We Are Never Full

I feel like we go on and on ad nauseam about our trip to Italy last summer, and I suspect that if it hasn’t happened already, our faithful readers will begin to tire of our constant references to those halcyon days of pastoral bliss, romantic nuptials, and devastatingly good food. So, before your goodwill towards us is exhausted, I want to wring out the last of it with this post on the remarkable dish that is deep-fried lamb rib chops.

Perhaps ironically (and this may extend your patience toward us), the only meal, or in this case, part of a meal, that I ate during that trip that was not first-class was the secundi course of the meal in Bologna that included the frankly phenomenal ragu bolognese my wife wrote about recently, namely the deep-fried lamb rib chops. Not that it was bad or even close to bad, it was actually pretty good, but they were slightly overcooked and therefore dry, something I am almost proud to say I could discern even during the intense examination of the final dregs of our third bottle of Barolo.

Crispy exteriors combined with unctious, moist interiors are the holy-grail of almost every fried, grilled or roasted meat dish, where the crispy outer layer insulates the flesh and keeps it moist. However, there is a very fine line between success and failure in these endeavors. Too far one way and you’ve got a crispy outside, but a dry and tough inside. Too far the other, and you’ve got a limp crust and a bloody interior. Lamb rib chops are the beautiful, tender pieces that correspond to the rib-eye (the rib attached to the tenderloin) on a steer, and are frequently served as a rack, medium-rare, with the bones nicely trimmed (Frenched) and often with a garlic & parsley breadcrumb crust that is rarely as crunchy as you want it to be, and I wanted to experiment whether deep-frying could provide the crunch as well as the medium-rareness I had tragically missed out on that night in Bologna.

Indeed, the stakes were further raised by the horrifically high price of lamb in the US. It took this transplanted Englishman a long while to get used to the scarcity of lamb in this country where beef is king (despite there being huge swathes of land that are eminently suitable for sheep-grazing), and the cost has kept us on a steady diet of braised shoulder chops, unable to branch out into the leg or the rack until a fortuitous wander into our local Pathmark store coincided with a virtual giveaway of perfectly Frenched rib chops. Seizing this opportunity with a vigor that may have shocked my wife, I loaded up our shopping cart (yes, the trolley) with rib chops and it was this bounty, as much as anything, that convinced me to try deep-frying them. After all, if it didn’t work and they turned out like hockey pucks, we could still broil or grill ourselves some dinner with the rest.

A little bit of luck, and I prevailed in this experiment and I’m delighted to say that these rib chops were as good as any I’ve eaten anywhere. Assuming you also have the good fortune of finding lamb rib chops at a reasonable price, you should not only grab an armful, but you should try this recipe right away. It would be the perfect thing to impress dinner guests with, and since the chops are fried and therefore quite rich, two per person will suffice, making you appear generous and feel thrifty at the same time. Joy.

Fried Lamb Rib-Chops with Grilled Polenta, Broccoli di Rape and Balsamic Reduction

So, before continuing, I should say that I shallow fried my chops instead of deep frying them as I was nervous about overcooking them. Shallow frying allows you to do the “poke-test” on them (poke the meat with your finger, if it feels soft, it’s rare or very rare, if it is firm, it’s well-done, you want it somewhere between. The trick is knowing when is enough.)

Ingredients (serves 2)

• 4-6 lamb rib chops, frenched
• 1 cup plain flour
• 1 cup panko, or very coarse fresh breadcrumbs
• 1 cup soda water/sparkling mineral water
• 1 tsp salt
• 2-3 cups vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
• 1 clove garlic, smashed but with skin-on
• 1 sprig rosemary

Recipe

• Combine salt, water and flour in a mixing bowl into a batter of medium thickness.
• Put oil in a 10inch (20cm) diameter frying pan. Should be about 1/2inch (1cm) deep.
• Heat oil to around 350F (175C)
• dip chops in batter, then dredge in panko (breadcrumbs) and lay them gently in oil. Do not overcrowd pan. We did ours two at a time.
• Fry chops for about three minutes per side, or until slightly darker than golden brown on the outside.
• Use poke test to determine done-ness.
• Place in a warming oven (200F/95C) and allow to rest for five to ten minutes.
• Add balsamic vinegar, garlic and rosemary to your smallest saucepan.
• Over medium heat allow it to come to a boil. Reduce heat to about medium-low and allow to reduce by at least half.
• Keep your eye on it at this stage because it can very quickly go from a perfect consistency to a bitter-tasting molasses.
• Remove garlic and rosemary and serve sparingly over your lamb chops.

Check out these other posts you may enjoy:

• Truffled Butter: A Prince Among Ideas
• San Gennaro Festival, Little Italy, NYC - Ain’t What it Used to Be (Girl’s Version)
• Pork Roll and Scrapple - The Dirty Culinary Pride of South Jersey/Philly
• SHREDDED CHICKEN SOPES WITH TOMATILLO AVOCADO SAUCE
• GRILLED STEAK WITH TARRAGON GARLIC BUTTER
• CHESTNUT CUSTARD TART
• SPANISH (AUSTURIAN) OXTAIL WITH FRIED POTATOES

Tags: balsamic vinegar, Bologna, breadcrumbs, deep-fried, dinner, food, Garlic, lamb chops, panko, polenta, reduction, rosemary

Wowzah’s. We’ve received two new awards! These awards are awesome because they are kind of like the MTV movie awards - they are given to you by your fans. Now, before I get ahead of myself, let me remove my head from my ass. I know you aren’t our fans, you’re our readers. There’s a big diff, right? When we get fans, well, hopefully we won’t be blogging in our 700 square-foot closet we rent for about 2 g’s in Brooklyn. Maybe when we have fans we’ll be big pimpin’ in some brownstone we own, not just rent the bottom of and are forced to share the backyard with another family. I could go on with my fantasies of ‘what could be if we had fans’ but I won’t bore you any longer.

