elcooks

“Madame! Madame! There can be NO pate without cornichon!” I was shopping for enough cheese and pate to feed an army, or at least 25 adults, and the French counterman at my Greenwich Village cheese shop was quite firm in the conviction that I would be remiss if guests were not offered tiny pickles.

It may or may not be possible to enjoy pureed meat and game without little pickles, but I can assure you that there can be NO soup without stock. Sure, you can use a base of water, but if you use stock instead, soup will be more flavorful, as will rice. Gravy will be richer, sauces fuller, and stock really is necessary if you want your risotto to taste like something other than mushy rice. For that matter, it adds considerably to anything you might want to poach or braise as well.

Stock is not a difficult or mysterious foodstuff. Despite the labeling on some cans, it’s not the same as broth; the former is an ingredient and the latter is the liquid in the finished product. You can buy canned stock in the soup aisle and it’s still better than using water for most things but there are three good “E” reasons why you should make your own:

ECONOMIC:
Here in Brooklyn, a 14 ½ oz. can of stock costs $1.29, which means if I’m making a big pot of soup, I’ll need six cans, at a cost of $7.74. While this may not seem like a punishing amount, it’s doubtful that I will have spent half that much making two or more gallons of stock. It’s true that bouillon cubes are cheaper and not as heavy as cans, but they are generally 50-70% salt, and contain MSG besides. If you’re good with that, go for it. Personally, I’m not.

EPICUREAN:
Simply put, house-made stock tastes better, and can be personalized. Hate celery? No need to add it. Love carrots? Add more. More importantly, you know exactly what’s going in the pot and how fresh it is. The can of College Inn brand chicken stock, purchased for research and sitting on my desk, contains wheat gluten protein, mono and diglycerides, and xanthan gum, all things that have no business being in pot with chicken. If that wasn’t enough, both the carrot and the onion are concentrated juice extracts and one single serving ( 8 onces) contains 39% of acceptable daily sodium levels. Assuming you don’t care about additives or processed foods, you can still taste the difference. Go ahead. Try it. If you aren’t convinced that you want to make your own stock, buy a fresh made container, which many stores will have in a gourmet refrigerator case, and a can of stock and taste for yourself.

ENVIRONMENTAL:
Canned stock is probably one of the three worst things you could buy, along with bottled vegetable dressing and jarred pasta sauce, subjects for another day. The chicken is raised in one location, and the vegetables in another. The non-food ingredients are produced somewhere else and the vegetables are likely processed somewhere else again. A can is manufactured someplace entirely different. All of these things have to be shipped to one central packaging plant, assembled, loaded onto a truck, and driven to your supermarket. After all that, you’re still left with an empty can that must be properly disposed of and may be added to landfill, depending on the type of regional recycling program you have. Eating locally is a fine idea, if not always practical, but it should be possible to have an ingredient that is not more well traveled than you are.

Of course, if you don’t already make your own stock, you’ll come up with three reasons not to make it:

It takes too long.
Well, sure, it takes a few hours on the top of your stove, but with the exception of checking on it every once and a while, it needs no attention. You can read a book, watch a movie, play a game, or engage in any other pleasurable pastime. It also fills your entire house with delicious smells, a nice added benefit for doing almost nothing.

You have to do something with gallons of stock.
Sure. This is my freezer.

It’s a small freezer and usually contains three kids of stock, a bottle of vodka, frozen peas, and several pints of ice cream. Just remember that Ziploc containers are your friend and Chinese take-out containers can be repurposed.

It’s hard.
Well, if you do a search on Epicurious.com, I can see why you’d think so. You’ll find hundreds of different stock recipes, many with completely conflicting information. Ignore them all. It’s not rocket science, and really, you can’t mess it up. In its most simplified form, throw ingredients into a big pot. Cover with cold water. Cover the pot, bring to a boil, partly cover and reduce to a slowly bubbling simmer. Let it do its thing for a few hours, until the amount of liquid has gone done a few inches. If you want more details, this is how I do it.



EL’S BASIC CHICKEN STOCK

Note: If you don’t have a stockpot with a strainer insert, you can use any big pot and strain the liquid through a sieve later.

Assuming you’ve roasted a chicken, pull any leftovers off the bird and place the carcass in the pot; the meat on the back is more than enough to flavor the liquid. Add to this the giblets, if you have them, a few carrots and a stalk or two of celery, a quartered onion, and as much garlic as you care for. Keep in mind that you can add the onion and garlic paper and the ends of vegetables that you’d ordinarily throw out. Add your seasoning; I use a handful of whole peppercorns, a few sprigs of parsley, some rosemary, preferably fresh, a small bit of salt, and pretty much anything else I have around that sounds good. As above, cover, bring to a boil, reduce heat to a simmer/occasional bubble and adjust the lid so that the pot is only partly covered, and walk away. You’ll know it’s done by the smell, the taste and by how much the liquid has gone down. When it’s done, I generally cover it, turn off the heat and go to bed; by morning, it will be cool enough to transfer to storage containers. Use the smallest containers you have, since it will be easier to defrost those for cooking liquid if you’re not making soup. Be sure to put the date and type of stock on the container lid. Skim any fat from the top of the stock, strain the liquid through a sieve as you’re pouring into containers, and put the containers in the freezer. You’re done.

The process is similar for a vegetarian stock (I roast the veggies first, but lots of people don’t) or meat stock, which will need to be skimmed.

You’re now set for a winter of soup and other flavorful meals.

One of the best meals I ever ate was not in a restaurant or cooked by professionals, and was eaten sans garnish and sans utensils. It was a roast chicken, and the diners just pulled the meat off the bone with their fingers. Some things may be hard to cook at home on a budget and without a sous chef, but happily, roast chicken is not among them. It’s easy, requires no garnish or embellishments, and while a chef might carve perfect medallions of graduating size, create an amazing reduction using fleetingly available fruits, or garnish the dish with artfully placed dollops of seasoned oil, none of these things actually add anything to a well roasted chicken.

Cooking a chicken is relatively easy. Writing about it is like writing about how to ride a bicycle. If you already know how, any description makes it sounds alien and overly complex. If you do not, it just sounds daunting. However, a recent survey would indicate that many people* do not bother with this simple feast so writing about roast chicken, like cooking it, is a worthwhile endeavor.

