I am working and banking up a handful of posts upcoming, but I want to give you a little something to chew on for the week. (In the literary world, that is called a "pun." I hope you liked it.)
A while back I talked about breakfasts being the most important meal of the day. I want to revisit that topic, as I've been in the habit of eating more breakfasts and eating better in general. Almost every morning I get up and work out and then eat at the office. And I eat all morning. Spaced over the course of four hours I eat 3/4 cup green lentils with cinnamon and sugar (recipe, below), an apple, a banana, four ounces of non-fat Greek yogurt and one or two hard boiled eggs. Maybe some almonds and dried blueberries.
So what's the key to eating this much and this nutritiously everyday? Planning and flavor. Let's be honest, I'm not very motivated toward being responsible. I'm a kid at heart. I hate wearing a seatbelt (sorry Mom), I don't floss often enough (sorry Dr. Sadar) and I wouldn't eat my breakfast unless it's tasty and I don't have to work hard at that hour to make it.
So, I keep it simple. Sunday night, I put one and a half cups of dried lentils in a large bowl and add 2 cups water to soak over night. Monday morning, when I wake up and start working out, I rinse the lentils and put them in the pot to boil. I let them simmer and by the time I'm done with one work out, I have a week's worth of breakfast lentils. Yipee! (Ok, that's an over-reaction. They are just lentils.)
This is simple, but meaning stuff. Little changes make big changes possible. Who knows? Maybe I'll even start wearing my seatbelt.
Green Lentil Breakfast
1 1/2 cups Dried Green Lentils (Pick through them. You never know what debris you'll find. I've found other seed pods, stalks, even small rocks.)
2 1/2 cups Water
2 3/4 cups Water
1 1/2 teaspoon Salt
Cinnamon
Sugar
In a large bowl, soak the lentils in 2 1/2 cups of water for at least 8 hours.
Rinse the lentils in a sieve and put them into a large pot, and sprinkle with salt and add the remaining water. (For an extra treat, add 6-8 green cardamom pods.) Bring to a boil, then simmer for 20-25 minutes. The lentils should be tender, but not mush.
Sprinkle with a mix, 1:6 ratio, of cinnamon to sugar. Stir in and eat hot or cold. (I like to let the lentils cool and then store in individual serving containers.)
And just because you've been good:
How to Hard Boil an Egg
Most people abuse the hard boiled egg because they believe they can't screw it up. You can screw anything up. You know that rubbery egg white and a yolk that has a green lining around it? It's over cooked. This will help.
1 Egg
3 cups Water (at least)
In a sauce pan, add at least three cups water. You want a lot of water so the temperature of the water doesn't drop when the egg(s) are added.
Bring the water to a boil. Add the egg. Return the water to a boil as fast as possible (i.e. put the lid on the pot), reduce your heat to a low rolling boil and cook for 11-12 minutes. (This is at my altitude. I'm a mile above sea level. You will only need about 9-10 minutes at sea level.)
Immediately drain the eggs and soak them in ice water. You want to stop them cooking as quickly as possible. Level them soak in ice water for 15-20 minutes.
Eat them however you wish. I like hot sauce on mine.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Saffron G & T in Dessert Form
This is a little experiment I cooked up last night.
The foundation was laid at a bar in Palma on the island of Mallorca, Spain. First:
The Saffron
3oz Dry Gin
1 pinch Saffron, crushed
3 Green Cardamom Pods
6oz Tonic Water
Ice Cubes
In a large rocks glass, combine gin, saffron and cardamom pods. Stir thoroughly and let rest for at least 5 minutes. Go do something else. Relax--it'll still be here when you get back.
Add ice and top with tonic water and stir gently. Garnish with an orange twist.
Carry it out to the veranda and sit down. Sip.
Ok, the drink is great and the yellow saffron adds not only an exciting color, but an amazing sweetly-warm flavor. Can it be enhanced? Shared? Made into a dessert?
I love a challenge:
The Saffron G&T in a Gelatin Mold
7oz Dry Gin
2 pinches of Saffron, crushed
1 cup Water
1 cup Sugar
6 Green Cardamom Pods
1/2 cup Water
2 packets powder Gelatin
8oz Tonic Water
In a glass or glass measuring cup, put the saffron into the gin. Stir and then let rest.
In a small sauce pan, heat 1 cup of water, the sugar and the cardamom pods. Bring to a boil, stirring until the sugar melts, then reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes.
While the sugar mixture is simmering, sprinkle the gelatin over the 1/2 cup water in a large bowl. (Large enough to hold more than 4 cups of liquid.) Let the gelatin "bloom" (absorb water). No need to stir--just make sure there is enough surface area to evenly sprinkle the gelatin.
Remove the cardamom pods, then stir the hot sugar mixture into the gelatin. Stir for 5 minutes or until the gelatin is completely dissolved. (If the gelatin still has lumps, pass once through a finemesh strainer.) Put it into the refrigerator and let cool for 20 minutes.
Add the gin and saffron mixture, as well as the tonic to the gelatin, stir briskly to add air bubbles (a pretty little visual treat) and pour into a gelatin mold. Pop it back in the fridge and chill for 4 hours.
To remove the gelatin from the mold, soak the mold in a large bowl of hot water for 15 seconds. Make sure the water doesn't pour over the edge and into the gelatin. Remove from the water, put an inverted plate over the mold and quickly flip it all over. The mold should lift right off.
Slice and serve. (Try it with pieces of dark chocolate.)
