover pesto chicken gravy. The second was chocolate-cassis sauce and kumquat marmalade (we mercifully also had a handful of mostly still good kumquats at the bottom of a fridge drawer.) I melted the chocolate and some butter in a double boiler, then whisked in some Vermont cassis to finish it. The sliced kumquats simmered in honey, 5-spice, and pear juice.
Man, is it nice to shoot using the morning sun for a change. I never use the flash, so in the evenings I have resorted to some pretty silly setups to try to get a decent shot. This was effortless.
Then, after a lovely day that included an egg-hunt and lunch at some friends', dinner was chicken broth from the carcass with tofu and fish balls made from the leftover snapper, pesto mashed potatoes, ginger, garlic, and a bit of activa to hold them together. I also made udon and blanched spinach in the pasta water. Finished with togarashi and black sesame seeds, it all made for a big bowl of goodness that provided a welcome change from the richer food of the day's earlier meals, and had excellent company in another Millet Sancerre.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
By The Book
So the chicken I wanted to make yesterday waited patiently until today, and received a totally traditional treatment. No fancy anything. Fingerling potatoes roasted with garlic cloves and rosemary, steamed broccoli, lemon-pesto gravy, and a salad of our amazing baby greens that are really shooting up now that the days are lengthening. I'm working on some ideas, so sometimes auto-pilot is a good way to fly.
In keeping with tradition, a pinot noir to go with the roast chicken- a 2006 Siduri. There's quite a breathless review of it here, which I enjoyed, but I do have to say that after the wines on Thursday (and in light of what I'm learning about my own taste as I get deeper into it) that by the second glass the charm diminishes, and thereafter the thrill is gone. I've mentioned before that their single vineyard pinots are much better- and they are- but even they are not playing in the same league as well-made Burgundy. It sucks, because the dollar is fast approaching parity with toilet paper, and good Cali alternatives would be most welcome. But the really good ones cost as much as grand cru Burg, in which case why bother?
In keeping with tradition, a pinot noir to go with the roast chicken- a 2006 Siduri. There's quite a breathless review of it here, which I enjoyed, but I do have to say that after the wines on Thursday (and in light of what I'm learning about my own taste as I get deeper into it) that by the second glass the charm diminishes, and thereafter the thrill is gone. I've mentioned before that their single vineyard pinots are much better- and they are- but even they are not playing in the same league as well-made Burgundy. It sucks, because the dollar is fast approaching parity with toilet paper, and good Cali alternatives would be most welcome. But the really good ones cost as much as grand cru Burg, in which case why bother?
Friday, March 21, 2008
A Boy And His Fish
I wanted to roast a chicken tonight, and Milo wanted to come to the store with me. When we got there, he instantly saw and requested a whole red snapper so I obliged him. He even asked for it from the guy behind the counter, and once we got home he couldn't wait to hold it.
The fish just fit in our big sautée pan with a little butter to crisp up both sides, then I poured in a little rice vinegar and covered it to steam. Consolidating leftovers, I steamed some fingerling potatoes and mashed them up with the leftover celeriac purée and kale pesto to make a nice vibrant green mash. Once the fish was done, out it came and I deglazed the pan with blood orange juice plus a little agave syrup to make a sauce that turned out to be just about the same color as the fish. Milo ate the eye, and declared it to be "yummy." It was.
The fish just fit in our big sautée pan with a little butter to crisp up both sides, then I poured in a little rice vinegar and covered it to steam. Consolidating leftovers, I steamed some fingerling potatoes and mashed them up with the leftover celeriac purée and kale pesto to make a nice vibrant green mash. Once the fish was done, out it came and I deglazed the pan with blood orange juice plus a little agave syrup to make a sauce that turned out to be just about the same color as the fish. Milo ate the eye, and declared it to be "yummy." It was.
Solstice
After a couple of days in the city it was wonderful to finish of with another stellar dinner at Kris & Ken's house. Because it was a weeknight, Kris kept it "simple" which for them means only three courses and five wines. Here's what we had:
For an aperitif, a glass of Planeta "La Segreta" 2005, followed by a 2002 Chablis grand cru Valmur by William Fevre that was a beautiful accompaniment to shrimp on wilted cabbage and coconut with hot curry spices.
With the main course- rack of lamb with mashed potatoes and peas- we tried my bottle: a 1990 Olga Raffault Chinon "Les Picasses" that was elegant, mature, and almost Californian or Châteauneufian in its hot Earth flavors. Moving on from there, Kris pulled out a 1999 Vincent Girardin Chapelle-Chambertin that wasn't fully open; after the Chinon it felt tight and cranky, though still offered a lot. So for the cheeses (Comté and Selles-sur-Cher) he went back and grabbed a 2000 Gevrey-Chambertin 1er Cru "Les Fontenys" by Roty that had the most gorgeous nose of sandalwood with just a hint of cherry and licorice at the very end. In the mouth, different- elegant and austere but supple and seamless. We agreed that it was almost better as incense; it's a wine you want to swirl and smell, then put down again. Drinking it is almost an afterthought (but not really.)
We finished the night with a little Paul Giraud 1er cru Grande Champagne VSOP Cognac that was perfectly delicious. Dinner with these two never fails to be as good as food, wine, and company gets. And best of all, by the time I left their place, it was Spring.
For an aperitif, a glass of Planeta "La Segreta" 2005, followed by a 2002 Chablis grand cru Valmur by William Fevre that was a beautiful accompaniment to shrimp on wilted cabbage and coconut with hot curry spices.
With the main course- rack of lamb with mashed potatoes and peas- we tried my bottle: a 1990 Olga Raffault Chinon "Les Picasses" that was elegant, mature, and almost Californian or Châteauneufian in its hot Earth flavors. Moving on from there, Kris pulled out a 1999 Vincent Girardin Chapelle-Chambertin that wasn't fully open; after the Chinon it felt tight and cranky, though still offered a lot. So for the cheeses (Comté and Selles-sur-Cher) he went back and grabbed a 2000 Gevrey-Chambertin 1er Cru "Les Fontenys" by Roty that had the most gorgeous nose of sandalwood with just a hint of cherry and licorice at the very end. In the mouth, different- elegant and austere but supple and seamless. We agreed that it was almost better as incense; it's a wine you want to swirl and smell, then put down again. Drinking it is almost an afterthought (but not really.)
We finished the night with a little Paul Giraud 1er cru Grande Champagne VSOP Cognac that was perfectly delicious. Dinner with these two never fails to be as good as food, wine, and company gets. And best of all, by the time I left their place, it was Spring.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Culino-Heraldry
Yesterday I was out in the garden taking advantage of our recent thaw to dig some burdock and look for stray potatoes (there was one, but it was rotten.) I also thinned the Asian cabbage, because it's really forming heads now and I want them to have room. I know that all the brassicas are going to bolt in short order, but in the meantime it's pretty great to have fresh greens right out the door, and the warmer weather means I don't have to shovel the damn garden any more to get at the food.
Tonight I wanted to keep with the complex single plates we've been enjoying lately; it's a fun way to play with contrasting flavors and presentation, as well as being a handy way of regulating portion size. When there's a trough of pasta on the stove, it's easy to go back- but when this is put in front of you and that's pretty much all there is, it emphasizes the completeness of the meal on the plate. In all three cases, I found myself eating more deliberately and being perfectly full at the end. A variety of strong flavors helps. And wine.
The flavors in question this time around: pan-roasted wild salmon with cranberry tapenade, the cabbage sautéed with garlic, puréed celery root with yogurt, and radicchio mash with truffle oil. Pleiades is always great with salmon, and tonight was no exception. We should be getting our XVI soon, and I'm excited to try it. It occurred to me after I shot this that it looks a bit like a coat of arms: a bend purpure on a field saumon proper, with a chief purpure and flaunches argent and vert. Hypothetically- not like I'm a nerd or anything.
