This is a perfect example of vegetarian food that stands on its own. Not much different than falafel which has stood its ground for years. Your could in fact replace the mayonnaise with a yogurt sauce of your liking. Something with tomato and cucumber would draw down the heat nicely. It would go well with grilled pitas too so if you wanted to you could take the whole meal and easily give it a Middle Eastern flare. When it is a sandwich like the above I really like it with crunchy shoestring fries and I have even been known to stack the fries right between the bread with the fritter for a nice crunch.
2 each 14 oz. cans black eyed peas, drained
1/2 to 2/3 cup rice flour
1/2 onion minced
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
3/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
2 carrots, peeled and grated, about 1 cup
bread, buns or pitas
mayonnaise or you choice of condiment
1. Place the drained peas, 1/2 cup rice flour, onion, garlic, thyme, cayenne and a 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt and some fresh ground pepper into the bowl of a food processor. I like the mix to maintain some chunkiness but it is important for it to be fairly smooth so it holds together. Add up to 1/3 cup more rice flour as needed. So process until smooth but it doesn’t by any means need to be perfectly smooth. Add the carrots and mix, not process, them in thoroughly with a spatula. I like to let this sit for at least an hour so the rice flour has time to hydrate and thicken the mix so it stays together better. You could even cover it and refrigerate overnight. If it seems loose before you are getting ready to cook it add more rice flour.
2. Heat a large non-stick skillet over medium high heat. Add the oil and let it get hot. Form the mix into 6 balls and then shape them into patties. Fry then until crispy on both sides. Build you sandwiches and serve.
You see in Indiana the northern two thirds of the state is flat, while the southern third becomes the foothills to the Appalachians. It all happened when the glaciers rolled through, which was sort of like pushing a sofa on a Persian rug. The rug in front of the sofa bunches up while everything behind becomes flat. The verity of this occurrence is the hills of southern Indiana are beautifully Rubenesque.
It’s an affair really. And not in a Victorian sense either, because it is more gaudy than that. It is when I smell the musky fall dirt of the southern hills, corseted with orange and yellow leaves and the hickories and sycamores that once held them — now bare-shouldered — become the steel boning that holds the hollers to their unique hourglass shape, that I become incorrigible. All because this voluptuous landscape is the Indiana home to the American persimmon, Eve’s apple to me, a temptress of pudding, pie, bread and fudge.
Oh the persimmon has her foreign counterparts, Hachiya and Fuyu, and of course they are succulent, trim, and have that hot little accent, but the American persimmon is one of a kind, sort of the saw blade painted with a kountry landscape, kitsch, and probably more closely related to running off with the circus than a fine dining car on the Orient Express.
It’s not like there aren’t persimmon trees in other parts of the state. My neighbor has a beauty, in fact I covet it. It is tall and gorgeous, maybe one of the largest I have seen, but it isn’t the same. In southern Indiana it is the culture that goes along with the persimmon. It’s the paw paws, maple syrup, grits, ham and beans, and fried biscuits with apple butter. It’s possum and sweet potato dinners and wood-burning stoves. It’s all the things I hated about Indiana growing up but am intensely intrigued by now, albeit in a driving by a fatal crash sort of way. All fatality aside, a good persimmon dessert will leave you in a drool sleep on the couch dreaming the dream of possum and raccoons. Of beating them to the little tannic and orange fires of Zeus, a rare true berry, pulpy and sweet when they finally become ripe enough to eat rather then their typical docket of pucker and gag.
The persimmon likes to flimflam you. It may look ripe and mushy, but when you bite into one it grabs you by the uvula and pulls. It doesn’t let go either, truthfully, it holds on like a spring leech after a bloodless winter. It is an accomplishment worthy of a diploma, this gathering of the ripe fruits, because somehow the animals know too, just like they know the night the sweet corn is ready, and if you went out to that persimmon tree on that night, the night they know, you might find it is like a barrel full of monkeys. A tree full of nocturnal varmints having a hoedown, all drunk and giddy on your persimmons. You are thinking of fighting them for it, a barroom brawl, but instead you turn and walk back home, you walk back home because you realize she is a good mistress, the persimmon, and is not exclusive but whimsical, indeed, the very trait that keeps you coming back to her.
These are a favorite of mine. Chocolate and persimmon go together with buckwheat in the best way possible. This recipe is adapted from one in the book Good to the Grain by Kim Boyce which is a really good guide to teaching how to incorporate whole grains into your baked goods.
Makes 12 muffins
1 pound persimmon pulp
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup buttermilk or plain yogurt
1 cup buckwheat flour
1 1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons coco powder
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
4 ounces of bittersweet chocolate chips or chop 4 ounces with a knife
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease muffin liners and put them in the tins.
2. In the bowl of a mixer cream the butter with the light brown sugar. Add the eggs and mix. Scrape down the sides as necessary. Now add the buttermilk and persimmon pulp.
3. Mix until combined. Scrap down the sides.
4. Combine the flours, baking powder and soda along with the coco powder and the salt in a bowl, stir it to mix. Add it to the wet ingredients and mix until just combined. Scrap down the sides.
5. Mix and add the chocolate chips. Mix until combined. Fill the muffin liners until 2/3 full.
6. Bake in a preheated 350˚ F oven for 35 minutes.
This tart is perfect for breakfast, lunch or dinner and, maybe, all three. Lacinato is also known as Cavelo Nero or dinosaur kale. It is becoming ever more popular not only for its great taste but for its presumed health benefits too. While this has many healthy components they are just a nice side note to the decadence of this wonderful tart.
The crust for this tart uses the idea of a shortbread crust to keep it tender while using whole wheat pastry and buckwheat flours. I like to serve the tart with a fruit salad of grapefruit supremes, toasted crushed hazelnuts and mint.
3 anchovy filets, minced (obviously omit if you want it to be meatless)
1 1/4 cup whole milk ricotta
3 large eggs
1/2 cup parmesan cheese, grated
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/4 cup water
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Place the whole wheat pastry flour, buckwheat, parmesan, butter and salt into a large mixing bowl and stir it with a wooden spoon until it looks like a combination of cous cous and cornmeal. You may need to rub some of the bigger pieces between you hands to break up the butter.
3. Dump the crumbs into an 8 inch tart pan. Starting at the edges press the crumbs into the flutes. Use you index finger as a back stop by placing it at the top of the flute and pushing the flour up to it. Pack the crust tightly and evenly. Once you have finished the crust bake it in the oven for 20 minutes. Remove it from the oven.
4. While the crust is baking heat the olive oil and butter over medium heat in a 12 inch saute pan. Add the onions, anchovies and garlic. Season them with a little salt and fresh ground pepper. Saute them gently without coloring and until they are soft. You may need to adjust the heat and you will want to stir them to keep them from coloring.
5. Once the onions are soft add the Cavolo nero and toss and stir it to coat it with oil. Season again with a little salt and fresh ground pepper. Add the water and cover the pan. Let the Cavolo nero steam until tender but still vibrant in color, about 8 minutes over medium heat.
6. In a large mixing bowl combine the ricotta, parmesan and the eggs. Add a 1/2 teaspoon of salt and a few grinds of pepper and stir to combine.
7. Once the Cavolo nero is tender taste it and adjust the seasoning as necessary. Make sure all the water has simmered away from the Cavolo nero, you don’t want it to be to wet. Let it cool for a couple of minutes and then add it to the ricotta and stir it well to combine.
8. Carefully spoon the filling into the tart and smooth and level it out. Place the tart into the oven and bake it for 50 to 60 minutes or until set and nicely browned.
9. When the top has browned remove the tart from the oven and let it cool to room temperature before cutting. Serve at room temperature.
While having never been to Greece this seems as though it would be something that you might eat at a small taverna on the Mediterranean Sea. It is sort of an “a la grecque” dish which if done right is always good to have on hand and usually are even better the second day or, at the very least, after a couple hour marinade. I think this would be good followed by some sort of Mediterranean fish dish. If you want to make this a very filling salad add some feta and a couple of pitas and you will have a meal.
1 cup mixed olives
1 cup garbanzos, cooked, or rinsed canned
2 teaspoons preserved lemon, finely minced
2 teaspoons shallot, finely minced
1 garlic clove, finely minced
1 teaspoon fresh savory or thyme, minced, Richard Olney used savory with olives and I think it works really well
1/2 teaspoon chile flakes
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon pomegranate molasses
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper
1 head butter leaf lettuce
hunks of feta and pita, optional
1. In a mixing bowl combine everything up to the olive oil. Mix everything to combine. Season it with black pepper and then add the olive oil. Stir to coat and then let the salad rest for at least 1 hour and you can even refrigerate it over night.
