Columns from the Star News:
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April 30, 2008 - Kitchen Comedy
April 16, 2008 - Horseradish
April 2, 2008 - Scallops
March 12, 2008 - Empty Bowls
February 20, 2008 - Immigrantion Can Be Delicious
February 6, 2008 - Barley Hops to the Rescue
January 23, 2008 - Bringing Barbeque Inside
January 9, 2008 - Beat the Winter Blues
December 26, 2007 - New Year's Traditions and Rationalizations
December 12, 2007 - I Left My Artichoke Hearts in San Francisco
November 14, 2007 - Thanksgiving Mashed Potatoes
October 28, 2007 - The Beet Goes On
October 3, 2007 - Kosher Salt
September 19, 2007 - Food Fixations
September 5, 2007 - Kitchen Safety
August 22, 2007 - Catering Disasters
Recipe:
Foolproof Chocolate-Coconut Fondue
August 8, 2007 - Taking the Moroccan Challenge
Recipes include Chicken with
Lemon and Olives, Preserved Lemons
July 25, 2007 - Vegas, Baby: Celebrity Chefs
Recipes include Ahi Tuna Tartare
July 11, 2007 - Chillin' and Grilling -
Recipes include Killer Burgers, Asian Noodle Slaw
and Tabbouleh
June 27, 2007 - It Takes a Village to Make a Sandwich -
Recipes include Turkey Avocado Wrap
June 13, 2007 - Seeing Meatballs in a New Light -
Recipes include Larry's Turkey Meatballs
May 16, 2007 - A Good Cup of Tea is Hard to Find -
Recipes includeTea-Smoked Duck Breast with Blackberry Demi Glace
May 2, 2007 - Bits about Bacon -
Recipes include Marinated Bacon-Wrapped Grouper
Bites and Spaghetti Carbonara
April 18, 2007 - Veggie Sweepstakes: Asparagus -
Recipes include Crispy Asparagus
and Asparagus Flan
April 4, 2007 - Pack Up Your Knives! -
Recipes include French Onion Soup
March 21, 2007 - Eggrolls: Not Just for Take-Out Anymore -
Recipes include Chicken and
Jack Cheese Eggrolls, Shrimp and Crab Rolls with
Raspberry Mustard
March 7, 2007 - Parsley for President -
Recipes include Gremolata, BLT Dip, Herbed Goat
Cheese
February 21, 2007 - Black Beans: Rock Stars of the Legume World -
Recipes include Black
Bean Soup, Seared Tuna with Black Beans, Pico de Gallo
February 14, 2007 - Spice Up Your Life with Red Curry Paste -
Recipes include Thai
Butternut Squash Soup, Salmon with Red Curry Sauce
February 7, 2007 - Aphrodisiacs: Foods of Love -
Recipes include Baked
Champagne Oysters, Arugula Salad with Blood Oranges
Column – Kitchen Sit-Com
I love my job. This isn’t news to any of you who have been
reading this column for any amount of time, but it bears repeating. I would love it even more if it wasn’t for
the obligatory paperwork, maintenance chores and the other scut work that is
involved in keeping a business afloat, but overall I’ve got a pretty good
deal.
That might sound like an odd
thing to say about a vocation that by definition includes unpredictable hours,
unlimited stress, plenty of heavy lifting and room temperatures that are often
uncomfortable – and don’t even get me started on the ugly footwear thing again
– but the fact is that I probably spend more time in the average day laughing
than most of the people I know.
Cooking isn’t brain
surgery. Sure, there’s a certain
attention to detail that is necessary if you’re going to do it right, but a
great deal of what we do in the kitchen is routine, and doesn’t require a lot
of concentration once you’ve done it a few hundred times. And the people who are attracted to this
profession tend to be, how do I say this – a little off-beat. Strange, even. Anyway, we’re all just a teensy bit odd. Hmm.
Maybe it is a bit more like brain surgery that I’d thought. Anyway . . .
So in any kitchen on a given
day you’ve got a cast of characters with busy hands, definable goals and minds
that are free to roam. In an unbalanced
kitchen, this combination can lead to a work environment that is fraught with
bad temper, mind games and power plays (and if you don’t believe me, just watch
Top Chef for, oh, thirty seconds – then please change the channel or go back to
leading a productive life). In a good
kitchen, however, this same environment lays the groundwork for moments of
comic genius.
I’ve always been amazed that
the powers-that-be at the television networks have never managed to put
together a successful sit-com that is based in a restaurant kitchen. I know they’ve tried. A few years back, even I was feeling sorry
for Emeril after his disastrous attempt at comic acting – and I’m much more
likely to be annoyed by the ubiquitous Food Network star than to feel any
sympathy for him.
It’s possible that the
spontaneous kitchen humor that gets me through the day isn’t reproducible, and
I’d believe that if it wasn’t for the
fact that I know that when I go to work tomorrow I’ll have at least two
episodes of that full belly laughter that just makes you glad to be human. And that’s on a slow day.
Hey, I’m not trying to leave
you guys out, but even in an open kitchen with customers walking in and out,
the best moments are just ours. Mostly,
when you walk into the store we try to be on our best behavior – and it’s not
easy for kitchen geeks to be charming.
We do our best, but there’s a good reason why 95 percent of the people
in foodservice are hidden behind kitchen doors. My people are the most competent,
irreverent, and silly people I’ve ever known, but even on our best days we’re
the Not-Quite-Ready-For-Prime-Time cooks.
To answer the question that
you haven’t quite formulated in your head yet:
Yes. I’ve often thought of
installing a camera in the kitchen so that I can catch our most amusing moments
on film, reproduce them word for word and become the most amazingly successful
comedy writer in Hollywood. But that
would mean giving up the day-to-day comedy show that is my life. Besides, I just like Being There.
So … A man walks into a
restaurant . . .
Does a double twirl with
an enthusiastic hands-out flourish while saying something like “What’s hot
today, kids”, to which we all answer, “YOU ARE!” At which point he winces and puts his hand to
his hip and says, “I think I might have hurt myself with that entrance.” And we all clapped and cheered.. See, it’s not just the employees who are
funny.
Good Mojo Spicy Garlic
Chicken Pizza
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons
olive oil
2 large onions, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons golden brown sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons plus 1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 pound skinless boneless chicken breat, cut into 3/4-inch pieces
2 tablespoons sriracha (Thai hot chili garlic) sauce
6 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
2 Boboli bread shells
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
1 cup shredded provolone cheese
3 large plum tomatoes, seeded, chopped (about 1 1/2 cups)
Heat 1/4 cup oil in heavy
large skillet over high heat. Add onions and sauté 5 minutes. Reduce heat to
medium-low and sauté until onions are dark brown and caramelized, about 25
minutes. Add sugar, vinegar and 1 1/2 teaspoons garlic; stir until liquid
evaporates, about 2 minutes longer. Cool to room temperature. (Can be done up to two days before and stored
in an airtight container in the fridge)
Sprinkle chicken cubes with salt. Heat 2
tablespoons oil in another heavy large skillet over medium-high heat. Add
chicken and sauté 2 minutes. Add remaining 1 tablespoon garlic and sauté 2
minutes. Add chili sauce and sauté 1 minute. Remove chicken from heat. Stir in
3 tablespoons cilantro. (Can be done up
to two days before and stored in an airtight container in the fridge)
To assemble and bake: Preheat oven to 425°F. Mix mozzarella, Swiss
and provolone cheeses in large bowl. Sprinkle cheese mixture, tomatoes, onions,
chicken and remaining 3 tablespoons cilantro over pizzas, dividing equally.