Tonight I wanted to keep with the complex single plates we've been enjoying lately; it's a fun way to play with contrasting flavors and presentation, as well as being a handy way of regulating portion size. When there's a trough of pasta on the stove, it's easy to go back- but when this is put in front of you and that's pretty much all there is, it emphasizes the completeness of the meal on the plate. In all three cases, I found myself eating more deliberately and being perfectly full at the end. A variety of strong flavors helps. And wine.
The flavors in question this time around: pan-roasted wild salmon with cranberry tapenade, the cabbage sautéed with garlic, puréed celery root with yogurt, and radicchio mash with truffle oil. Pleiades is always great with salmon, and tonight was no exception. We should be getting our XVI soon, and I'm excited to try it. It occurred to me after I shot this that it looks a bit like a coat of arms: a bend purpure on a field saumon proper, with a chief purpure and flaunches argent and vert. Hypothetically- not like I'm a nerd or anything.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Carciofi Alla Romana
There were some particularly beautiful organic artichokes at our local store yesterday, so I picked a couple out and today they came in super-handy. Milo wanted kidney beans, and we had white ones, so I put them in water to soak and then went to work, jumping back in around 3 to simmer them with sautéed onion, garlic, and rosemary so they'd be ready at 5 when I normally knock off for the day. (Pre-child, we'd often eat at 9 or 10 but that's now ancient history.) Leftovers and perishables dictated the rest of the meal.
I made more of the arugula-dandelion mash, because it's awesome, and goes with everything. I wrote a post about mash here, and I can't say enough good things about it. It's intensely flavored, raw, super-healthy, and as comfortable on a plate of vegan fare as it is offering a fabulous counterpoint to red meat. It's infinitely variable, and can be made with any fresh seasonal greens (including weeds like dandelions, purslane, and garlic chives.) Expect to be bored silly by how many times I mention it in the coming months.
So tonight's resulting dinner was the white beans folded into the leftover parsnip purée, topped with an artichoke, accompanied by mash, and finished with lemon juice, the artichoke cooking oil, and parsley. Artichokes are notoriously cranky wine partners, but cooking them this way so that they caramelize makes them much friendlier. It also means that the eater doesn't have to do any work because the cook already did; everything on the plate is edible, and said caramelization guarantees that every little bit will be eaten. This (and the less-healthy "alla giudia" method) are simply the apotheosis of artichoke preparation- you don't ever go back. We drank a 2006 Sancerre by Franck Millet, which for the money is a pretty nice wine that flattered this complex spectrum of flavors like good lighting does good painting.
I made more of the arugula-dandelion mash, because it's awesome, and goes with everything. I wrote a post about mash here, and I can't say enough good things about it. It's intensely flavored, raw, super-healthy, and as comfortable on a plate of vegan fare as it is offering a fabulous counterpoint to red meat. It's infinitely variable, and can be made with any fresh seasonal greens (including weeds like dandelions, purslane, and garlic chives.) Expect to be bored silly by how many times I mention it in the coming months.
So tonight's resulting dinner was the white beans folded into the leftover parsnip purée, topped with an artichoke, accompanied by mash, and finished with lemon juice, the artichoke cooking oil, and parsley. Artichokes are notoriously cranky wine partners, but cooking them this way so that they caramelize makes them much friendlier. It also means that the eater doesn't have to do any work because the cook already did; everything on the plate is edible, and said caramelization guarantees that every little bit will be eaten. This (and the less-healthy "alla giudia" method) are simply the apotheosis of artichoke preparation- you don't ever go back. We drank a 2006 Sancerre by Franck Millet, which for the money is a pretty nice wine that flattered this complex spectrum of flavors like good lighting does good painting.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Atonement
Since I've been galavanting, I wanted to make a dinner tonight that made up for my absence, so I stopped at the store on my way home (after very nearly running out of gas because one of the service areas was closed) to get a few things. So we had elk medallions on parsnip purée (with the now-customary combination of yogurt, vanilla, and truffle oil) with a reduction sauce of red wine, hama-natto, cinnamon, and a bit of butter to thicken, plus some slaveringly good arugula-dandelion mash on the side. It felt great to pull out the suribachi and pulverize some greens, and I'll need those muscles toned for the impending onslaught of gardeny goodness. The ume plums in the mash did a nice little thing with the miso beans in the sauce, and the plate covered the full spectrum of tastes; with a little bit of tweaking this dish could star Keira Knightley and win like a million Oscars.
I had a 1999 Tempier Bandol on the counter, meant to go with the Gros Noré we drank the other night when our guests had to cancel. So we didn't get to try them together, but I'm glad- this was a great companion (supporting actor, if you will) that really handled all the strong flavors well while still asserting its own considerable character.
I had a 1999 Tempier Bandol on the counter, meant to go with the Gros Noré we drank the other night when our guests had to cancel. So we didn't get to try them together, but I'm glad- this was a great companion (supporting actor, if you will) that really handled all the strong flavors well while still asserting its own considerable character.
Play On
Thursday I caught a ride with John to Boston for Micro's 10th anniversary show; it had been a while since I saw them play, and nothing beckons like a night out with dear friends while other dear friends play 2 sets of Moroccan-infused face-melting alien sex funk. Before the show, Andrew and I went to get many fabulous pizzas from nearby, which we ate with a White Barn 2005 Syrah-Grenache blend, a 2001 Chèze Saint-Joseph, a Cali syrah made by an alumna of Sine Qua Non, and a 2005 Turley zin. John brought the three Cali wines; I forget the details. An elegant feast in the cramped confines of the backstage lounge, and music that truly be the food (and drink) of love.
Today I returned from NYC where a different lineup (it changes every night) played at Alex Grey's place; I had some stuff to do in the city so I combined business and pleasure, as is my wont. Before that show, my Brother and I had a bite at my favorite Chelsea joint. It's my oasis of choice when I need respite- in the form of gnocchi and espresso- from the gallery slog, and was right around the corner from the gig.
Today I returned from NYC where a different lineup (it changes every night) played at Alex Grey's place; I had some stuff to do in the city so I combined business and pleasure, as is my wont. Before that show, my Brother and I had a bite at my favorite Chelsea joint. It's my oasis of choice when I need respite- in the form of gnocchi and espresso- from the gallery slog, and was right around the corner from the gig.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
d'Oeuvres
I've been tending to forget to make pre-fermented pizza dough the night before, so lately I've been using a much simpler (if less tasty) recipe that only takes about three hours to rise- though I do make it half white- half whole wheat for better taste and nutrition. Unfortunately, our tired-ass old yeast just didn't have what it takes to make the dough light and bubbly. The end result was more like a really big ugly cracker with pizza toppings on it. (Having said that, they were pretty good crackers.)
The first one (pictured) had caramelized shiitakes with garlic, parsley, and spinach, and the second one was an all-time favorite: onion, garlic, Kalamata olive, capers, and parsley. It's essentially a pizza puttanesca, though without anchovy or hot pepper for the kid's sake. An astonishingly rich and layered combination of flavors that show each other off wonderfully. To drink, a 2001 Saint-Joseph "Cuvée Ro-Ree" by Domaine Chèze; a favorite under $20 and just the ticket to transform a big ugly pizza cracker into a thing less risible.
The first one (pictured) had caramelized shiitakes with garlic, parsley, and spinach, and the second one was an all-time favorite: onion, garlic, Kalamata olive, capers, and parsley. It's essentially a pizza puttanesca, though without anchovy or hot pepper for the kid's sake. An astonishingly rich and layered combination of flavors that show each other off wonderfully. To drink, a 2001 Saint-Joseph "Cuvée Ro-Ree" by Domaine Chèze; a favorite under $20 and just the ticket to transform a big ugly pizza cracker into a thing less risible.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Oh Well
We had made plans with Chris and Sirkka to get together for dinner, so this morning I pulled a giant (8 lb.) lamb shoulder- complete with ribs that I could have turned into chops if it hadn't been frozen- and got to work. It was too big to fit in anything but the oven, so I broiled it for a bit to render off some fat and get a good brown on it. Then I stuck it in our giant pot with mirepoix, tomatoes, olives, preserved lemon, espresso, 5-spice, cumin, a bottle of white wine, and a few bits and pieces from the fridge.