I happen to like garlic so the instructions below are for garlic-crusted chicken. However, if you don’t like it or don’t like it as much as I do, a chicken doesn’t need to be seasoned with anything more than salt and pepper before going in the oven. Like citrus and ginger? You can make a glaze with those ingredients, or rub the bird with lavender, depending on your preference. The only thing that is an immutable part of the process is that the chicken needs to be cooked through – conventional wisdom is to cook chicken to an internal temperature of 180F, although recent studies show that salmonella is completely killed at 160F. These instructions are for a 350F oven, which is a standard procedure. On average, it will take 20 minutes per pound to cook an unstuffed bird; add 25% for any kind of stuffing, including a quarter onion, some herbs, or a traditional bread-based stuffing. The more densely the cavity is packed, the more time you’ll need to add. Add 5% more time if you’ve given the bird any sort of crust or topping.

This is the garlic-crusted chicken I recently made:



Yours will look like this, too. Here goes:

Preheat oven to 350.

Mince a head of garlic, and place it in a small bowl with salt (which I don’t use) and pepper, along with any other seasonings you like; I added fresh, chopped rosemary to the chicken pictured above. Add to this a quantity of olive oil or melted butter – I use olive oil. The mixture should be quite thick, garlic suspended in oil rather than oil with some garlic. Set aside.

You’ll want to keep the chicken out of its own grease while cooking. You can use a roasting pan with a “V” insert, which Williams-Sonoma will be happy to sell you, or an oven-proof pan or skillet with three carrots paced in the pan; I use a 12” cast iron skillet. In either event, prepare your roasting vessel for the chicken.

Remove the chicken from the packaging. Honestly, this is the messiest and most troublesome part of the task. Rinse the bird inside and out and place in the cooking vessel, breast side up. Tucks the wings in, if you like. At this point, you can stuff the cavity with whatever you want, but for this preparation I use a few onion slices or just a sprig of fresh rosemary. There is no need to truss the chicken unless you’re worried about keeping the contents of an overly stuffed cavity.

Spoon, pour or brush the chicken with the oil/garlic mixture, taking care to reserve some.

Put the chicken in the oven and walk away. This is not a weekday get-home-from-work meal; depending on the size of your bird, you have anywhere from 90 minutes to 2+ hours, enough time to read a book, catch up on some e-mail, or watch the game. If, like me, you honestly enjoy being in the kitchen, you can putter, prepare complicated sides, or make dessert.

You should peek in on the chicken every 20-30 minutes, and brush a little more oil-garlic mixture on each time. Once the chicken starts to render its juices, about 2/3 or the way through the process, you can baste with the pan juices. To do this, you do not need any specialized equipment and can just spoon some of the juices on the chicken, being careful not to burn yourself. If you’re a klutz, a conventional baster (an inexpensive item) is probably the way to go.

Here’s how you know when the chicken is done: the pan juices will look different. The legs will wiggle freely, and when pricked by a fork between the joint (where the leg meets the body) the juices will run clear. If you have a nervous disposition or are particularly concerned about salmonella, a growing problem in the poultry industry, you can insert an instant read meat thermometer (another item you can find for $10 or less) and make sure that the internal temperature is between 165 and 180 F.

That’s it. You’re done. Let the chicken rest for 10-15 minutes before you start to carve, which gives you plenty of time to make gravy and/or quickly cook a green vegetable. You can bake potatoes in the same oven as the chicken, or cut up root vegetables and roast them with your chicken, and since you’ll have little last minute preparation, this meal works as well for company as for a stay-at-home dinner.

In the event that you are worried about amounts, a 5-7 roaster will feed a family of 4-5. The chicken pictured above was organic, a little over three pounds and fed two adults, with some table scraps for the dog. We did have leftovers and with the addition of some mayonnaise, celery and pine nuts it I had chicken salad for the following two afternoons:



Bon Appetit!



*Actually, I’m unaware of any such culinary survey – I just asked a couple of friends.

It’s not that I don’t understand time constraints; I really just don’t understand jarred spaghetti sauce. I need to tell you that I am not a full-time mom and have never been, except for two months in 1997. Neither am I a single career woman. Like many, I balance a career, kids, and the rest of life. So while it’s true that on weekends I’ll bake my own bread or have a dinner party, on weeknights I seldom spend less than 45 minutes on dinner prep, usually less than a half an hour; it’s possible to have a home-cooked meal on the table in less time than it would take to order in and wait for the food to be delivered. There are dozens (probably hundreds, but I only know dozens) of sauces that can be made in the time it takes to boil water and cook pasta and they are all better than something in a jar that was made in a factory, probably with added sugar. It’s true that marinara and some other sauces require long and slow cooking, but even those can mostly simmer unattended and be frozen for a later date. But I digress; this is about quick sauces.

My favorite is pasta puttanesca. While I don’t speak Italian, I’m told that it translates to “pasta of whores” or “in the style of whores,” and legend has it that Roman prostitutes favored this dish for being quick, cheap, flavorful and something that could be thrown together between client appointments, although one would imagine that the gentlemen paying for services would have to like strong flavors as well. Presumably, if you live in Rome, the ingredients are all things you have around. None of them are perishable, so it’s all stuff that’s easy to keep on hand, even in a modern American kitchen, and it’s delicious!



Pasta Puttanesca

1 lb spaghetti
1/4 C. olive oil
2 cans Italian plum tomatoes, drained and chopped
1/2 C. small pitted olives
1/4 C. capers
1 tin of anchovies, coarsely chopped
~4 large cloves of garlic, chopped
1 tea oregano
red pepper flakes to taste, ~ 1/4 tea.
Chopped parsley, optional
Grated cheese, to garnish

Put water up to boil. When you are nearly ready to put the pasta in the water, put the heat on under your skillet. Put the pasta in the boiling water. Put the olive oil and tomatoes in the skillet and allow the mixture to come to a boil. Add each item, one at a time, combining before adding the next thing. When you get to the anchovies, mush them up into the sauce; they will mostly dissolve. Drain the pasta and return to the pot. Add the sauce to the pasta and toss well. Serve with grated cheese, a loaf of bread, a nice red table wine, and you’re done, unless you want a green veg, too.