The foundation was laid at a bar in Palma on the island of Mallorca, Spain. First:
The Saffron
3oz Dry Gin
1 pinch Saffron, crushed
3 Green Cardamom Pods
6oz Tonic Water
Ice Cubes
.JPG) |
| The Saffron and The Basil and Thyme Gin and Tonics. At the Quinacreu Restaurant in Palma. |
Add ice and top with tonic water and stir gently. Garnish with an orange twist.
Carry it out to the veranda and sit down. Sip.
Ok, the drink is great and the yellow saffron adds not only an exciting color, but an amazing sweetly-warm flavor. Can it be enhanced? Shared? Made into a dessert?
I love a challenge:
The Saffron G&T in a Gelatin Mold
7oz Dry Gin
2 pinches of Saffron, crushed
1 cup Water
1 cup Sugar
6 Green Cardamom Pods
1/2 cup Water
2 packets powder Gelatin
8oz Tonic Water
In a glass or glass measuring cup, put the saffron into the gin. Stir and then let rest.
In a small sauce pan, heat 1 cup of water, the sugar and the cardamom pods. Bring to a boil, stirring until the sugar melts, then reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes.
While the sugar mixture is simmering, sprinkle the gelatin over the 1/2 cup water in a large bowl. (Large enough to hold more than 4 cups of liquid.) Let the gelatin "bloom" (absorb water). No need to stir--just make sure there is enough surface area to evenly sprinkle the gelatin.
Remove the cardamom pods, then stir the hot sugar mixture into the gelatin. Stir for 5 minutes or until the gelatin is completely dissolved. (If the gelatin still has lumps, pass once through a finemesh strainer.) Put it into the refrigerator and let cool for 20 minutes.
Add the gin and saffron mixture, as well as the tonic to the gelatin, stir briskly to add air bubbles (a pretty little visual treat) and pour into a gelatin mold. Pop it back in the fridge and chill for 4 hours.
 |
| The drama of dessert! |
Slice and serve. (Try it with pieces of dark chocolate.)
Sunday, August 11, 2013
A letter from Spain
Hello friends and relatives.
We have traveled to the foreign soils of the Iberian Peninsula, to the town of Barcelona, and in our initial foray, have beheld numerous sights leading to these shared observations.
First, the people of Europe look categorically malnourished by American standards, although there is hope. Whereas I've noticed the healthy girth of American waistlines and shorts that ride up as one walks down an American street, the same features are far less prevalent in our friends across The Pond. Many women, for example, have thighs which barely touch as they walk! Blessedly, now and then, we can see the native German or Italian or sometimes even Spaniard with a shirt or pant-size of which to be truly proud, and this gives my heart encouragement. Still, the Dutch and Swedes are far too tall, winsome and thin to be fully equipped for general healthy living let alone their long winters.
.JPG)
Which leads me to my Second Important Point: I believe the food to be the cause of the generally lean nature of these inhabitants. The cuisine here focuses on delicious cured meats, recently caught seafood, fine cheeses and fresh fruit and vegetables. Even the toast is spread with wholesome olive oil and a thin tomato juice--the natives literally rub a fresh, sliced, juicy tomato over the bread toasted in olive oil. Granted, there is wine plenty enough to spare, but with the wholesomeness of the cooking, one must consume vast quantities of both to maintain one's fortitude. Blessedly, the Catalonians are generous by their very nature.
Many in Spain walk the streets looking for such sustenance. The shops and restaurants are open late (10:00 pm to 12:00 am is standard for dining) and the sidewalks are wide to accommodate their numbers. Roads lace and interweave with these walkways and are filled with speeding taxi cabs and vehicles of the sporting wealthy class. You see, it appears to be a great entertainment for the walkers--possibly as a brief diversion from there plighted march to the next feeding station--to dodge among the vehicles zipping past. In their turn, the cars and motorbikes seem to speed up if their headlights catch the sight of human prey in their sweep. Although the odds seem to favor the automobile by the sheer numbers of pedestrians in the street, still we have not seen the fallen footman taken by their determined nemesis. This dodging and darting seems to be frivolous sport, burning precious calories.
There exists, along this treacherous migration, some respite. When the enthusiasm for the sport has waned, we've witnessed small packs of participants reclining on any of the numerous benches provided by the city founders. If benches are too distant, these same weary sojourners will squat in nearly any doorway, alley or parking garage. The poor, confused waifs, in an attempt to satiate their ever-present hunger (owing to their being so thin), have taken to putting all nature of things in their mouths, most commonly, lit cigarettes. Sadly, cigarettes depress appetite but do nothing for adding needed pounds.
Perhaps the cigarettes are aging their population. Observe: throughout your day, in Europe or even back home, you will witness the grizzled and weathered faces of elderly men or women holding cigarettes between their knotted fingers. However, you will never see the same haggard, wrinkled visage on the obese. I firmly believe that our extreme calorie count preserves our youth--right up to the day we die.
We depart this fascinating city, half a world away from you all, in the morning. I will send more news as events warrant.
Humbly yours,
--M
If you feel the need to try something tasty and not very fattening, try:
Catalan Tomato Toasts
2-3 slices of Bread per person
Olive Oil
1-2 ripe Tomatoes per person (the big round ones, not Roma or Plum tomatoes--those are too dry)
pinch of coarse Salt and cracked Pepper, if desired
Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a flat bottomed skillet on medium to medium high heat. Lay the bread in to fry, 2-3 minutes or until they're cooked the way you like them. Turn over and toast the other side in the remaining oil (if there is any) for 1-2 minutes. Remove the toast to a warm plate. Repeat with the rest of the bread.