After a few hours I came in and hacked it into smaller pieces so they could all be submerged in the liquid. After a few more hours I separated the meat from the fat, strained the liquid into a bowl and put it in the freezer to cool. Once the fat hardened, I pulled it off and added some of the liquid back to the meat on a low simmer. I made garlicky kale pesto and more cranberry tapenade since it's so good with lamb (and pork; it straddles the two very different meats brilliantly.) I also steamed some parsnips and puréed them with yogurt, feta, vanilla, and truffle oil. Using white wine makes for a more delicate jus, and the tapenade and pesto did very different things to enhance varying aspects of the falling-apart meat.
Meanwhile, our friends had to cancel at the last minute, so Christine and I had it all to ourselves, along with a 1998 Gros Noré Bandol which is a wonderful lamb wine and also went well with a couple of stinky cheeses for dessert: a positively rank taleggio and a blue castello. There's a ton left; anybody want some?
After a few hours I came in and hacked it into smaller pieces so they could all be submerged in the liquid. After a few more hours I separated the meat from the fat, strained the liquid into a bowl and put it in the freezer to cool. Once the fat hardened, I pulled it off and added some of the liquid back to the meat on a low simmer. I made garlicky kale pesto and more cranberry tapenade since it's so good with lamb (and pork; it straddles the two very different meats brilliantly.) I also steamed some parsnips and puréed them with yogurt, feta, vanilla, and truffle oil. Using white wine makes for a more delicate jus, and the tapenade and pesto did very different things to enhance varying aspects of the falling-apart meat.
Meanwhile, our friends had to cancel at the last minute, so Christine and I had it all to ourselves, along with a 1998 Gros Noré Bandol which is a wonderful lamb wine and also went well with a couple of stinky cheeses for dessert: a positively rank taleggio and a blue castello. There's a ton left; anybody want some?
Monday, March 10, 2008
Steak and Eggs
I had a great meeting (which will lead to some bad-ass future posts, methinks) about 2 hours North of here this afternoon. At meeting's end, the host gave me some eggs we grabbed from out the chicken coop on the way to my car. Upon return home, I took the last slices of roast beast from the fridge and gave 'em a sear in a buttery pan, followed by two of these freshest eggs; they stood up in the pan when cracked in. Then I ate them, with a splash of the wine reduction sauce that remained and a whole wheat English muffin to mop up the polyvalent goodness. To accompany, a 2001 J. Lohr Paso Robles cabernet (brought by someone to the memorial dinner) that is a lip-smacking Cali cab of the sort I would never buy but would happily quaff, say for example hypothetically with steak and eggs for dinner after a long, productive day.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Sunday Gluttony
Probably because of the anniversary of my Mom's death, but also because of impending spring and the burgeoning joy and optimism which normally attend the change in weather (and bolstered by having ordered a ton of seeds) we had an excellent sequence of Sunday meals that culminated in our family favorite back when I was a kid. To begin, pancakes, but with yogurt mixed in for extra richness. To compensate for the all-carb beginning, for lunch we had a fridgestrone that has been in the making all week: the chicken/lamb broth, Israeli couscous, orzo, kale, green beans, the chick pea stew, leftover sweet potatoes and canned tomatoes, and a bunch of other things. Built over a couple of days, it was at its peak of rich complexity.
Then, dinner. I was in the garden earlier snipping microgreens for a salad, so I washed them. A big hunk of beef, rubbed with the special house espresso-based rub, and barded with some of the still-fatty pig skin (that I saved because pig fat) got a good roasting in a hot-ass oven. While said roasting was under way, I took the leftover cauliflower and brought it to a boil in more of the broth, then stick-blended it with a chunk of feta into a lovely purée. I also busted out a quick Yorkshire pudding batter (you see where this is going, right?) The soup was intended to be our first course, and it was, but upon tasting the meat and the red wine reduction I made to go with I realized that with a bit of horseradish stirred in the soup would be a genius side for the meat. So for seconds that's just what I did. We opened a 2005 Beaune "Clos du Dessus des Marconnets" by Pernot that did not justify the hype the 05's have gotten; with a mouthful of meat it was fine, but it either needs time to relax or it's just kind of stingy. A couple of hours open helped only a little.
Then, dinner. I was in the garden earlier snipping microgreens for a salad, so I washed them. A big hunk of beef, rubbed with the special house espresso-based rub, and barded with some of the still-fatty pig skin (that I saved because pig fat) got a good roasting in a hot-ass oven. While said roasting was under way, I took the leftover cauliflower and brought it to a boil in more of the broth, then stick-blended it with a chunk of feta into a lovely purée. I also busted out a quick Yorkshire pudding batter (you see where this is going, right?) The soup was intended to be our first course, and it was, but upon tasting the meat and the red wine reduction I made to go with I realized that with a bit of horseradish stirred in the soup would be a genius side for the meat. So for seconds that's just what I did. We opened a 2005 Beaune "Clos du Dessus des Marconnets" by Pernot that did not justify the hype the 05's have gotten; with a mouthful of meat it was fine, but it either needs time to relax or it's just kind of stingy. A couple of hours open helped only a little.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Thousands Of Miles In The Blink Of An Eye
So today I was told, pursuant to Christine's trip to the market, that a nice vegetable coconut curry would be a good idea for dinner; that seemed a doable, if predictable course, given the quantity of animals we've dispatched this week (last night, a lovely lamb stew at our neighbors' house.) But then, upon throwing wide the fridge door, I did see shiitakes, and broth made from lamb and chicken bones, and our own kale from the freezer, and lo I transported the country of culinary inspiration to Italy instead. Just like that, because I can. Italy, India- what are a few letters when ignoring my wife's request is what really matters? Besides, she loves everything I make.*
Thus the chick peas I had soaked and simmered became the base for a lovely rich stew that included the juice from a can of tomatoes, leftover steamed sweet potatoes, and a big hunk of what was fatback and became- post trimming for my homemade lardo that's now under way- a big strip of pig skin with some fat attached. This all simmered for a bit while I caramelized the mushrooms with garlic, and deglazed with wine, then threw the kale into the same pan with still more garlic and deglazed that with lemon juice. Not a pretty plate, but deep, varied, and satisfying, and well met by another 2006 Saint-Cosme côtes du Rhône- a sturdy and assertive country table wine fit for this kind of peasant fare.
* This assertion has a margin of error of plus or minus one broken whiskey bottle wielded menacingly while I cry and apologize.
Thus the chick peas I had soaked and simmered became the base for a lovely rich stew that included the juice from a can of tomatoes, leftover steamed sweet potatoes, and a big hunk of what was fatback and became- post trimming for my homemade lardo that's now under way- a big strip of pig skin with some fat attached. This all simmered for a bit while I caramelized the mushrooms with garlic, and deglazed with wine, then threw the kale into the same pan with still more garlic and deglazed that with lemon juice. Not a pretty plate, but deep, varied, and satisfying, and well met by another 2006 Saint-Cosme côtes du Rhône- a sturdy and assertive country table wine fit for this kind of peasant fare.
* This assertion has a margin of error of plus or minus one broken whiskey bottle wielded menacingly while I cry and apologize.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Give A Boy A Fish
The rain continued through the morning, though later on we got nice bursts of sunshine and the air was gorgeous- cool, sharp, clear, fresh- suffused with that early spring wet smell that takes me back to being a kid and spending all my free time in the woods. Alone, or with a friend, it was all about being outside and exploring. The smells of the seasons are instant time machines back to simpler days when catching frogs or kicking down dead trees were the sum of an afternoon's agenda.