What I will say is THANK YOU. These two blog awards are really great - first was the Blogging with a Purpose award we received from a kick-ass blogger, Farida of Farida’s Azerbaijani Cookbook. Who else is showcasing Azeri cooking on the web? The other award was from Nuria from Spanish Recipes, who I’d be open to a house switch with but I don’t know if she’d like me raising her kid/kids. I also am not sure if she’d really love moving from a nice place in Barcelona to a closet in Brooklyn. Nuria gave us the Arte y Pico award. This Award is given to blogs that are thought to have an outstanding design, creativity and content and that enriches the community… hmmmm, not too sure if we’re enriching the community but I’m proud that someone thinks we’re creative! So with that, I really thank you both. Really I do.

I’m kind of automatically giving these awards right on back to the bloggers that gave them to me. There are ‘rules’ to each of these awards - you are supposed to give it back to five different bloggers. But, as I was doing my blog hunt today, checking out blogs I visit often and others I don’t visit as much as I’d like, I noticed something… many food blogs have received one or two of the awards we received. I know it’s nice to receive two of the same awards, but this time I’m going to create my own rules. I’m giving these awards right back to Nuria and Farida, but I’m also going to give each of these awards to two blogging bitches who are crass and bring out my inner truck-driver as well as another blogger I’m psyched to have recently been acquainted with. Without further fucking a’do (as they would probably write), I’d like to offer the following awards to the following bloggers:

The Arte y Pico award for great design and creativity goes first to Michelle at Thursday Night Smackdown. She’s bitchy, she’s tough and she cooks delicious meals with zero pretentiousness. She’s classy in my book!

I’d also love to give this award to Claudia at Cook Eat FRET. She writes comments in haiku and is an east coast mama originally from NYC and she cooks really, really, really well. I absolutely love this blog, so, if you haven’t already, check her out!

Here you go, ladies:

And next, I’d love to award the Blogging with a Purpose award to Heather at Gild the Voodoolily. In my mind, she is blogging with a purpose - maybe she can let us all know what she thinks her purpose is? I know it’s to compensate for her white trash roots but what else, Heather? Is it to cure world hunger? To pay for some new boobs? Whatever it is, I don’t care… she always makes me laugh and that’s a good enough purpose for me.

Here’s your award, Heather:

I love visiting these ladies’ blogs because they remind me that life doesn’t need to be all peaches, roses and unicorns. Sometimes it can be cynical and hilarious with some curse words thrown in. Ladies, no need to accept these awards but I’d like you to know that I appreciate you (tear!).

There are a handful of things that have made Genoa famous, amongst them pesto and Christopher Columbus. Interestingly, in all the many, many stories told by Scheherazade (to persuade the emir not to have her killed) in the Arabian Nights, the only European city to be mentioned is Genoa. And, when you visit the city it is immediately apparent why Arabs, used to the mazy streets of the souks of North Africa and the Middle East, could base tales of intrigue and deception there.

Set on the side of a series of steep hillsides on Italy’s Ligurian coast, Genoa (Genova) has remarkably medieval feel to it with its rabbit-warren streets lined tightly with buildings that prevent sunlight from reaching the ground. This, together with the soupy local patios with its French and Portugese inflections, and you almost feel like you’ve left modern Italy and arrived somewhere in the 13th century.

All of which sounds terribly romantic and redolent of mystery and adventure, and, well, it is, except when you’re entering the city at rush hour without a clear idea of where your hotel is, and you desperately need to pee after a three hour drive. Happily though, once installed in our B & B and fortified by a few glasses of wine - hastily thrown back, we began exploring the city’s mazy streets in the growing dusk, emerging periodically, like moles from a hole, onto a variety of piazzas wondering how the hell we got there, and thoroughly enjoying it.

Eventually, we found some semblance of bearings, so that the next day we managed to locate a restaurant our host had recommended for its typical Genoese cuisine for lunch. The previous evening, we had dined on fried fresh anchovies and langostines near the harbor, and so that lunchtime we were looking for pasta. Call me predictable, but I had to have pesto, you know the basic pesto made just out of basil, pine nuts, parmigiano-reggiano and olive oil, so I ordered spinach tagliatelle with pesto alla Genovese. Amy, though, went for another Genovese specialty, ravoili with walnut cream sauce or salsa di noci.

Now, it’s not uncommon for us to rave on about something perfectly simple, and indeed, patient readers, this dish is precisely that, but at the same time, and as you probably know, we don’t get all worked up over nothing. This sauce really is a badass. Trust us, we wouldn’t steer you wrong. In fact, the only thing that could have made the remake - recipe below - as enjoyable as the original we ate in Genoa, would be if we could have placed another table in our apartment and installed the wiry, old gent who sat opposite us at it.

PASTA WITH SALSA DI NOCI (WALNUT SAUCE) AND MUSHROOMS (Serves 3-4)

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups walnuts, boiled for 25 minutes
• 1 cup of parmigiano reggiano
• 1/4 cup lite cream
• 1/2 cup milk
• 2 slices white bread soaked in milk
• 1 pack of mushrooms (your choice - we used white button)
• salt and pepper
• 1 pound pasta (we used long fusilli)
• optional: fresh thyme for garnish
• blender or food processor

What to do:

1. This is so easy to make, I could cry. Boil your walnuts for 25 minutes to remove some of the bitterness and soften. Drain and set aside.
2. On a plate or in a deep dish, soak two pieces of crustless, cheap white bread in some milk so it soaks it all up. Allow to sit for 5 minutes or so.
3. Get out your blender or food processor. Throw on some extra salted water to boil for the pasta.
4. In a pan, add your sliced mushrooms along with some olive oil or a pat of butter and saute until firm-soft.
5. Blitz the walnuts until fine first then blend all the rest of the ingredients together : the milk-soaked bread, the walnuts, the cheese, milk and cream along with a pinch of salt to taste. Add your pasta to the boiling water and cook till al dente.
6. Add the sauce to the pan with the cooked mushrooms, stir and warm on low for a bit. When pasta is done, add a bit of the pasta water to the sauce (maybe 3 tablespoons at most) and then add your drained pasta to the warming walnut sauce. Toss.
7. Plate your pasta and top with some fresh thyme, a bit of freshly ground pepper and some extra parmigiano. Enjoy with a big glass of red wine.