Bake pizzas until cheese melts, about 8 minutes.
Column – Horseradish
I never knew my great
grandfather other than through stories that were told to me by my grandfather
when I was a child. His reputation was
that of a resourceful, hardworking man who was a talented gardener and small-time
entrepreneur. He worked for a local
university in the agricultural department, but he ran a number of side
businesses, most of them based on products he made from the produce that he
grew in his yard. He made dandelion wine
and moonshine, preserves and canned vegetables, but his claim to fame was his
horseradish.
My grandfather often told of
how he and his brothers and sisters would sit on the wide front porch of his
house while they grated the fresh horseradish root with a box grater. All of his friends would be playing ball and
having fun, but there sat my poor grandfather with tears streaming down his
face from the fumes of the horseradish root.
Years after he grated his last piece of horseradish, my grandfather was
still a bit outraged at the experience.
His horseradish story was his favorite illustration for his
grandchildren of just how easy we all had it.
It was our family’s equivalent of the “walking five miles to school
every day, barefoot in the snow, and uphill both ways” story. We, of course, would accuse him of
exaggeration, poetic license or outright falsehood. “Rotten kids,” I can still hear him
muttering. Lovingly, of course.
Flash forward to a cooking
class at Coriander’s about two weeks ago.
This particular class was taught by Josh Johnson of Hampstead Wines, so
I had the chance to sit in the back of the class with other the bad kids and
enjoy myself. I found myself sitting
next to Jerry Johnson, Josh’s father, who is a delightful man. In the course of one of the recipes, Josh
started talking about horseradish and Jerry turned to me and said, “I hate
horseradish. I will never eat it if I
can help it.” When I asked him why, he
started telling me a story about when he was a kid, sitting on the front porch
of his house grating horseradish and crying his eyes out from the fumes. The story as he told it was exactly like my
grandfathers, except for the fact that Jerry used a hand-crank grater instead
of a box grater. It doesn’t sound like
the advance in technology made the job any less horrible. When I told Jerry about my grandfather’s
version he assured me that, if anything, grandfather was under-exaggerating the
pain and suffering that horseradish-grating can cause.
Fortunately, kitchen grating
technology has continued to evolve since Jerry was a kid, and with a food
processor it is possible to make very fresh horseradish with relatively few
tears. Fresh horseradish root actually has very
little odor at all – until you grate it.
When the plant cells are ruptured, they release a mustard oil which is a
powerful irritant to the eyes and sinuses.
To grate your own horseradish
in a food processor, wash and peel the roots and dice it into small cubes.
Place the cubes in a food processor jar. Process no more than half a container
at a time. Add a small amount of cold water. Add several crushed ice cubes. Put
the cover on the food processor. When the root reaches its desired consistency,
add white vinegar. Use 2 or 3 tablespoons of white vinegar and 1/2 teaspoon of
salt for each cup of grated horseradish. The time at which you add the vinegar is
important. Vinegar stops the enzymatic action in the ground product and
stabilizes the degree of hotness.
When you remove the lid from
the food processor, BE VERY CAREFUL not to inhale any of the fumes. Trust me on this one. Or trust Jerry and my grandfather. At the very least, it is a mistake you will
make only once.
Horseradish root is normally
harvested in the spring and the fall.
Fall horseradish is supposed to be more pungent, and the fresh the root
is, the hotter it will be.
Prepared horseradish will
loose its power over time, and if it darkens in color it should be thrown
out. Store prepared horseradish in glass
jars with a tight-fitting lid in the refrigerator.
Horseradish is a great condiment
for cured or roasted meats, deli sandwiches and is a versatile seasoning that
can be added to pasta salads, dips, spreads and soups.
Seared Salmon with Sautéed Apples and Horseradish Chantilly
Serves 2
This is one of my favorite ways to eat salmon. The horseradish Chantilly is a simple
sauce that is easy to make and very versatile.
½ cup whipping cream
½ cup sour cream
¼ cup prepared horseradish or
to taste
3 apples, peeled, cored and
sliced
2 tablespoons butter
pinch of kosher salt
2 6-8-ounce fillets of
salmon, skin off
Whip cream until stiff peaks
form. Fold in sour cream and prepared
horseradish. Season with salt and
pepper. Set aside, chilled, until ready
to use.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
In a sauté pan, melt butter
until foaming. Add apples and pinch of
kosher salt and sauté apples until they are cooked through. Set aside and keep warm.
Season salmon fillets with
salt and pepper and spray top thoroughly with cooking spray. Heat a heavy ovenproof sauté pan over high
heat and add salmon to the pan, sprayed side down. Sear salmon for about two minutes. Remove pan from heat and spray the exposed
side of the fish thoroughly. Return pan
to heat, and flip salmon over and put pan in the oven until fish is done to
your liking.
To serve, put warm apples on
a plate, and top with the fish. Put a
dollop of the Chantilly sauce on the fish and pass the rest of the sauce on
the side.
Column – Scallops
This week I’ve got a taste for
scallops. Like most seafood, the quality
of the scallops that you buy will have more impact on the taste of your dinner
than anything I can teach you to do in a kitchen.
Truth is, shopping for seafood requires
a rather unique frame of mind. You may
have an idea that you want salmon for dinner, but you must still be prepared to
be critical when you look at the seafood display case. If the salmon looks old, you’ve got to be
flexible enough to move on and check out the grouper. If the grouper is dried out or spotty,
examine the tuna. If the tuna has a
rainbow sheen, keep moving (and start considering a trip to another fishmonger!) But when you start to look at the scallops,
you might have some questions about what, exactly, you are looking for.
Although there are dozens of species
of scallops in the world, American cooks are likely to run across only three
species: sea scallops, bay scallops and
calico scallops.
Calico scallops are sometimes sold as
bay scallops, even though they are smaller, have less flavor, and are thoroughly cooked
during processing. They look like pencil
eracers and have a similar flavor. This
is all you need to know about calico scallops:
Avoid these.
Bay scallops are smaller than sea
scallops, are harvested from October through March. They’re very expensive and hard to find
around in this area, so let’s not worry about learning about bay scallops
today, either.