Tonight it was just Milo and me, and we had a nice piece of salmon to play with. I cooked his, because he likes it better that way, but sashimi'd mine. To accompany, steamed sweet potato and kale (our two-tiered bamboo steamer was perfect for this) and a salad/salsa of mango, avocado, and Asian pear with lemon juice and olive oil. For the sashimi, I made a little lemon/sesame oil vinaigrette with lots of pepper and some sudachi powder. A 2005 Siduri pinot was a good match to these lighter flavors, but after all the other lighter wines this week I was acutley aware of how front-loaded it is; on the nose, a lovely flowery-ass pinot funk, and good tart fruit in the mouth, then not so much, with decent acid to finish. I've always believed that the defining quality of a higher-priced wine is that middle palate, and the samplings this week have only strengthened that opinion. You don't get what you don't pay for.
Tonight it was just Milo and me, and we had a nice piece of salmon to play with. I cooked his, because he likes it better that way, but sashimi'd mine. To accompany, steamed sweet potato and kale (our two-tiered bamboo steamer was perfect for this) and a salad/salsa of mango, avocado, and Asian pear with lemon juice and olive oil. For the sashimi, I made a little lemon/sesame oil vinaigrette with lots of pepper and some sudachi powder. A 2005 Siduri pinot was a good match to these lighter flavors, but after all the other lighter wines this week I was acutley aware of how front-loaded it is; on the nose, a lovely flowery-ass pinot funk, and good tart fruit in the mouth, then not so much, with decent acid to finish. I've always believed that the defining quality of a higher-priced wine is that middle palate, and the samplings this week have only strengthened that opinion. You don't get what you don't pay for.
Comfort Food
It's still raining, and our stream has risen to the point where it overflows through the field and rejoins itself down below the garden. This happens a couple of times a year; at some point I may rebuild the stone wall where the water comes through- especially if I plant some fruit trees out there. We have had an absurd amount of precipitation this winter.
So for a rainy evening, something rib-stickular and warming: roasted chicken thighs (separately, with whole garlic cloves) roasted cauliflower, brown rice, and the ever-ridiculous pesto gravy to tie it all together. I can't say enough good things about this gravy; it's as good as the burdock-shiitake gravy from Thanksgiving a couple of years ago. We finished the Rasteau, and opened a 2002 Las Rocas grenache- this was one of our cheap favorites in Brooklyn that we always bought for barbecues on the deck, and someone brought it to the dinner in Boston. I wanted to see how it was with a few years on it, so we took it home with us. It has the classic tartness of grenache, with not much complexity, but no glaring faults. A good picnic wine. (I shot this before I added a nice green garnish of chopped parsley, but made up for it by having it float eerily like a UFO.)
So for a rainy evening, something rib-stickular and warming: roasted chicken thighs (separately, with whole garlic cloves) roasted cauliflower, brown rice, and the ever-ridiculous pesto gravy to tie it all together. I can't say enough good things about this gravy; it's as good as the burdock-shiitake gravy from Thanksgiving a couple of years ago. We finished the Rasteau, and opened a 2002 Las Rocas grenache- this was one of our cheap favorites in Brooklyn that we always bought for barbecues on the deck, and someone brought it to the dinner in Boston. I wanted to see how it was with a few years on it, so we took it home with us. It has the classic tartness of grenache, with not much complexity, but no glaring faults. A good picnic wine. (I shot this before I added a nice green garnish of chopped parsley, but made up for it by having it float eerily like a UFO.)
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Spring Forward, Already
Lamb rib chops to me are win/win; they're way more interesting than steak, yet cost much less than the loin chops or rack. I brined these in that corked '97 Gevrey-Chamb from a while back plus salt and herbs, then dried them and gave them a good rub with salt, garlic, pepper, cinnamon, and herbes de Provence. Meanwhile, I put diced onion, then turnips, then shredded kale successively into a pan with about 10 minute between each so they could caramelize and so each vegetable would be just right at the end. Deglazed with a little lemon juice, it had good sweetness, complexity, and earthiness. I also steamed and mashed sweet potatoes, and made a pan sauce in the meat skillet with the last dollop of our cranberry tapenade and red wine.
To accompany this hearty goodness, we again had the happy chance to compare two wines: an already open 2006 Château de Saint-Cosme Côtes-du-Rhône with a newly popped 2005 Domaine Beau Mistral Rasteau. They're both well-made wines, with the Rasteau having a bit more in the middle, and softer tannins; the extra year, "villages" distinction, and somewhat higher price all had to do with the difference. This dish was an excellent match with both. Our current storm (number 317 for this winter so far, but who's counting?) is rain instead of snow- there's no doubt we're warming up a bit, and very excited about it too. I think we had one period of three days where the ground didn't have snow on it this Winter.
To accompany this hearty goodness, we again had the happy chance to compare two wines: an already open 2006 Château de Saint-Cosme Côtes-du-Rhône with a newly popped 2005 Domaine Beau Mistral Rasteau. They're both well-made wines, with the Rasteau having a bit more in the middle, and softer tannins; the extra year, "villages" distinction, and somewhat higher price all had to do with the difference. This dish was an excellent match with both. Our current storm (number 317 for this winter so far, but who's counting?) is rain instead of snow- there's no doubt we're warming up a bit, and very excited about it too. I think we had one period of three days where the ground didn't have snow on it this Winter.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Dinner for Claire
This weekend we went to Boston for a potluck dinner my Brother and I organized to commemorate the 5th anniversary of our Mom's death. It was an excellent excuse to see friends and family who we don't spend nearly enough time with. In keeping with family tradition, there was a ton of good food and much warm conversation; the entire thing was a testament to how much she is still missed. Her Grandson was a big hit, and justifiably found to be adorable by all present. I made more of the ricotta gnocchi (just like for Christmas) but this time tossed with kale pesto, and sushi of rare duck breast with kumquat marmalade and togarashi. Linda, our host, made wicked lemon squares that she wisely forgot to put out; we brought many home with us today. I made us all brunch this morning: rosemary fingerling home fries in the rendered duck fat and scrambled eggs with the kale pesto beaten in.
Life is what it is; 57 is a terribly young age to die, and her never meeting Milo is something I still have a hard time with. But we put our shoulders to the wheel and try to do justice to the memories of our honored departed with word, deed, progeny, community, and food.
Life is what it is; 57 is a terribly young age to die, and her never meeting Milo is something I still have a hard time with. But we put our shoulders to the wheel and try to do justice to the memories of our honored departed with word, deed, progeny, community, and food.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Pretty In Pink
I hardly ever used to cook steak; lamb and duck are more interesting (and also best cooked rare.) There are not so many cuts of beef that I love. But now that we have a water bath, steak is much more interesting. First off, any flavoring agents really get pushed into the meat by the vacuum-sealing. Second, it's always perfectly done all the way through with no possibility of overcooking. And last, less tender cuts can be left in longer to relax and become luxurious. It's like a spa, but for meat.
Tonight, a couple of lovely local ribeyes with salt, pepper, and herbes de Provence underwent this treatment, and while in the bath I caramelized rutabaga with diced onion and steamed broccoli. Once the meat was done, I threw a few garlic cloves and a pat of butter in the iron pan, then seared the meat, then wilted a bunch of spinach in there after and deglazed with lemon juice. A 2005 La Spinetta Langhe Nebbiolo was perfect- chewy, rich, perfumed with violets- it blew away any regrets I had about not having made a reduction of some kind to go with this.