Cut the tomatoes in half. While the toast is hot, rub the cut side of the tomato into the toast, letting the bread absorb the juice and seeds and pulp. Use a half of a tomato for every 1-2 pieces of toast.
Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper if you like that sort of thing. I do.
Serve by itself or on a platter with meats, cheeses and dried fruits.
Satire noun (\ˈsa-ˌtī(-ə)r\)
We have traveled to the foreign soils of the Iberian Peninsula, to the town of Barcelona, and in our initial foray, have beheld numerous sights leading to these shared observations.
First, the people of Europe look categorically malnourished by American standards, although there is hope. Whereas I've noticed the healthy girth of American waistlines and shorts that ride up as one walks down an American street, the same features are far less prevalent in our friends across The Pond. Many women, for example, have thighs which barely touch as they walk! Blessedly, now and then, we can see the native German or Italian or sometimes even Spaniard with a shirt or pant-size of which to be truly proud, and this gives my heart encouragement. Still, the Dutch and Swedes are far too tall, winsome and thin to be fully equipped for general healthy living let alone their long winters.
.JPG)
Which leads me to my Second Important Point: I believe the food to be the cause of the generally lean nature of these inhabitants. The cuisine here focuses on delicious cured meats, recently caught seafood, fine cheeses and fresh fruit and vegetables. Even the toast is spread with wholesome olive oil and a thin tomato juice--the natives literally rub a fresh, sliced, juicy tomato over the bread toasted in olive oil. Granted, there is wine plenty enough to spare, but with the wholesomeness of the cooking, one must consume vast quantities of both to maintain one's fortitude. Blessedly, the Catalonians are generous by their very nature. Many in Spain walk the streets looking for such sustenance. The shops and restaurants are open late (10:00 pm to 12:00 am is standard for dining) and the sidewalks are wide to accommodate their numbers. Roads lace and interweave with these walkways and are filled with speeding taxi cabs and vehicles of the sporting wealthy class. You see, it appears to be a great entertainment for the walkers--possibly as a brief diversion from there plighted march to the next feeding station--to dodge among the vehicles zipping past. In their turn, the cars and motorbikes seem to speed up if their headlights catch the sight of human prey in their sweep. Although the odds seem to favor the automobile by the sheer numbers of pedestrians in the street, still we have not seen the fallen footman taken by their determined nemesis. This dodging and darting seems to be frivolous sport, burning precious calories.
There exists, along this treacherous migration, some respite. When the enthusiasm for the sport has waned, we've witnessed small packs of participants reclining on any of the numerous benches provided by the city founders. If benches are too distant, these same weary sojourners will squat in nearly any doorway, alley or parking garage. The poor, confused waifs, in an attempt to satiate their ever-present hunger (owing to their being so thin), have taken to putting all nature of things in their mouths, most commonly, lit cigarettes. Sadly, cigarettes depress appetite but do nothing for adding needed pounds.
Perhaps the cigarettes are aging their population. Observe: throughout your day, in Europe or even back home, you will witness the grizzled and weathered faces of elderly men or women holding cigarettes between their knotted fingers. However, you will never see the same haggard, wrinkled visage on the obese. I firmly believe that our extreme calorie count preserves our youth--right up to the day we die.
We depart this fascinating city, half a world away from you all, in the morning. I will send more news as events warrant.
Humbly yours,
--M
If you feel the need to try something tasty and not very fattening, try:
Catalan Tomato Toasts
2-3 slices of Bread per person
Olive Oil
1-2 ripe Tomatoes per person (the big round ones, not Roma or Plum tomatoes--those are too dry)
pinch of coarse Salt and cracked Pepper, if desired
Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a flat bottomed skillet on medium to medium high heat. Lay the bread in to fry, 2-3 minutes or until they're cooked the way you like them. Turn over and toast the other side in the remaining oil (if there is any) for 1-2 minutes. Remove the toast to a warm plate. Repeat with the rest of the bread.
Cut the tomatoes in half. While the toast is hot, rub the cut side of the tomato into the toast, letting the bread absorb the juice and seeds and pulp. Use a half of a tomato for every 1-2 pieces of toast.
Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper if you like that sort of thing. I do.
Serve by itself or on a platter with meats, cheeses and dried fruits.
Satire noun (\ˈsa-ˌtī(-ə)r\)
1: a literary work holding up human vices and follies to ridicule or scorn
2: trenchant wit, irony, or sarcasm used to expose and discredit vice or folly
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Jiggles
The heat of the summer recalls experiences of my youth. I remember catching bugs in the field around our house. In my mind, I can almost taste the lemonade we'd make. I recall playing naked in the sprinkler in our front yard, and sliding across a slip and slide. (I almost said, "like it was yesterday," but that would be awkward, and maybe illegal.) And I remember Jell-O. What a wonderful food that combines the bright colors, the hyper-fruity flavors and the wonderful, jiggly bounce.
While recently visiting my parent's home, my mom gave me a book (OK, Mom. You "loaned" me the book): Joys of Jell-O. It's a very quaint and charming bit of nostalgia--You can imagine the book or any of the recipes in it as a prop on the set of Mad Men. The recipes are shameless plugs for all things Jell-O and General Foods (now Kraft Foods) brand foods, and it is clearly written for the 50's or 60's housewife. (This particular copy appears to have been published in 1962.) It speaks of tending to the children, pleasing the husband, and being the perfect hostess.