Tags: cheese, cream, creamy, food, Genoa, Italian, Italy, mushrooms, Pasta, pesto, Recipe, Recipes, travel, walnuts

A few summers ago we were very fortunate to spend a long vacation traveling through northern Spain and southwestern France. It was our first real vacation alone since Amy and I had met, and was especially well-deserved because we had spent the previous 12 months going through the traumatic process of immigrating me to the United States and all the crap that goes along with moving to a new country and finding gainful employment. Even now, after ten or more trips overseas in the interim, we still look back on that wonderful trip with great nostalgia. In fact, so formative was it for us and our relationship together, that we might not be so passionate about food (or even have this blog) were it not for having driven those rural highways and byways eating and drinking our way through the small towns of Spain and France. So this post and podcast are a sort of belated paen to the mental tranquility we rediscovered on that trip.

As we planned it, we read-up on destinations en route from Barcelona to Bilbao and decided that Carcassonne should be amongst them. Quite apart from its culinary pedigree of being one of the three towns in that part of France which lay claim to having been the birthplace of the famous pork and bean dish cassoulet, it also, reputedly, has the best Bastille Day firework display anywhere in the country outside Paris. Judge for yourself in the video below.

Bastille Day or Fête de la Fédération (July 14th), is the French equivalent of the American Independence Day, and marks the storming and fall of the Bastille (Paris’ central prison where French political prisoners and fictional characters, including Dumas’ The Man In the Iron Mask were imprisoned) during the French Revolution that signified the ‘birth of the modern French nation’. It’s the biggest national holiday in France with celebrations and demonstrations of fidelity to La Patrimonie all over the country.

However, like many national holidays around the world, in spite of the ostensible patriotism of the day, good food, amazing fireworks and fun, drunk times are the thing that most people focus on. So, to line our stomachs before a night of drinking wine out of the bottle on the street (like everyone else), we, almost like Moses in the wilderness, followed the pillar of smoke towards the heady smell of grilled meat. There we found a lined, toothless, Algerian man, squinting against the smoke and spitting fat of his blackened grill, cooking huge merguez sausages (a spicy North African sausage made with beef or lamb) over hot coals. In exchange for a couple of euros, he nestled a couple of these sausages snugly into a crusty baguette alongside a load of salty, golden french fries, and smeared the whole thing with dijon mustard and ketchup. That’s what I call street food!

The sandwich is exactly what you’d imagine, and after a couple of drinks, it’s even better. The spiciness of the merguez along with the salty, crispy french fries, well, it just doesn’t get any better. We’re not actually going to post a recipe for this one, only a quick pictorial step-by-step below - you’ll have to listen to the podcast for a detailed how to - but anyone with half a brain (and we firmly believe our readers are in possession of somewhat more than that) should be able to make their own sandwich de merguez with ease. As you can see from the photos, we added some fried leeks as a topping in what can only be described as a petty bourgeois touch, which the French revolutionaries of old would certainly have disproved of, but that’s freedom for you, right? In a similarly middle-class stylie (or sans culottes for those of you who’ve fought your way through Baudelaire’s Paris Spleen), we attempted to make our own version of a harissa sauce, combining ketchup, 1 clove of roasted garlic, 1 fire-roasted habanero (yes, the sauce was a f***in’ wildman), and a pinch or less of ground coriander, cumin, mustard powder, black pepper and kosher salt in a food processor, but you could use dijon mustard and ketchup as your condiments, as we did that hallowed night in Carcassonne. Enjoy the sandwich whenever you like, but why not give it a try during the next national holiday wherever you are. After all, you don’t have to be French to appreciate spicy sausages and fries in a crusty roll!

Thanks to Zach at Serious Eats for featuring this sandwich in his weekly Serious Sandwiches column. THANK YOU!

SANDWICH DE MERGUEZ - A STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE

1. Grill some merguez sausages on an indoor or outdoor grill.

2. Thinly slice some leeks.

3. Toss thinly sliced leeks in 2 tablespoons of flour PLUS 2 tablespoons cornstarch and fry in some veggie oil for about 1 minute.

4. Thinly slice 2 or 3 potatoes.

5. Heat up some vegetable oil and double fry your thin-sliced potatoes until golden brown. Allow to drain on some paper towels and sprinkle with salt.

6. In a fresh baguette, brush some dijon and spicy ketchup on each side of the bread. Add your grilled sausages, nestle some french fries between the sausages and the bread and then top with some fried leeks. ENJOY and feel free to keep dipping sandwich in some more mustard and ketchup.