2. Before serving rinse the butter leaf and then using a salad spinner dry the lettuce. Place two or three leaves on each plate. Stir the salad to redistribute everything. Taste and if it needs salt add some. Divide the garbanzo/olive mixture evenly between the plates. Using a spoon drizzle some of the juice over the greens. Serve.
These kinds of dishes are always a personal favorite for two reasons. It is very kid friendly but it is mature enough for adults. I mean how can that be wrong?
Sugo basically means “gravy”. I have always been a big fan of ragu too. The difference between the two is sugo uses a good dose of tomato sauce while ragu traditionally uses red wine, stock and a small amount of tomato if any at all.
If duck isn’t your thing and lamb is make a lamb sugo, or beef, pork and even rabbit sugo. The meat used is really up to the cook so be creative. You could add all kinds of things to this but realize the simple recipe posted below is very satisfying.
Serves 4 to 6
1 pound duck meat, trimmed of skin and fat, cut into small cubes, a chunk of fat reserved
1 cup yellow onion, peeled, trimmed and small dice
1/2 cup carrot, peeled, small dice
1/2 cup celery, small dice
1 tablespoon fresh garlic, minced
1 bay leaf
1/3 cup tomato paste
2 cups Pomi brand strained tomatoes
1 1/2 cup vegetable broth
1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, chopped
Kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
1 pound of long noodles such as spaghetti, I used spaghetti made with corn flour
1. Place the duck fat into then add enough oil to barely coat the bottom of a 3 quart enameled Dutch oven. Place the pot over medium heat.
2. Let the duck fat render. Once it is spent remove the duck skin and add the onions, carrots, and celery. Season the vegetables with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper. Sweat the vegetables until they are tender.
3. Add the garlic. Once the garlic is fragrant add the tomato paste. Stir the tomato paste around and let it caramelize a little.
4. Add the bay leaf, rosemary, tomato sauce, broth and meat. Bring the sauce to a boil, season it with salt and pepper, then reduce the heat and let it simmer for at least an hour, the sauce has reduced and thickened and the duck is tender. Let it simmer longer if you have used a tough cut of meat.
5. Somewhere very close to the end of the sugo cooking time, cook the noodles in lots of heavily salted water according to the time and directions on the box. When the noodles are tender, drain them.
More often then not, actually to many times to count, I have seen fried green tomatoes served one way, sliced, Cajun spiced and dredged almost always in cornmeal.
Then last year Amy and I went to The Publican restaurant in Chicago. It is an everything pig restaurant. Crispy pigs ears, everything fried in lard, boudin blanc and, well, you get the picture.
It is great restaurant so it isn’t surprising they have amazing side dishes too. The one that caught my attention was the fried green tomatoes. I almost didn’t order it but, then as I often do, at the last minute I went back to it and did. I was very, very happy I did. It was simply the most delicious version of fried green tomatoes I have ever eaten.
This was a midwinter outing. So green tomatoes at home were out, at least until summer, but I was impressed enough I looked for the recipe online and was surprised to find nothing, well, not nothing there were zillions of fried green tomato recipes cooked like I mentioned earlier.
Nevertheless this dish resonated with me. I made it once earlier this summer and it wasn’t to my standards. It was really good but it just didn’t work like I wanted from a technical standpoint. Now it is late fall and I have come back to it and this time it came out great.
It is so good for several reasons. The tomatoes are cut into wedges which keeps them a little firmer when cooked, not tough, and you get more tomato jelly with the wedge shape then if you had a slice. Also oatmeal and pig are like bread and butter, they just go together, and it feels good to have these two flavors co-mingling and you can accomplish this without buying buckets of lard.
It is time to share this recipe. I hope you enjoy it.
Note: I made this gluten-free and egg free. If you don’t need to be gluten-free or egg free then substitute in all-purpose flour for the Cup4Cup and instead of using the egg replacer use three egg whites beaten to stiff peaks.
Makes 4 servings
7 to 10 green tomatoes, about the size of a small tangerine, cut into 4 or 6 wedges
1/3 cup quick cooking oats, not instant oats
1/3 cup quick cooking oats, coarsely ground
1/2 cup Cup4Cup flour (or all-purpose flour)
1 tablespoon paprika
1 1/2 teaspoon ground garlic
2 tablespoons egg replacer mixed in a large bowl with 1/4 cup water (or 3 egg whites whipped to medium peaks, also in a large bowl)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspooon black pepper
peanut oil for frying
1 thick slice pancetta or bacon
1. Combine the oats, flour, paprika, garlic powder salt and pepper in a large mixing bowl.
2. Heat the oven to 250˚ F. Pour enough peanut oil into a 6 inch deep cast iron Dutch oven to come 1/3 the way up the sides of the pan. Add the pancetta to the oil. Place it over medium high heat and heat the oil to 375˚ F. on a fry thermometer. Make sure to remove the pancetta when it is crispy and has rendered its fat to the oil and make sure you, as the cook, eat the pancetta because it is within the rights of every good cook to eat the best bits while standing at the stove and if the peanut gallery doesn’t like it tell them to learn how to cook.
3. When the oil is just about to temperature toss half the tomatoes with the flour mix making sure to coat the tomatoes well. Place them into the bowl with the egg replacer or egg whites and toss them to coat. Put them back into the flour mix and coat them well. Remove them to a cookie cooling rack. Repeat this step with the remaining tomatoes.
4. If the oil is to temperature carefully add half , or less, of the tomatoes to the oil making sure not to crowd them. When they start to take on color and brown remove them from the hot oil, sprinkle them with salt, and place them onto the cookie rack. Add the rest of the uncooked tomatoes to the pot then slide the fried tomatoes into the oven to keep them warm.
5. Serve with you favorite tartar sauce, aioli, or hot sauce
If you know me you know I love greens. I go to them for comfort, for quick meals and just about any reason, now that I think about it, I am not even sure I need a reason.
There was a day not all that long ago when I would always add some sort of smoked pork or, at the very least, smoked turkey legs to the greens. At some point we started to eat less meat and started to enjoy vegetables for being vegetables. Since those days of long ago I have added the pork back to my greens on occasion and each time I do I always say to myself, “well, that was a mistake.” For me, I have found I like greens for greens and the pork just overpowers them.
Even so there are dishes were not adding the requisite pork is damn near criminal and it might be in some states south of the Ohio River. I thought not adding tasso ham to my Gumbo Z’herbes might be one such crime but then I got to thinking about it and I came to understand, for the most part, it is the herbs used to cure the tasso that I like.
I am sure you see where this is going.
The biscuits dumplings aren’t traditional but the gooey bottoms and crunchy tops sure are a plus in my mind.
Note: the yeast used in the biscuits is really more for the yeasty flavor then it is to make them rise. While I am sure it helps them rise it is not the reason they rise the baking soda is. So don’t omit the soda because there is yeast in the recipe. Also, not only are these really good as dumplings but they are just as good when baked as biscuits.
Serve 4 to 6
For the gumbo:
1 1/2 cups yellow onion, peeled trimmed and cut into a small dice
3/4 cup green pepper, membranes and seeds removed, cut int a small dice
3/4 cup celery, cut into a small dice
3 tablespoons, garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon cayanne
1/2 teaspoon marjoram
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground white pepper
7 cups vegetable broth
1 teaspoon gumbo file
8 cups mixed greens, collards, turnip, or kale, rinsed at least three times and chopped into thin ribbons
For the biscuits:
1 cup buttermilk, room temperature
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
1 teaspoon sugar
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup corn flour, not cornmeal
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, cold and cubed
extra flour for dusting
1. Place a 3 1/2 quart cast iron Dutch oven over medium heat. Add enough oil to the pot to just cover the bottom. Add the onion, peppers and celery. Season them with salt and pepper and stir them to keep them from browning but let them become soft.
2. Add the garlic, cayenne, marjoram, allspice and white pepper. Stir until everything becomes fragrant with out letting the garlic brown. Add the vegetable stock and bring it to a boil.
3. Add the greens by the handful until each addition is wilted and you can add more to the pot. Do this till all 8 cups have been added.