A more recent and cosmopolitan tome, Hello, Jell-O, explores a more adult side of gelatin confections. Elevated to a true art form, the author Victoria Belanger, creates works of culinary (and sometimes alcoholic) masterpieces. Best of all, she's made her own mistakes and provides the solutions for your potentially faulty experiments. I highly recommend this book.
These both inspired me to explore more possibilities. As you may recall, in a previous post I tried using agar-agar to make vegan panna cotta, but it yielded less than stellar results (although it made a very good ice cream). I've continued to play with agar-agar in various forms and with increasingly interesting results. Then I learned more about molecular gastronomy and I journeyed farther down the gelatin path.
There are also creations that seem like gelatin but use other ingredients to form a semi solid or slow moving liquid. Jellies, jams, or my favorite, Turkish Delight.
I know this is but a short intro into fun things coagulated, but I hope you'll join me in exploring further.
Tonight try:
4 1/2 cups Blueberry Nectar
2 packets Unflavored Gelatin
1 8oz container Mascarpone Cheese
Strips of Lemon Zest
fresh or frozen Blueberries
Pour one cup of blueberry nectar into a shallow bowl (more surface area is better) and sprinkle 2 packets of gelatin evenly over the surface. Let rest. Meanwhile (I realize I've never used that word in a recipe before. That changes now.) boil the other three cups of juice. Let boil for 10 minutes.
In a large mixing bowl with a spout (which just makes the next step easier) whisk the cold bloomed gelatin together with the hot juice. Continue to whisk for 3 minutes. You really want all the gelatin dissolved.
Pour into 6 ramekins, leaving 1/4 inch of space below the top. Refrigerate for 3-4 hours or until the gel does not stick to your finger when you touch it.
Spread the mascarpone over the top of the blueberry gelatin up to the top of the ramekin, evenly. Let set in the refrigerator for another 10 minutes.
To loosen the gelatin from the ramekin, set into hot warm water, up to the edge of the ramekin for 15 seconds. (Follow the instructions. Make it on the hot side of warm, but not hot.) Run a butter knife between the ramekin and the gelatin to separate it. Wipe the ramekin dry, and place an inverted plate over the top of it. In one fluid motion, turn over the plate and ramekin and give it a slight jiggle. Lift the ramekin up to release the gelatin. A properly turned out gelatin mold is one of the greatest satisfactions in life.
Garnish with blueberries and lemon zest on the plate.
Balsamic Pearls
Usually I buy Elsa 12 year Balsamic Vinegar of Modena, but for this recipe I used a grocery store brand common to balsamic vinaigrettes. It yielded spectacular results, but choose as you will. Agar-agar is a gelling agent made from seaweed. It's especially useful in that it doesn't liquefy below 88 degrees F, and melts at 136 degrees F.
3/4 cup Balsamic Vinegar
1 teaspoon Agar-Agar
1 quart Vegetable Oil, chilled in a Mason jar (I keep a Mason jar of oil in the refrigerator all the time, now)
In a sauce pan, add the vinegar and agar. Whisk until the agar is well mixed. Put the pan on a medium high burner and whisk for 3-5 minutes as the liquid comes to a simmering boil. Remove from the heat.
Using an eye-dropper or pipette, drop individual drops of hot balsamic into the cold oil. They will coagulate on top, but keep adding slow drops. The slower you go the smaller the pearls will be, so play with that.
When you've used all the vinegar and the pearls are now mostly sitting on the bottom of this oil, pour the Mason jar through a sieve, catching the oil in a container underneath (recycle! and your plumbing will love you.), then remove the catch container and run cold water over the pearls to remove the oil.
Use on a caprese salad or as you would a balsamic drizzle.
Turkish Delight (Traditional)
Sometimes a gel doesn't include gelatin. You can find rosewater in most Arabic or Indian specialty shops.
4 cups granulated Sugar
1 1/4 cups Cornstarch
1 teaspoon Cream of Tartar
4 1/4 cups Water
1 tablespoon Lemon Juice
1 1/2 tablespoons Rosewater
1 cup Confectioners Sugar
Vegetable Shortening
In a 9x9 inch baking pan, lube the sides and bottom with shortening. Line with wax paper and grease the wax paper. (You think that's a lot of slippery? Wait until you see the sticky. You'll be happy.)
In a saucepan, combine lemon juice, granulated sugar and 1 1/2 cups water on medium high heat. Stir constantly until sugar dissolves and the mixture comes to a boil. Reduce heat to low and allow to simmer, until the mixture reaches 240 degrees on a candy thermometer. Remove from heat, cover and set aside.
Combine cream of tartar, 1 cup corn starch and remaining (room temperature) water in saucepan over medium high heat. Stir until all lumps are gone and the mixture begins to boil. Stop stirring when the mixture has a glue-like consistency.
Stir in the sugar mixture. Stir constantly for about 5 minutes. Reduce heat to low, and allow to simmer for 1 hour, stirring frequently.
Once the mixture has become a golden color, stir in rosewater. Pour mixture into the wax paper-lined pan. Spread evenly and allow to cool overnight.
Once it has cooled overnight, sift together confectioners sugar and remaining cornstarch.
Turn over baking pan containing Turkish delight onto clean counter or table and cut with oiled knife into one inch pieces. (Don't spare the oil.)
Coat with confectioners sugar mixture. Store in an airtight container in layers separated with wax paper.