Tonight, a couple of lovely local ribeyes with salt, pepper, and herbes de Provence underwent this treatment, and while in the bath I caramelized rutabaga with diced onion and steamed broccoli. Once the meat was done, I threw a few garlic cloves and a pat of butter in the iron pan, then seared the meat, then wilted a bunch of spinach in there after and deglazed with lemon juice. A 2005 La Spinetta Langhe Nebbiolo was perfect- chewy, rich, perfumed with violets- it blew away any regrets I had about not having made a reduction of some kind to go with this.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Dee-Licious
Today was just gorgeous. Sunny, well into the 40s- though shaded snow stayed powdery all day- it nonetheless harbinged Spring something fierce. By midafternoon the sun had melted off enough of the accumulated snow and ice in the garden that I was able to wrest the plastic from withunder and take a look at how the veggies have been faring. One of the benefits of so much snow is that they've been left to their own devices for most of the winter. They do just fine with recycling the water already in the soil via condensation, and now that the sun is up to pre-halloween heights in the sky, they're putting on some real growth- which is even more noticeable since I haven't been mauling them in wintry desperation on a regular basis.
So in keeping with our recent trend of two-course dinners, I began by turning the rest of the lovely 10-grain mix into supplì (or arancini) with a chunk of mozzarella in the middle and a diluted egg-cormeal crust. I find that they do just fine in about a half inch of oil; it takes a tad more attention to rotating them for even browning, but it uses way less oil than deep frying. So I put them on top of some spinach pesto and got to work on part two: grilled squid salad. Now this is a variation on what I had wanted to make the day I drove all over the place trying to find squid, but it's different because I made the peanut soup part anyway and we ate iterations of that for over a week, and now we have a new raft of leftovers that dictated this particular treatment.
I have found that when it's too cold to contemplate grilling, an iron pan heated to air-curling heat can do a passable job of putting a char on things that like a nice char. Squid is just such a food; you either cook it for 1 minute or several hours. Otherwise it's rubber. So four good-sized squid bodies marinated for a couple of hours in spinach pesto mashed with ume plums and got a righteous sear in the pan. Then I cut them into rings and tossed them with the last of the roasted beet salad from ages ago (that we've been hitting all week) plus a few remaining Kalamata olives, a final hunk of feta, and more spinach pesto. This rich ruby mixture I did serve atop an exciting bunch of greens plucked mere minutes before from the garden: claytonia, mâche, spinach, mustard, mizuna, chard, tatsoi, radish, and arugula.
The little camera had some depth-of-field issues with this one; it was all "Wow, that plate from Turkey is so cool" and I was like "But dude, the food" and it was totally "Whatever about your food- check out that plate!" (The big camera's battery was dead.) We enjoyed the last glass of a 2003 Guigal Crozes-Hermitage from last night- when we had an inexplicably unphotographed porcini powder dusted baked halibut on caramelized leeks and turnips- along with a newly-opened 2003 Jaboulet Vacqueyras. It's always so much more instructive to taste wines together, and when you can get regions or years to match up it's even better.
So in keeping with our recent trend of two-course dinners, I began by turning the rest of the lovely 10-grain mix into supplì (or arancini) with a chunk of mozzarella in the middle and a diluted egg-cormeal crust. I find that they do just fine in about a half inch of oil; it takes a tad more attention to rotating them for even browning, but it uses way less oil than deep frying. So I put them on top of some spinach pesto and got to work on part two: grilled squid salad. Now this is a variation on what I had wanted to make the day I drove all over the place trying to find squid, but it's different because I made the peanut soup part anyway and we ate iterations of that for over a week, and now we have a new raft of leftovers that dictated this particular treatment.
I have found that when it's too cold to contemplate grilling, an iron pan heated to air-curling heat can do a passable job of putting a char on things that like a nice char. Squid is just such a food; you either cook it for 1 minute or several hours. Otherwise it's rubber. So four good-sized squid bodies marinated for a couple of hours in spinach pesto mashed with ume plums and got a righteous sear in the pan. Then I cut them into rings and tossed them with the last of the roasted beet salad from ages ago (that we've been hitting all week) plus a few remaining Kalamata olives, a final hunk of feta, and more spinach pesto. This rich ruby mixture I did serve atop an exciting bunch of greens plucked mere minutes before from the garden: claytonia, mâche, spinach, mustard, mizuna, chard, tatsoi, radish, and arugula.
The little camera had some depth-of-field issues with this one; it was all "Wow, that plate from Turkey is so cool" and I was like "But dude, the food" and it was totally "Whatever about your food- check out that plate!" (The big camera's battery was dead.) We enjoyed the last glass of a 2003 Guigal Crozes-Hermitage from last night- when we had an inexplicably unphotographed porcini powder dusted baked halibut on caramelized leeks and turnips- along with a newly-opened 2003 Jaboulet Vacqueyras. It's always so much more instructive to taste wines together, and when you can get regions or years to match up it's even better.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Fridge Vindaloo
The fridge was getting silly with crowded containers of leftovers, so I took those that were not certifiable biohazards and tried to convert them into something good. To start, some of the local 10-grain mix went in the rice cooker- it's a beautiful thing, since some dissolve while others remain toothsome- they cover the full spectrum of doneness and have a really rich flavor. Then, the baked sweet potatoes from last night, the pheasant broth and the carrots therefrom, toasted fenugreek, cumin, fennel, and mustard seeds, the braised fennel, about half the meat from a coconut I beat apart the other day, and the last of the peanut soup all went for a merry spin in the food processor. While that was churning, I added some powders to the rest of the already-seasoned burger meat from last night and formed it around skewers, then put them in the big sautée pan.
While the meat sizzled, I chopped our own green beans from the freezer and added them to sweated onion, shredded chard, and a bit of vindaloo paste. The meatsicles went on a nice little salad with a soy-sesame dressing. Once we had eaten the first course, I deglazed all the crispy bits of meat and onion with a splash of wine, then dumped the green mixture in and finished them with a little yogurt. By this point the purée was bubbling nicely. All told, it worked pretty well; the orange curry had a rich depth of flavor, and the greens/beans were frankly awesome. I found one more beer in the door of the fridge, so I even had a delicious beverage to go with this healthy, efficient goodness. I can totally see the back of the fridge now.
While the meat sizzled, I chopped our own green beans from the freezer and added them to sweated onion, shredded chard, and a bit of vindaloo paste. The meatsicles went on a nice little salad with a soy-sesame dressing. Once we had eaten the first course, I deglazed all the crispy bits of meat and onion with a splash of wine, then dumped the green mixture in and finished them with a little yogurt. By this point the purée was bubbling nicely. All told, it worked pretty well; the orange curry had a rich depth of flavor, and the greens/beans were frankly awesome. I found one more beer in the door of the fridge, so I even had a delicious beverage to go with this healthy, efficient goodness. I can totally see the back of the fridge now.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
CheebuggaCheebuggaCheebugga!
I like stuff in my burgers. Not a ton of things, or any big chunks, but minced onion and garlic, herbs, and occasional spices can all elevate the experience to something much nicer than the usual (as can using local, organic meat.) They can also be halfway healthy, too- especially if you bake rather than fry the sweet potatoes, and serve them with a brassica-heavy mesclun, braised fennel, and roasted beets on a spelt English muffin with a slice of melted Swiss cheese. I'm going to keep refining this; now that I'm into grinding my own meat there are limitless possibilities that will still taste like a burger (rather than sausage.) A 2005 Domaine du Joncier Lirac was quite a serviceable burger wine, with some fruit and spice behind strong tannins. With time it might be more versatile, but for now it wants meat.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
It's The Economy, Stupid
I've been obsessed with this wine-braised fennel lately; I first "invented" it in Chicago a dozen years ago (although then I usually used muscat, because I liked the sweetness) and it's so luxurious and wintry that it goes with everything this time of year, and I'm craving it. Fennel has this way of storing summer's bright sweetness deep into winter, and now that spring is creeping up on us, I find myself craving it a lot. We ate the last of what I had cooked on Saturday, so I bought more and got it going about 2 hours before dinner time- though 4 is better for maximum silkiness. A little lemon really helps give focus to the extremely wilted fennel, and copious good olive oil to finish lofts it into the realm of the world's great side dishes.