4. Bring the gumbo back to a boil then reduce the heat to a simmer. Simmer uncovered for 1 hour. At the end of the hour add the gumbo file and stir it into the broth. The greens will be tender and gooey.
5. Heat the oven to 425˚ F. While the oven is heating combine the yeast and buttermilk and let the yeast dissolve.
6. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, or by hand using a heavy duty wooden spoon, combine the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking soda, and salt with the butter. Mix the flour with the butter until it has the appearance of coarse cornmeal. Add the buttermilk and process until the biscuit dough is just combined.
7. You can use a small ice cream scoop, make sure you don’t sink the biscuits into the liquid, and make a drop biscuit topping by gingerly and gently plopping the dough right out of the scoop and into the gumbo or you can turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface roll it, cut it into rounds, and then lay these on top of the gumbo.
8. Either way be careful not to sink the dumplings. Place the pot into the oven and bake the whole thing, uncovered, for 20 minutes or until the biscuits have browned nicely.
The sausages used in this dish come from the book Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn and is a book I highly recommend if you want to make sausage and any charcuterie in general. Pictured at left are trays of home made ricotta cavatelli. The essay The Great One that generated this recipe can be found and read at foodquarterly.
Chicken Basil and Tomato Sausage with Cavatelli
6 sausages, Italian sausages would be great too
3 onions, peeled, halved and julienned
9 large garlic cloves, peeled and chopped, about a 1/2 cup
36 ounces strained tomatoes or sauce
1 tablespoon double concentrated tomato paste
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup cream
a handful of fresh basil
1 1/2 lbs of fresh cavatelli or dried gemelli pasta
lots of grating cheese of your choice, parmesan, romano etc.
1. Place a 4 quart pot over medium high heat and add good glugs of olive oil, a little more than just coating the bottom of the pan. When it is hot add the sausage and sear it until is is deeply browned but take care not to over heat it and split the sausage casings. Remove the sausage to a platter.
2. Add the onions to the pot, season them with salt and pepper, and let them cook until they become tender then add the garlic. Cook the garlic until it becomes fragrant and then add the tomato sauce.
3. Bring the sauce to a boil and then reduce it to a simmer. You will want to stir it occasionally so it doesn’t stick to the bottom and burn. You want the sauce to reduce slowly and the sugars in the tomatoes to break out and concentrate. Season the sauce with salt and pepper and taste. Let the sauce simmer for 1 1/2 to 2 hours. What I call mato gum will form on the sides of the pan and the sauce will be thick. Add the cream to the sauce, stir and raise the heat a little to get the sauce good and hot. Be careful with the sauce though it will burn easily at this point because of the concentrated sugars. You can either add the sausage back to the sauce or you can finish cooking them in a 400 degree oven.
4. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the pasta according to the instructions. When it is done, strain it and put it into a large bowl and toss it with the tomato sauce. Plate it, dress it with the basil, sausages, cheese and serve.
Recently, for what seems like the millionth time, I sat down and watched the original The Hustler. Not because of the story, although it’s a great story; or Paul Newman’s blazing good looks, although his blue eyes are piercing, even in black and white.
No, this time I was watching the Great One: Jackie Gleason. He completely captivated my attention. He’s not in many scenes, but he steals the ones he’s in, hands down. You can almost see Newman studying him right there on-screen, as though his blue eyes are fixed, mesmerized, on the great acting Gleason is doing.
Their first scene together might be one of the best in any movie. Gleason comes up the stairs, enters the pool hall through a set of double doors, and there he is: the presence, the clothes (who else could wear that hat?), the je ne sais quoi. Newman’s eyes might pierce, but watch the banter between the two and notice the moments when Gleason smiles and his eyes are nothing less than sparkling. That sparkle in Gleason’s eyes has fascinated me for months. I’ve gone back and watched old footage of him on talk shows and other clips of him talking with folks. I thought “je ne sais quoi” was about the best way to describe the sparkle, but then I realized it was much more.
Jackie Gleason knew how to live. I never met him, of course; I don’t even know much about him except for what I’ve seen in those clips; and I have no idea what he was like in his personal life. But when I see that sparkle in his eyes, I can tell that he knew how to live.
And it’s not just Gleason. Others from his time seemed to have living down, too. The Rat Pack comes immediately to mind, but so do many others. Maybe their whole generation lived life to the fullest, having come through the Great Depression and World War II. I don’t know–maybe they were all jerks–but their collective persona had a “live each day like it’s your last” attitude, and if they had a few regrets they got past them.
Even if you accept that this was their stage persona and life behind the scenes was very different, they still personified something that has gone missing in today’s culture. What might be responsible for that, in my mind, is how every time you blink someone’s telling you what you can’t do and why not. It’s becoming oppressive to so much as eat a steak, have a smoke, drink one too many, or buy food that wasn’t grown by you or the farmer next-door. And this doesn’t even include all the old-school stuff like riding a bike without a helmet or driving without your seatbelt. Of course, you shouldn’t blow cigar smoke at the next table while you’re enjoying your steak and scotch, but that shouldn’t stop you from living.
But this isn’t really new. People have always been told what not to do, and rarely have they been given complete freedom to live on their own terms. The ’40s and ’50s weren’t exactly prime eras for civil liberties and personal expression. I guess what Gleason’s generation had was the ability to let go. They knew how to compartmentalize. They busted their butts while they were working, and when it came time to enjoy themselves, they shut out all that other stuff and truly, fully enjoyed themselves.
It’s a gift to be able to focus on what’s in front of you, be it work or pleasure, so that the task at hand and the people you’re with are always, at that moment, the most important thing in the world. The dinner table is the perfect forum for this, as long as the people, not the food, are the primary focus. I used to focus so much on the food, hoping each dish would be properly prepared and revered, that I sometimes forgot about the dinner. It’s like going to a top-tier restaurant. You go there for the food, not a bunch of banter and laughter–and that’s why chefs, generally, would rather just go to a bistro or a sushi joint, where the food is just as great but the experience is centered on the people and the reverence is for the atmosphere, not for each perfectly presented dish.
This pasta recipe is just the dish to enhance, rather than distract from, that kind of dining experience. A big platter served to a group of friends, along with a few sides, great bread, and some wine, it’s just the capper for the evening. Sure, I put some time into creating this dish for my guests, but there’s nothing serious or formal about this food. It lets you focus on your friends and it lets them relax and enjoy the meal.
Hopefully, as the night progresses, everyone will be living in the moment, experience life at its fullest–and maybe, should luck be a lady tonight, you’ll catch that sparkle in everyone’s eyes. How sweet it is!
I was probably thirteen or fourteen years-old the first time I had a fried bologna sandwich and I will never forget it. I was watching some TV show and they ate it on the show. I thought I had seen the most amazing culinary treat ever. I went to the kitchen and made one and was shocked to find bologna was even better hot.
I used to save my school lunch money, for things I shouldn’t have been buying, and came home from school starving. My mom wouldn’t make me anything to eat because it was my fault I was hungry. That said, she didn’t care if I made something for myself and from that moment on fried bologna became a staple.
This is my ode to the days of old, I don’t eat one of these often but when I do this is how I want it served.
4 thin slices of good garlicky German bologna, French garlic sausage, or mortadella
2 slices of Challah, toasted
1 large egg
1/3 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 teaspoon Nathan’s mustard
3/4 cups grated white American cheese
3 dashes Worcestershire sauce
2 dashes Crystals Hot Sauce
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 green onion, sliced
1. Place a small sauce pan over medium heat and add the cream and mustard. Bring to a boil and then reduce the heat. Add the Worcestershire, hot sauce and cheese. Stir to combine and continue to heat until the cheese is melted. Remove from the heat and keep warm.
2. Place a medium saute pan over high heat.
3. Fold each piece of bologna in half and then into quarters so it looks like a triangle. Place the four triangles into the hot saute pan and sear until it looks like a hot dog that was over cooked on a campfire. Remove the bologna and place it on the bottom slice of Challah and top with the remaining toasted bread.
4. Reduce the heat on the pan and add the oil. Fry the egg to your desired doneness.
5. Pour the desired amount of sauce over the top slice of bread and then top with the egg and green onions. Serve with an ice cold Pepsi, or Coke if you must.
It’s the weekend of advent, and I am sitting in my California living room, sipping gløgg and watching the flames dance in the fireplace. It’s raining outside. As I listen to the drops furiously pellet the windows and tap dance over the wooden deck, I take another sip of the steaming spiced wine and sink further into the sofa. I don’t mind the weather one bit. It reminds me of Denmark.
