Ending the Year On A Delicious Note

As my daughter said of the entire decade: it was a son of a bitch.  Truthfully, I'm finding it challenging to recall much further back than the start of this crappy year, but at 16 her memory is better than mine so I'll go with it - an overbroad summation though it may be.

I can happily say, however, that 2009 appears to be ending with an upswing (and a Blue Moon), which is something I wasn't sure I would say 3-4 months ago.  For example: I know four couples who are recently engaged, this year is as close to being over as it's ever been, and I managed to find a job (other than updating FB and scrutinizing the job postings on Craig'sList) that has reawakened my love of cooking (and perhaps more dubiously - of eating).  To wit: Judy Rodgers' (French Green) Lentils Braised in Red Wine; produced by me despite a wicked weekend bender in which I dared to think of myself as capable of functioning in the kitchen following back-to-back nights of excessive revelry (see most recent post below).  And I almost was.  What a shame that I forgot the drizzle of olive oil at the end that would have renewed the sheen they had during braising.  Dammit.

Ah well, what's done is done.  (Like 2009!!!  FINALLY!)  The lentils were their peppery selves and slightly sweet, with just a hint of thyme - and they held their shape and texture beautifully despite having been made the day prior and then reheated.  They are an easy, delicious, somewhat unusual, and remarkably healthy (are you reading this Yolanda?) alternative to many other side dishes.  A perfect winter meal accompaniment (if one remembers the olive oil drizzle).

The company holiday party was an enormous success!  Thank you Bibby!  With roughly 10 dishes made from the Zuni Cafe cookbook, and not a single dud among them, this was an incredible meal!  From the grilled skirt steaks with 4 (count 'em) accompanying sauces, to the roasted beet and mache salad (see above), to the absolutely-must-serve-at-my-next-grown-up-dinner-party Citrus Risotto, it was phenomenal.  Enough so that I was quite easily able to let go my despair that no one had chosen to make the hallowed Roast Chicken with Bread Salad.  And yes, this is a cookbook I must now own.  As should you.  You can find it for a steal here.

And in case you're interested, this is my Dream Spice Shelf. Situated at eye-level, lit from within, alphabetized, clearly labeled (and dated, I'm sure), on little risers built to suit.  Sigh.

Celebrating The Season

Yesterday morning (WAY too early given the nature and quantity of Christmas drinking that accompanied my Christmas shopping the night before) I awoke with the dim and slightly fuzzy recollection that I had agreed to prepare some food for a 50th Birthday Celebration - masquerading as a Family Festivus since the Birthday Girl wanted it that way - on Saturday evening.  That thought immediately prompted another memory - that I would also need to prepare the dish I'd agreed to bring to the company holiday party at my boss's home on Monday night.  And pack to head home.  And somewhere in there I also needed to squeeze in a little Me Time (aka: mani-pedi and other... "female touch-ups", shall we call them).  And of course I'd done none of the shopping I needed to do earlier in the week.  Yeah, I probably didn't need that last drink - or three.

I gingerly lifted my head from the pillow and slowly made my way out of bed.  To the kitchen.  To locate the necessary recipes.  To make the list and then set out for my favorite market with a measure of dread regarding the task ahead.  Berkeley Bowl: Where foodies find their produce Nirvana and hippies get their organic on.

Shopping there on a Saturday these days is only a bit of a gamble.  It used the be a sure thing that you would spend at least 10 minutes waiting for a parking spot (and don't get me started on the time a guy keyed my car because I took the spot he was "saving" for someone else - they don't call the lot the Berkeley Brawl for nothing!) and the next hour in basket to basket traffic as you tried to maneuver past the bulk grains over to the mache.  But ever since owner  Glenn Yasuda decided to open up BBWest this past summer, the teeming unwashed masses have thinned and it's possible to wait less than 5 minutes for a parking spot and less than an hour negotiating your way over to the durian fruit.    And that's how it was yesterday, thank God. I was ill equipped to have handled the BB of yore.  So, back at the house a mere 75 minutes later, with my fresh dungeness crab meat, French green lentils, pinot noir, and some other impulse Asian condiment and produce purchases in hand (the first satsumas of the season!!!), I set to work.