So that just leaves us with sea
scallops. Sea scallops are almost always
shucked at sea and usually on boats that stay out for up to 10 days, so they
are rarely perfectly fresh. It is common
practice to soak them for several hours in a tripolyphosphate solution to plump
them up and help preserve them. This is
disastrous if you sautee scallops, because that liquid runs out when the scallop gets hot, making it
impossible for the scallop to brown – instead, they steam in the runoff. These scallops are called “wetpack”
scallops. They have a shiny appearance
and are significantly cheaper than “drypack” scallops. They also have a somewhat metallic flavor
that I find unpleasant.
“Drypack” scallops have not been soaked and can vary in color
from white to ivory to pinkish orange.
They are more expensive and have a shorter shelf life, but the flavor
and texture are far superior to the wetpack scallops. These are my scallops of choice.
Quick-frozen scallops are frozen immediately after being shucked instead of
being kept in a refrigerated ship’s hold for up to 10 days. Their flavor is superior to wetpack
scallops. If you decide to use frozen
scallops, you must defrost them completely before cooking and store them in a
pan lined with a kitchen towel to absorb the moisture that they will “sweat” as
they defrost. Dry again with paper
towels before cooking.
A word about frozen scallops: I usually ask my fishmonger when they
defrosted the scallops in the display case, and the answer I get is always
“This morning.” While it’s possible that
I just have phenomenal luck and timing, chances are that the person answering
the questions isn’t quite sure when the scallops were taken out of the freezer,
but they’re pretty sure they know what I want to hear. If I have to use frozen scallops, I always
ask for the ones that are still frozen so that I know for sure that they will
be fresh when I want to use them.
So how do you tell the difference
between wetpack, drypack and previously frozen scallops? The person who sells it to you will know –
and if you’re smart enough to ask the question, they’ll probably give you a
straight answer. Also, look at the
price. Chances are pretty good that if
the price is low, you’re looking at wetpack.
Move on.
Scallops size is designated by the
number per pound. U-10 (under 10 per
pound) scallops are huge, and one or two scallops per person are usually enough
for a large appetizer portion. For an
entrée portion, use three or four U-10’s or six to seven 10/20’s (10 to 20
scallops per pound).
Sea scallops usually come with a
small, hard muscle attached to the side which should be removed before cooking.
The biggest problem with scallops is overcooking. These little bivalves dry out and toughen
quickly if overexposed to heat.
This is a recipe that we prepared in my most recent cooking class. The salsa can be made up to three days ahead
of time, so it’s just a matter of searing the scallops at the last minute to
make a sophisticated and lovely meal. I
usually serve this with tricolor orzo that has been tossed with a little
browned butter and lemon juice and some fresh haricot vert or asparagus.
Seared Scallops with Mediterranean Salsa and White
Truffle Oil
Salsa:
6
roma tomatoes, seeded and chopped
3/4
cup pitted kalamata or niciose olives, chopped
1
tablespoon capers
1/2
cup yellow pepper, small dice
1/4
cup chopped Italian parsley
¼
cup chopped red onion
1
clove garlic, minced
2
tablespoons olive oil
Combine thoroughly. Can be made a day ahead.
Scallops:
12
U-10 scallops
cooking
spray
kosher
salt and pepper to taste
White
truffle oil
Make sure scallops are thoroughly
dried. Season scallops with salt, pepper
and a pinch of cayenne. Spray top of
scallop thoroughly with cooking spray.
Heat a 14-inch sauté pan over high
heat. When pan is very hot, add scallops
sprayed side down. Let scallops sear for
about 2-4 minutes. Remove pan from
direct heat for a moment so that you can spray the exposed side of the scallop
with cooking spray, then return the pan to the heat, flip scallops and sear the
other side for about a minute.
To serve, plate scallops, top with
Mediterranean Salsa, and drizzle with truffle oil.
Column – Empty Bowls
A few weeks ago I found myself at a gathering of local
chefs. This is a much more unusual event
than it might sound. While all of you
folks are out socializing on Friday and Saturday nights, people in the
restaurant business tend to be chained to their stoves. Unless we have worked together in the past or
find ourselves in adjoining booths for a charity event, chefs in competing
restaurants often don’t get much of a chance to meet. And the fact that this particular meeting was
at nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning
just made it that much more odd.
Restaurant people tend to be night owls – so most of us were a bit
punchy at that hour. While I tend to be
an early riser, I normally try to avoid any contact with people until closer to
ten, and it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t the only one there with that
philosophy.
I was standing just in front of the door (plotting to slip
away as soon as possible) so when Anne Steketee from Port Land Grille walked
through the door there was no way she could miss me. I took one look at the file folder in her
hand, and knew instinctively why she was there.
“This is going to cost me money,” I thought as I smiled hello at her.
Like most business owners, I get hit up for money by so many
worthy causes that I have a hard time keeping track. And like most business owners, I wouldn’t have
a business to run if I gave my time and money to every charity out there. But it was nine
o’clock in the morning, people, and I was weak. I saw that determined look in Anne’s
eyes. I knew I was a goner.
And I’m glad I was.
Turns out, Anne was looking for donations of soup – and making soup is
one of my favorite things to do! And
when the soup is for a worthy cause that is near and dear to my chef’s heart,
it doesn’t get much better than that.
So now I’d like all of you to mark the date of this Friday,
March 7 on your calendar for the Empty Bowls Project at St. James Episcopal
Church, Perry Hall, at Fourth and Dock Streets in Wilmington
to benefit the international project to fight hunger. For a fifteen dollar donation (higher
donations are accepted as well) you will receive a bowl made by a local artisan
and soup that is made by a local restaurant. It’s a great deal for a great cause. Tickets are available at a number of locations
in Wilmington and you can call Good
Shepherd Center
at (910) 763-4424 for
more details.
Go ahead, now, buy your tickets! Don’t make me show up at your house first
thing in the morning to convince you.
Chicken Gumbo – Gumbo
is normally served with white rice, but this soup is so hearty that I usually
skip it. And for those purists who
believe that gumbo just isn’t gumbo without okra and file powder, go ahead and
add it if you’d like. For that matter,
you can add crawfish, shrimp, crab or any other thing you’d like to it. Lessez les bon temps rollez!
Makes about 6 quarts
3 sticks butter
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breast, cut into ¾-inch
cubes
2 red bell peppers, diced
2 medium yellow onions, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
5 quarts chicken stock, heated
1 tablespoon paprika
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or to taste)
1 teaspoon thyme
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
2 bay leaves
Kosher salt to taste
1 pound andouille sausage, sliced 1/2-inch thick (optional)
First you make a roux. Don’t be intimidated, but you don’t
want to leave the pot unattended. Once
you start a roux, it can burn in a heartbeat, so once you get all of your
ingredients ready to cook and you’re going to start your roux, go ahead and
call that chatty friend of yours that you’ve been meaning to catch up
with.