I lived near Copenhagen for 6 years with my Danish husband and our 2 children before we moved to California in 2007. Each first advent weekend before Christmas we would load up our car with kids, dogs and provisions and drive 1 ½ hours to my sister and brother-in-law’s farm, a thatch roofed cottage nestled in a pine and beech forest in the center of Zealand, the largest island of Denmark. The capitol, Copenhagen, was a mere 60 kilometers away, but once we turned off the main highway and snaked our way over the gently rolling hills deep into the wooded countryside, we might as well have been a light year from the bustle of the city.
The winter sun is finicky in Denmark. If it shows its face at all, it’s austere and reserved, never shining too high or bright, shimmering white like an icy Nordic beauty. More often than not, it rains. Mindful of the elusive daylight, we would immediately get to the task at hand upon our arrival. The youngest kids would be swathed in fleece and goose down suits, and the adults would pull on their hardiest outerwear, while stuffing their pockets with bottled libations capable of fortifying a grown man in near freezing temperatures. Strong, dark Danish beer is the best portable antidote to the winter climate.
Three generations of family would pile into the flatbed of the battered old Land Rover, where we bumped and swayed as my brother-in-law navigated the rugged pitted paths and trails as only he could do, the hired game keeper for this compact and tidy forest kingdom. Finally the truck would grind to a halt in a clearing, who knows where, and we would tumble out of the truck with wicker baskets and burlap bags in hand. Every man, woman and child would scatter in 4 directions, scurrying about gathering twigs, pinecones and moss from fallen logs, low hanging boughs and the forest floor. We had to work fast. The silvery sun, if visible, would begin its descent at 3 pm, and the cold would eagerly creep in, numbing our fingers, toes and tips of our nose, despite the paddings of wool and fleece. Long shadows would grow between the trees, challenging our footing and teasing our imaginations. If you believe, then this is the time you would keep watch for the forest spirits and elves who would make their presence known, and if you didn’t believe, then you would take another long pull of the hoppy Christmas brew, and be very careful with your step. As the darkness marched in, we would climb back into the truck with our collected loot and head home to the warmth of the farmhouse, glowing like an ochre beacon in the dusky valley.
The pillowy warmth of the kitchen would envelop us like a plump grandmother as we walked indoors and shed our cold and soggy clothes. Muddy boots would be replaced with felt and shearling slippers, fires would be stoked in the ovens and the stove would be lit under a cauldron of gløgg, a heady purple concoction of wine, spirits, fruit and spice. The convergence of our chilled bodies with the warmth of the crackling fires would fog up the leaded window panes with steamy silhouettes reminiscent of shadowy mountainscapes. It might have been cold and wintry outside, but inside everything was warm and toasty. We then laid claim to a space at the long farmhouse table where our forest harvest was dumped and heaped in the center. Candles would be lit for hygge, the special Danish brand of cosiness. Adults and children would sit shoulder to shoulder on the long benches and get to work, weaving branches into wreathes, candle holders, and tree ornaments bejeweled with holly and moss. While we did this, the scent of orange, cinnamon and cloves would waft through the room from the simmering gløgg. My sisters-in-law would take turns making batches of æbleskivers in worn well-seasoned cast iron skillets with golf ball sized indentations in which the cakes nestled. A continuous cycle of platters of golden pancakes would be passed up and down the table. We would pluck a few and dip them in bowls of homemade strawberry preserves – a whisper of summer past – and sprinkle with powdered sugar before greedily devouring them, washed down with mugs of hot spiced wine.
This is the 6th winter we won’t be in Denmark for Christmas. The rain has stopped outside, and from the sofa I can see spots of blue sky peeking through the towering redwoods on our steep hill. Friends will be arriving shortly. It’s time to get up and prepare the batter, since it must rest for at least an hour. If the rain holds off, we will take an afternoon walk by the lake near our house. Then we will return home, and while my family and our friends sit by the fire and sip gløgg, I will make aebleskivers.
While this technically is vegetarian I don’t think I would call it that. Vegetarian leads me to think there are some vegetables involved. I will call it meatless though.
This lasagna takes me straight back to my childhood. It reminds me of everything I loved about baked pasta growing up and guess what, it is a favorite of my kids too.
It really comes together easy since you use the no boil pasta sheets. I like to make the sauce but if you have a favorite great quality variety in a jar that you want to use, well, just go for it. You could easily make this in advance and cover it and keep it in the fridge for a day. You can go straight from fridge to oven just add another 15 to 20 minutes to the initial bake time.
Serves 6 to 8
extra virgin olive oil
1 onion, peeled and chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons pomegranate molasses
one 28oz. box pomi strained tomatoes
one 28oz. box pomi chopped tomatoes
1/4 teaspoons fennel seed, ground
2 teaspoons oregano
2 tablespoons flat leaf parsley, minced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 pound no boil whole wheat lasagna noodles
12 ounces low moisture mozzarella , grated
12 ounces fresh mozzarella, sliced into eight rounds
1 pound cottage cheese, drained in a strainer
1 cup parmesan cheese, grated
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
1. Place a 3 1/2 quart heavy bottomed sauce pan over medium heat. Add enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan liberally. Add the onions and season them with a healthy pinch of salt and fresh ground pepper.
2. Sweat the onions until they are soft. Add the garlic and once it is fragrant add the pomegranate molasses, tomatoes, fennel, oregano, parsley and tomato paste. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil then reduce the heat to a simmer.
3. Occasionally stir the sauce to keep it from sticking. Taste the sauce and if you think you need to add a teaspoon of sugar.
4. While the sauce is cooking combine the cottage cheese, eggs and parmesan in a mixing bowl. Season it with pepper and a little salt. Usually parmesan is salty so it shouldn’t need to much. Combine everything well and set aside or refrigerate.
5. Cook the tomato sauce until it has reduced down and has thickened. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
6. If you choose to cook the lasagna now preheat the oven to 375˚ F. If you want to wait to cook it finish up the remaining steps and assemble the final product, cover and store it in the fridge.
7. Drizzle some lines of extra virgin olive oil into a 9 x 13 casserole. Take a spoon and spoon about a half cup of tomato sauce on top of it and spread it around to make a thin coating on the bottom of the pan.
8. Lay out a layer of dried noodles across the bottom of the pan. Spoon some sauce over the dried noodles. This layer should be heavy. Spread it with the back of the spoon to even it up. Sprinkle half the grated mozzarella over the sauce then lay on another layer of noodles.
9. Another coat of tomato sauce on top of the noodles then spread the cottage cheese over the middle layer. Lay out the last layer of noodles and put down a thin coat of sauce, more then a coat of paint, then top with grated mozzarella and finish with the fresh mozzarella rounds.
10. Cover the casserole tightly with foil. Slide it into the oven and bake it for an 45 minutes. Remove the top, turn the heat to 450˚ F and bake another 20 minutes or until the cheese has browned.
11. Remove the lasagna from the oven and let it rest for 10 minutes. This is really important. It lets everything meld real nicely, the noodles absorb juices and it just makes lasagna better. Cut into portions and serve.
Sweetbreads make the perfect po’ boy for anyone not living close to the ocean and oysters, well, and for that matter even those living near the sea may want to give this a go.
It is so amazingly delicous but then you have to be a fan of sweetbreads. If you have never eaten them this would be a good way to go at them for the first time and if you love them you will really like this sandwich. This is also a great latenighter or one of those things you eat when you are the only one at home, then of course, you can revel in its full splendor.
Makes 4 Po’ Boys
To poach the sweet breads:
1 pound, sweet breads, carefully cleaned of any membrane
1 lemon, halved
1 onion, peeled and quarted
2 stalks celery, chopped
2 bay leaves
4 sprigs flat leaf parsley
1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
11/2 teaspoon kosher salt
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1/4 cup white wine
For the poor boy:
blanched sweet breads
2 cups flour, season with 1 teaspoons each black pepper, thyme & paprika
egg wash, two eggs beaten with 1 cup milk
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon capers, drained and chopped
1/2 teaspoon cornichon pickles, minced
1 teaspoon flat leaf parsley, minced
2 cups romaine lettuce shaved into ribbons
2 loaves french bread, halved
peanut oil for frying
1. Squeeze half the lemon and then drop the spent lemon into a 3 quart pot along with the onion, celery, bay leaves, parsley, peppercorns garlic salt and wine, Add the sweetbreads and enough water to cover.