In a saucepan, combine lemon juice, granulated sugar and 1 1/2 cups water on medium high heat. Stir constantly until sugar dissolves and the mixture comes to a boil. Reduce heat to low and allow to simmer, until the mixture reaches 240 degrees on a candy thermometer. Remove from heat, cover and set aside.
Combine cream of tartar, 1 cup corn starch and remaining (room temperature) water in saucepan over medium high heat. Stir until all lumps are gone and the mixture begins to boil. Stop stirring when the mixture has a glue-like consistency.
Stir in the sugar mixture. Stir constantly for about 5 minutes. Reduce heat to low, and allow to simmer for 1 hour, stirring frequently.
Once the mixture has become a golden color, stir in rosewater. Pour mixture into the wax paper-lined pan. Spread evenly and allow to cool overnight.
Once it has cooled overnight, sift together confectioners sugar and remaining cornstarch.
Turn over baking pan containing Turkish delight onto clean counter or table and cut with oiled knife into one inch pieces. (Don't spare the oil.)
Coat with confectioners sugar mixture. Store in an airtight container in layers separated with wax paper.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
More FAQ and Things You Should Know
I occasionally receive questions, often sent to me under the hats of the flying monkeys from Oz (the monkeys are smaller in real life), by the shouting newsies of the 1920's or, occasionally, through an electronic media. I would like to answer a few of these questions in some common forum so that all may participate in the blessings I offer.
Q1. "I know you have a lot of amazing recipes. Where can I find the full list of everything you've published?"
A1. That's a great question! While it's not a list of EVERYTHING I've published (some of those pictures I'm not proud of), you can look at the text beneath the header Beyond Viand on this page. There is a string of links:
Home
What is "Beyond Viand?"
Index of Recipes
What Others Are Writing
I'm willing to bet you've already figured out the solution. On a mobile device, you have a drop down menu that has the same links. The one that says Index of Recipes.
That's the one you want. Do look around there. I even amaze myself with some of the recipes I've written.
Q2. "As a child I used to ride my bike without a helmet, and I kept my mouth open. I loved the feeling of wind through my hair and teeth. Sometimes bugs flew into my mouth and down my gullet. As one who eats bugs, are there any lasting repercussions I should investigate more thoroughly?"
A2. Wow! What an unusual question. While you really should have worn a helmet, I will still answer your missive. Yes! You probably know that insects are pound-for-pound higher in protein than almost any other animal protein, but you may have noticed from your bike ride, bugs can be hairy, sticky, gooey or crunchy. The good news is, if you survived, you probably didn't eat anything poisonous, and even though they are toxic, Monarch Butterflies or Blister Beetles won't really hurt you until you eat a lot of them. Unfortunately, the biggest concern about eating bugs from the wild are the pesticides. The little bugs eat a surprising amount of leaves and grass while they grow and if those plants have pesticides on them, the toxins get into bodies of the bugs. Eventually it will kill them, but in the meantime the toxins concentrate and become hazardous to anything that eats the bug: birds, lizards or kids riding bikes with their mouths open. If you plan on eating bugs, it's probably best to buy them from reputable dealers who specialize in edible bugs.
Q3. "Why don't you review more restaurants?"
A3. I get that question a lot. It's a good question, and the answer is nearly the same as why I don't want to work in a restaurant. If I do it all the time, it becomes work. I don't want to do work. I do want to have fun. This writing is fun, because people have very few expectations of me. Besides, I have readers from all over the world. Is someone from Morocco, Argentina, Russia or Malaysia going to want to hear about my latest crawl to the pub or diner? (Well, maybe they would.)
Besides, instead of a review, I write about the experience. Good and bad restaurants can each have bad and good experiences. I cherish the good and I try to let the bad slip from memory. Unless I get salmonella and rotavirus. I remember that kind of thing. (Remember: Wash your hands!)
Q4. "What's your favorite thing to cook?"
A4. This is another common question, which unfortunately, doesn't have a very good answer. I don't really have a favorite thing to cook. I'll get on a kick and dive deep into some themes, but that passes in time. Occasionally, I return to old dishes I haven't tried in a while and they become my new favorite for a few days. Most often I like variety so I seek to explore different methods, different flavors, and different ingredients whenever I can. In fact, that may be my favorite thing to cook: the thing I haven't tried to make, or the dish I think I can improve.
Q5. "Are there any foods that are off limits? Anything you refuse to try?"
A5. You cut to the quick, don't you?
There was that one time when I was flying with the Uruguayan rugby team over the Andes Mountains.....
I think given the right circumstances, I could eat nearly anything edible.
There's a lovely little book from the University of Virginia Press, Unmentionable Cuisine. It explores the taboos of foods from animals in cultures around the world and why some can eat one thing and others can't. It's a fascinating read and when one pays attention to the premise and extrapolates to its conclusion one can get to the heart of the argument between vegans and omnivores. What is right to eat? Why is eating animal proteins good or bad? If it's ok, why are some better than others? Is it circumstantial? I love asking questions like this. My conclusion: while I've started eating many more vegetables, and with infinite respect to my vegan friends, I'm still firmly in the omnivore camp.
Q6. What's for dinner?
A6. Tonight, try this:
Stovetop Meatloaf
1 1/2 lbs Ground Chuck
1 cup Bread Crumbs
1 Egg, beaten
1 tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 tablespoon Olive Oil
1 Onion, chopped
1 clove Garlic, minced
Salt and Pepper, to taste
3 tablespoons Tomato Paste
2 tablespoons Mustard (I like good brown mustard, but yellow also does fine)
In a large bowl, combine ground meat, bread crumbs, egg, and Worcestershire sauce. Mix by hand.