First up: Martha's Hot Crab Dip that can be found on pg. 385 of Martha Stewart's Hors d'Oeuvres Handbook, and apparently nowhere else.   As with literally every dish I've made from that book, it's delicious - and it's what the party host requested.  I wish I'd been able to get a shot of it when it came out of the oven - but I thought it would have been perceived as a tad gauche and presumptuous to make everyone stand back while I went to grab my camera (next time I'll try to remember to have Nat or Jack at the ready!).  As it is, we have this one, before it went into the oven (yes - those are the toasted brioche breadcrumbs I made last weekend - they worked perfectly):

We also have this.  Oops.  I told you I was feeling a little....  off.  I probably shouldn't have been allowed in the kitchen actually.  So I'm considering it a personal victory that this was the only batch that ended in this fashion and that no digits were harmed in the making of the dip (though of course, because it's required every time, I did grate the tip of my freshly manicured finger nail whilst shredding the cheddar cheese).

The dish was a hit once again (except for the guy who's allergic to shellfish) and the Festivus/Birthday was a tearful and laughter-filled celebration of love, family, and the holiday season that reminds us of all we have to be thankful for.    

Today: Lentils Braised in Red Wine - my contribution to the company holiday party tomorrow night.   After I spend a little time recovering from the champagne, red wine, and port that I was so thankful for last night.  

Crap.  I still have to pack.

Tackling Tom

I was recently given ad hoc at home, the latest cookbook produced by His Eminence
Thomas Keller, as a birthday gift (how lucky am I?  As of earlier today it's backordered on Amazon until February!).  And as I greedily poured over the pages that comprise this most recent Tome To Excellence, I was pulled immediately into both reverie and premonition:  The meal I was lucky enough to share with a friend at ad hoc when the concept for the restaurant was still just that, and the belief that I had finally become a competent enough home cook to tackle this Tom.

After all, I've successfully made two things from The French Laundry cookbook: Salad of Haricot Verts, Tomato Tartare, and Chive Oil, and the Staff Dressing.  And I've collaborated on two from Bouchon:  Duck Confit and Lentils Vinaigrette.  And since the entire premise of the current book is to share family-style, replicable recipes for the home cook, I had visions of lovingly hefting this gorgeous bible off the shelf and producing near nightly meals of perfection.  How can one NOT be wooed by the simplicity of "dinner for dad: barbecued chicken with mashed potatoes and collard greens, followed by strawberry shortcake"?!

So I curled up on the couch and dug in, grocery list at the ready.

Then I remembered: This Is Thomas Keller We're Talking About.   And Thomas Keller's fig-stuffed roast pork loin requires three ingredients one has presumably already made and now has just lying about the kitchen ready for their next cameo: pork brine, fig and balsamic jam, chicken stock.  Just as likely, a trip to at least one, but probably more (as I discovered yesterday), specialty store will be required in order to secure just the right ingredient: the illusive but ultimately sourceable (for a price) iberico ham, made from acorn-fed Spanish pigs, say; or Bintje creamer potatoes; how about the herb mentioned in nearly every savory recipe that CANNOT be found in any American market: CHERVIL.

In my case, I only had to find chives, the right cheese, the illusive brioche, and the copious quantities of both whole milk and heavy cream required for the Leek Bread Pudding that I had settled on as my first ad hoc endeavor.  Lucky me - I already had leeks and thyme (see above), eggs, unsalted butter, and nutmeg.
Two bakeries later I was home with my brioche and I set to work, first removing the crusts as instructed by my Master, then toasting the cubes until "pale gold" (I made bread crumbs from the crusts and toasted those as well - but I'm unsure a) whether they will actually keep and b) what I might actually create with them if they do...).  My leeks were sauteed, my brioche was toasted, everything was set for me to produce an instantaneously artery-hardening dish that would make us swoon.

And then Natalie told me she was going "out".  So I put on the brakes, ordered some Chinese, and curled up with George Bailey instead of Tom.