2. Place the pot over low heat and slowly bring it to a boil, adjusting the heat as necessary. Simmer the sweet breads till just cooked through, not long. Remove them from the heat and let them sit in the poaching liquid until it has cooled.
3. Remove the sweetbreads from the liquid and place them on a parchment lined sheet tray. Place another piece of parchment on top and then a sheet tray. Wrap the whole thing in plastic wrap to keep the sweetbreads from drying out.
4. Put the wrapped contraption into the fridge and place a gallon of milk, or some sort of weight on top of them and let them compress overnight.
5. The next day make the spread. Place the mayo into a small mixing bowl and add the lemon juice from the left over half a lemon, the capers, cornichons, and parsley. Stir the spread and season it with salt and pepper. taste and adjust the seasoning.
6. Remove the sweetbreads from the fridge and unwrap them. Season them with salt.
7. Place 1 inch of peanut oil into a 3 inch high, or higher, Dutch oven and place it over medium high heat.
8. Put the seasoned flour into a paper or plastic bag and add the sweetbreads. Gently roll them around to coat them with the flour. Remove them and drop them into the egg wash. Check the temperature of the peanut oil with a deep fry thermometer. It should be close to 350˚F.
9. If the oil is to temp remove the sweetbreads from the milk, let the excess milk drain back into the pan, and put the sweetbreads back into the flour. Toss them around gently until they are well coated with the flour.
Place them gently into the oil and deep fry them until brown. Remember they are already cooked so you needn’t worry about anything other than making sure they are hot.
10. Once they are browned assemble your sandwiches, bread, spread, lettuce and sweetbreads, then dig in to some good eating.
Note: If you are going to make the fries heat your oven to 250˚F and fry the sweetbreads and then place them on a rack placed over a sheet tray and keep them warm while you fry the fries.
Good soup is hard to come by but it isn’t hard to make good soup. It’s only as difficult as you want to make it.
While I know there are all kinds of prepared soups on the shelves of every supermarket I just can’t bring myself to do anything other than make it from scratch. I beg of you to do the same. You will be all the better for it and your health will be too.
If you are new to the kitchen it might take you a while to get the prep down. There is cutting and chopping but as you practice and as your skill level increases your time in the kitchen drops. Trust me. I like to spend time in the kitchen some days but not all days. I want to do things with my kids more than I want to make some three-day dish out of Modern Cuisine but that doesn’t mean I don’t eat flavorful good food.
The one thing for which I am grateful is I worked in a from scratch restaurant where not only did you work the line but you did all of your own prep. I became efficient because the Bob-Knight-of-Chefs boss I had demanded it. I am eternally grateful to him for his persistence and for making me a better cook.
Makes 6 servings
For the broth:
1 yellow onion, trimmed, peeled and chopped
1 carrot, peeled and sliced
1 celery stalk, washed, trimmed and chopped
4 leg/thigh chicken quarter, skin removed
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
6 cups water
For the soup:
1/2 cup yellow onion, peeled, trimmed 1/4 inch dice
1 cup carrots, sliced
1/4 cup celery, 1.4 inch dice
1 cup brown basmati rice, cooked
1 tablespoon Italian or curly leaf parsley
1 heafty pinch of saffron
1. Place all the broth ingredients into a three quart heavy bottomed pot and place it over medium high heat. Bring it to a boil and then reduce the heat to a simmer. Simmer the broth until the chicken is very tender, the meat should have pulled away from the leg joint bone on its own. Remove the chicken quarters to a plate and let them cool. Once they are cool pick the meat from the bones and break it up into spoon size pieces.
2. Strain the both. You should have anywhere from 4 to 5 cups. If it is less add some water.
3. Discard the vegetables from the stock. Clean the pot and pour the strained stock back into the pot. Add the soup vegetables, saffron a heavy pinch of salt and some pepper to the pot. Bring the soup to a boil. Reduce the heat and cook until the vegetables are tender.
4. Once the vegetables are tender add the chicken, cooked rice and parsley. Make sure everything is good and hot. Serve.
I make these tomatoes often, mostly at the end of garden season, and have done so ever since I opened the cover of the French Laundry cookbook and found Chef Thomas Keller’s recipe. You can use a recipe other than Keller’s recipe but at least do as Keller does and make sure you season the tomatoes with salt and pepper before roasting them and make sure you cook them over a long period of time in a low heat oven.
I say this for a simple reason. If they aren’t seasoned before you cook them they just aren’t very good and why go to the trouble if they aren’t going to be good, you won’t eat them and they will just sit in the fridge taking up space. Season them agressively and you will be happy.
One thing to make note of. I don’t peel the tomatoes until I use them. The skin, I think, holds them together while in the jar but is really easy to peel off before you use them.
If you try them on a thin crust homemade pizza some Friday night don’t blame me when pizza is never again the same.
Recipe adapted from The French Laundry Cookbook
Makes 1 quart
30 to 36 Roma or San Marzano tomatoes, perfectly ripe, stemmed and halved
kosher or sea salt
fresh ground black pepper
a handful of fresh savory or thyme sprigs
extra virgin olive oil
1. Heat the oven to 275˚F.
2. Spread to tomato halves out onto a half sheet tray lined with foil. Season the tomatoes evenly with salt and fresh ground pepper. Spread the savory or thyme out over the tomatoes. Place the sheet tray into the oven.
3. Bake the tomatoes for 3 hours or until they have shrunk but still tender. It may take longer then three hours depending on how juicy the tomatoes are to begin with.
4. Remove the tomatoes from the oven and let them cool.
5. Once they have cooled pack them into a 1 quart jar, or a smaller jar if need be, and then use a spatula to get all the oil, accumulated juices and herbs off the tray and into the jar. Top the jar off with olive oil to cover.
6. Store in the fridge but remember pull them out about an hour before you need them so the oil warms and you can easily remove the tomatoes without breaking them.
Denny Baum knows exactly where he’s going when he lets the door to his fifth-floor walk-up slam behind him. He uses the back of his cigarette hand to wipe the tears out of his eyes before he goes down the stairs, crosses the foyer, and pushes out onto the street.
He walks a gauntlet of Hispanic dope dealers who never fail to ask him to buy, even though, in the ten months since he moved into his studio apartment, he never has. As he nears Second Avenue, he passes the girl whose name he still doesn’t know and who, when she caught his eye eight months ago, was youthful and beautiful. He used to talk to her when she sat on the stoop next-door. Now she’s a bony, toothless crack whore, always anxious, like a little kid who has to pee.
Denny turns left on Second towards Chinatown. He walks fast. He’s mad at himself for being an idiot. He knew Kim would turn him down when he asked her out.
He steps off the curb and wipes his eyes again. People are looking. He knows his eyes are red and puffy, but he doesn’t give a fuck; for all they know, his mom got hit by a bus. His thoughts are focused on his self-pity and shame. It’s the usual routine: build up the courage to ask a girl for a date, get turned down, then sulk about it.
He’s going to the Chinatown restaurant that his friend Lim first took him to, where the ducks with crispy brown skin and a thin layer of fat hang in the window next to the suckling pigs. The servers cut the duck into small pieces at the table. He eats the lacquered, shiny skin by itself, dipping it into a sugary garlic sauce between each bite. Once the skin is gone, he folds the juicy meat into tender scallion pancakes smeared with hoisin sauce. The succulent fat is what Denny likes. He likes how it renders in his mouth and keeps the tender, dark meat moist.
But Peking Duck is just Denny’s gateway dish into dim sum–Sunday dim sum in particular. He sits by himself at a four-top in the back and savors red cooked chicken feet, sucks the bones of steamed pork ribs in black bean sauce, and breathes in the sharp aroma of cuttlefish salad before taking a bite. He gobbles up steamed dumplings stuffed with pork, leeks, and Chinese celery, and digs into a platter of scallion noodles.
He sips tea. His hunger is finally satisfied.
Denny’s frame has a certain bulk. He’s one of those young men who’s supposed to be large; even if he wasn’t fat, he couldn’t physically be small. But he isn’t jiggly-fat, he’s farm-boy fat–solid. If you punched him in the gut, your fist wouldn’t sink in so much as ricochet.