Tags: baguette, Bastille Day, Carcassonne, food, France, French, french fries, fried, leeks, merguez sausage, sandwich, street food

On our final day in Madrid, it was pissing down with rain. We spent about 4 hours walking around the Reina Sofia drooling over Picasso’s Guernica (the size of a giant museum wall) and the large amount of Dali and Miro works. We’re not really artsy-fartsy folks, but that museum made me wet myself with joy. The more we travel, the more I’ve been enjoying museums. But the second my stomach growled in the hallowed halls of the Reina Sofia, I knew it was only a matter of time till I either ripped a painting off the wall and attempted to eat it or I ripped off my husbands head just because he was there and I was annoyed. See, when Amy gets hungry she becomes a bit of a biotch. Ok, that’s an understatement according to anyone who knows me. When Amy gets hungry and can’t find food right away she is basically a total bitch. Even worse, when Amy is wet and hungry she will let you know that she’s pissed and take it out on who ever is closest to her. I know, I know, it’s not fair and it’s mean, but I think of my stomach the way a man thinks of his penis. Just as many men think with theirs, I think with my stomach and when I need it satisfied, it must be satisfied immediately.

As we walked around Madrid on our final afternoon of vacation, starving and cold (I know, poor me, right?), I thought I was going to die if I didn’t get some food in me. It always happens that when you want something you never can find it, but the second you stop looking, there it is. Well, the second I just gave up on finding an open restaurant, there she was - a warm, inviting, cozy and delicious-smelling Galician restaurant - Taberna Maceira. The menu offered an array of food and if I had my choice, I probably would’ve ordered the whole menu. But the thing that caught our eye was the Arroz Marineiro (that’s the Galician spelling for Arroz Marinero) which happened to be a mid-day special. The fact that the menu specifically told you, in so many words, to be patient because this dish takes at least 25 minutes to make, even as hungry as I was, made me smile. We ordered a huge cheese plate with five different types of Galician cheeses and a large jug of wine. Within five minutes I was warm, buzzed and happy. When the steamy hot cauldron of rice, tomato stock and various types of seafood came out, I started to realize that I could be happy sitting in that cozy Galician restaurant with the jug(s) of red wine, my husband and this steamy hot bowl of Arroz Marineiro for the rest of my life… or at least until the rain passed in a few hours.

This dish is similar in flavors to a paella but the main difference is the consistency. It should be like a soupy stew with a bit of the broth left on the top of the rice so you can get a bit of the broth with each bite. Most recipes have a variety of fish included in it. Kind of like the livornese fish stew we made ages ago - it all depends on what’s fresh and what’s available. The dish’s name translates to Marine or Sailor Rice. The small bit of history I could find about this dish told me that it was an easy dish for those that lived on the sea to make with what was readily available. We brought back some razor clams with us from Spain, so we used some of these along with whatever else I could pick up at my local store. Although we weren’t sitting in Madrid when we ate this fabulous healthy meal, it did bring me back to that afternoon.

ARROZ MARINERO - SPANISH MARINE RICE (serves 2 to 3 as mains)

Ingredients:

• 1 onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 to 6 whole, peeled tomatoes (can be from a can), chopped
• 6 cups hot stock (preferably fish stock)
• 1 roasted red pepper, peeled and cut into 2 inch strips
• olive oil
• 2 tablespoons pimenton (paprika)
• pinch of saffron
• a variety of seafood: squid cut in rings, clams still in shell, shrimp with shells removed, mussels, white fish cut in 1-inch chunks
• 2 cups of Valencian rice (regular white rice would work too)
• some chopped parsley
• lemon
• Optional but not traditional: some peperoncino or a hot pepper to spicin it up

What to do:

1. In a pot, saute the onions and garlic for a few minutes in some olive oil. After a few minutes, add the clams and mussels along with a bit of hot stock (like 3 or 4 tablespoons) and stir a bit. Put a lid on the pot and give it a few minutes to steam. Don’t let the onions and garlic burn. Lift the lid every 2 minutes to check if the shells have opened. Stir around if necessary and put lid back on. Keep doing this until the shells of the clams and mussels have completely opened. Remove to a bowl and hold until ready to plate.
2. Add the chopped tomatoes, roasted red pepper, squid and fish to the sauteed onions and garlic. Cook for a minute then add the pimenton and saffron. Stir for around for a minute then add the rice and stir, allowing rice to absorb all the flavors in the pot.
3. Add all the broth and stir. Bring the rice to a boil and then turn heat down a bit and allow the rice to cook in the heavy simmering liquid. You want in between a boil and a simmer. The rice should cook in about 20 minutes, but, like me, keep testing it for doneness every 5 minutes. About five minutes before the rice is finished cooking, add your shrimp.
4. When the rice is done, turn heat off, taste for seasoning and ladle rice along with some extra broth and plenty of seafood into a bowl. Top with some of the reserved clams and mussels. Squeeze some lemon juice on to the top along with some chopped parsley. Enjoy!

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• JAMAICAN JERK CHICKEN
• SHREDDED CHICKEN SOPES WITH TOMATILLO AVOCADO SAUCE
• FRITO MISTO DI MARE (FRIED MIXED SEAFOOD AND VEGGIES)
• SALAD NICOISE (Salad with Seared Tuna)
• PROVENCAL RABBIT WITH OLIVES AND CAPERS
• BRAISED PORK CHOPS WITH LIME AND OLIVES

Tags: calamari, fish, food, Galician, Madrid, pimenton, Recipe, Recipes, restaurant, rice, saffron, seafood, shrimp, soup, Spain, Spanish, Squid, stew, vegetarian

Jeffrey Steingarten famously declares in It Must Have Been Something I Ate that every time he is bored, he roasts a chicken. Calculating that he gets bored approximately once a week, this translates into 52 roast chickens a year and more than one thousand since he began as food critic at Vogue. That’s a lot of chicken, but it’s also a lot of practice in the art of roasting. Now, Steingarten goes on to say that roasting a chicken in the oven is little more than baking it, and that real roasting can only be done on a spit over a flame, which is perhaps true, but in the absence of a spit and fire, I think oven-roasting (baking) can produce a perfectly delicious roast chicken, and would refer you to the recent post “How to Spatchcock a Chicken” for a quick step-by-step.