Melt the butter in a 12-quart stockpot. Whisk in the flour
and cook until foaming. Cook, stirring often, until the roux is the color of
peanut butter, even a little darker if you’d like. This will take you 20-40 minutes, depending
on the BTU’s your stove puts out.
Add the chicken to the roux and cook until it’s lost its raw color on the
outside. Add the peppers, onion, and
celery. Cook until the vegetables are soft, about 5 minutes. Whisk in the
chicken stock (make sure it’s hot), and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the
heat to simmer. Stir in paprika, black pepper, cayenne, thyme, chopped garlic,
bay leaves, and kosher salt. Cook an additional 45 minutes. If your gumbo is too thick, add a little
water to it.
Add the andouille and cook for approximately 15 minutes. Taste, and adjust
for seasoning.
Column - Immigration Can Be Delicious
Like many of you out there, I have been paying close attention to the
presidential primaries this election cycle. No matter whose side you're on, I
think we can all agree that this has been one of the most dynamic primary
seasons in years.
While talking about politics with a friend the other day I realized that my
upbringing may have impacted some of my views more than I had been aware of.
I grew up in a melting-pot, middle-middle class suburban neighborhood in New
Jersey, where we had a family from Mexico living next door, a recently
transplanted family from the deep South across the street and a fair smattering
of first- or second-generation Germans, Hungarians, Greek, Irish, French
Canadians and more. The parochial school I attended was in a predominantly
Italian neighborhood and many of my classmates spoke only Italian at home
because their parents didn't speak English. My dad's parents were "off the boat"
from Ireland and you could hear it when they spoke. None of that seemed unusual
to me as a kid.
The cool thing about this was that these people brought with them their style
of cooking. I vividly remember popping through the hedges to Roxanne's house to
eat the still-warm tortillas that her mother had made. There was fresh Polish
kielbasa, Italian pastries, pierogi, barbecue, red gravy (what we now call
marinara sauce), bagels and lox, stuffed cabbage, pastitsio, spaetzle,
sauerkraut, rum cake and homemade wine. We had every kind of peasant food you
can imagine.
Later, I always seemed to end up living near people who had come from far
away. In college, I got to know Indian food from some fellow students from that
part of the world, and the scents of ghee and curry bring back some memories of
great meals. A college boyfriend's mom was from Greece, and although she wasn't
happy about her son dating a non-Greek girl, I had to admit that the woman could
cook. After college in Boston, I had a neighbor from Thailand and the flavors
and ingredients that they introduced me to just about knocked me out.
My mother and my grandmothers, fabulous cooks all, have been my biggest
influences, but I was also greatly influenced by that international cast of
characters that were my neighbors.
And while I am not drawing any political conclusions based on the culinary
talents of my former neighbors, I don't think anyone should be excluded because
their food is too weird, or given preferential treatment because their cuisine
is exquisite. But could we get them to leave a recipe? In the interest of
international cooperation, of course.
Beth Flaherty is the chef/owner of Coriander's Fine Foods & Catering;
e-mail: corianco@aol.com.
Grilled Lamb with
Tzatziki
(serves 8-12)
This recipe is very similar to one my old boyfriend's mom made. You can use a
grill-pan instead of a charcoal grill.
2 pounds plain yogurt (regular or low-fat)
1/2 cup good olive oil, plus more for brushing grill
Zest of one lemon
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice (about 3 lemons)
3/4 cup fresh rosemary leaves
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 5-pound boneless leg of lamb, trimmed of fat to the sirloins
Tzatziki (recipe follows)
Combine the yogurt, olive oil, lemon zest and juice, rosemary, salt and
pepper in a large, non-reactive bowl. Add the lamb, making sure it is covered
with the marinade. Marinate in the refrigerator overnight or up to 3 days.
Bring the lamb to room temperature. Prepare a charcoal grill with hot coals.
Scrape the marinade off the lamb, wipe the meat with paper towels and season it
generously with salt and pepper. Brush the grill with oil to keep the lamb from
sticking, and grill on both sides. Remove to a baking sheet and finish in a 400
degree oven until the internal temperature reaches 125 degrees. Remove lamb to a
cutting board, cover with aluminum foil and allow to rest for 20 minutes. Then
slice and serve with tzatziki.
For tzatziki (makes 5 cups)
4 cups plain yogurt
2 hothouse cucumbers, unpeeled and seeded
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon dried dill
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Place the yogurt in a cheesecloth-lined sieve and set it over a bowl. Grate
the cucumber and toss it with 2 tablespoons salt; place it in another sieve and
set it over another bowl. Place both bowls in the refrigerator for 3-4 hours so
the yogurt and cucumber can drain.
Transfer the thickened yogurt into a bowl. Squeeze as much liquid from the
cucumbers as you can and add the cucumbers to the yogurt. Mix in the remaining
ingredients.
Column – Barley – Not just for beer anymore.
In a prior column I expressed my undying love for mashed
potatoes. There probably isn’t a potato
preparation on the planet that I wouldn’t have some tender feelings for. Fry ‘em, bake ‘em, roast ‘em, sauté ‘em – I
just love ‘em. I’ve even had potatoes on
pizza (sliced cooked red potatoes with pesto and mozzarella) and it was tres
yummy.
However, even potatoes will get boring if you eat them every
day. So let’s say that you decide you
want a little more variety on your plate.
What are the other options for a starch?
Rice, pasta, bread? BORING! Not to mention processed and nutritionally
sub par. So what’s left? What?
What? WAIT!
What about whole grains?
Wild rice, oats, quinoa, bulger wheat, or my favorite, barley. The nutrition gurus keep telling us that we
out to eat more of them. Now is your
chance!
Barley has a nutty flavor and a satisfying chewiness and,
since it has a much lower glycemic index than potatoes or processed starches,
it will make you feel full for a longer period of time.
Barley’s biggest public relations problem is that it is
perceived as a one-dimensional ingredient.
Most people have had barley only in soups or stews, but barley is much
better at mutli-tasking than you may have suspected. It can be added to salads or casseroles for
some added depth of flavor, or served as a pilaf or side dish.
The most common brand of barley that is available locally is
Quaker Quick Barley, and I don’t recommend it at all. It will cook faster than “pearled” barley,
but the end result is rather flat in flavor and has a puffy texture that I
don’t enjoy. The next time you make a
trip to Harris Teeter or a natural food store, pick up a bag of Arrowhead Mills
Organic Pearled Barley. I’ve got a bag
of it sitting in front of me, and as I read over the cooking directions, I’ve
noticed that the recipes call for simmering 1 cup of barley in 3 cups of water
for 1 ¼ hours. Honestly, I don’t think
I’ve ever cooked barley for more than 40 minutes but I prefer it with more of
an al dente texture.
Barley Vegetable Risotto – Serves 4
This delicious and
satisfying dish is a great accompaniment to any grilled or roasted meat,
especially lamb.