Nothing fancy here. No pictures. No funny or personal stories. Just Chili.

No picture, because everyone always eats too quickly. Anyway, chili isn’t all that pretty.

CHILI:
• 2 lbs ground beef
• 1 lb ground lamb
• 1 lb sausage meat, hot or sweet depending on taste and availability; I prefer hot
• 1 1/2 large yellow onions, chopped
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/4 C. olive oil
• 2 cans (35 oz each) canned plum tomatoes, drained and sliced
• 1 1/2-2 6 oz cans of tomato paste
• 1/4 C. Dijon mustard
• ~ 1 bottle of GOOD beer, something you’d want to drink with the chili
• 2 oz. Unsweetened chocolate
• juice of 1/2 a lemon
• minced fresh hot peppers; I usually use 2-3 jalapenos, 2 fresnos. Be careful, especially if you use scotch bonnets. Don’t rub your eyes, insert contacts, etc. after cutting the chilis. Like, for a day.
• 2 T. oregano
• 2 T. basil
• ~ 1 oz cumin
• 2 + oz good quality chili powder
• lots of fresh ground pepper
• small heap (~1/2 oz cayenne)
• ~ 1/2 oz ground cinnamon
• 2 sticks of cinnamon
• a sprinkling of paprika
• 1 1/2 T. salt
• If you like beans, 1-2 cans of kidney, pinto, or whatever else you like. I don’t add them.

1. chop onions, mince garlic
2. heat oil in a soup kettle, (cast iron) dutch oven or other similar pot
3. Add onions, garlic, cover until translucent, about 10 minutes, stirring once in a while.
4. Add all meat, crumbling, stir occasionally until browned, 10-15 minutes
5. Remove as much fat from the pot as you can. You should get at least one big glass of the stuff. You don’t want greasy chili
6. While the meat is browning, you have plenty of time to prep all other ingredients.
7. When meat is browned, add minced fresh hot peppers. Stir to blend well.
8. Add tomato paste, mustard, all spices. Stir until well integrated with the meat.
9. Add tomatoes, lemon juice, beer. Stir well.
10. Add chocolate and stir until melted and combined.
11. Add beans, if you are using them.
12. Place cover on the pot, walk away and try not to think about it for 10-15 minutes. Come back and taste. Adjust any and all seasonings to your preference. You can even add more fresh hot peppers
13. Keep over a low flame until you are ready to serve, or if you have made it early in the day, turn off the heat, put the cover on the chili, and reheat 10 minutes before serving.
14. Serve with sides of grated cheese, sour cream, diced red onions. If you want “Cincinati” style chili, make some spaghetti and put some in each person’s bowl before the chili. If you’re inclined, corn bread is also a nice addition to this meal, and with some veggie (I usually serve carrots, cherry tomatoes and hummus) you have an entire meal for 8-12 people.

I usually serve this on Mondays, when I usually have a maximum number of family members and a business meeting (at home) preceding dinner. There’s enough for everyone, and I don’t have to fuss while trying to discuss work. There's usually enough for lunch the next day, too.

Note: In that wonderful world of theory, this chili is adapted from the Silver Palate Cookbook, except that it’s been changed so much that if you tasted both, you wouldn’t think they had much in common. That’s OK; if you don’t like something about my recipe, change it accordingly; chili is cowboy food, originally made with what was available. Also, this recipe assumes that you are working with four pounds of meat; so if you’re having 20 people, adjust accordingly. Also, all spice amounts are very approximate and after you do it a few times, you'll be able to "see" the right amount.

X-Posted to eleanor

There’s this family tradition: birthdays, like executions, entitle the celebrant to the meal of his or her choice. Well, except that there is no cost restriction and the person isn’t shot, gassed, hung or injected after dessert. To be more exact, this is a relatively new tradition of my own design; the only person in my family of birth to get a special meal (pork chops and pineapple upside down cake) was my brother, although in view of my mother’s utter lack of culinary ability, that might not have been a bad thing.

Friends can attain the status of family, especially after nearly20 years; I’ve known Ellen for about that long, and since her birthday is on New Year’s Eve, she gets a party, rather than just a meal. Some years it’s cheese platters and other years it’s a full buffet dinner. Mostly, Ellen doesn’t case as long as she gets these cookies:



They came into my family by way of the New York Times cookbook, which considers them the best cookie recipe ever invented, improved on (IMO) by the changes made by Aunt Katie, who taught me most of what I know about baking and some of what I know about cooking: hazelnuts instead of walnuts; balls instead of crescents; and vanilla added to the dough, rather than to the powdered sugar.

Hazelnut Snowballs:
1 C. hazelnuts
1/2 lb (2 sticks) butter, room temperature
3/4 C. sugar
1 tea vanilla
2 1/2 C. flour
Confectioner’s sugar, about 1C or as needed

1. Preheat over to 350.
2. Finely grind nuts in a food processor or a coffee grinder, which is what I use; just wipe the coffee grinds out first.
3. Cream butter and sugar. Add vanilla, nuts, flour and mix until a smooth dough forms.
4. Shape dough into small balls
5. Bake on an ungreased cookie sheet until light brown, 15-18 minutes.
6. While still warm, but cool enough to handle, roll cookies in powdered sugar, or for a most professional look, you can sift the sugar over the cookies.

Also, if you want to use walnuts or pecans or almonds instead of hazelnuts, they’ll work, too.

This is a very forgiving recipe. You can grind the nuts in a food processor and add the rest of your ingredients in, or you can easily do the entire thing (except grinding the nuts) by hand.

X-Posted to eleanor

I’m more accomplished as a cook than a baker, mostly because the two things reward very different skill sets and patience and trust, both necessary for great baking, are not in mine. Also, I don’t love cake. Most of it tends to be too dry and floury and sweet; I don’t like pancakes either, for much the same reason. Red Velvet Cake, which I like in concept and love to look at, is particularly susceptible to dryness, and yet, it seemed the right thing to make with the inaugural use of my Shiny Red Kitchen Aid. Because I have Poor Impulse Control and because the cake in question was for the birthday of Ellen, who edits horror fiction, I was overcome by the compulsion to add an entire 1-oz bottle of red food color to the cream cheese frosting. This

was the result. Viennese hazelnut snowballs are in the background, and coffee cups are in the foreground. I didn’t take a picture of the inside of the cake, but it was two layers, and a different but still shocking shade of red.