Indeed, to my mind, (and to disagree with Mr. Steingarten, for once) there is one distinct advantage to oven-roasting vs. spit-roasting, namely, drippings, and drippings, like the crumbles in the corner of a bag of chips (crisps), are where the flavor is at. These drippings, you see, can be made into one of the most sublime of all cooking by-products, the gravy.

So, after washing and patting dry my bird, I stuffed its cavity with carrots, celery, onions, garlic, thyme, and lemon, before giving it a good rub all over with olive oil and a healthy sprinkling of salt. I then placed said bird in a dutch oven (le creuset) and leaving the lid off, put it in a 420F oven for forty minutes. After forty minutes, and with the bird looking perfectly golden and crispy, I turned the heat down to more placid 350F and let it roast for another hour before removing it and letting it rest a while out of the oven.

Before carving it, I removed the bird from the pot and took out the stuffing from the cavity, then drained all the juices out of the cavity into the pot where they mixed with roasting juices. Adding the cavity stuffing to the juices, along with about a pint of tap water, I turned up the heat and scraped the burnt bits off the bottom of the pan. I let the liquid reduce by about a third, stirring occasionally and crushing some of the vegetables a bit with my wooden spoon.

Nicely brown and beautifully redolent of chicken, thyme, lemon and the sweetness of roasted carrots, I strained the gravy and then pushed the solids through a sieve to add some body and flavor back in to it. Seasoning only slightly with salt and fresh pepper, I was proud to have made an absolutely fantastic, honest-to-goodness chicken gravy without recourse to stock, bouillon cubes or thickeners like corn starch. It was a moment in which I realized that just by following my instincts I had recreated the kind of gravy you’d commonly find at a good English restaurant or pub, or indeed, a good country French restaurant.

It was really quite an ordinary dinner - roast chicken, dauphinoise potatoes and a warm asparagus salad with fennel and celery tops, but with this gravy it became extraordinary — exactly the kind of restorative elixir that my body needed. “They” say that chicken soup contains something that makes you better when you’re sick, and I am sure that this chicken gravy had some of that goodness in it too. It was freshly made, flavorful and, well, chicken-y in a way that only chicken can really taste like chicken, and it made me feel wholesome without resorting to wheat germ, lentils and colonic irrigation.

Another interesting by-product of this dinner was a rather toothsome recipe for a potato and fennel gratin that I’m also inordinately proud of, perhaps because I didn’t work from a recipe, perhaps because I’m an asshole. Anyway, here’s how to do it:

Potato & Fennel Gratin
Ingredients

• 2 large or 3 medium waxy potatoes (yukon gold are best here) peeled, but left whole
• 1 large fennel bulb with tops trimmed and reserved for fennel salad
• 1/2 to 2/3 cup milk
• 2-3oz low moisture mozzarella, sliced thinly
• salt & pepper to taste

Recipe

• Preheat oven to 350F.
• Using a mandolin on the middle thickness setting, slice your potatoes and fennel.
• Lay out potatoes overlapping one another by about 3/4 slice (see photo below) in a layer in a baking dish.
• Then do the same thing with your fennel slices. This second layer will probably not be as neat as the first one, but that doesn’t really matter.
• Pour the milk over the vegetables but make sure milk does not cover them. Depending on the size of your dish, you may need a bit more or a bit less milk, but it should only come up to the bottom of the upper-most layer of vegetables.
• Season with salt and pepper.

• Cover dish with foil and place in oven for about half an hour.
• After this time, remove from oven and lay your mozzarella slices on top. Do not add too much cheese - be a little sparing.
• Return to oven and allow to bake for another twenty minutes or so, until cheese begins to puff and brown.
• Remove and allow to cool a bit before serving (cutting is easier when vegetables and cheese have firmed up a little).
• Serve with roast chicken on a Sunday night and calm the weekly apprehension at your impending return to work.

Check out these other posts you may enjoy:

• BRAISED PORK CHOPS WITH LIME AND OLIVES
• ENSALADA DE CABRALES (Thin Sliced Apple and Cabrales Cheese Salad w/ Vinaigrette)
• AUTHENTIC THIN-CRUST PIZZA
• BLACK, RED OR PINTO BEANS WITH CHORIZO AND CUMIN
• VEAL KIDNEYS WITH MUSHROOMS AND COGNAC
• CREAMY LEMON PASTA
• LIDIA’S LAMB CHOPS (Lamb Chops with A Mustard Anchovy Sauce)

Tags: asparagus, carrots, chicken gravy, dauphinoise potatoes, fennel, food, gratin, gravy, Jeffery Steingarten, lemon, Recipe, Recipes, roasted, sunday night dinner, thyme, Vogue

I think the title of this post says it all about my feelings (and others) about the famous Romans dish of pasta, traditionally spaghetti, with pecorino cheese and a good amount of freshly ground pepper.  The name says is all - cacio, meaning cheese, and pepe meaning pepper.  We’re not breaking any new ground here because I’m sure there’s about 50 other food blogs that have made this dish.  I’m just here hoping that if anyone does make it, they try to make it the freshest and best way they can. 

I’m going to get my food snob on here - please do not make this dish soley with parmigiano reggiano and that crappy, old shaker filled with pepper that you may only bust out when laying out your fine china on one or two holidays a year.  The pepper most likely has zero flavor anymore - if you do, please name the dish whatever you want.  I personally think “Pasta with Parmigianno Reggiano and Crappy Old, Non-Spicy Pepper from the Depths of My Cupboard” works great!  If you go to the store and spend $4 you can get some black peppercorns.  Just put them into a pepper grinder or, if you don’t have one, throw the peppercorns in a plastic baggie and grab a meat mallet or a hammer and get out your aggressions.  Keep hammering until you’ve produced some nice, ground pepper.  Make alot if you’d prefer to not have to go through this exercise again and freeze the extras to prevent the pepper from going bad (ie: flavorless).