In a large cast-iron skillet over medium heat, warm up the olive oil. Add the onion, garlic and salt. Sauté until translucent, then add the skillet's contents to the meat bowl. Add the tomato paste and mustard to the meat and mix it all by hand until it is uniform.
Put the mix into the cast-iron skillet, press into the edges of the pan, and pat down so it's even everywhere. Cook, covered, over medium low heat for 45 minutes.
If you want to brown the top for a more appetizing appearance, pop the whole skillet under a broiler set on high for 5 minutes. Serve hot. Save the leftovers for sandwiches tomorrow!
Q1. "I know you have a lot of amazing recipes. Where can I find the full list of everything you've published?"
A1. That's a great question! While it's not a list of EVERYTHING I've published (some of those pictures I'm not proud of), you can look at the text beneath the header Beyond Viand on this page. There is a string of links:
Q2. "As a child I used to ride my bike without a helmet, and I kept my mouth open. I loved the feeling of wind through my hair and teeth. Sometimes bugs flew into my mouth and down my gullet. As one who eats bugs, are there any lasting repercussions I should investigate more thoroughly?"
A2. Wow! What an unusual question. While you really should have worn a helmet, I will still answer your missive. Yes! You probably know that insects are pound-for-pound higher in protein than almost any other animal protein, but you may have noticed from your bike ride, bugs can be hairy, sticky, gooey or crunchy. The good news is, if you survived, you probably didn't eat anything poisonous, and even though they are toxic, Monarch Butterflies or Blister Beetles won't really hurt you until you eat a lot of them. Unfortunately, the biggest concern about eating bugs from the wild are the pesticides. The little bugs eat a surprising amount of leaves and grass while they grow and if those plants have pesticides on them, the toxins get into bodies of the bugs. Eventually it will kill them, but in the meantime the toxins concentrate and become hazardous to anything that eats the bug: birds, lizards or kids riding bikes with their mouths open. If you plan on eating bugs, it's probably best to buy them from reputable dealers who specialize in edible bugs.
Q3. "Why don't you review more restaurants?"
A3. I get that question a lot. It's a good question, and the answer is nearly the same as why I don't want to work in a restaurant. If I do it all the time, it becomes work. I don't want to do work. I do want to have fun. This writing is fun, because people have very few expectations of me. Besides, I have readers from all over the world. Is someone from Morocco, Argentina, Russia or Malaysia going to want to hear about my latest crawl to the pub or diner? (Well, maybe they would.)
Besides, instead of a review, I write about the experience. Good and bad restaurants can each have bad and good experiences. I cherish the good and I try to let the bad slip from memory. Unless I get salmonella and rotavirus. I remember that kind of thing. (Remember: Wash your hands!)
Q4. "What's your favorite thing to cook?"
A4. This is another common question, which unfortunately, doesn't have a very good answer. I don't really have a favorite thing to cook. I'll get on a kick and dive deep into some themes, but that passes in time. Occasionally, I return to old dishes I haven't tried in a while and they become my new favorite for a few days. Most often I like variety so I seek to explore different methods, different flavors, and different ingredients whenever I can. In fact, that may be my favorite thing to cook: the thing I haven't tried to make, or the dish I think I can improve.
Q5. "Are there any foods that are off limits? Anything you refuse to try?"
A5. You cut to the quick, don't you?
There was that one time when I was flying with the Uruguayan rugby team over the Andes Mountains.....
I think given the right circumstances, I could eat nearly anything edible.
There's a lovely little book from the University of Virginia Press, Unmentionable Cuisine. It explores the taboos of foods from animals in cultures around the world and why some can eat one thing and others can't. It's a fascinating read and when one pays attention to the premise and extrapolates to its conclusion one can get to the heart of the argument between vegans and omnivores. What is right to eat? Why is eating animal proteins good or bad? If it's ok, why are some better than others? Is it circumstantial? I love asking questions like this. My conclusion: while I've started eating many more vegetables, and with infinite respect to my vegan friends, I'm still firmly in the omnivore camp.
Q6. What's for dinner?
A6. Tonight, try this:
Stovetop Meatloaf
1 1/2 lbs Ground Chuck
1 cup Bread Crumbs
1 Egg, beaten
1 tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 tablespoon Olive Oil
1 Onion, chopped
1 clove Garlic, minced
Salt and Pepper, to taste
3 tablespoons Tomato Paste
2 tablespoons Mustard (I like good brown mustard, but yellow also does fine)
In a large bowl, combine ground meat, bread crumbs, egg, and Worcestershire sauce. Mix by hand.
In a large cast-iron skillet over medium heat, warm up the olive oil. Add the onion, garlic and salt. Sauté until translucent, then add the skillet's contents to the meat bowl. Add the tomato paste and mustard to the meat and mix it all by hand until it is uniform.
Put the mix into the cast-iron skillet, press into the edges of the pan, and pat down so it's even everywhere. Cook, covered, over medium low heat for 45 minutes.
If you want to brown the top for a more appetizing appearance, pop the whole skillet under a broiler set on high for 5 minutes. Serve hot. Save the leftovers for sandwiches tomorrow!
Saturday, June 22, 2013
The $110 Appetizer and the Gifts that Followed
Describing Venice as a "labyrinth" has the metaphoric equivalency of calling the Adriatic Sea "moist."
Remember back to the SATs? Venice : Labyrinth :: Adriatic Sea : ?