That was yesterday.  Today I put everything back in place and told the kids that this was all I was going to make for dinner.  They were on their own if they were looking for a protein (or protein substitute), or a fresh vegetable (not likely) - anything remotely resembling a balanced meal.  They weren't.

It was divine.  Light, yet rich and custardy, faintly leeky, with a distinctly lovely nutmeg note (probably because I added more than the "dash" called for...).  Only Jack wasn't impressed.  But based on the quantity of hot sauce that he's recently applied to literally everything except his Honey Bunches of Oats, I'm not sure his palate is equipped to appreciate such sublime subtly.  Plus (or scarily), that leaves more for Nat and me!  Oh yes, I'll be tackling Tom again soon.  And some day I might even make it to Bouchon and The French Laundry.

Brrr - it's soup weather!

The past several days have been pretty chilly in the Bay Area - and by that I mean FREEZING - by our standards, anyway.  Now they're not as freezing.  They're just sopping wet.  Definitely NOT my favorite weather. In fact, about the best thing I can say about this weather is it reminds me that it's the perfect season for soup!  I love soup.  And thankfully I've passed that love on to my children - I hear of these children who don't like soup and I wonder what's responsible - is it nature or nurture that's failed them?

Every year I'm good for at least a couple of batches of Split Pea Soup - Natalie's favorite.  This year was a little more challenging in light of her vegetarianism and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to pull it off.  After all - you can't make split pea soup without the smoky flavor of ham hock and pieces of ham in it, right?!  Wrong!  Wandering down the grocery store aisle a couple of months back I came across a bag of peas called "HamPeas" - complete with artificial ham flavoring:

So I gave it a whirl - using vegetable stock in place of my usual chicken, and loading up on the fresh thyme.  The result?  Really not bad.  With a side of cornbread and healthy little scoop of bacon bits in my bowl, I have to say it worked.

Of course, following Thanksgiving this year, I made Turkey Noodle Soup.  I went a little heavy on the carrots so it was a touch too sweet, but otherwise it was very good - hearty, savory and peppery.  Jack and I mowed through it in about 3 days and Jack's comment was "I love soup when there's not too much broth - yum!"

Last week I was ready to tackle something new.  I settled on a twist on something familiar... Roasted Potato Leek Soup.   It seemed to offer everything I was craving in a winter soup: starchy creamy cheesy roasted goodness.  (That's the roasted potatoes and leeks at the top, with the addition of baby arugula wilted in the final minutes.) And since I happened to have some leftover homemade vegetable stock on hand, I could make it veggie-friendly!  Of course I made the optional crispy shallots and they were the perfect garnish!  (Though Jack would likely say that the spicy Italian sausages I sauteed to add to his soup were the magical finish.)

I made all of this last Sunday in anticipation of coming home from work on Monday to decorate the first Christmas tree we've had in 4 years instead of spending the evening making dinner. And it's a good thing I did it that way:  while not especially challenging, this recipe takes awhile.   But it's well worth it and it allowed us to accomplish this:

 

Measuring Success

I wasn't necessarily planning to make Thanksgiving dinner this year.  I'd tossed out the idea of just grabbing a couple of pizzas and seeing how many movies we could cram into one day.  We did that the last time the kids and I were together for the holiest of all food holidays because there was no way I was going to risk a repeat of the year before that.  And it was fun!  We ordered half-baked pies from Zachary's in the morning and scrambled out the door. We came home 4 movies and 2 large buckets of popcorn later and induced our own TDay comas. And the fact that The Academy has decided to nominate 10 films for Best Picture this year has us (ok, me) in a panic over how we're possibly going to see them all by March 7 at 3:30 pm when all the Beautiful People begin their red carpet promenade.  But my suggestion was met with about as much enthusiasm as I guess teenagers can muster for parental suggestions that don't begin with "I'd like to give you this cash".  So, with no decision made by that point, I woke up last Sunday realizing that I wanted to make dinner and thinking I could actually do it.