Now, let me say that based on my experiences, I’m not sure why Red Velvet Cake is ever dry. To be more exact, I don’t know why it ever should be, but I have a few guesses about why it frequently is, and I suspect that the main culprits are over baking and refrigeration or other storage that dries the cake out. I made mine the day I planned to serve it, and it was incredibly moist and flavorful.

About the cake:

The standard Red Velvet recipe calls for 2 1/4 cups of flour, 1 1/2 cup of sugar, 1 stick of butter, and 2 large eggs. I have heard of people adding an extra stick of butter to their red velvet cakes, but in my opinion, you just don’t fuck with those four things. Ever. Mess with the proportions and you mess with the essential molecular structure of your cake. The standard Red Velvet recipe also calls for 1 cup of buttermilk. If you omit it or use regular milk, the result will in fact be dry as a bone. I did make a few deviations from the standard southern recipe, as follows:
I added and extra pat of butter, maybe 2 Tablespoons.
I doubled the amount of cocoa powder.
I doubled the amount of vanilla.
I used self-rising cake flour, because that was what my supermarket had. As a result, I omitted baking powder and salt.
I sifted the flour twice, both before measuring and then again with other dry ingredients.
In addition to butter cream frosting, I added blueberries between the layers. I could have used a red berry, but at this time of year, strawberries are horribly expensive and tasteless, and to my palate, raspberries would have become too mushy.
And now, the recipe as I made it:
Cake
2 1/4 cups sifted self-rising cake flour (sifted, then measured)
4 Tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup buttermilk
1 1 oz. bottle red food coloring
1 teaspoon distilled white vinegar
2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter + a pat, not less than 1 or more than 3 Tablespoons, room temperature
2 large eggs

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour two 9-inch-diameter cake pans with 1 1/2-inch-high sides. DO NOT STINT ON BUTTERING OR FLOURING YOUR PANS OR HALF YOUR CAKE WILL STICK WHEN YOU TRY TO TURN IT OUT! Sift sifted flour, cocoa powder and baking soda into medium bowl. Whisk buttermilk, food coloring, vinegar, and vanilla in small bowl to blend. Using a Shiny Red Kitchen Aid or other electric mixer, beat sugar and butter in large bowl until well blended. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating until well blended after each addition. Beat in dry ingredients in 4 additions alternately with buttermilk mixture in 3 additions.

Divide batter between prepared pans. Bake cakes until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 24 minutes. CHECK TO SEE IF A TOOTHPICK COMES OUT CLEAN AND REMOVE IMMEDIATELY WHEN IT DOES. Cool in pans for 10 minutes. Turn cakes out onto racks; cool completely. To turn layers out, try putting a plate on top, inverting, giving a good tap, and the cake should come out on the plate.

Cream cheese frosting:
Beat 1 block of cream cheese and 1 stick of butter until smooth. Beat in 1 Tablespoon of vanilla. Add 1 1/2 cups (a box, more or less) of powdered sugar and beat until smooth. Food coloring optional, but you could make pink for Valentine’s day, leave it white and serve with blueberries for July 4th, or make it green and serve a red-and-green Christmas cake.

Assembly: place one layer on a platter and spread (about) 1 C. of frosting over it. Lightly press berries (I used 1 container) into frosting. Place the other layer on top, and spread frosting over the top and sides. Lightly press (1 container) of raspberries onto top of cake.

Note: If you decorate a cake with berries, it’s pretty hard to write “Happy Birthday Ellen” or much of anything else on top. To get around this, you can take (white or light colored) decorating icing, such as you buy in a tube at the supermarket, and rite what you want on the back of a chocolate bar. In this case, the script was provided by the fabulous Shelly Rae.

Viennese Hazelnut Snowballs on the next rock.

Strawberries and whipped cream is just about the easiest company dessert you can serve, and there isn’t much to tell. Hull and slice (or quarter) strawberries, toss them with a little bit of triple sec and sugar, let sit while you make your whipped cream. And yes, make the whipped cream from heavy cream with some sugar and some vanilla if you like; it will take you five minutes and it’s a million squillion times better than what comes in a can. The only trick to serving strawberries for dessert is in presentation, and while I have a preferred method, you are only limited by your imagination.

I take a cocktail glass and put a dollop of whipped cream on the bottom, then add strawberries, more whipped cream, continue until the glass is topped off, making sure that the last layer is whipped cream and that you are sparing with the whipped cream throughout – you want the taste of the berries to come through. If you like, you can garnish each cocktail glass with a mint leaf, put the glass on a saucer, and put a couple of cookies on each platter.

As a variation, you can use a high quality vanilla ice cream or gelato instead of the cream, and toss the strawberries in balsamic vinegar instead of triple sec.

You’re done, and this is easy and (provided you aren’t too generous with the shipped cream) healthy enough that you can serve dessert to your family whenever berries are in season – it doesn’t have to be strawberries.

COCONUT RICE

This is mild and sweet, to compliment the spicy fish sauce. As with any rice, use a 2:1 liquid to rice ratio. You’ll want 1C: 2C for four, 1.5C: 3C for six.

Thinly slice a scallion, and some peeled ginger. Heat and melt butter in a pan and add the scallions and ginger and sauté until fragrant. Add the rice to the pot and stir until it’s coated with butter. Add water, substituting about 1/2C coconut milk for an equal amount of water. Add a handful of two (to taste) of shredded coconut, cover and cook over a low heat for 20 minutes.


SNOW PEAS

Bring a pot of water to a full boil – not a simmer or a gentle boil. Add the snow peas (which you’ve already washed) and blanche – boil just for 3-4 minutes. Remove from heat and drain. You can do this hours in advance and just chill the snow peas. About ten minutes before you’re ready to serve, heat butter in a skillet or pan. You can use vegetable oil or sesame oil of you prefer. While the oil is heating, thinly slice ginger, to taste. Add some sesame seeds to the pan, when they just begin to turn golden, add the ginger. After another minute, add the snow peas and cook, stirring, until just heated through, 3-5 minutes.