The reason I’m so passionate about this is because you can not recreate the amazing flavor of this old, traditional dish if you do not have good pepper.  When freshly ground, pepper is very spicy and full of flavor.  It is not supposed to just produce a nice contrast of color to a boring meal - although the beauty of it is it does that too!  Research taught me that in ancient Rome pepper was extremely popular and was used for medicinal reasons by the ancient Greeks.  It was revered as a very valuable spice.  As for the cheese, I’ll go a bit easier on you if you don’t use the Pecorino cheese, but I’ll give you a light tap on the bum so you’ll remember to try it with that cheese next time.  Pecorino would only be used in this dish in Rome because, well, that’s the regional cheese in that area.  If you look close at the label, it’s really called Pecorino Romano, right?  Parmigiano and pecorino are two very different tasting cheeses.  In fact, there are many varieties of pecorino in Italy ranging from soft to hard versions of the cheese.  For this discussion, we are generally talking solely about Pecorino Romano - the hard cheese that is able to be grated. If you do a comparison, I’d imagine you’d notice that pecorino is much sharper in taste where parmigiano is more nutty and mellow in flavor.  Both are pretty nice and salty, which is why you should not have to salt this dish.  Some people feel very strongly about choosing one of these cheeses over the other.  Because of this, we have chosen to use a mixture of the cheeses for this version of cacio e pepe.  This way you get a blend of the cheese.  But in Rome, you will most likely find the dish made only with pecorino. 

When made correctly, you will not believe how unbelievably creamy and spicy this dish is.  I felt like we were back in Rome (of course only if I closed my eyes VERY hard and did not open them to reveal a very closet-like, dirty Brooklyn apartment).  This dish is so quick and easy, I’m sure Rachel Ray couldn’t even make it because she’d only fill 1/8 of a show.  Give it a try - you won’t be disappointed.

Also, months ago we wrote a post on a great NYC restaurant with the same name as this dish.  If you’re ever in New York, I’d advise you to give this awesome restaurant a try… and order their signature dish made in a hollowed out wheel of pecorino!

CACIO E PEPE (Spaghetti with Pecorino Romana and Fresh Ground Pepper) - serves 2 as a main, 3 to 4 as a starter)

Ingredients:

• 3/4 pound of spaghetti
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 to 2 tablespoons freshly ground pepper (depending on how spicy you want it!)
• a bit of the pasta cooking liquid (about 1/4 to 1/2 of a ladel-full)
• 1/2 cup of freshly ground pecorino romano
• 1/2 cup freshly ground parmigiano reggiano

What to do:

1. Boil your spaghetti until perfectly al dente (about 7 minutes)
2. In a separate pan, on low-medium heat, add your butter, oil and 1/2 of your pepper and allow the butter to melt, swirly the pan around to help it move a bit.
3. When spaghetti is done, add a bit of the cooking liquid to your melted butter/pepper/olive oil sauce and swirl the pot again.  Turn heat down to low. Add your spaghetti and toss once. 
4. Add your cheeses and the rest of the pepper and toss the spaghetti again in the pan.
5. Plate and top with a sprinkle more of pepper and cheese.  Voila!  DONE.

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• FETTUCCINE FRA’DIAVOLO WITH CRAB AND SHRIMP
• SPANISH (AUSTURIAN) OXTAIL WITH FRIED POTATOES
• TAGLIATELLE WITH AUTHENTIC RAGU DI FEGATO DI POLLO (Long Pasta w/ Ragu of Chicken Livers, Milk and White Wine)
• GNOCCHI DI PATATE WITH A BROWN BUTTER, SAGE, BREADCRUMB SAUCE
• Truffled Butter:  A Prince Among Ideas
• The Wrong Message from a Former Prophet (Delia Smith Jumps Ship)

Tags: Cacio e Pepe, cheap, cheap meal, cheese, easy, easy meal, Italian, Italy, parmigiano, Pasta, pecorino, pepper, quick, quick meal, Rachel Ray, Recipe, Recipes, Roman, Rome, spaghetti, vegetarian

Lately, we’ve been making a lot of southern European dishes and we felt we needed a break, but we were also looking for a dish that wouldn’t take all night to make and require us to buy a load of ingredients we’d use for one dish and then sit and rot in our refrigerator. So, we decided to go old-school Japanese-American style and make a dish so reminiscent of the 1980s that you’d almost expect to look up from your plate and find Mr. Miyagi and Daniel-san across the table.

But instead of accompanying this dish with some studied fence-painting or the practicing of our wax-on, wax-off technique, we went for a really simple scallion salad called Pa Muchim we’ve been loving at Korean restaurants lately.

Both of these dishes are unbelievably easy and are perfect for a weeknight evening in, especially if you’re lucky enough to have the Karate Kid trilogy on hand for some post-dinner entertainment…

We’re entering this into this week’s “Weekend Herb Blogging” event hosted by Coffee and Vanilla.

Broiled Miso-Glazed Salmon with Udon Noodles

Ingredients

• 1 lb salmon fillet
• 4tbsp miso paste
• 1 x 8oz package ready to eat udon or soba noodles
• 2tbsp mirin
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
• 1tbsp ginger, crushed chopped
• 1tbsp (reduced sodium) soy sauce
• 1/2 carrot julienned
• 1/2 red bell pepper julienned
• 3oz green beans
• 1tbsp peanut oil

Recipe

• Turn on your broiler to high and place a sheet of aluminum foil over a baking sheet and oil lightly.
• Cut salmon fillet into two roughly equal portions and coat lightly on all sides with miso past, probably about half of it.Heat your wok or skillet to very high heat and add peanut oil. Then, quickly toss in the carrot and green beans. Allow to cook, moving constantly for about a minute until beans start to wrinkle a bit.
• Hit pan with ginger and garlic. When you can smell these nicely, add the mirin and soy sauce, followed after a couple of seconds by the udon noodles. Stir these together so noodles are well coated with sauce and vegetables and then remove to a plate.
• Slap salmon under broiler (skin side down first). After between 1-2 minutes or until miso starts to caramelize, turn fish over and broil for another 1-2 minutes skin side up.
• When skin is crispy and glazed-looking, remove fish and serve over the noodles and top with scallion salad (pa muchim).