And judging by normal standards I would say my meal was a success.  Compared to the last time I attempted to make the whole thing on my own - and ended up throwing the entire inedible bird into the trash as my son looked on in horror - I'm ready to be offered my own cooking show and I'm just waiting for the phone to ring. 

This year my goal was simple:  Don't f#%&k it up.  I wasn't going to try anything unusual - just the basics.  Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole (yes, that one - more on that in a minute), gravy, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie.  Oh yeah - and vegetarian versions of stuffing and gravy for my daughter, who adopted this lifestyle around the start of this year (thank goodness she didn't feel compelled to have a Tofurkey).  No problem, right? 

It wasn't, really.  It took a lot of time.  Time I spent standing, bending over, stooping; measuring, chopping, roasting.  It wasn't the BEST Thanksgiving dinner I've ever eaten, but it was far from the worst.  I definitely made a couple of mistakes - like forgetting to use the turkey stock that I made for the stuffing - after making my vegetarian daughter and her vegetarian boyfriend go to the store to buy the necks (that's ok, it just meant there was more for gravy), and deciding at the last moment to make an herb rub for the turkey (salt and pepper and perhaps some aromatics = better).  And I learned some great, and interesting things like: You can actually make a vegetarian gravy that tastes pretty good.  You can make a flipping AWESOME turkey gravy by adding a couple of dollops of veal demi glace that you happened to have spent 33 hours making and now have lying about, waiting for its next big reveal.  That green bean casserole I used to love, isn't all that good - even when you add water chestnuts and slivered almonds - or maybe it's just that my tastes have changed in the 5+ years since I last had it.  And, if you just don't care about or for dark meat, just buy a whole breast!  Brine it and it not only tastes great, but you still have leftovers for sandwhiches AND a carcass with which to make a yummy soup (tonight's endeavor).

In the end, dinner met the meager expectations I had for it: it was good, if not special.  I managed to get it all on the table, warm, at about the same time.  I didn't really lose my temper even once.  I walked away with only two minor burns.  My kids thought it was good (at least that's what they said to my face).

And we still got to see a movie.  One that we've decided was a perfect thematic addition to the day:  Running Scared.  What's not to like about crack addicts, pimps, prostitutes and cops-gone-bad?   It reminded us that we have a lot to be thankful for.

And so it begins...

My sudden plans - last Sunday - to make a full, if decidedly unimaginative, Thanksgiving dinner technically started with a trip to the grocery store that day, I guess.  But tonight the cooking officially commenced.  The schedule for the rest of the dishes was prepared.  Duties were assigned.  The turkey was named - Theodore, this year.  New Lady Gaga was downloaded.  Bring it.

"Do You Use Lemons, Honey?"

For about ten years of my life, my former grandfather-in-law would ask us this question nearly every time we visited his home in the Montclair Hills.  Wally was an avid gardener, devoting much of his backyard and spare time to his vegetables each year - right through his early nineties.  But he also had the most beautiful and abundant lemon trees I'd ever seen, including a Meyer Lemon tree, whose delicious significance I sadly under-appreciated while he was living.  So even though I wasn't really doing any cooking or baking at that time, my answer to that question was always "Yes!" "Well, don't ever buy 'em at the store - what they charge for 'em is a crime!" he'd reply.  And immediately he would get an old grocery bag and start picking from his trees.

Since that time I have grown to love cooking and baking with lemons - Meyer lemons in particular.  Their tart, yet subtly sweet, flavor make them perfect for savory and sweet dishes alike and infuses them both with  a unique taste and fragrance that defies my descriptive abilities; not quite lemon, not quite orange.  I have made marinades, sorbets, scones, breads (both savory and sweet), cocktails, and sauces with these wonder-fruits.  And I am always amazed by their pure, delicious, clean flavor.  If you doubt my authority, perhaps you'll trust this.