This recipe is very forgiving. If you can’t find banana leaves (Asian and tropical markets usually have them, frozen) you can use grape leaves. Can’t find those? Parchment paper or aluminum foil will work just fine, although the presentation won’t be as stunning. Like it hotter? Add another chili. Like more ginger? Add it. If you are vegan or you’re entertaining vegan friends, you can use vegetables in place of fish, and omit the fish sauce. And while I use basa (a Vietnamese farmed catfish) you can use monkfish, mahi mahi, flounder, or anything else that’s fairly mild. Best of all, you can make the sauce in advance (the day before, if you like) and prep the fish (put it in the banana leaf packets) early in the day, and you have almost no work when your dinner guests arrive.

This version of the recipe serves six.

Six 6 oz fish fillets. You can use any sort you like, but note that basa is $4.99-5.99 a lb, even in New York; you don’t need the most expensive fish for this recipe.

Banana leaves, or, if unavailable, any other type of leaf or cooking wrap.

Toothpicks, rosemary sprigs, or cute little bamboo skewers

For sauce:
A little olive oil
2 fresh chilies, preferably red. I use serranos, and usually use two and a half or three
2 stalks lemon grass, outer leaves removed
1 glove garlic, peeled and smashed
Cilantro, about two big handfuls
The zest of two limes
The juice of two limes
1 can coconut milk
2 T sesame oil
1 T soy sauce (I use lite)
A drizzle of fish sauce, available at Asian markets
Ginger, peeled and sliced, at least 2 T, although I use 3-4
Put all ingredients in the blender and puree until it’s well, pureed. Taste, and add more lime juice, chili pepper, ginger, whatever works for you.

Preheat oven to 450

Take your package of banana leaves out of the freezer and let them sit on the counter until they are just pliable. You can use a scissor to cut a length of leaf, about the size of a baking sheet. Put a couple of spoonfuls of sauce on the leaf, a fish fillet on top, more sauce on top of the fish, and fold the leaf up, holding it together with your cute little bamboo skewer, or whatever else you’re using. Lather, rinse, repeat. Put packets on a baking sheet – you’ll be able to fit about 3 per sheet. Cook in a 450 oven for 15 minutes, remove and let rest for 5 minutes. Put a packet on each plate and serve to your guests. Remove the skewers from your own banana leaf packet, thus demonstrating how to do it. Make sure you have a bowl or two on the table for the discarded leaves, and serve with rice and a crisp green vegetable. And again, you’ll only be in the kitchen and away from your guests for a few minutes.

Recipes for rice and snow peas continued on the next rock.

This is very refreshing and (unless you dress it up) very mild, so it’s an excellent first course for a spicy or highly seasoned meal. If you’re feeding your family, you can serve it along with some crusty bread and a salad, and you have a summer dinner. If you are having company, you can ladle it into small, pretty bowls and garnish it with lemon slices, avocado strips, mint leaves, cilantro sprigs, diced scallions, or swirls of sour cream, flavored oils, or anything else that strikes your fancy. It’s also easy to make; everything will fit in your blender if you halve the amounts, or you can do it in two batches in your blender, or use your hand-held stick blender. If you don’t have one, get one; soups suddenly become easy and a joy to make. The basic recipe follows, with variations and suggestions below.

Chilled Avocado and Cucumber Soup

Makes 6 appetizer portions, 4 meals portions, and can be halved for individual or couple consumption.

1 cucumber
2 ripe avocados
2 scallions
2 cloves garlic
4 T. cilantro
4T fresh lemon juice
1 C plain yogurt
1 C cold water (or chicken or vegetable stock)
Some ice cubes or chipped ice

Peel the cucumber and peel and pit the avocados. Cut them into pieces that will fit into a blender. Cut the scallions into pieces. Peel and smash (well, you can do this in the opposite order) the garlic. Put everything into the blender, along with the yogurt, lemon juice, water or other liquid. Blend. If you’re using a hand-held blender, put everything into a bowl and immerse the stick blender; it will be smooth and creamy in a couple of minutes. Taste the soup, and add salt and pepper to taste. If it is too think, add more liquid or blend in more ice cubes. You’re done. Almost.

Use whole milk (all the fat) yogurt. It makes a big difference to the texture. Use the juice of an entire lemon. If you have more lemon juice than is called for, that’s fine, but if you skimp on it, the soup will be flat. For more flavor, use an extra scallion. For a little bit of a kick, sprinkle some cayenne pepper on the soup just before serving.

Enjoy!

Last night I hosted a dinner party for six women, and while I didn’t intend to have a culinary theme, the promise of spring seemed to be on everyone’s plates; it was a very green meal, and I don’t mean that in the environmentally friendly way.

The menu:

Chilled cucumber and avocado soup

Fish cooked in banana leaves, with a lemongrass/cilantro/lime sauce

Snow peas, sautéed with sliced ginger and sesame seeds

Coconut rice

Sliced strawberries with whipped cream., garnished with mint

All of the above was served with truly astonishing amounts of white wine.

No, there are no pictures, an oversight on my part, but I will post all recipes, one per post, and starting with the first course.

I’ve always enjoyed eating alone. There’s a pub across the street and sometimes I go there by myself, bring a book, order a burger, and savor the experience of being surrounded by people and still being able to read in peace. Sometimes I enjoy ordering in and eating in front of the television or better, yet, in bed, and every now and then I’ll have a meal of cheesy-poofs and cold cuts, just because I’m a grown-up and nobody can stop me. What I love best is having a first rate meal and a glass of wine at home, with the peace to eat at my own pace and think my own thoughts, and that’s just what I did quite recently.

I had gone for five entire weeks without having a single night to myself, the result of the kids, company, and a houseguest. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy the activity, because I did, and while I’m pretty sociable and outgoing, nobody is really that friendly. At the end of five weeks I found myself alone at 6 o’clock, standing in my kitchen, and wondering what to do about dinner; I was hungry enough that I didn’t want to wait for food to be delivered. A look in the freezer uncovered a single tilapia fillet, and while the refrigerator was edging to the barren side, I found some garlic, an eggplant, a couple of hot peppers, and a lime.

This is what I made, in twenty minutes from start to finish, and with ingredients I had on hand. It’s a very close, quicker cousin to a dish I cook for my family, mentioned somewhere in Eleanor.