Scallion Salad (Pa Muchim)

Ingredients

• 3-4 medium scallions (spring onions/chinese shallots)
• 2 tbsp rice wine vinegar
• 2 tsp white sugar
• 1 tbsp sesame oil
• 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes (chili flakes)
• 1 pinch coarse/kosher salt
• 1tsp toasted sesame seeds

Recipe

• Slice scallions lengthwise into fine strips (1-2mm or 1/16inch wide) and submerge in cold water until curled - 30mins-1hr.
• Drain well and place in a bowl then dress with remaining ingredients. Serve either as a garnish, side dish or panchan (mixed korean starters) to your favorite Asian dish.

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• SWEET ANISE-FLAVORED SALMON IN A POUCH (SALMON EN PAPILLOTE)
• PROVENCAL RABBIT WITH OLIVES AND CAPERS
• PASTA (PERCIATELLI/BUCATINI OR SPAGHETTI) AL’AMATRICIANA (ROMAN CLASSIC PASTA DISH)
• VEAL SAUSAGES WITH HERBED POLENTA AND ROASTED BEETS
• OKRA FRITTERS WITH LOUISIANA REMOULADE
• BREAD-CRUSTED FISH WITH LEMON-BUTTER SAUCE
• WHOLE FRIED SNAPPER WITH GARLIC AND PARSLEY SAUCE

Tags: Japanese, Korean, miso, pa muchim, salmon, scallion salad, soba noodles

We got another “E” award from Ben over at What’s Cooking and we couldn’t be more pleased. It always feels so good to feel loved in this big ‘ole food blog world (supposedly there’s about 100,000 of us - can you believe it!?). So, I won’t bore you with repeating my acceptance speech again. I’ll just let you link here if you so choose to read it again. Thank you so much, Ben and check out his website and give him some love. Instead of giving this award to a bunch of blogs, I’m going to give it to one that I have been enjoying recently: Italyville.blogspot.com. You should really check it out - he’s just started a ‘movement’ to stop eating whole wheat pasta which is hilarious and genius! Plus it’s about Italy and Italian life, so you know I’m going to give it props. So, here ya go, italyville.blogspot.com

Have a wonderful weekend.

Normally, when I think of prunes my first thought is the familiar TV commercial showing the side-by-side comparison of someone experiencing “bloating and discomfort” and someone enjoying the verve and gaiety brought on by just one bowlful of California prunes. However, since last Thursday, my first thought is now “when can I have some more?”. No, dear readers, this change of heart wasn’t brought on by relief from a particularly vicious and lengthy case of colonic log-jam, it was caused by my first visit to what is now my new favorite restaurant in New York City.

Prune, Gabrielle Hamilton’s widely-revered nouveau American place on East 1st Street has been called a lot of things since it opened in 1999 - among them, “phenomenal” and “inspired” (NYMagazine), “wonderful food” (BlogSoop.com) and “immediate success” (NYC.com), and rightly so, in my humble opinion. Generally, we aren’t attracted to, can’t afford, and don’t really desire to visit big-name chef’s big-name restaurants and pay big-name prices for big-name signature dishes, all the while praying for the merest glimpse of said big-name chef, and this is precisely why our first review of a well-known (outside of NYC) restaurant is Prune and not Mesa Grill, Babbo, or Jean-Georges.

Owner and chef Gabrielle Hamilton, my wife’s new girl-crush, describes her aim when she started Prune as wanting “…an unassuming way to slip into the shallow end of the pool of New York City restaurants”, and she appears to have achieved this in Prune’s unassuming feel, no more than 10 tables, the austere, French-brasserie-style decor, and the small menu. Of course, Hamilton has also taken the restaurant scene by storm, serving simple, tasty dishes with a gusto that befits their often hearty, gamey ingredients, and in doing so, she has been widely emulated.

In his forward to Fergus Henderson’s St. John Bar and Restaurant cookbook The Whole Beast: Eating Nose to Nail, Anthony Bourdain says that Henderson’s signature dish of roasted veal marrow bones with parsley salad would be his last meal should he find himself moments away from the electric chair, adding that he was delighted upon finding an exact recreation of this in New York because he felt he had found a “kindred-spirit” who “gets it” - namely, Gabrielle Hamilton. This should not imply that Hamilton simply serves excellent knock-offs of other people’s food, but rather that the rediscovery of unpretentious, traditional dishes made from less popular cuts is now a growing trend in the UK and US because of people like Henderson and Hamilton.

Readers of this blog with any sense of our body of work and culinary proclivities will know that while we do not disdain chicken breasts and filet mignons, we are interested in exploring the eating and cooking of other parts of the beast, not because we are food fashion conscious, but rather because we understand that it takes more skill to make offal taste good than it does to present a fat fillet, and, as we said in our first podcast on rabbit, we believe it’s foolish and represents a small-minded snobbery to restrict yourself to prime cuts of the chicken, cow and pig. So, a trip to Prune was long overdue.