Meyer lemons weren't always available at your run-of-the-mill grocery store, but I recently saw them at my local Safeway in a (what my kids thought was very scary) prepackaged bag of 5 lemons - for $4.99.  I could almost hear Wally "tsking" at me as I readily added them to my basket - but I didn't hesitate.  They were the first I'd seen of the winter crop and I just couldn't walk away without them.  Of course, had I been brave enough to tackle Berkeley Bowl on that Sunday afternoon, I would probably have had 5 different Meyer lemon options to choose from (local, imported, organic, small organic, large local, etc.) and they would have ranged in price from .29 to .59 each.  I lacked the courage.  But the fact that winter is really the season for Meyer lemons may be one of the things about them that I love most - what joy it is, just as the weather starts to turn cold and nasty, to find such a bright and glorious reminder of summer!

So this morning I awoke with lemons on the brain and decided it was time to make a recipe that my former mother-in-law gave me years ago - she probably saw me walking away from her Dad's house with all those lemons and was thinking "that girl doesn't cook - I'd better give her something she can use all those lemons for".  How lucky am I that she gave me her Very Lemony Lemon Bread recipe!  Although the recipe doesn't specify Meyer lemons, that's what I used - and I took the liberty of adding some poppyseeds in lieu of nuts because my daughter loves lemon poppyseed anything.

I hope Cal won't mind me sharing her recipe here.  And I hope Wally has forgiven my youthful ignorance and is somewhere right now saying "Real good, honey!"

Cal's Very Lemony Lemon Bread
1/2 c. butter
1c. sugar
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 /1/4 c. flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. milk
1/2 c. finely chopped nuts
grated peel of 1 (2) lemons

Topping
1/8 c. sugar
juice of 1 (2) lemons

Preheat oven to 350
Cream butter and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer or with an electric hand mixer.  In a separate bowl sift together flour, baking powder, and salt.  Add eggs to butter and sugar and mix.  Alternate adding some of the flour mixture and the milk to the butter until combined.  Mix in nuts and grated lemon peel.  Pour into greased 5x9 loaf pan and bake for 45 minutes.  Just before the bread is due to come out of the oven, make the topping by combining the sugar and lemon juice and stirring to dissolve the sugar.  As soon as the bread comes out, turn it out of the pan onto a cooling rack placed on a paper bag or towel to catch the drippings.  Using a toothpick or skewer, poke holes all over the top of the loaf and slowly spoon on the topping.  Let cool completely before slicing.

The dead giveaway for how good this is:  Cal also included the quantities needed to quadruple the recipe!

    

Bugialli on Pasta

No, Bugialli is not a sauce, a ragu, or a gravy.   Giuliano Bugialli is a master.  Of at least two pasta dishes that have become staples at my house: Penne Strascicate alla Lucchese and Penne alla Bettola.  Go ahead, try saying it with an Italian accent and inflection - beautiful isn't it?  And because the dishes are both so fabulous - even though I've had the book for years and swear every time I pull it off the shelf that I'm going to try something new - I always end up going with one of these.

Perhaps the fact that one has the most delicious sweet Italian sausages and the other has vodka, has something to do with it.  Hmm.  

The Lucchese is perfect on a fall evening when you've decided to stay in and hunker down with some comfort food.  And if you can get your sweet sausages from Piemonte's Italian Delicatessen - do it.  They're the real thing. While you're at it - pick up some of the "medium" hot links - you won't be disappointed.  Anyway, with its fresh sage and rosemary - and the ability to use the ever-convenient canned tomatoes (San Marzanos if you can get them and they won't break your budget) - and a hint of cream - this is the perfect cold weather pasta dish - hearty and comforting!  OK, add a salad if you must.

How about something sleek and velvety - with just the right bite to whet everyone's appetite for more?  That's the Bettola.  In fact, I have a friend, a VERY Italian friend, who demands this on her Birthday every year and calls it Velvet Pasta because the texture of the sauce is so soft and the flavors are so smooth and subtle.  Add the little bite you get from the red pepper flakes and it tantalizes your tongue in a way similar to the touch of velvet.  OK, I haven't actually licked velvet before.  Maybe the best part?  It's SO easy Classico could do it - and they did!  Ridiculous.  Don't take that shortcut.  It's nasty and unnecessary.