For the barley:
1 tablespoon butter
¼ cup finely diced onion
1 cup dry white wine
1 ½ cups pearled barley (NOT instant)
4 cups hot chicken stock, plus more as needed
For the vegetables:
2 tablespoons butter
¼ cup chopped shallots
½ cup cleaned and chopped leeks
½ cup finely diced carrot
For finishing:
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
kosher salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons chopped Italian parsley
1 tablespoon butter
Cooking the barley:
Place chicken broth in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Heat another saucepan over high heat. Add butter.
When butter melts, add onion and sauté for about 5 minutes or until
nicely browned. Add the wine to deglaze
the pan and loosen any browned bits of onion.
Simmer until it is reduced by about half, then add the barley and
continue stirring for about 2 minutes.
Add hot chicken broth to cover the barley and bring to a simmer. Simmer for 30-40 minutes uncovered until the
barley is tender and fully cooked. Add
more hot stock as needed.
For the vegetables:
Melt butter in a sauté pan and stir in the shallots, leeks and
carrots. Saute over moderately high heat
for a minute or two, until just cooked through, then stir them into the barley
and let them simmer together for a moment.
(This recipe may be cooked to this point up to a day before
serving. When cool, cover and
refrigerate. To reheat, add a little
more stock or water and bring up over low heat.)
Remove the pan from heat and add Parmesan cheese, butter,
parsley and salt and pepper to taste.
Note to the
time-impaired cooks out there: If you
want to make this recipe in one pot, start with sautéing all of the vegetables,
including the onion, in the saucepan, then add wine, barley and broth and
continue as directed. Your vegetables
won’t have the snap that they will if you do it the long way, but you will still
end up with a great meal.
Column – Bringing Barbecue Inside
Okay,
folks, it looks like we’ve got January just about beat, so I promise to stop
complaining about winter weather.
Soon. As is it, we’re a month
past the winter solstice and the days are getting ever so slightly longer and
I’m sensing that there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. So I’m already thinking about barbecue.
We’re
still a few weeks away from thinking about firing up the outdoor smoker, and
I’m still too much of a weenie to even think about lighting up the charcoal
grill, but there are ways to bring some of that barbecue flavor and feeling
inside to warm up the chilly nights.
Pork
is the meat of choice for Q-ers in this part of the world, and rightly so. And when you’re trying to get dinner on the table
in a timely fashion, I recommend that you invest in some pork tenderloin. They’re lean, they’re easy to cook, and
they’re not terribly pricey. They also
don’t have a whole lot of flavor right out of the package, which is why they’re
so often sold already marinated:
barbecue, black pepper and lemon or teriyaki. Those pre-packaged marinades will do alright
in a pinch, but they’re overloaded with sodium and, dare I say it, not very
imaginative.
Pork
tenderloin is one of those meats that get better the longer you marinate it and
I’ve marinated it as long as three days and as little as two hours. Now, I’m normally suspicious of recipes that
call for you to reserve the marinade and use it as a sauce, but as long as you
bring this sauce to a boil for at least a minute, you’ll be just fine – and
you’ll be thrilled with the flavor.
During
the colder months, I like to use a ridged grill pan for this recipe. It’s not often that I’ll come right out and
state that you need a certain piece of equipment in your kitchen, but if you
haven’t already gone out and invested in a grill pan, I strongly recommend that
you do so. But be careful. There are a lot of grill pans out there, and
some are a waste of money. And buying
the most expensive one on the market just isn’t necessarily the way to go. So here’s my list of What to Look For in A Grill Pan (And Why):
1.
An Ovenproof Handle: For
meat, you don’t necessary use a grill pan like you would a grill. You want to get the grill pan very hot on the
surface of your stove, grill-mark the meat over direct heat, and then transfer
the pan with the meat to an indirect heat source – your oven. If you try to cook a steak, for instance, all
of the way through on the stove, you will dry it out. By going from stove top to oven, you get the
best of both cooking methods and a pretty, juicy piece of meat. But if you buy a grill pan with one of those
fancy wood or plastic handles, you’ll have to transfer the meat to another pan
before putting it in the oven, which will tempt you to take a short cut and
keep it on the stove.
2.
Pointy Ridges: It’s easier to get good grill marks when the
ridges in the pan are more narrow and sharp, and the higher the ridges, the
less likely that there will be contact between the meat and any fat or liquid
that drips into the pan. The more
rounded ridges just don’t seem to mark as well. Besides, pointy ridges can
come in handy in case you ever have to use your grill pan as a defensive weapon
– make contact with the ridged side of the pan and you’ll be able to pick out
your attacker out of any police lineup with relative ease.
3.
Not Too Heavy: This point
is particularly important if you have a ceramic cooktop. When using a grill pan, you want to get the
pan very, very hot before adding the meat (again, all those lovely marks) and a
cast iron pan is almost overkill in this department. You can get cast iron much hotter than most
other cooking materials, and there is some risk that you can crack a ceramic
top if the heat gets trapped between the pan and the burner. Besides they tend to be a lot more expensive
than other grill pans, and, well, heavier.
The
recipe I’m featuring this week is one that was given to me many years ago by
Amy Matthews, and it’s been a staple in my repertoire ever since. It’s easy to make, uses ingredients that I
pretty much always keep in my pantry or refrigerator, and it’s a hit every time.
Sesame Barbeque Pork
Tenderloin
2
pork tenderloins, silver skin and excess fat removed
1/2
cup picante sauce
1/3
cup soy sauce
1/4
cup worcestershire sauce
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2
teaspoons garlic, chopped
1
teaspoon dry mustard
1
tablespoon lime juice
2-3
drops dark sesame oil
1/2
teaspoon fresh ginger, minced
Mix
all ingredients together and marinate tenderloins for several hours or
overnight in the refrigerator. Remove meat from marinate. Reserve
marinade.
Set
your oven temperature to 400 degrees.
Heat a grill pan over high heat until very hot, then lay pork on the
diagonal across the grill pan ridges until you get a good sear. Turn pork and sear on each side. When each piece is thoroughly marked, move
pan to the preheated oven and cook until the internal temperature reads between
140 and 150 degrees. Remove from oven
and let sit for 10 minutes before slicing.
Put
marinade in a small saucepan and bring to a full boil for three to five
minutes. Serve sauce with pork.
Column: Chase Away the Winter Blues
Brrrr. There’s no
denying its winter again. It was a nice
long autumn and right up until New Year’s day we got pretty lucky with the
weather, but now it’s gotten to the point where even hard-core former Yankees
like myself have to admit that it’s time to put the flip-flops away and dig out
those wool socks. I know, here I go
complaining again, but I can’t help but feel that unless you’re actually sitting
in front of a crackling fire with a bottle of red wine and someone to snuggle
with, cold weather constitutes unnecessary cruelty.
January is right up there on my list of Least Favorite
Months, and it’s not just because it’s chilly outside. It is also Resolution Month. You remember on New Year’s Eve, sitting at
the bar or around the dining room table with your friends when you were running
your mouth about how THIS was going to be THE YEAR? Well, now it’s time to put your money where
your mouth is. If one of your
resolutions was to eat healthier or lose weight, then I mean that in a literal
sense.