FISH FOR ONE: Tilapia on a bed of roasted eggplant

I used:
1 smallish eggplant
1 tilapia fillet
1 lime
some garlic
a hot pepper
some olive oil
Some salt and pepper

First, I defrosted the fish in the microwave and then I pre-heated my oven to a somewhat random 350 degrees, which is a fine all-purpose temperature.

Then I sliced the eggplant, put a small amount of olive oil on a baking tray, put the slices of eggplant on the tray, brushed them with a little more oil and sprinkled them with some salt and pepper, and put the tray in the oven.

Next, I cut the garlic (about 4 cloves) into small pieces, heated a pan over medium heat, added a couple of tablespoons of olive oil, and added the garlic. While it started to turn golden, I quickly diced a long red pepper and set it aside.

Then, I put the tilapia fillet in the pan with the garlic, cooked it for maybe 3-4 minutes on one side, turned it, added the hot pepper to the pan, and cooked it on the other side.

When the fish was done, I removed the eggplant from the oven; it was soft, but not mushy. I put the eggplant slices on a plate and using a slotted spatula, removed the now-cooked fish to the plate, placing it on top of the eggplant.

I squeezed a half a lime directly into the pan juices; I used a hand-held citrus squeezer but you can use any other sort of device you like, juice the lime while the fish is cooking, or even use bottled lime juice, if you keep it around. Then, I let the lime juice bubble away with the pan drippings for all of 30 seconds, poured the sauce over the fish, and dinner was ready.

I enjoyed this with a glass of white wine, which again, I just happened to have around, and if I’d had some crusty bread, that would have been nice, too.

Basically, this dish is essentially a fillet of mild white fish pan-cooked in olive oil and served on a bed of vegetables. You could use any sort of fish. You could any seasoning you like. You could use a different vegetable, like spinach or zucchini or carrots or you could serve the fish on a bed of rice or pasta. You could use a lemon or wine or stock.

You can serve yourself a meal as good as you would serve to company, because you deserve it.

Doesn’t this look delicious?



Most people have the wrong idea about brussel sprouts; one accomplished cook of my acquaintance calls them “mean little cabbages,” and most people seem to have similar opinions on the subject. The truth is they tend to be prepared in a way that would instill blind terror in the most stout of hearts. In fact, the thing that is wrong with brussel sprouts is the same thing that is wrong with many kinds of vegetables; people boil them until they aren’t merely dead but really quite sincerely dead, and much sadness and anxiety can be eliminated by removing the vegetable from the heat sooner rather than later. A good rule of thumb when boiling green vegetables is to take them off the stove and drain them as soon as you notice that the color has gone from an ordinary green to a bright green. The following preparation is so popular in my family that I once stabbed Betsy, now 16, for the last brussel sprout. Mind you, it was with a fork, not a knife, and really wasn’t more than a tap with the prongs, but the poor child is still in therapy.

Yummy Brussel Sprouts

To prepare the sprouts, cut the bottoms off, then cut an X (two knife marks) in the bottom, peel off the now loose and icky outer leaves, and rinse. Put the sprouts in a pot of water, bring to a boil, and remove and drain when they are a bright green. Return the now empty pot to the stove and put maybe a Tablespoon or two of butter in the pot, along with an equal amount of olive oil. When the butter foam subsides, put the now boiled sprouts in the pan, coat with the butter/oil mixture, add salt and pepper to taste, and continue cooking over a medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, for up to an additional ten minutes. I use two packages of sprouts for six people.

You’ll notice that there are potatoes in the picture as well, and they are just as easy to make, just as delicious.

Long Island New Potatoes

Look, it doesn’t matter if they’re really from Long Island or not, but what does matter is that you get small, thinned-skinned new potatoes. In many markets, you’ll have a choice of yellow, red or white skinned potatoes, but I prefer the red, possibly because that’s what I grew up with. The procedure is almost the same as it is for the sprouts, above, except that you can forget about cutting the stems off or discarding the outer leaves.

Wash the potatoes, put in a pot with water, bring to a boil, and boil for about 20 minutes or until they are pretty well cooked. You can tell by prodding one with a fork; if it’s hard, it needs more time. When the potatoes are cooked through, remove from heat and drain. Return the now empty pot to the stove and put maybe a Tablespoon or two of butter in the pot, along with an equal amount of olive oil. When the butter foam subsides, put the now boiled potatoes in the pan, coat with the butter/oil mixture, add salt and pepper to taste, and continue cooking over a medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, for up to an additional ten minutes. As a buying guide, you’ll need no more than five potatoes per person

Yum!

This is basically an Alsatian preparation and it’s easy. It’s better still if you’re willing to experiment a little and if you have mastered a few basic techniques.

First, let me tell you that braising in your friend. If you don’t know, braising is a cooking technique in which you brown the meat in fat, add liquid to the pan, cover the pan with a lid or tin foil, and cook it at a simmer until done. This process produces moist and flavorful food, the flavors of the braising liquid and seasonings intensifying during cooking.

Next, let me remind you that browning is not the same as frying. You are coating the thing to be browned with a small amount of flour and/or seasonings, and are putting it in a pan with just a small amount of fat.

Now, let’s cook. You’ll need:

1 pork chop per person. I prefer to use a Frenched rib chop, but a bone-in center chop, easier to obtain in most places, will do nicely.

One large onion, preferably sweet, like Vidalia, sliced fairly thinly.

Butter, also olive oil, if you like

Flour

Powdered sage

Salt and pepper

White wine, preferably Riesling

Orange juice

Bay leaves

Apples

Put 2-4 Tablespoons of butter, depending on the size of your pan, or equal amounts of butter and olive oil, not as traditional but a bit healthier, in a pan or skillet – I use cast iron but you can use anything big enough to hold the pork chops. When the butter is melted and the foam has subsided, put the sliced onions the pan and cook until the onions take on a nice gold color.

Put a few Tablespoons of sage, about an equal amount of flour, and some salt and pepper on a plate and mix together. Lightly coat the pork chops in the flour-sage mix.