We still had roasted beet salad in the fridge- ironically since I forgot to pull it out on Saturday- and I had made the Valentine's pheasant carcasses into broth yesterday with an eye toward risotto today. Milo is really into chard these days, and chard and beets are close cousins, so I made chard risotto finished with a little feta to accent the subtle gaminess of the pheasant broth and to give the beets that little earthy/tangy bump that they like so much. To go with this austerely elegant symphony of winter veggies, we popped a 2005 Saint Cosme white Côtes du Rhône, which I bought on the affordable strength of their reds- especially the 2003 Saint Joseph. It's good, but a tad restrained- acidic, with reluctant fruit- so it matched well with a complex veggie-based meal like this, but I wouldn't recommend it for sipping by itself as an aperitif.
We still had roasted beet salad in the fridge- ironically since I forgot to pull it out on Saturday- and I had made the Valentine's pheasant carcasses into broth yesterday with an eye toward risotto today. Milo is really into chard these days, and chard and beets are close cousins, so I made chard risotto finished with a little feta to accent the subtle gaminess of the pheasant broth and to give the beets that little earthy/tangy bump that they like so much. To go with this austerely elegant symphony of winter veggies, we popped a 2005 Saint Cosme white Côtes du Rhône, which I bought on the affordable strength of their reds- especially the 2003 Saint Joseph. It's good, but a tad restrained- acidic, with reluctant fruit- so it matched well with a complex veggie-based meal like this, but I wouldn't recommend it for sipping by itself as an aperitif.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Country Lunch
Christine's sister & Mike visited us on their way back to the city Monday which gave me an excuse to make pâté. I had bought some pork shoulder, fatback, and chicken livers in anticipation, so I ground them all together (after browning the livers and deglazing with Armagnac) with lots of herbs, spices, and garlic. I also added a couple of eggs and a spill of flour for a panade, and green peppercorns for texture and bite. Once mixed and packed into a pyrex dish, I vacuum-sealed it and dropped it into a 71˚C (160˚F) water bath for about 6 hours, then refrigerated it until it was time to eat. Served with a toasted baguette, mesclun salad, cornichons, good mustard, and garlic-stuffed olives, it made for an excellent lunch on the first plausibly springy day of the year. (Though now it's snowing and dropping back into the teens.)
Monday, February 18, 2008
THAT'S what I call a wine label
Last weekend when Chris and I had the 2000 Gemstone cab we also drank a 2005 White Barn Black Blend, made from the same vineyard as Coturri's Albarello but in a decidedly different style. It's funny, because the fancy-ass boutiquey overpriced cab got its ass kicked by this tangy, funky, multi-faceted, inexpensive homebrew with no label; with Chris' excellent beef stew, you'd think the Bordeaux blend would be a no-brainer, but the Black Blend kept us coming back (and back again) while the Gemstone tasted like an over-the-hill Australian drag queen in comparison. From the Coturri website:
In addition to the 2005 White Barn Santa Lucia Highlands pinot noir that John brought on Saturday, he also left us a 2006 viognier-chardonnay because he's generous like that. There's still a little of the pinot left, so I'm going back and forth, trying to understand what it is that makes these wines so distinctive; they have a unique signature- the reds in particular- that, like Thackrey's wines, make them unmistakable. The reds are marked by an intense sourness that gives way to kaleidoscopic flavors that seem to rotate rather than form a traditional hierarchy or order. Each sip can seem different somehow, dominated by tastes ranging from sweaty ass (in a good way) to flowery incense.
The white is a deep almost-gold inclining pretty steeply towards peach, and has a fascinating nose that evokes both grapes: stone fruit with a whiff of caramelized pineapple, and a flowery, almost lavender edge that embellishes the more obvious fruit, throwing their burnished glow into bracing relief. In the mouth, it's like some kind of Wonka hard candy with lots of thin layers; around the sweet candy core revolve flavors ranging from the aforementioned fruit to vanilla and even gummi bears- all contained by strong acidity. All for 15 bucks. Unfortunately, as the label might suggest, it's not commercially available. Long live the DIY winemaker.
This blend consists of 40% each of Zinfandel and Petite Sirah with small amounts of Alicante Bouschet, Carignane, Barbera and Gamay for the red varietals, Sauvignon Vert, Semillion and Muscat make up the white grapes.2005 was the last year for both wines; I believe the vineyard was torn up and replanted.
In addition to the 2005 White Barn Santa Lucia Highlands pinot noir that John brought on Saturday, he also left us a 2006 viognier-chardonnay because he's generous like that. There's still a little of the pinot left, so I'm going back and forth, trying to understand what it is that makes these wines so distinctive; they have a unique signature- the reds in particular- that, like Thackrey's wines, make them unmistakable. The reds are marked by an intense sourness that gives way to kaleidoscopic flavors that seem to rotate rather than form a traditional hierarchy or order. Each sip can seem different somehow, dominated by tastes ranging from sweaty ass (in a good way) to flowery incense.
The white is a deep almost-gold inclining pretty steeply towards peach, and has a fascinating nose that evokes both grapes: stone fruit with a whiff of caramelized pineapple, and a flowery, almost lavender edge that embellishes the more obvious fruit, throwing their burnished glow into bracing relief. In the mouth, it's like some kind of Wonka hard candy with lots of thin layers; around the sweet candy core revolve flavors ranging from the aforementioned fruit to vanilla and even gummi bears- all contained by strong acidity. All for 15 bucks. Unfortunately, as the label might suggest, it's not commercially available. Long live the DIY winemaker.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Pot Lucky
We had a few of the crew over for dinner, and everyone brought something. We began with the peanut soup, enhanced with cayenne and togarashi, and complemented incredibly with the rest of the Moulin Touchais. It was like peanut butter and jelly all over again. Crazy good when the spice and rich peanut flavors collided with the big tangy-sweet grapey wine. Pure pleasure. Next, John's poke of gorgeous 'ahi and Liz's collard rolls with carrots and tamarind dipping sauce. For these, I opened a 1996 Colin-Deleger Chassagne Montrachet that tastes like a Kistler chardonnay's unrequited sex dream.
Following this, we actually sat down and had hijiki-saffron fettucine (the dough was in the freezer from last month) with a truffle butter sauce and sliced black truffles. We opened a 1997 Gevrey-Chambertin "Les Cazetiers" by Dominique Laurent that was sadly corked and undrinkable. To our rescue came John, with his 2003 Alion Ribera del Duero (made by the dude from Vega Sicilia, from his own vineyard) that started out good and got better and better, especially with the main course: John's baked sea bass and tilefish with porcini powder with Chris' turnips with onion and vanilla, my slow-braised fennel and sautéed pak choi, and John's salad. Everything went so insanely well together; it was like one giant perfect plate of food. To finish, we had a 2005 White Barn pinot noir and boucheron de chèvre on baguette. We're so lucky to have such friends, and to have this kind of meal be the standard for a pot luck.