That means that you must say good-bye to all of those
delicious comfort foods that you would normally be reaching for when the
temperatures plummet. Drop the Paula
Dean cookbook and back away quickly. So
long mashed potatoes and gravy, arrivederci fettucine alfredo, au revoir French fries, ciao chocolate, and
say ‘night y’all to the Krispy Kremes.
Adios, sayonara, bye bye. At
least for now.
To brighten up this bleak culinary outlook, I turn to soups
and stews. They’re easy to prepare, easy
on the pocketbook and easy on the waistline.
Again, the legume family comes to my rescue with their stellar
reputation for low fat, high fiber, and cholesterol-busting properties. While black beans are my favorite all-around
bean (I wrote a column last year in which I called them the rock stars of the
bean world), I also have a great deal of affection for white beans, whether
cannelini beans or great northerns. If
black beans are rock stars, white beans are part-time classical musicians. They’re a little more sophisticated, almost
as versatile and definitely as delicious.
This dish was served to me at a casual dinner get-together,
and I fell in love with it. It’s hearty
enough to satisfy, full of great flavor, and yet healthy enough so that you’ll
never feel guilty about it. Sarah served
this with a variety of fresh salsas, sour cream, grated cheese, some fresh
jalapenos, chopped red onion and tortilla chips. Just add some great conversation, and you’ll
be chasing the winter blues away in no time.
Sarah’s White Chicken Chili
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 to 1 ¼ cups onion, chopped
1 yellow pepper, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 (4-ounce) can chopped mild green chile peppers
4 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
¼ to ½ teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
2-3 cups chicken broth
3-5 cups cooked shredded chicken breast
3 (15-ounce) cans white beans, drained
2 tablespoons cilantro
In a blender or food processor, puree one can of beans with
about a cup of chicken broth, or if you prefer a low-tech approach, mash then
in a bowl with a fork. Set aside.
Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Slowly cook the onions and yellow pepper
until tender. Mix in the garlic, green
chiles, cumin, oregano and cayenne. Continue to cook and stir the mixture until
tender, about 3 minutes. Mix in the bean
puree, the remaining cans of white beans and shredded chicken. Add enough chicken broth to just cover. Simmer about 15 minutes, stirring
occasionally. Add cilantro just before
serving.
Column – New Year’s
Traditions and Rationalizations
New Year’s Eve is one of
those holidays I’m a little bit ambiguous about. I love the fact that it brings a celebratory
close to a holiday season that seems to be starting earlier and earlier every
year. By the time December 31 rolls
around I am eager for a new start in a new year. I’m also more in the mood to put my feet up
and let my hair down than to get dressed up and party.
Forgive me for sounding a
little grumpy about New Year’s but I do have just cause. Here’s the real reason: It’s the herring. You heard me right. Herring.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had to choke it down as my first
food of the year. Family tradition. “Just a little bite,” I can still hear
Mom-Mom saying. With tears in my eyes I
would do my best – but my best often let to me spitting out a half-chewed wad
of pickled fish. Gross, I know. Imagine how I feel.
Eating the herring is supposed
to ensure that you have money in your pockets for the entire coming year, which
I think we will all agree is a good thing.
I’m rather fond of money and enjoy the things you can do with it. However, every New Year’s Eve of my life, at 11:59, I have to stop grazing from what is usually a
delicious and well-prepared buffet of fabulous hors d’oeuvres, tempting
savories and beautifully presented desserts, so that I can ask myself “How long
can you put it off?”
I’m a pretty adventuresome
eater and I won’t turn my nose up at something without trying it, but that’s
not the case here. For those of you who
love it, please don’t take offense.
Everyone has their preferred foods and foods they can’t stand. To me, herring is a vile substance; fishy,
oily, slightly hairy, yuk.
It seems unfair to me that
this tradition is so strict that you have to eat the herring before you get to
eat anything else. There was one year
when I tried to bribe myself by putting out a slice of chocolate cake and a
slug of Gran Marnier and told myself that I could NOT have the cake until I ate
the herring. That year I managed to
totally outsmart myself and skipped the herring completely.
The rest of my family, of
course, adores herring and can’t understand why I have such a problem with
it. Every New Year’s Day I get the
calls, “Well, didja eat it?” Most years
I have to admit that once again I will be poor and it is my own fault because I
was too weak to overcome the herring.
As a chef, you would think
that I could find a way to make herring edible, if not appetizing, but I’m
afraid it is a culinary challenge that I am not up to. It simply isn’t an ingredient I’m capable of
working with. And I would be lying if I
told you I gave it my best shot.
As this New Year’s Eve
approaches, I did some research as to the background of other traditional New
Year’s foods and was bewildered to find out that my family had been practicing a
tradition that was Scandanavian! I had
always assumed that this was a legacy passed down from the Hungarian side of
the family, then discovered in my research that, for the Hungarians what you
don’t eat is actually more important than what you do eat. After years of feeling that I had betrayed my
family’s custom, a great weight was lifted from my shoulders.
Feeling somewhat confused and
a little triumphant, I called my Mom and explained to her that the herring
thing wasn’t a Hungarian tradition after all.
“Oh no, honey,” she replied, “It’s a Scandanavian thing your
great-grandparents picked up from some neighbors of theirs back in New Jersey.” I was
aghast. “So all these years you watched
me try to gag down some herring with tears in my eyes you knew it wasn’t a
family tradition?” “Well, what’s a
family tradition, after all? Your
parents, your grandparents, your great-grandparents. I think three generations is pretty
good.” “But what about the Hungarian
thing?” I asked.
As I mentioned earlier, there
are two types of food are to be avoided on New Year’s Day, but it turns out Mom only knew half of the
story. “You can’t eat chicken on New Year’s Day,” Mom told me today, “or you’ll
be scratching for money all year round.”
I would swear I’d never heard that before. “And if you eat fish, you’re money will swim
away,” I told her. Silence on the other
end of the phone (very rare with my mom, by the way). “Well.
I never heard that part.” “Mom,
you know what herring is? It’s a
FISH!”
So all this time I have been
practicing a Hungarian tradition by NOT eating the herring!
And thus, another great
rationalization was born.
This year, for the first time
in my life, I will be guiltlessly herring-free and prepared to embrace any
tradition I feel like.
This year, I’m thinking
Italian. The Italians eat lentils on New
Year’s Day (anytime during the day!) because lentils look like little
coins.