Now he sits like a white Buddha and reads the Sunday Times. When he’s done, he folds the paper neatly and sets it beside his dirty plates. His large, fat fingers reach out for the silver teapot, making it look like a little girl’s toy. He tops off his tea and doesn’t add any sugar; he likes its tannic bite.
Finally, the server brings the dessert cart over to his table, full of sweet dishes. He points to three. He can’t resist the custards.
This is a straight up rip of Momofuku’s Asian Fried Chicken. I won’t even call it an adaptation but it isn’t plagiarism. This is credit where credit is due.
The Momofuku cookbook has been around for a couple of years now and it is still, hands down, one of my favorite resources of inspiration. I think I have made, or at least made a version, of everything in the book.
There are a few things different from the original recipe here, the honey for instance instead of sugar and I shortened up the brine time.
FOR THE CHICKEN:
1 chicken, about 3 1/2 lbs., cut into 9 pieces, the whole breast should be cut across the back bone not with it into three pieces
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup salt
4 cups ice water
peanut oil for frying
FOR THE HONEY GINGER SAUCE:
1 tablespoon ginger, extremely finely minced
1 tablespoon garlic, extremely finely minced
2 tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons peanut or canola oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 cup green onions, sliced into thin rounds
1. Combine the salt, sugar and ice cold water in a large bowl and mix till the sugar and salt have dissolved. Add the chicken, making sure it is submerged, and let it brine for one hour. After the hour remove it to a tray lined with paper towel and dry the chicken completely.
2. Place a large pot onto the stove. Fill the pot no more than a third full with oil. Turn the heat to medium high. Place a fry thermometer into the oil.
3. While the oil is heating to the magic 375˚ F combine the sauce ingredients minus a quarter cup of the green onions in a bowl that will eventually be large enough to carefully toss the hot chicken with the sauce.
4. When the oil is to temperature carefully add the chicken. Cook until the skin is brown and crispy and the chicken is done, ten to fifteen minutes.
5. Remove the chicken from the hot oil to the sauce bowl and toss to combine. Serve garnished with the remaining green onions and the extra sauce for dipping chicken and sticky rice.
Street walkers pasta and now poor wretches pasta. Leave it to the Italians to come up with an interesting name for their local eats. This is Sicilian by birth. The pine nuts and currants aren’t traditional but I like what they bring to this dish.
Eggplants are abundant at the moment. You could take the time to make eggplant parm, moussaka or some other multi-step dish or you could keep it simple and make this. It is simple but that doesn’t mean it isn’t flavorful. I have made it twice already and probably will make it again. I am not doing so because I have eggplants, and lots of them, but because I like it that much.
Makes 4 to 6 servings
good quality olive oil
2 or 3 eggplant, depending on size, peeled and cubed into 1 inch pieces, about 5 cups
2 cups tomato sauce
2 teaspoons red pepper flakes
3 tablespoons currants
2 tablespoons pine nuts
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs
16 oz. penne pasta
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
1. Add 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil to a small saute pan. Once it is hot add the bread crumbs and pine nuts. Season them with salt and pepper and cook them until they are browned. Add the currants and toss a few times. Empty the pan into a small bowl and let the topping cool.
2. About one hour before you start cooking put the eggplant cubes into a colander. Season the cubes with a fair amount of salt and either place the colander in the sink to drain or in a large bowl.
3. Place a large pot of generously salted water over high heat.
4. While the water is coming to a boil place a 14 inch saute pan over high heat and add 1/3 cup of olive oil. Once it is shimmering but not smoking add the eggplant. It might splatter a little if there is a lot of water clinging to the pieces so be careful. Brown the eggplant.
5. Add the red pepper flakes, a little more oil if the pan looks dry, and then the tomato sauce. Reduce the heat and simmer the sauce.
6. Add the pasta to the big pot of boiling water and cook the pasta according to the cooking time listed on the box. Once they are done, add a 1/2 to 1 cup of the starchy pasta cooking liquid to the sauce depending on how reduced it has become.
7. Strain the noodles and add them to the sauce. Toss to combine and coat the noodles. Pour the pan out into a large bowl and top with the bread-crumb-currant-pine-nut topping and serve.
The most beautiful San Marzano tomatoes have been coming out, by the bushel, of the garden. I have been canning sauce, making paste and oven dried tomatoes like it is my civic duty to waste not one tomato. I am loving it.
I can’t wait to open a jar of sauce in the middle of winter. One that has a sprig of basil hidden in the middle of the red liquid like a secret ingredient. I lift the lid with a bottle opener and it lets out the familiar gasp of home canned goods. The smell of last summer’s sunshine rises upward to my nose.
I hoard the stuff. I don’t want to use it now but rather save it for later. Then I realize how stupid this is. So I use the left over sauce, the extra that wouldn’t fill a jar and make this dish. It is very American-Sicilian in my mind but what do I know. Well, I know it’s good.
Note: I use a box brand in the recipe but by all means if you have a great home canned tomato sauce use it.
Makes a 9 x 13 casserole
1 pound rigatoni, cooked and cooled according to the directions on the box
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 onions, small dice about 2 cups
2 tablespoons garlic, minced
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon pomegranate molasses
2 each 28 oz. box Pomi brand chopped tomatoes
1 pound cottage cheese, drained
2 tablespoons flat leaf parsley, minced
1/3 cup currants
1/4 cup pinenuts
1/2 cup pecorino romano
2 cups or more, mozzarella, grated
1. Heat a 3 1/2 quart heavy bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the olive oil and onions and let them sweat until they are soft and become golden around the edges.
2. Add the garlic and when it becomes fragrant add the balsamic and pomegranate syrup. Season with salt and pepper and let the liquid reduce some and then add the chopped tomatoes.
Reduce the sauce to a simmer and let the tomato become thick. It will take about an hour or so. Add the currents to the sauce about 15 minutes before you have finished cooking the sauce so the begin to soften and release some of their flavor.
3. Combine the cooked rigatoni with the cottage cheese, parsley and pecorino cheeses. I usually do this right in the pasta cooking pot after I have drained all the water from the pasta.
4. Now add the tomato sauce and mix to combine.
5. Using a little olive oil oil a 9 x 13 casserole and then pour the noodles into the dish. Top with the mozzarella and bake in a preheated 375˚ F oven for 35 to 40 minutes or until the cheese is browned nicely. About 10 minutes before it is done sprinkle the pine nuts across the top so they brown up nicely. Don’t do this any earlier or the nuts will burn.
6. Let the casserole rest for 5 to 10 minutes and then serve.
A French onion soup recipe isn’t exactly uncommon. I am not even going to say this one is the best as in best ever French onion soup because that would be like saying my religion is the best, or the only, which is just not true.
So why publish or blog this recipe? Well because it is a really solid recipe and I want to talk about technique. In other words even if you already have an onion soup in your repertoire and have no intention of ever making a different one maybe you might pick up a little tidbit of information that you might want to apply to your already fantastic recipe.
There is nothing complicated about this recipe so if you have never made French onion and think you might want to, well, here ya go.
I did use rendered bacon fat in the recipe and here is why. I wanted to replicate some of the richness that I find in the ramen noodles recipe from the Momofuku cookbook. The smokey onion-y goodness of the fat is unbeatable. If you take offense to bacon fat then oil or butter would work just fine.
I use fontina cheese here. It is not the traditional comte or gruyere. Use what you like. I like all three but one is easier on the pocket book but that is your call.
Check your broiler and make sure it works before you start the recipe.
Makes 6 servings
1 1/2 tablespoon bacon grease, butter or vegetable oil
7 cups yellow onions, trimmed and cut into 1/4 inch slices
1/4 cup garlic, peeled, trimmed and sliced thinly
1 cup red wine
4 cups richly flavored stock
1 tablespoon dried thyme
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
1/2 pound Fontina, grated
4 to 6 toast rounds, or as I did, I griddled an English muffin half in rendered pork fat
1. Place one of your soup crocks on a sheet tray and put it in the oven. Try to adjust the oven rack so the top of the crock is about 5 to 8 inches from the broiler. Remove the tray.
2. Place a heavy bottomed large pot, the wider the pot the better the onions will cook, over medium heat and add the fat.
3. Once the fat has melted add the onions. Season them with about a 1/2 teaspoon of salt and, I like lots, fresh ground black pepper.