Following this, we actually sat down and had hijiki-saffron fettucine (the dough was in the freezer from last month) with a truffle butter sauce and sliced black truffles. We opened a 1997 Gevrey-Chambertin "Les Cazetiers" by Dominique Laurent that was sadly corked and undrinkable. To our rescue came John, with his 2003 Alion Ribera del Duero (made by the dude from Vega Sicilia, from his own vineyard) that started out good and got better and better, especially with the main course: John's baked sea bass and tilefish with porcini powder with Chris' turnips with onion and vanilla, my slow-braised fennel and sautéed pak choi, and John's salad. Everything went so insanely well together; it was like one giant perfect plate of food. To finish, we had a 2005 White Barn pinot noir and boucheron de chèvre on baguette. We're so lucky to have such friends, and to have this kind of meal be the standard for a pot luck.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Better Late Than Never
So herewith the tardy Valentine's dinner: I tried to combine decadent pleasure with some of the things already in the fridge to make good use of some of the nicer leftovers. The first course was kind of a riff on peanut butter and jelly; seared foie gras trimmed into heart shapes on raisin toast with homemade grape jelly and some of the peanut soup underneath, garnished with Indonesian long pepper. We had a glass of 1989 Moulin Touchais Coteaux du Layon, which was more or less a perfect match; it's not dessert-sweet, but sweet and bracingly acid (20% of the grapes are picked underripe, the rest, almost over) so it's ideal for this kind of sweet/savory combination. It will also keep just fine in the fridge until tomorrow.
Next up were roasted pheasants on the sunchoke purée, with pheasant sausage and a cinnamon-blood orange gravy. I made the gravy in the pan that the foie and sausage both cooked in, and used a broth made from the pheasant giblets. For this we opened a 1990 Barolo by Marchesi di Barolo, which is still tannnic and not showing much fruit. 1990s are killing right now, so it's either in a dumb phase (unlikely) or just not that good (more likely.) It's a shame, because their 1990 Cannubi is sublime.
Then, another sumptuous salad, and last, Christine's (and now Milo's) favorite dessert: the warm chocolate torte with the molten center. Easy to make, and pretty unbeatably wonderful, even by itself- since I forgot to make the kumquat marmalade to go with it. So just imagine it with nice tangy orange curls on the side, and maybe a heart of powdered sugar on top. Even without them, it didn't suck.
Next up were roasted pheasants on the sunchoke purée, with pheasant sausage and a cinnamon-blood orange gravy. I made the gravy in the pan that the foie and sausage both cooked in, and used a broth made from the pheasant giblets. For this we opened a 1990 Barolo by Marchesi di Barolo, which is still tannnic and not showing much fruit. 1990s are killing right now, so it's either in a dumb phase (unlikely) or just not that good (more likely.) It's a shame, because their 1990 Cannubi is sublime.
Then, another sumptuous salad, and last, Christine's (and now Milo's) favorite dessert: the warm chocolate torte with the molten center. Easy to make, and pretty unbeatably wonderful, even by itself- since I forgot to make the kumquat marmalade to go with it. So just imagine it with nice tangy orange curls on the side, and maybe a heart of powdered sugar on top. Even without them, it didn't suck.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I Heart Lasagna
Alright, it's lame. I admit it. But I had a finite amount of paint mixed, and it wasn't going to last until tomorrow; it needed to go on the piece today before it dried on the table. So this is what I was able to pull off. Lasagna (jerusalem artichoke pasta, with ricotta, tomatoes, herbs, and smoked mozzarella.) And a really nice mesclun salad. And a bottle of the ever-awesome and love-inducing Pleiades XV, the gorgeousness of which makes me smile every time I open it. Just the other day I ordered some of the XVI, which was just released. I'm very excited to see if it can top the XV, which is the best ever. It's just so damn yummy; there is literally nothing not to love about it. Ain't love grand? (The official meal of this artificial holiday will take place tomorrow night.)
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Steak, etc.
In my quest for squid, I did find a huge, local London broil. Painting went a little late, so it only got sous vide-ed for an hour (at 54˚ C, with salt, pepper, and herbes de Provence) but it still ended up more tender than it otherwise would have been. While it was having its therapeutic soak, I steamed sunchokes and puréed them with yogurt and feta, caramelized cubes of rutabaga with guanciale and onion, and steamed shredded kale. It ended up being kind of a meat and potatoes without the potatoes; the sunchokes are incredibly sweet, almost like parsnips, and the caramelized rutabagas are like insane earthy home fries with sweet onions and a nice porky richness- all aided by bringing them to just shy of burnt. Finished with juices from the cutting board and little pats of black truffle butter.
Had I world enough and time, I would have puréed the kale and integrated it into the plating, and it would have been Marvellous. It was pretty great on the side, especially mixed into the purée with a bite of meat. To complement this near-ultimate rainy day feast (it's above freezing!) I opened a 1997 White Cottage cabernet. Good, and refreshingly nimble for a Cali cab; it's totally different from the 2000 Gemstone I had over the weekend, which was really thick and jammy, due no doubt to the different site and the Bordeaux blend, especially the merlot, which no doubt contributed. The boutiqueness (and concomitant excessive price) of the Gemstone no doubt demand the more extracted style of winemaking, but Screaming Eagle (overrated as well) it ain't. The more I drink of these wines, the more I only like them after 20+ years, when time has softened them into something special- like the 78 Stag's Leap we had a while back, or the 92 Beringers we liked so much; it's an open question whether the wines made today will age as elegantly.
Had I world enough and time, I would have puréed the kale and integrated it into the plating, and it would have been Marvellous. It was pretty great on the side, especially mixed into the purée with a bite of meat. To complement this near-ultimate rainy day feast (it's above freezing!) I opened a 1997 White Cottage cabernet. Good, and refreshingly nimble for a Cali cab; it's totally different from the 2000 Gemstone I had over the weekend, which was really thick and jammy, due no doubt to the different site and the Bordeaux blend, especially the merlot, which no doubt contributed. The boutiqueness (and concomitant excessive price) of the Gemstone no doubt demand the more extracted style of winemaking, but Screaming Eagle (overrated as well) it ain't. The more I drink of these wines, the more I only like them after 20+ years, when time has softened them into something special- like the 78 Stag's Leap we had a while back, or the 92 Beringers we liked so much; it's an open question whether the wines made today will age as elegantly.
Baby, It's Cold Outside
With highs in the 20s and another snow/sleet storm under way, it's comforting to see that global warming is a myth after all and we can just get back to our busy lives. Whew. So to celebrate the 57th storm of the season, a kind of random meal, that nonetheless insisted upon itself from the moment I first though of it sometime yesterday morning. When I see the food in my head, I pretty much have to make it or else the voices start. To keep them at bay, I actually drove about 20 miles looking for squid of all things, and found none. So I got mussels, which are delicious, and the squid will have to wait (as will the voices; I tried, dammit.)
First, a big red kuri squash, peeled and chopped, went in a pot with the chicken broth from the night before- I was wrong about the fridge soup- a bunch of peanuts, some spices, and half a can of coconut milk. It all simmered for an hour or so, maybe more, and then I stick-blended it smooth. I steamed the mussels in beer, garlic, thyme, and lemon juice. Had I found squid, the peanut soup would have made more sense, since I had a sympathetic thing planned, but together these two dishes did provide some elegant comfort. And an excuse to drink more beer, which we haven't had in ages.
First, a big red kuri squash, peeled and chopped, went in a pot with the chicken broth from the night before- I was wrong about the fridge soup- a bunch of peanuts, some spices, and half a can of coconut milk. It all simmered for an hour or so, maybe more, and then I stick-blended it smooth. I steamed the mussels in beer, garlic, thyme, and lemon juice. Had I found squid, the peanut soup would have made more sense, since I had a sympathetic thing planned, but together these two dishes did provide some elegant comfort. And an excuse to drink more beer, which we haven't had in ages.