Lentil Soup with Lamb and Mint
Makes 10-12 cups
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound lamb — ground lamb or lamb leg
cubes
3 large celery stalks, chopped
2 large parsnips, peeled & chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1 tablespoons chopped fresh garlic
1 pound lentils
9 cups beef or chicken broth
3.5 cups canned diced tomatoes in
juice (or 1 28-ounce can)
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint, divided
Heat oil in heavy large pot over
medium high heat. Add lamb, celery,
parsnips, onion and garlic. Sauté until
vegetables are almost tender and lamb is cooked through and beginning to brown,
about 15 minutes. Add lentils and stir
one minute. Add 7 cups broth, tomatoes
and cumin. Bring soup to a boil. Reduce heat to medium low. Cover and simmer until lentils are tender,
about 40 minutes.
Transfer 2 cups soup to blender, add
1/4 cup mint and puree until smooth; return to same pot. Season soup with salt and pepper and add
broth to thin if desired. Ladle into
bowls. Sprinkle with remaining mint.
Column - I Left My Artichoke Hearts in San Francisco
I took a quick mid-week trip out to the west coast recently
and visited San Francisco. It’s always been one of my favorite cities to
hang out in, but I hadn’t found an excuse to do so in years. An old friend who is now living out there
called me up and enticed me with a Bruce Springsteen ticket, which is something
you should never do to a girl from New Jersey
unless you mean it. Three days later I
was on a plane.
I still know quite a few people who live out in that area, but
all of them work during the day, so I was left to my own devices. That suited me just fine. I love being on my own in a big city. I walked for miles, poked my head into little
shops, reading restaurant menus in the windows of sophisticated bistros and
rediscovering neighborhoods I hadn’t even thought about in years. I had no map, no guidebooks, no schedule.
If you have the right attitude, you can’t get lost in even
the most unfamiliar of cities. You might
not have any idea where you are or how to get back to your hotel, but as long
as you can catch a cab somewhere you’ll be okay. I wandered down Market
Street towards the waterfront for a while until I
came to a beautiful open-air market where you could buy art directly from the
person who had created it. This isn’t a
special event – it was just a random Thursday morning. I left the market considerably poorer, but
with a spring in my step.
That’s when I came to the Ferry
Building. The last time I’d been in the area was long
before the building renovation had been completed four years ago. I thought it would be kind of fun to watch
the ferries, so I opened the door and walked in, not knowing that my life was
about to change.
The Ferry Building
is a foodies’ paradise. The first stall
I came to was the Far West Fungi booth (www.farwestfungi.com) where they had
the largest variety of fresh mushrooms I’d ever seen in one place, and both
domestic and imported dried mushrooms. I
picked up a two-pound bag of Italian porcini mushrooms which I just couldn’t
leave behind. I moved on to the Cowgirl
Creamery, which was started by two very highly regarded female chefs and
features some fantastic cheeses made in Point Reyes Station. The Prather Ranch Meat Company (www.prmeatco.com) was offering a great
selection of its dry-aged beef, pork, lamb, buffalo and vitellone (sometimes
known as “red veal”). All of the meats
are free range and antibiotic and hormone-free.
Their motto is “Organic, Sustainable, Humane.” The
San Francisco Fish Company (www.sanfranfishco.com) had a beautiful display of
local fish, oysters, crabs and shrimp and I like their “Get Wild Manifesto.” Everywhere I looked in this building were
thriving businesses dedicated to keeping their products organic, sustainable
and delicious. I had to go out and
watch the ferries just to get my composure back!
The only dark cloud on my personal horizon at that moment
was that I was three-thousand miles from my stove, and I was pretty sure the airline
wasn’t going to let me bring a peck of oysters back in my suitcase. However, pretty much all of these places will
ship their products, and my holiday plans do include shipping some treats to
myself for entertaining purposes.
And I’ve got all of those lovely porcinis to play with!
Porcini Mushroom and Goat Cheese Pizza
You can’t beat this
recipe for quick and easy entertaining.
I’ve usually got all of the ingredients on hand to make this in case
folks stop by unexpectedly. Make sure
you stop by the Farmer’s Market at Porter’s Neck on Wednesdays to pick up some
Nature’s Way Goat Cheese.
1 Boboli bread shell, or prepared, cooked pizza dough
¼ cup dried porcini mushrooms
1 cup boiling water
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 shallot, chopped
2-3 tablespoons marsala wine
1 tablespoon fresh basil, chopped
4 ounces goat cheese
Heat over to 400 degrees.
Pour boiling water over porcini mushrooms and let set 10-15
minutes. Remove mushrooms from soaking
liquid and rinse under cold water. Be
sure to remove any sediment from the ‘shrooms.
Chop mushrooms roughly and set aside.
Pour soaking liquid through a coffee filter to remove any grit from the
liquid. Set liquid aside.
Heat oil in a medium sauté pan and add shallot. When shallot turns translucent, add chopped
mushrooms and sauté for two or three minutes.
Add wine to deglaze the pan.
Simmer for a few minutes, adding some of the soaking liquid if the
mixture gets too dry. Remove from heat
and add basil.
Spread mixture on the bread shell and top with crumbled goat
cheese. Put in the pre-heated oven and
heat for about 8 minutes. Remove from
oven, slice it up and serve warm.
Column – Mashed Potatoes
Thanksgiving is my favorite
holiday. While other holidays may have
some emphasis on food, no other festivity has eating as its central focus. There is no need to buy gifts or decorate the
house, no eggs to hide or candy to give out. Sure, there are sports and parades, but you
don’t really have to pay attention to them if you don’t want to. Thanksgiving
is all about making a big meal and gathering those you love around to help you
eat it. The only way you could improve
on that scenario, in my opinion, is to add fourth of July’s fireworks after
dessert. And by then I would probably be too sleepy to
enjoy them.
My family members are Thanksgiving
traditionalists, so we have eaten basically the same food for Thanksgiving that
we did when I was five. My mother and I
have learned the hard way that any changes to the menu have to be made very
carefully and with great sneakiness.
There was one year when Mom decided to introduce a soup course to the
meal. She made a delicious butternut
squash soup and presented it beautifully at the table in a soup tureen she’d
gotten for the occasion; but my brothers
and father had their eye on the turkey, stuffing and side dishes that were
ready and waiting. They couldn’t
understand why they had to wait even one more minute for the meal they’d waited
all year for. I don’t believe anyone at
that table was under twenty, but they immediately turned into a pack of whiny
little boys and their rallying call was “DON’T MESS WITH THANKSGIVING, MOM!”
Mom stood her ground long enough to make sure everyone at least tasted the
soup, then graciously brought on the main event. She’s my hero.
A typical Thanksgiving menu
for my family includes the turkey, of course, with a sausage stuffing, gravy,
creamed onions, fresh cranberry sauce, whipped turnips, green bean casserole (yes,
the one made with the canned onions on top and cream of mushroom soup – it’s a
little embarrassing, but there’s not a thing I can do about it), and mashed
potatoes. Before the meal is served, we
nibble at a relish tray with stuffed celery and olives. Dessert, of course, includes a choice or
combination of apple pie, pumpkin pie and chocolate bourbon pecan pie. Mom and I have figured out by trial and error
that we can add almost anything to the menu, as long as we don’t try to delay
the meal or replace anything on this somewhat sacred list. Any blatant delay or replacement attempt will
end in an uprising.