Add the coated pork chops to the pan with the now-gold onions, which you’ll probably have to push to the side. Brown over a medium heat – it should take about five minutes per side. When the chops are browned (that is, a pleasant gold color, not charred) add liquid. You don’t want to cover the chops, but do want the liquid to come up to 1/3 to 1/2 the side of the chops. I use mostly Riesling with a little orange juice, but you can play with the mixture to taste, or use all of one and not the other. Generally, I find that if the Riesling is dry, use a little more OJ, and if it’s sweet, use less OJ. When the liquid is in the pan, add a bay leaf or two and any other seasonings you like. Cover, reduce the heat, and simmer.

You really can overcook pork, and the total simmer time probably shouldn’t take more than 30 minutes depending on how many chops you’re cooking at once and how thick they are. If you’re not sure if it’s done, try prodding a chop with a fork. Still not sure? Make a little cut and peak inside.

While the contents of the pan are simmering away, thinly slice some apples. I don’t bother skinning them, but you can. I usually use one apple for four chops and two for six chops, but it’s a matter of taste. When the chops are mostly cooked, introduce the apples to the mixture and cover again. You don’t want the apples to get mushy and lose their shape, so unless you’re using Jonathans of Northern Spy apples, you won’t want to cook them for more than a total of ten minutes.

When the chops are cooked, remove to a serving platter. Raise the heat and reduce the liquid. If after a couple of minutes, it still looks thin to you, put some of the liquid in a small glass, add a spoon of flour to the glass, mix into a paste, introduce the paste to the liquid, and whisk in well. When the sauce has attained a texture to your liking, pour over chops, and serve.

Yum!

I come from a long line of Jews Who Do Not Keep Kosher. According to family oral history, my grandfather would sit on the stoop of his apartment building and eat oysters. Last year I went to spend Yom Kippur with my sister, who wanted to go out for lobster. And this past Passover, ex-Honey-Bunny and I got into a massive argument about my potato kugel, or more accurately, the bacon fat I wanted to cook it with. Ex-H.B. was nearly apoplectic and was on the verge of jumping up and down.

“You. Can’t. Do. That. IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE KOSHER FOR PASSOVER!”

At this juncture, I should tell you that HB is not Jewish, although he is from New York City, which counts for something.

“Look,” I told HB, “Kosher for Passover is about not consuming leavened products. Bacon grease is not a leavened product. There is no bread involved. I don’t keep kosher. I do not separate meat and dairy and eat shellfish with gay abandon. I fail to see the problem.”

HB had enough of a problem, loudly, and in my kitchen, that I finally sent him to Sammy’s Romanian, a kind of pay-as-you-go Bar Mitzvah on the Lower East Side, where it’s possible to buy schmaltz to go. If you don’t know, schmaltz is rendered chicken fat. It costs $20 a quart, is traditional in potato kugel and other things that require fat, tastes better than you’d think, and when you dine at Sammy’s, there are containers of it on the table and you can pour it, like maple syrup on pancakes, directly onto bread.

But this isn’t about Kugel, schmaltz, or Passover foods, all subjects for another day. This is about pork chops.

I recently announced that I would only serve mammal flesh twice monthly, primarily the result of health concerns. Pork is lower in fat than beef, and since we had company last night, during the High Holy Days, I thought I would make something festive, seasonal and relatively healthy..

Braised pork chops with apples and onions.



This was served with potatoes and brussel sprouts.



Next, I’m going to tell you how to make the pork chops, easy-peasy and a fine way to learn some basic skills, if you don’t have them already. Later, I’ll tell you how to cook brussel sprouts and why you really like them.

Whether it’s strength or a flaw is uncertain in my mind, but I work on the assumption that I can do most anything I put my mind to. Combined with my eternal willingness to volunteer for things, I’ve framed a house, tended bar, and I’m now in the process of organizing what could be a major fundraising event. This is particularly so when it comes to the affairs of my community, so when Deb, my neighbor and an enthusiastic community organizer approached me, I was helpless to refuse. We were at a meeting to discuss fundraising initiatives for Katrina when she cornered me. “Everyone says you’re a terrific cook,” she told me. Since Deb is a woman who wears many hats including that of caterer, I was worried and should have backed away quickly. “Um. Sure, “I said, my usual verbal abilities failing me; I hoped that at least I sounded non-committal. Deb looked pleased. “Great! I need you to bake an apple pie for the block party’s apple pie contest. The local firemen will judge it and slices will be sold for charity.” Before I could utter another um, she’d walked away to corner another unsuspecting soul.

Here’s the thing: I’m a cook, not a baker. To cook, you need to be able to taste and imagine how a combination of things will taste, while in baking, you don’t get to correct a work in progress, must be willing to pay attention to detail and follow instructions exactly, not my forte. Sure, I make cookies for the kids, cupcakes on Valentine’s Day, Strawberry Shortcake on the Fourth of July and the occasional ginger cake for the boyfriend unit, but baking is an exact and unforgiving art and not much suited to my personality. My mother was an atrocious cook who once served a dinner of canned crushed pineapple in a steamed spaghetti squash but somehow, she was a brilliant baker; to me, this is proof that the skill sets are not necessarily the same and frequently at odds. Still, how hard could it be?

A big fan of research, my first step was to call my cousin, a woman who makes her own bagels, croissants, pasta and pies. Step two was to talk to my ex, who learned to make apple pies by watching his first mother-in-law, a Missouri farm girl who had perfected the Crisco crust. I thought about the butter curst and the Crisco crust, the double crust and the lattice top, the cobbler and the Brown Betty. I looked at numerous Web sites and cookbooks. I came to two conclusions: that I had no interest in baking an all-American apple pie, and that it was time to consult my old friend Julia.

In the three decades since I started to cook, Julia Child has never let me down, and this time was no exception. She told me that I could make a tart, baked with the crust on top and then inverted. She promised that it would be delicious. Of course, I didn’t imagine that the firemen shared my interests or would care for a Francophile tart (at least of the culinary variety) but winning wasn’t my intention, I only wanted to satisfy my commitment to Deb. Once my confection was in the oven, I called Cousin Ellen, who said she’d only made that tart once, that she thought it was hard.

It wasn’t.

And I won Battery Park City’s fourth apple pie contest!