4. Walk away from the pan and do something else in the kitchen. Don’t stir them until all the onions have wilted down. The more you stir them the longer they will take to color. Don’t up the heat either you don’t want them seared brown but gently browned. So if your pan is not so heavy bottomed you may need to turn the heat down. Cooking the onions to the right color and consistency will take at least a half hour maybe even an hour. Drink a glass of wine, listen to some music and call it happy hour. Get your zen on and be the turtle, slow and steady. The hare’s onion soup sucks don’t go there.
5. Cook the onions until they soften, have gone from amber to brown and you notice brown bits of onion on the bottom of the pan. Those brown bits are flavor be careful not to burn them, turn the heat down if you need to. Add the garlic and thyme and cook until the garlic becomes fragrant. About a minute.
6. Add the cup of wine to deglaze the pan and reduce it by half.
7. Add the stock and bring the pot to a boil. You can turn up the heat if you need but then reduce the heat and simmer the soup to bring all the flavors together, twenty minutes or so.
8. Grab a tasting spoon and take a taste. Adjust the seasoning as necessary.
9. Preheat your broiler. Bowl up the number of bowls you need. Place them on a sheet tray. It is much easier to grab one tray then to try to grab 4 or 6 crocks with gooey cheese on top. Get the sheet tray out.
10. Top each crock with a toast round or English muffin, then pile on the cheese and bake under the broiler till everything is gooey and golden brown. Remove them from the oven and wait at least 5 minutes before digging in- these things are thermonuclear.
The sleek, shiny, deep-red locomotive, its coupling rods churning and drivers slipping, trying to get traction, billows out black smoke from its stack as if getting up the nerve to leave the station.
It’s a beautiful train with a long line of passenger cars trailing behind. Each car is bursting with people who, dressed in their best, are buzzing in quiet anticipation, waiting for their adventure to begin. A collective sigh goes up at the first jolt of forward motion, and a surge of no-turning-back-now adrenaline triggers manic conversations about new destinations.
Somehow, old things always look new when you see them from a different angle, and traveling by rail, rather than the usual streets and highways, is definitely different. The passengers move from one side of the car to the other, looking out the windows at their familiar city, chattering excitedly about things they’ve seen a thousand times.
The train moves beyond the edge of town as the late afternoon sun turns the sprawling farm fields golden. Not too far from the track, a farmer stops his work and looks up at the train. He leans an elbow on his pitchfork, puts his other hand on his hip, and casually crosses his ankles, as if he wants to drink it all in. Many of the passengers wave as they pass by, marveling at the farmer as if they’ve never seen a man in a field. The farmer smiles and waves back a few times. He knows most of these folks are looking at him like he’s missing out, or just some hayseed.
Truth be told, he used to travel, a lot. He’s also plenty smart, but, anymore, he couldn’t care less what anyone thinks. Not that he’s bitter–no, he’s content, happy just to stand in his field and watch a train full of people looking for the next big thing pass him by and not remotely feel like he’s missing out. Some people might wonder if he’s made a deal with the devil, but he knows different.
Before the train’s even out of sight, he turns and starts walking up the fence row to the house. His wife will have dinner about ready. The long shadows from the fence posts stretch across the ground. He carries the pitchfork over his shoulder and, this time, instead of counting the posts (since he knows there are twenty-five from here to the house), he counts the steps in between them. He likes this comfortable, predictable game.
When he gets to the barn, he goes inside, hangs the pitchfork in its place, takes a look at the veal calves, then heads for the house, passing the garden full of late-fall greens.
He smells it as soon as he opens the mud-room door–the unmistakable goodness of one of his favorite dishes: deviled veal tongue with braised mustard greens and potatoes. The smell alone is nourishing. It’s a dish that not only tastes God-damn good, but you can feel it healing your soul with every bite. He looks at his beautiful wife, hears the kids giggling in the other room, and smiles, glad that he has no other destination.
This is farm food. On farms where they actually still eat food they produce more often then not you eat what is left after selling the rest. That means what we consider the good cuts usually goes to others. The wonderful thing about this way of eating is you learn how to use the odds and ends. If you like corned beef or corned tongue you will really enjoy this recipe. If you can’t be bothered to corn the tongue then by all means just by a corned beef brisket, cook it and proceed with the recipe below. It will not be the same as the veal tongue but it will still be really good.
1 onion, peeled, root end left intact and halved
2 carrots, peeled
2 teaspoons pickling spice
2 veal tongues, corned
1 1/2 tablespoon creole mustard
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup panko bread crumbs
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup cream
1 egg yolk
2 teaspoons yellow mustard
1 tablespoon capers, chopped
flat leaf parsley, minced, for garnish
2 bunches mustard greens, rinsed and chopped into 1 inch ribbons
1 onion, peeled trimmed and thinly sliced
8 yellow potatoes, peeled
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
For the tongues:
1. Place the onion, carrots, pickling spice and the tongues into a large pot and cover with cold water by 3 inches.
2. Place the pot over medium high heat and bring it to a boil. Once it comes to a boil reduce the heat to a simmer and simmer for 3 hours. Add water if the level gets below the tongues.
3. Remove one of the tongues from the pot and shave a thin slice off the root end and taste it for tenderness. It should be tender. If they are not tender simmer them for another 30 minutes. If so remove the tongues from the pot and place them on a plate. Discard the poaching liquid.
4. Once the tongues have cooled slice off the skin using a filet knife. The tongues can be cooked up to two days in advance wrapped in plastic and stored in the fridge.
5. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Slice the tongues lengthwise in half. Divide the creole mustard equally among the halves and spread it out one each half. Place the halves into a gratin.
6. In a small bowl whisk together the egg yolk, yellow mustard and the cream. Season it with a two finger pinch of salt and a couple of grinds of white pepper. Set aside.
7. Combine the panko bread crumbs with the melted butter and the capers. Season the crumbs with a heavy pinch of salt, remember the capers are salty, and fresh ground pepper.
8. Pour the mustard sauce over the tops of the tongues and then sprinkle the whole gratin with the panko caper crumbs.
9. Bake in the oven for 20 to 30 minutes or until brown. If they tongues came out of the fridge they will take a little longer to get hot. Serve.
For the mustard greens:
1. Place a large pot over medium heat. Add the butter and then the onions. Season the onions with salt and pepper and cook them until they begin to wilt.
2. Add the mustard green and turn the greens until they are coated with oil. Add the potatoes and season the pot with salt and fresh ground pepper.
3. Cover the pot and reduce the heat to a simmer and simmer the greens until they are well wilted and they aren’t so bitter and the potatoes are tender and just cooked though.
4. Taste the greens and adjust the seasoning as necessary. Platter them up and serve.
These cakes have become a standard in our rotation. Not always as Indian cuisine but as other styles too. The Lentil du Puy base is a really good foil for all kinds of flavors and the texture of the meal is toothsome which is also very satisfying. I would imagine the possibilities to be endless and I will let you know if we make any discoveries that deem reporting back to you.
For the Lentil Cakes:
1 cup dried Lentil du Puy, rinsed and picked over for stones
1/2 yellow onion, small dice
1 tablespoon fresh grated ginger
1 tablespoon cilantro, minced
2 teaspoons garam masala
1/4 cup flour, I used millet flour
3/4 teaspoons kosher salt
For the Sauce:
1/2 yellow onion small dice
1 cup tomato sauce
1/2 cup cream
1/2 cup plain yougurt
2 teaspoons cilantro
1. Place the lentils into a 3 quart pot and cover with water by two or more inches. Add the minced onion. Place the pot over medium heat. Slowly bring the lentils to a boil then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook the lentils until tender adding a pinch or two of salt in the last 10 minutes of cooking. This should take approximately 30 minutes.
2. Drain the lentils. Let them cool but puree them in a food processor while they are still warm. They will be easier to handle when warm.
3. Add the remaining lentil cake ingredients and pulse the cakes a few more times until the rest of the ingredients are combined into the mix. Taste the lentil puree then season the puree with kosher salt and a few grinds of pepper. Taste again and adjust the seasoning.
4. Let the cakes sit for a few minutes to hydrate the flour. Take a tablespoon of the mix and make a ball. Is it really wet or is it too stiff? You want the mix to hold its shape but not be overly stiff otherwise they can be dry when cooked. It should just hold its shape. Add more flour a tablespoon at a time if you need to letting the additional flour hydrate before testing. Divide the lentils into eight balls.