The stuffing recipe is my
grandmother’s, and the year I replaced it with a cornbread and sausage stuffing
with pecans I heard rumbles of discontent at the table. The only way I averted a full-blown
revolution was by insisting that I must have remembered the recipe wrong. My family is pretty fair-minded in that
respect. If they thought I’d done it
deliberately, there would have been hell to pay, but since I’d just made a
little mistake they let me get away with it.
It helped that my grandmother’s written recipes are notoriously vague. Of course, I’ve been making the stuffing my
way ever since, and I haven’t heard another word about it.
The only menu item I actively
dislike are the turnips. I’ve been
trying unsuccessfully to delete or change them ever since I can remember. It doesn’t help that it’s always been my job
to make them. I tried “forgetting” to
buy them one year, but one of my brothers volunteered to make a last minute run
to the only open supermarket, and I was stuck.
That’s what I get for trying to use the same trick more than once.
Out of everything on the
table, the one I’m most thankful for are the mashed potatoes. I know -- it’s not like you can’t get mashed
potatoes on any of the other 364 days of the year, but to me, Thanksgiving
mashed potatoes are the best ones. Over
the years, I’ve become a bit of a mashed potato purist and have honed my
technique for perfect, fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes every time instead of
getting the occasional pot of gluey mess.
My mother brought me up to
use a hand-mixer to mash the drained potatoes.
Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. In order to make perfect mashed potatoes it
is imperative that you have either a food mill or a potato ricer, and that you
leave the potatoes in the hot water until just before you process them. It’s a lot more time-consuming and messy, but
it’s so worth it if you’re a mashed potato aficionado.
At Coriander’s, we typically
go through about 100-150 pounds of mashed potatoes for our Thanksgiving pick-up
menu. And yes, we take the time and
trouble to make them this way because they are Perfect. Every. Time.
As for the mashed potatoes
ever being replaced on my family Thanksgiving menu – no way! DON’T MESS WITH MY MASHED POTATOES, MOM!
Perfect Mashed Potatoes
Serves 4
3 pounds russet potatoes
¼ stick of butter, or to
taste
splash of heavy cream
kosher salt to taste
black pepper to taste
Special equipment:
Food mill or potato ricer
Skimmer or large slotted spoon
Peel the potatoes and cut
into 2- to 3-inch cubes. Place in a
heavy-bottomed pot. Cover with cold
water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat
and simmer for 20-30 minutes or until potatoes are tender. Remove from heat, but do not drain.
Place food mill over a
bowl. Cut butter into 4-6 pieces and put
in bowl. Using a skimmer or slotted
spoon, lift potatoes out of water and place in food mill or ricer. (You will want to let the potatoes drain
slightly before placing them in the mill so that your mashed potatoes aren’t
soupy.)
Mill the hot potatoes over
the butter, then stir in a splash of cream, salt and pepper. Serve hot, or chill and reheat on the stove
or in the microwave just before serving.
October 28, 2007 - The Beet Goes On
I was sitting around the dinner table with some friends the
other night when the subject of beets came up.
The consensus was that beets are an inedible food substance which no one
at the table had any fondness for. Mike
even went so far as to say that beets were what you would have to eat for all
eternity should you be so unfortunate as to land in hell in the afterlife. No one else was willing to go quite that far,
but no one contradicted him either.
There wasn’t a soul at that dinner party who had voluntarily
eaten a beet within the last twenty years, and I don’t believe anyone had ever
been offered a beet that wasn’t pickled or jarred.
For most of my life, I would have joined these friends of
mine in excoriating the lowly beet, but I’ve recently had my mind and palate
challenged by a young and very talented friend of mine who teaches the Food and
Wine Pairing Classes for me at Coriander’s.
Josh is the proprietor of Hampstead Wines and is a graduate of the CIA (that’s
the world-renowned Culinary Institute of America, not the notorious spy agency,
of course.). For a recent class, he had
decided to cook a dish that included roasted beets. Although I have a great deal of respect for
Josh’s creativity, I was more than just a little bit skeptical. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: But Josh, beets
are gross. (Please note the use of
complicated culinary terms here.)
Josh: No they’re
not.
Me: Yes they are.
Josh: I’m using them
anyway.
Me: (Pause) Okay.
I’ve included that exchange because I know how much you all
enjoy kitchen drama. As you can see,
Gordon Ramsey has nothing on me when it comes to terrorizing the kitchen
help.
To prepare the beets, Josh cut off the stem end and washed
the beets thoroughly. He tossed the
beets with some olive oil, kosher salt and cracked black pepper, then wrapped
them in aluminum foil and roasted them in a 350 degree oven until they were
tender. To ascertain the degree of
tenderness he simply poked the beets with a paring knife. It took about an hour to an hour and a
half. Now this part is genius: After letting the beets cool enough so that
they were easily handled, he took a kitchen towel and rubbed the skin off of
the beets. The skin came off so easily
that it took an effort of will for me not to look impressed.
The dish Josh prepared was a seared lamb rack with fresh
creamed corn, roasted beets and basil oil.
The earthiness of the beets was the perfect contrast to the sweet corn,
and I was looking at beets in a completely different new light by the time I
finished my portion. I even snuck a few more forkfuls while carrying the pots
back to the dish room. I was chomping at
the bit to get my hands on some more beets and see what I could do with them.
I’ve started sneaking beets into tasting menus that I do for
clients, and I am completely stunned that I have not yet had a plate returned
to me that still had a beet on it. So
Mike better be careful the next time I’m invited over for dinner.
My favorite beet creation so far is a tribute to Jitterbug
Perfume, a novel by Tom Robbins which has been on my Top 100 Books list for
years. In it, Robbins waxes poetic about
beets (yes, beets!) and it was that book which inspired me to add a citrus note
to the following recipe.
Roasted Beets with Caramelized Onion Vinaigrette and Feta
Cheese
This is a great side dish for just about any roasted
meat, but I am particularly fond of it with lamb or duck. (Of course that may be because I am
particularly fond of lamb and duck.)
2 pounds fresh beets, prepared as explained above
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 teaspoon coarse Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon orange zest
5 tablespoons olive oil
1 lb onions (2 medium), quartered lengthwise, then cut crosswise into 1-inch
pieces
3 oz crumbled feta (1/2 cup)
1/4 cup pine nuts (1 oz), toasted
Whisk together vinegar, mustard, pepper, and 1/2 teaspoon
salt in a large bowl, then add 3 tablespoons oil in a slow stream, whisking
until combined well. Set aside.
Cook onions with remaining 1/4 teaspoon
salt in remaining 2 tablespoons oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over moderate
heat, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, 18 to 20 minutes. Add onions
to dressing. Toss beets with dressing
(beets can be warm or cold, but warm is yummier) then sprinkle with feta and
pine nuts.