Get my meaning? Good. Then you'll understand what a remarkable feat it was even finding our hotel let alone the serendipity of finding one of the best restaurants in the whole city.
We took the train from Florence to Venice (assisted by a few very pleasant gypsies who helped fleece us out of 10 Euros more than they should have) and arrived at a train station. Not entirely remarkable to itself, as we were traveling by train (see previous sentence), however, only in Venice will the train station be on the bank of a major water way trimmed in grand architecture dating back to the 13th to 18th centuries. Speaking with the European tourists who frequent the city, we learned of the Vaporetti--the water buses that are the most commonly accessed water transport. Studying multiple maps, we gained a good sense of what stop we needed and so we settled into the ride--jostling with locals and tourists from around the globe, and getting swept up in the sights of Venice.
We arrived at our stop, but on exiting the vaporetto, we had no markers to indicate which "street" would lead us to our hotel. Wheeling our luggage behind us, we entered the closest alleyway to us. As it turns out, everything in Venice that isn't water and isn't a building is either a bridge, a piazza or an alley. And since the only land transportation is walking, size of alley doesn't really indicate the importance of the alley. Wide alleys may dead end and narrow alleys may lead exactly where you want to go. So it was with this alley we chose. I remember thinking, "this can't be right," because the alley was so narrow I could not wheel two suitcases behind me side-by-side without scraping them against the 4-story buildings defining the passage way.
We passed restaurants in open piazzas (mid-afternoon, so most were closed for lunch but may have served some light fare) then ducked back into another alley--still without any real idea of our direction. By happenstance we glanced up an another alley we thought SHOULD be close to our destination, and there it was: our hotel.
We checked in, got the scoop from the boys at the front desk, toweled off (SO HOT and HUMID!) and then went back outside to explore.
Venice is everything I wanted it to be and so much more. I could go back tomorrow and enjoy it as if it were my first time.
Initially, I had a mind to try and live on a budget. This is probably the financial advisor in me, but I was really trying to shop and eat on the cheap. At least until lunch on the second day. We found a good, out of the way place (everything is sort of out of the way: did I mention that Venice is a maze?) and ate some really wonderful cuisine: frutti di mare. Then everything sort of fell into place in my mind--like finding that one long piece in Tetris that clears all the rows: I'm ME. I love food. Why would I punish us by avoiding some of the best food opportunities in the world? Budget minded living gets you Olive Garden Venice.
We walked back to the hotel that night and past a little restaurant not 50 feet from the front of our hotel door. We had passed it every time we went into or exited from our hotel, but with my newly renovated mindset, I noticed a basket of wild mushrooms, including boletes--mushrooms of the finest quality. I used to hunt mushrooms in New Mexico and those were prizes, if found. Their locations were closely guarded secrets by any mycologist lucky enough to find them. Now, here they were, half a world away, and no less prized. We told the maitre d' that we needed a shower but we would be back soon.
They set a table for us upwind from the smokers (everywhere is a designated smoking area in Venice, doubly so outside) and we ordered a bottle of wine and asked how the chef recommended the mushrooms. Like climbing the steps to Heaven, my taste buds ascended to levels of ecstasy they had never before known. We split a serving of the boletes as an appetizer, then a shared course of risotto with seafood, we shared a small steak and vegetables, and finished with a panna cotta for dessert. THIS! This is what I know we deserved.
We returned the next two nights, playing a repeat of that same theme: The second night having ravioli for an appetizer, a chanterelles risotto, seafood entree, more wine, more panna cotta. The third night we looked to blow out all the stops.
Flashback: I remember in college, The Old Towne Ale House had dollar beers and 10 cent wings on Wednesday nights. Wednesday night became my night of gluttony, damned be the consequences. And sure enough, the consequences usually damned me, some way, some how, either that night or the next morning.
A voice in the back of my head may have whispered that this was about to happen again. On a much larger scale.
Damned be the consequences?
We told the maitre d' that we'd be back in 45 minutes and asked if we could have what had become our table. We cleaned up and changed, and made our way back. Our regular server had the night off, but we had seen tonight's server the previous nights and he had been prepared for our evening--looking forward to it, even. We asked what he recommended for a bottle of wine to which he said the maitre d' recommends a very special bottle for us. We accepted the personalized recommendation. Let the stop blowing begin. I asked about the mushrooms for the day, and there was a special treat: in addition to the chanterelles of the previous night, they also had a very beautiful, very large and very fresh truffle from the mainland. Truffle risotto? Fillet with a truffle sauce? We elected to have a simple saute of chanterelles for an appetizer, cuttlefish and pasta, the fillet et truffle and then we'd decide on something for dessert.
The mushrooms came out of the kitchen and our waiter presented us two plates, as opposed to our customary one. He hadn't been serving us the previous nights, and I hadn't thought to tell him that we share the courses. (In all honesty, each serving was exceedingly generous. There would be no way we could each have eaten that much food without sharing, and we wanted to try as many dishes as we could. Hence: sharing.) We indicated our preference to our new waiter, but the appitizer damage was done. And since we weren't really ordering from the menu, we didn't know the price. We didn't think (want?) to ask, either.
Damned be the consequences. We ordered another bottle of wine.
We smiled and joked with the staff, with other patrons (Hello, John "James" Bond 006 3/4. We agree, you didn't quite make it.) and passers-by. We watched as people passed, women dressed to impress in their short dresses and high heels, staggering not at all on the cobbled walkways, the families with beleaguered children (or sometimes parents) in tow, the young, the old, the wealthy, the middle class, all flowing like water through the passageways of Venice.