5. Add enough oil to cover the bottom of a heavy bottomed sauté pan by an 1/8 inch. Heat the oil over medium high heat. Test the oil by dropping a pinch of lentil to the pan. It should begin to sizzle right away but not violently sizzle and pop.
6. When the oil is ready take each lentil ball and smash it down gently forming it into 1/2 inch thick cakes and add them to the oil. Let each side brown nicely and then remove them to a tray lined with a brown bag to soak up the oil. Keep the cakes warm, either in a low, 200 degree oven or in a warm place on the stove.
7. Drain the oil from the pan, place it back on the heat and then add the remaining diced onion. Sauté until tender then add the rest of the sauce ingredients. Stir to combine, bring to a boil then reduce the heat. Let it simmer for ten minutes to come together. You can puree the sauce to make it smooth or leave the onion chunky making the sauce rustic.
I have been making lemon bars for many years now from a recipe by John Taylor also known as Hoppin’ John. A while back I thought it would make a great tart, and guess what, it does. If you like Low Country cooking you should search out his cookbook Charleston, Beaufort & Savannah: Dining at Home in the Lowcountry. It seems like a good time to share this recipe.
SERVES 6 TO 8
For the crust::
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup all purpose flour
1/4 cup semolina flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
For the custard:
2 to 3 Meyer Lemons, zested first then squeezed for 1/3 cup juice
5 large egg yolks
3/4 cups sugar
1/2 cup ussalted butter, room temperature and cubed
zest from two Meyer lemons
powdered sugar, for dusting the tart
1. Heat the oven to 325 degrees. In the bowl of a mixer, or in a bowl and mixing with a wooden spoon, cream the butter with sugar and salt. Add the flours and mix well. The shortbread crust will look crumbly and like cous cous or cornmeal. Turn the dough out into an 8 inch tart pan and press it evenly into the pan starting with the sides and working toward the center. Place your index finger over the top of the flutes and push the crust upward using you index finger as a back stop.
2. Slide that tart shell into the oven and bake it for 20 minutes.
3. While the tart is in the oven combine the eggs, sugar, zest, 1/3 cup Meyer lemon juice in a heat proof mixing bowl and whisk to combine the ingredients.
4. Place the mixing bowl over low heat, if you are worried about this you can most certainly use a double boiler, and whisk the custard until it starts to thicken. It takes about 13 minutes on low so it will take longer in a double boiler. Once it is very thick, like warm pudding and leaving ribbons as you whisk, remove it from the heat and whisk in the butter.
5. When the tart crust is done remove it from the oven and add the lemon curd. Bake the tart another 10 minutes or until set.
6. Remove the tart from the oven and let it cool completely. Once cool sprinkle it with powdered sugar just before serving, slice and serve.
The difference between Edna Lewis’ book The Taste of Country Cooking and countless other cookbooks is she truly celebrates food. Not only is it a celebration but it is the gospel of farm to table eating, a hymn of fresh, great tasting, whole food that should be sung loudly as the new testament of eating seasonally. In short, it just might save your soul and at the very least it is extremely soul satisfying.
What drew me in the first time I opened the book was a breakfast menu that simply read Fall Breakfast and the second item listed in the menu was smothered rabbit. As if this wasn’t enough the first time I made Miss Lewis’s pear preserves I became teary eyed because it reminded me of the taste of a long-forgotten-that-was-now-brought-to-mind memory of my grandmother and the pear preserves she made.
When you realize this was published in 1976 it becomes apparent this is a last bastion to how rural America once ate. It isn’t the French influenced food made in a California restaurant kitchen that now stands as the talisman of sustainable eating, but rather, it is 100% American food made with ingredients had on hand and in season. It was written at a time when women wanted out of the kitchen instead of in and the burger joint was still a treat but unfortunately fast becoming a standard.
The book is not a retrospective of days past and food that is dated by out of style trends but it is a classic that is as current and in touch today, maybe even more so, as it was when written.
Miss Lewis does nothing short of pen a rural American classic that treats food with respect and knowledge of how to use the ingredients at hand and get the most out of them. There is nothing fussy about her food and there needn’t be because its simplicity and freshness is what makes it delicious.
In short if you care about sustainable local food you should get yourself a copy. It will fast become your how to manual.
This recipe is based loosely on Miss Lewis’s fried chicken recipe.
Bacon Fried Rabbit
2 fryer rabbits, cut into 6 to 8 pieces
1 piece of slab bacon, cut about 1/4 inch thick
2 cups flour, seasoned with 2 teaspoons black pepper, 1 teaspoon each of thyme and paprika, and 1 teaspoon of salt
1. Season the rabbit with salt and set it aside to let the salt dissolve into the meat.
2. In a large cast iron Dutch oven add enough oil to come up the side by no more than a third. Add the bacon.
3. Turn the heat to medium high and place your fry thermometer into the oil. Place the seasoned flour into a plastic bag with the rabbit. Toss the rabbit around to give it a good coating. Remove the pieces from the flour and let them soak a in the buttermilk. Remove each piece and let the excess drip off. Put the pieces back into the flour for their final coat. Don’t do this to far in advance or the coating gets brittle when fried.
4. When the temperature gets to 350F˚ remove the bacon if it is crispy and start frying the rabbit until golden brown and delicious. If you need to do this in batches do. Don’t over crowd the pot or you will have a greasy mess. So to do this heat the oven to 250˚F. As the rabbit pieces come out of the grease place them on a sheet tray fitted with a wire rack and keep them in the oven till all are done.
A la minute. A French cooking term used to describe a meal that is cooked of the moment. Meaning every thing is fresh and the dish should come together easily, in other words, if you have done your prep you can bring this dish together in less then 3o minutes.
This dish is a great date night, put the kids to bed early and have some alone time with your spouse kind of meal because it is really easy to cook for two. It is also easy to make for a larger crowd buy you have to do a few things differently.
So this is about prep. My prep starts with a whole beef tenderloin. I cleaned them for years while working in restaurants and always buy them whole. If you aren’t comfy doing this then by a couple of filets and simply cut then in half or into thirds depending on their size.
I have backed away from the buffet and have cut down on my portion sizes so I like the total portion size to be 5 to 6 ounces of beef and I call it a day. If you are a hungry man kind of eater then up it to 8 ounces. Regardless of the amount per portion you want the medallions to be no thicker then an inch and no thinner then a 3/4 inch. I am being specific here because you want to be able to cook them quick but you also want to be able to cook them to your desired temperature, rare, medium rare and so forth. Which also means you want all the pieces to be the same thickness so they finish cooking at the same time. It is not as complicated as it sounds and once you get into the thick of it you will easily see what I am rambling on about.
A beurre manie is nothing more then equal parts cold unsalted butter mixed with equal parts flour. It thickens without clumping, it is a short cut for a roux, but you have to be careful to simmer your sauce long enough to keep it from tasting floury. You see in a roux you have already cooked out the flour flavor.
6 two ounce beef medallions
1 1/2 cups of mixed mushrooms of your choice
2 teaspoons garlic, minced
1/3 cup madeira
1/2 cup broth of your choice
2 teaspoons beurre manie
1 tablespoon flat leaf parsley, minced
salt and pepper
1. Season the medallions with salt and pepper.
2. Heat a large skillet over medium high heat until really hot but not smoking. Add enough canola oil just to coat the bottom of the pan. Add the medallions to the pan and very quickly sear them till golden brown and delicious.
3. Remove the medallions from the pan at least one temperature below where you want them, so if you want them cooked medium remove them from the pan at medium rare.
4. Add the butter and while it jumps and sputters add the mushrooms. Season them with salt and pepper. Cook the mushrooms until they are brown and a little crunchy. then add the garlic and cook until fragrant.
5. Carefully add the madeira from a measuring cup not from the bottle. Madeira can easily ignite so be careful and this is the reason not to pour from the bottle because if it ignites the stream of madeira acts as a fuse and then you will have an exploding or at least burning bottle of madeira.
6. Once the madeira has reduced by half add the broth and let it start to reduce. Taste and season the sauce with salt and pepper. Add the parsley and stir to combine
7. Add one teaspoon of the beurre manie to the mushroom sauce and let it dissolve. Let sauce come to a gentle boil and thicken the sauce. If it is thick enough add the parsley and the medallions and warm everything to your liking then serve. If the sauce is not thick enough add the rest of the beurre manie, let it dissolve and the sauce come to a boil again. Now proceed with warming everything. Plate on hot plates and serve.