Monday, February 11, 2008
A Mystery, Inside a Riddle, Wrapped in a Tortilla
It's amazing what a difference tortillas can make for a fridge full of leftovers. Tonight, I made broth with chicken thighs, saving the broth for tomorrow, and wilted some spinach with garlic and lemon. In the fridge, black bean soup (really thick) and veggie curry, brown rice, our pickled serrano-carrot mix, and some wicked roasted beet salad from the weekend all lurked. I pulled the chicken meat apart and tossed it with garlic and chili powder in a pan, then combined all this goodness in a giant whole wheat tortilla. It's as good a way of dispatching the week's remains as any, and a refreshing departure from fridge soup (which is likely what the broth will end up becoming the base for, along with all that was not burritoed this evening.) Yesterday I discovered the Siduri pinot we bought a while back, so we had some. It lacks the funky depth of their single vineyard offerings, but is still an excellent Washington pinot for the money.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Black Bean Soup
I threw some beans in water to soak, then put them on a very low simmer about 2 hours before dinner. Once tender, I added onion, chili powder, garlic, cumin, cinnamon, lemon juice, salt and pepper and let it bubble for a bit to marry all the flavors. Before serving, I took about half out and gave it a good blast with the stick blender, then stirred it back in to thicken the whole. I finished it with yogurt, paprika, cilantro, and more lemon juice. A beer sure would have been nice.
And for lunch, (leftover from dinner last night) the tomato-chick pea soup became, with the quick addition of coconut milk, spices, vindaloo paste, and chunks of sweet potato, a delicious curry. With brown rice and spinach wilted with garlic and ginger plus some lime pickle, it rolled up into a fabulous, effortless midday break.
And for lunch, (leftover from dinner last night) the tomato-chick pea soup became, with the quick addition of coconut milk, spices, vindaloo paste, and chunks of sweet potato, a delicious curry. With brown rice and spinach wilted with garlic and ginger plus some lime pickle, it rolled up into a fabulous, effortless midday break.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Spring Fever
This was originally going to be Indian: a chick pea curry, a salmon vindaloo, rice, and greens. But there was no salmon. Scallops, yes. So I brazenly grabbed dinner's wheel and yanked it hard to the left. The chick peas had already soaked, so to them, I added half an onion, herbes de Provence, and, reminded by a little bird, a quart of our strained cherry tomato purée from the summer- a gorgeous, velvety mix of all the different colors we grew. While this was simmering, I seasoned the scallops with smoked salt and togarashi, and seared them up in a pat of browned butter. Deglazed with fresh blood orange juice, soy sauce, and agave syrup, the butter made for a perfectly textured sauce that united the scallops and the leftover celery root-parsnip-broccoli stalk purée from a few nights ago into a dish of seamless pleasure.
I finished the soup with truffle oil and black pepper; the sweetness and depth of flavors (dried chick peas are a hundred times better than canned) was really incredible. For a beverage, I reached for a 2001 Guigal white Hermitage to go with both these dishes; it was OK with the scallops, taking a back seat to the intense flavors, but with this crazy good soup it was stunning. The hazelnuts and fruit in the wine played with the sweet tomatoes, while the wine's stony architecture was a perfect frame for the earthy chick peas. Amazing what a brief warm spell can do for the imagination (and by warm, I mean 40˚; we're getting rain instead of sleet or snow.)
I finished the soup with truffle oil and black pepper; the sweetness and depth of flavors (dried chick peas are a hundred times better than canned) was really incredible. For a beverage, I reached for a 2001 Guigal white Hermitage to go with both these dishes; it was OK with the scallops, taking a back seat to the intense flavors, but with this crazy good soup it was stunning. The hazelnuts and fruit in the wine played with the sweet tomatoes, while the wine's stony architecture was a perfect frame for the earthy chick peas. Amazing what a brief warm spell can do for the imagination (and by warm, I mean 40˚; we're getting rain instead of sleet or snow.)
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Super Fat Tuesday
I fully realize that I should have made New Orleans cuisine tonight, but fridge and pantry required otherwise, since my attempt to secure some good fish was foiled.
One of the many benefits of slow-cooking a big hunk of lamb in the oven for 7 hours is, of course, having both meat and liquid left over for future meals. The deep, complex flavors and meltingly tender texture are an incredibly luxurious jumping-off point, even for something as simple as pasta (which is what I made.) Some garlic and herbs, the meat and juice, a can of busted-up tomatoes, and a nice simmer to unite the new with the old, then tossed with penne and served with a side of steamed pak choi from the garden via the freezer. No picture, because you've seen a bowl of pasta before.
But MAN, the rich, elegant decadence of this sauce- hitting winter comfort and refined subtle chords at the same time- made me wish hard that I had cranked out some fresh fettucine to take this into the realm of pure perfection. Getting it most of the way there, though, with a noble assist, was a 2000 Thackrey sangiovese from the year it got no labels or capsules in between being named Centaur and Aquila. After the still-reticent schoolmarmy Brunello from last night, this wine is a wanton harlot. But, you know, classy, with a really great personality.
One of the many benefits of slow-cooking a big hunk of lamb in the oven for 7 hours is, of course, having both meat and liquid left over for future meals. The deep, complex flavors and meltingly tender texture are an incredibly luxurious jumping-off point, even for something as simple as pasta (which is what I made.) Some garlic and herbs, the meat and juice, a can of busted-up tomatoes, and a nice simmer to unite the new with the old, then tossed with penne and served with a side of steamed pak choi from the garden via the freezer. No picture, because you've seen a bowl of pasta before.
But MAN, the rich, elegant decadence of this sauce- hitting winter comfort and refined subtle chords at the same time- made me wish hard that I had cranked out some fresh fettucine to take this into the realm of pure perfection. Getting it most of the way there, though, with a noble assist, was a 2000 Thackrey sangiovese from the year it got no labels or capsules in between being named Centaur and Aquila. After the still-reticent schoolmarmy Brunello from last night, this wine is a wanton harlot. But, you know, classy, with a really great personality.
Monday, February 04, 2008
2 Years
This blog is two years old as of yesterday, so I thought I'd make something humble yet refined to exemplify my approach to home cooking where improvisation and aspirational experimentation dominate. So tonight, a lamb shoulder, braised for 7 hours in mirepoix (I fear we're almost out) plus mustard, cumin, caraway and fennel seeds, juniper berries, pink peppercorns, preserved lemon, garlic, olives, herbes de Provence, a splash of wine, a shot of espresso, and water to come about halfway up.
Once ready, I removed the meat, strained the liquid, and reduced it some. While it was reducing, I made polenta. Thus lamb atop polenta, served with some of the liquid, and topped with a nice dollop of cranberry tapenade (cranberries, olives, jalapeño, ketchup, maple syrup) and a glass of 1998 Castello Banfi Brunello. The tapenade really meshed with the meat, on many levels, and the wine, though awkward, provided a nice counterpoint. It will be interesting to see how it tastes tomorrow and beyond, since 99s are drinking so well right now.
Once ready, I removed the meat, strained the liquid, and reduced it some. While it was reducing, I made polenta. Thus lamb atop polenta, served with some of the liquid, and topped with a nice dollop of cranberry tapenade (cranberries, olives, jalapeño, ketchup, maple syrup) and a glass of 1998 Castello Banfi Brunello. The tapenade really meshed with the meat, on many levels, and the wine, though awkward, provided a nice counterpoint. It will be interesting to see how it tastes tomorrow and beyond, since 99s are drinking so well right now.
Summer in Winter
The warm day and peek at the garden inspired a meal that would almost be more appropriate in Summer, but that nonetheless hit the spot in a nice comfort-food way. In the center of the plate is a salad of our own microgreens, surrounded by roasted beet salad with onions and feta, lentils with carrot, onion, and a bit of guanciale, the rest of the root purée from the day before, and steamed kale with oil and balsamic vinegar. The plate was a terrific collision of contrasting and harmonizing flavors and textures. Very satisfying, especially for a meal that is so close to being vegetarian (I added the guanciale so I could smell the heavenly perfume while I cooked; it's not so evident in the finished lentils.) To celebrate a beautiful day, and our return to health, we opened a 1998 Domaine du Gros Noré Bandol- one of a case we bought years ago, on Serge's advice- and which is in fact proving to be one of our better bargains. For 18 bucks, and now with the requisite age on it, this is a meaty, deep, elegant mourvèdre that still has enough tannin to handle another decade.
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