Before I begin, let me tell you that this is not a healthy snack. It’s a French recipe. It contains tons and tons of butter and lots of sugar. Deal with it. Presumably, you don’t ingest this much butter and sugar every day. Did you know that the French have the second lowest rate of heart disease in the world, behind Japan? Well, at least until recently, when McDonald’s was introduced. It’s a phenomenon known as “The French paradox,” and researches think that it’s because the French eat fresh, unprocessed food, get more exercise than we do, and eat smaller portions.

La Tarte Des Demoiselles Tatin
(With some adaptations from Julia’s recipe)

First you’ll need to make a Pate Brisee Sucree (sweet short pastry)
1 Cup sifted all-purpose flour
1 Tablespoon granulated sugar
A pinch of salt
5 1/2 Tablespoons of chilled butter, cut into chunks
2 1/2 to 3 Tablespoons of very cold water.

Mix together flour, salt and sugar.

Put all ingredients except the water into your food processor and using the chopping blade, pulse until the mixture resembles fine crumbs. Add the water, a little at a time, and pulse until the mixture forms a ball. Remove the ball, smooth it out a bit, cover and place in the refrigerator while you go on to the next steps. Note that if you don’t have a food processor, you can do this with two knives, or with a pastry cutter, a device with 4-5 curved blades attached to a handle.

For a larger crust, increase measurements by 50%. For a double crust, double all measurements and divide your ball in two before chilling.


Preheat over to 375 degrees, F.


About 3-4 lbs of apples – it’s important to use Northern Spy or Jonathan apples, since they are crisp and will retain their shape. Others will turn into applesauce.
1/3 Cup of sugar
1/2 Tablespoon of cinnamon
Additional seasoning to taste – I used about 1/2 teaspoon each of nutmeg and allspice

Quarter, core and peel the apples. Cut into length-wise slices, 1/8 inch thick. If
you have a mandoline, use it. If not, use a sharp knife and be careful.
In a mixing bowl, toss apples together with sugar and spices.

Melt 6 Tablespoons of butter. You can do this in a small bowl, in your microwave.

Melt an additional 1 1/2 to 2 Tablespoons of butter in the bottom of your pie dish, which can be glass or a disposable aluminum one, and swirl the melted butter liberally along the sides. You will have a sticking problem if you skimp on the butter.

Place 1/3 of the apple mixture on the bottom of the pie dish. Since your bottom layer will become the top, you can make it pretty by arranging the slices in concentric circles, starting from the inside. Then pour a third of the melted butter over the apples. Repeat with half of the remaining apples, half of the remaining butter, and then a final layer of apples and butter. Finish the layering process by sprinkling 1/2 Cup of granulated sugar over the top.

Roll out the pastry to 1/8 inch thick. Cut it into a circle the size of the top of the baking dish and place it over the apples.
(Please note that while you can purchase marble rolling pins and pastry boards, which do prevent sticking, these thins are unnecessary. I used my grandmother’s rolling pin, put flour on my work surface and on the pin, and had no difficulty.)

Bake in the lower third of a pre-heated over, checking occasionally. If the pastry begins to brown too much, you can cover it with foil. The tart is done when you tilt the dish a bit and see that the liquid is thick brown syrup.

When done, unmold (by inverting the pie dish) immediately onto a serving dish. If the top hasn’t caramelized enough for your taste, you can sprinkle with a little sugar and run it under the broiler for a minute or two, or use a culinary blowtorch, if you have one.

It can be served hot or cold and is wonderful with crème fraiche. At least that’s what the firemen told me – I never got a bite!

This is Vanessa’s very favorite meal, and it’s what we had last night. I hadn’t finished serving before piggie people tried to eat and had to be corrected, and there wasn’t a chance to take pictures.

Before you begin, please note that you’ll want to marinate the meat for at least four hours, up to a day. You can make the sauce the night before, put it over the meat before you go to work, and you’ll have a yummy and tender dinner.

Flank Steak Chimichurri

Flank steak:
chose a piece that is 1/2 lb per person. If you have any leftovers, you can take them for lunch

For chimichurri sauce/marinade:
1 Cup (packed) fresh Italian (flat) parsley
1/2 Cup olive oil
1/3 Cup red wine vinegar
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon salt.

Place all ingredients in a food processor or blender, depress the appropriate button, let the machine whir away until you have something that’s thick, green, and looks a bit like oobleck.

Place the steak in a glass dish large enough to hold it, score both sides and sprinkle with salt and pepper, cover with half to 3/4 of the sauce, cover the dish, place in the refrigerator, and go to work. When you get home, pre-heat the broiler, place the flank steak on a broiler pan or a cookie sheet, and broil until done, about 7-8 minutes on each side for rare to medium rare, adjust according to taste. Remove the meat to a cutting board and cut thin slices, against the grain -- most people will let the meat cool down and "rest" before cutting, but that never seems to ahppen in my household. Spoon the remaining sauce over the meat, or serve on the side, and there you go.

This is very nice with a loaf of crusty bread and a hearty red wine, like a malbec. You can make the chimichurri more or less spicy, to taste, use fresh peppers instead of hot, and serve the meat hot or cold. For more than four people, you might want to increase the sauce by 50%.

Vicky’s Spanish is reasonably good for a 13-year-old native English speaker, but not really up to the task of defining the relationships of our family, complicated in any language. When required to do so during class, she flailed about looking for how to say “stepmother” and settled on "mi otra madre.” It stuck, and that’s what I’ve been ever since. Her father and I separated two years ago, and in a perfectly New York custody solution, I simply moved down the hall, and on “our” kid nights, approximately 50% of the time, we all eat together. Greg and I have a culinary rivalry that would make The Iron Chef blush, and we both have tempers and sharp knives, so we alternate rather than share the cooking, although I do most of it. The genesis of this journal is hazy. Vicky’s 8th grade class is responsible for the school newspaper, and I vaguely remember something about wanting to write about the recipes in Daddy Greg’s cooking blog and how she couldn’t write about my cooking because I didn’t blog about it, and this is an effort to correct the situation. You can expect to see recipes, descriptions and possibly photos of meals, thoughts about food, and anything else related to food and cooking that occurs to me.

Daddy Greg’s food blog can be found at here. He both writes and cooks extremely well, but beware: he’s even more cranky and opinionated than I am.