Maybe some day I'll get to Italy.  Maybe I'll sign up for one of Giuliano's classes (where we can discuss his overly generous use of olive oil - the only knock I have against the recipes).  Until then, I have these - and I'm determined to branch beyond them!

I wish I'd taken photos of my most recent efforts.  Alas, this is someone else's.  But mine looked JUST like it.

Sprinkle Madness

It began innocently enough.  A couple of wee tots in need of a project.  A mom's creativity, thwarted daily by a lack of time, energy, and inspiration, suddenly finding its voice in the art of sugar cookie decorating. 


I think it was Valentine's Day, probably around 1997.  Natalie was 4 and Jackson was right behind her at 3 (yes, a year and 10 days apart - but that's another blog).  Actually, probably the weekend before VDay since the brainstorm was to deliver Valentine cookies AND cards at school - in the glorious years when it was ok to bring sugary snacks to share and one didn't have to avoid all acknowledgement of affection in any form lest accusations of harassment be filed against kindergartners....  But I digress.  


So I bought some heart-shaped cookie cutters, a box of Schilling food coloring, and a couple of jars of sprinkles, and whipped up a batch of Betty Crocker sugar cookies. Several hours later the kitchen was a disaster. Multi-colored frosting and sprinkles covered nearly every face and surface, and the cookies themselves were festive little blobs of crunchy, mud colored, expressions of love.       


And so began the madness. With each approaching holiday more cutters and sprinkles were added to the treasure chest: Easter with its bunnies, and tulips, and eggs (oh the wonder of pastel sprinkles!); summer with its butterflies, shooting stars, birds in flight (stars and stripes sprinkles!); the random Mickey Mouse head that came back from Disneyland; Halloween with its tombstones, jack-o-lanterns, and witches (yes - black and orange frosting and sprinkles in the shapes of ghosts, cats, and bats!); Christmas, of course, with all the trimmings.


Then there were a few years there where not much decorating took place - middle school is such a challenging time for parents, isn't it? - and the collection languished, unused but no less loved, on different closet shelves.  But decorating recently made its way back with a vengeance when Natalie and I pulled an almost all-nighter creating cookies for Halloween and then followed it up the next weekend with our take on Nightmare Before Christmas (see Natalie's inaugural blog here on Tuesday).  


I think I recognized it as an illness when we started searching for generic "Fall" cutters (turkeys, squirrels, random leaves and nuts) and sprinkles and food coloring for frostings to match in such exciting shades as brown and copper.  And then we spent yesterday traipsing from one purveyor to another, to a third, in search of the ultimate fall sprinkles to top our pumpkin spice cupcakes with cream cheese buttercream frosting (thanks Parties That Cook!).  Yes, I think we've gone 'round the bend, as they say.

Birthday Fest Frittata

Well, that sounds a lot better than Fridge-foraging Frittata, right?

It all started with some delicious and rarely left-over mustard roasted potatoes from Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa at Home. And the fact that my birthday was a couple of days past. And it was Saturday. And I had about 25 eggs, some scallions, some basil, a cheese drawer chock-full, some baby spinach remnants, and some champagne on hand.

Natural thought progression - frittata! - so I started getting my mis en place: 5 large eggs, 1 cup of said potatoes, 2 scallions (chopped, green parts only), 1 cup of spinach, chiffonade of about 8 basil leaves, 1/2 cup of grated fontina cheese and about 1/4 cup grated fresh parmesan. Following Mark Bittman's recipe (find it here) and freestyle approach of anything goes - I got to work. A little olive oil in the cast iron skillet, quick spinach saute, add the beaten eggs (S&P to taste) and then quickly, but artfully, place remaining ingredients so that no bite is left wanting. Cook stovetop over med-low heat for about 10 minutes and finish in a 350 degree oven for 5.

It was delicious. Cheesy with a hint of mustard and roasted onion, made healthy by the addition of spinach (right?). A tad overcooked perhaps (because I finished it in the oven for 10 minutes), but infinitely better than the "Barf Pizza" label my teenage son graced it with before even tasting it. And perfect with a glass of bubbly.