Amy chose the deep-fried sweetbreads (described by one peevish restaurant reviewer as Kentucky Fried sweetbreads) with bacon and a caper-lemon butter sauce, while I made like Bourdain and chose the veal marrow bones with parsley salad. The sweetbreads resembled nothing I’ve seen at KFC and, frankly, such a description is insulting. They were crispy, light, and tender inside with a sauce that had the tangy flavor of lemon and capers rounded out with the ineffable goodness that is a lot of butter. The marrow bones initially appeared slightly intimidating, especially when served with a small ramekin of what looked like fleur de sel, but armed with nothing but a teaspoon we bravely attacked them, bringing forth an amazingly translucent animal fat/juice along with the soft, gloopy, simultaneously sweet and savory wonder that is bone-marrow. Sucking the bones proved irresistible so tasty were they, and in the quest for that one last morsel greasy fingers slipped, knocking salt ramekin and contents onto an alarmed, but gracious adjacent diner. “But, what of the parsley salad?”, I hear you say. Well, of course, it was delicious too. A simple dressing of oil and lemon juice over a salad of flat-leaf parsley, thinly-sliced shallot and crunchy bites of cornichons (baby gherkins) complimented the rich and glutinous bone marrow perfectly. I can imagine making this salad with virtually any kind of roasted or grilled red meat or game, and I would guess we’ll be recreating it on these pages very soon.

While we readied ourselves for the arrival of our main courses, we struck up a conversation with two of our fellow diners (on the opposite side to those we had just showered with expensive salt). James, a soon-to-be food journal publisher from London, and his native New Yorker companion, Brian, had eaten at Prune before and while they also had the sweetbreads to start, they had the monkfish liver with warm buttered toasts in place of our marrow bones. “It’s quite oily and, er, liverish.” was James’ assessment of the latter dish, and you can’t argue with that.

As our main dishes arrived, Brian and James were experimenting with a very yellow wine from south-west France that was fermented in open barrels allowing it to oxidize and develop a more astringent flavor. The waiter described it as the “wild-west of wine-making” which, to anyone with the briefest understanding of the American frontier, would have connoted the brawny perfume of unwashed cowboys, saddle-grease and rotting chuck-steak. Happily for our erstwhile companions, it was only rather tart, like a young scrumpy cider, but they found it not to their taste, offering us a go on it, perhaps as a way of getting rid the quicker. I could have drunk a glass of it, but a bottle would likely have turned my mouth inside out.

Amy had ordered the rabbit in vinegar sauce and I the grilled quail with braised escarole and raisins on the vine for our main courses. My quails were perfectly grilled. Crispy-skinned with a hint of heat from red pepper flakes, but beautifully pink and moist inside. They were gamey and delicate, more like squab than any quail I’ve had before. Amy’s rabbit was, well, better than the one we made recently (even though that was very good) perhaps because of the oodles of butter in the sweet and sour vinegar sauce which also contained some warm whole cornichons — an unexpected, but highly successful addition. Our side dish of steamed asparagus tips (which could have used a little salt) came with an egg yolk (the white having been cut away) for dipping which we both thought was ingenious and delicious.

Meanwhile, James and Brian were enjoying their mains, respectively steamed razor clams with an almond-chili picada, and grilled branzino with fennel oil and gros sel. The clams and fish both looked excellent, especially the branzino which was charred to a dark, rich patina on the outside but remained white, flaky and moist on the inside. Their side dish was the particularly unusual boiled fennel shoots, which had a crunchy, wholesomeness rarely found in restaurant side dishes where the flavor of vegetables is usually masked by garlic, spice or a sauce.

As we concluded our meal with a distinctly average chocolate cake that was too dry, but with two excellent digestifs - mine an eaux de vie from Oregon made from pears, and Amy’s, her favorite, sambuca, we chatted some more with James and Brian about food and food culture in Britain and America. James argued that he thought Britain was slightly ahead of the states in terms of regaining its endemic food culture and reviving typical products. Perhaps it’s true that America, as a whole, has yet to rediscover its culinary roots and return to them in the whole-hearted way the British have - though many areas of the East and West coasts have been doing this for some time. But I would argue that any restaurant, chef or restaurateur who wishes to focus on quality local ingredients and traditional techniques should first eat at Prune and see how deliciously it can be done. Emulation is no bad thing if you get it bang on, and, for me, I would be perfectly happy if I never got to eat Fergus Henderson’s original bone-marrow dish at St. John in London, if I could dine on perfect knock-offs like Gabrielle Hamilton’s twenty minutes from my front door.

I think we’ll let the debate about where gastronomy is and should be heading, who’s in the lead, and who’s falling behind rage elsewhere. Our blog is not the forum for food snobs to poke holes in the successes and failures of various chefs, rather it is the place where we honestly appraise meals we’ve eaten whether we’ve cooked them ourselves or enjoyed the work of others. In this case, I cannot speak highly enough of our visit to Prune and I would encourage you all to give it a try if you’re prepared to be a little adventurous in your eating. This isn’t grilled locusts in peri-peri, this is honest-to-goodness food, simply prepared and given the respect it is due.

Although we haven’t made roasted bone marrow yet in our little kitchen, two food-blog friends did and I think they both look absolutely delicious. You can check out the first recipe here and please visit our friend Claudia’s Fergus Henderson recipe here.

Prune, 54 East 1st Street, between 1st and 2nd Avenue, New York. F, V trains to 2nd Avenue/Houston or 6 train to Bleeker/Lafayette. Reservations are recommended. Lunch 11:30 - 3:00 p.m. Mon-Fri; Dinner 6:00 - 11:00 p.m. Mon-Thur, 6:00 p.m. - 12:00 a.m. Fri-Sat, 5:00 - 10:00 p.m. Sun; Brunch 10:00 - 3:30 p.m. Sat-Sun.

Tags: Anthony Bourdain, Fergus Henderson, Gabrielle Hamilton, marrow-bone, New York City, Prune, restaurant, Restaurant Review, sweetbreads