The hours passed and our evening started to wrap up. My beloved excused herself to the women's room and our waiter and some of the staff joined me at the table. I expressed my gratitude for the hospitality and the wonderful cuisine of the last few days. I discovered that all of the ingredients are as local as possible and some--like the chanterelles, boletes and truffles--may be found wild. They then presented the bill.
I would love to believe that I had a good poker face. I knew the tab would be high. I know I held it together well enough, because everyone was still smiling as my beloved returned with the maitre d', having been introduced to our chef. I paid the tab and kept the receipt. Later I discovered the appetizer--those lovely chanterelles, hand picked and lovingly prepared--came to 75 Euros. The rest of the dinner, the bottles of wine, all added up to a pretty penny. Damn those consequences.
Rather than leaving, our maitre d' invited us inside (completely empty--for all the bustle of the restaurant, everyone wanted to sit outside) and offered us limoncello. We sat and sipped and talked of good food and travel. We shared some of our favorite recipes, and they presented us with a cookbook. We shook hands and embraced as appropriate and we took our leave. We waddled up to our room to go to bed for our last night in Venice. The gondoliers still paddled through the tight canal, four stories below our window, their lanterns looking like fireflies dancing over the water.
We reflected: the food was wonderful, the people were terrific. The bill was large but worth it and the cookbook was a charming gesture of the hospitality of our hosts. From one family who enjoys food to another. The consequences were not that damned bad.
Here are a few interpretations of our favorite Venitian cuisine. Buon appetito!
Sauteed Chanterelles
If you're lucky enough to get fresh chanterelles, that's great! If you can't, don't despair: they dry well and can easily be reconstituted. Simply simmer for 5 minutes in water, or white wine and water, or broth. Remove from the heat and let stand, submerged in the liquid and covered for 10 minutes. When they've softened, trim off the tough stem ends. Reserve the liquid to flavor other dishes (like risotto).
1 1/2 cups fresh or reconstituted Chanterelles (I'm partial to Golden, but Black are also available and delicious)
1 1/2 tablespoons of Butter
1 large clove of Garlic, minced
1 small Shallot, sliced very thin
1/4 cup Dry White Wine
1 tablespoon Parsley, minced, plus a few whole leaves for garnish
(If the mushrooms have been reconstituted, saute them in a dry skillet for a few minutes to steam out most of the residual liquid. Then continue.) Melt the butter in a skillet on medium high heat until it stops foaming, then add the garlic and shallots. Stir gently for 60 seconds (or one minute--your choice. I'm not picky.) then add the chanterelles. Saute for 2-3 minutes, moving them gently, occasionally. Add the minced parsley and saute with the chanterelles for another minute. Add the wine and reduce the heat to medium low. Let simmer for 3-4 more minutes.
Garnish with a couple of whole parsley leaves and serve hot.
Fruiti di Mare
Most every culture that exists near the sea has some kind of seafood stew. I can't think of any that don't, but then again, I'm not really trying. This is one inspired by the seafoods available locally in eastern Italy, but adapted for the supermarket fish available in the mountains of Colorado.
1 lb Shrimp, shelled and deveined
1/2 lb each of live Clams and Mussels
1/2 lb small Squid, cleaned and cut into rings (and tentacles if you're lucky enough to get the whole squid)
10 Roma Tomatoes, chopped
2 cloves Garlic, minced
1 large Shallot, sliced fine
3 tablespoons fresh Parsley Leaves, minced
1/2 cup White Wine
Olive Oil
Salt
Red Pepper Flakes
1/2 cup Chicken or Fish Stock
Pasta (spaghetti or linguine)
In a large pan over medium high heat, add 1/4 cup of olive oil. Wait 30 seconds until the oil can be swirled easily in the bottom of the pan, then add the garlic, shallots, 1 teaspoon salt and 1 (slightly rounded) teaspoon of red pepper. Stir gently in the pan until the garlic has softened. Add the white wine and stock and cover. Let come to a simmer and reduce heat. Add the clams and mussels and cover the pan again. (Take care to sort out any with broken shells or which have already opened.) Let simmer for 10 minutes until the shells have opened.
Add the chopped tomatoes and 2 tablespoons of parsley. Cover and let simmer for 5 minutes. Add more wine and stock if needed.
Start a large pot of salted water to boil. Cook the pasta according to directions.
As you put the dried pasta in the pot, add the shrimp and calamari to the tomatoes and shellfish. Cover the pot. Cook for about 5 minutes then stir to mix everything. The shrimp should be pink and the calamari white. Cover and remove from the heat.
Drain the pasta, and in a large bowl, combine the frutti di mare and the linguini and toss once or twice with tongs. Sprinkle with the remaining parsley. Serve in individual bowls with a little crostini on the side.
Limoncello
My beloved has been making this for years, but has recently changed the recipe. This is a wonderful after dinner liqueur, or you can mix it with sparkling water for a summer afternoon treat.
2 large, organic Lemons
Cheese Cloth and String
a large Glass Jar with a Lid
When ready, prepare a syrup by combining the cold water and sugar. Simmer over medium heat until the mixture boils and the sugar dissolves completely. Remove from the heat and allow the syrup to rest until completely cool.
Unseal the jar, remove and juice the lemons. Pour the alcohol into a large jar along with the syrup. Add the lemon juice. Mix very well. Pour the mixture through a coffee filter into a bottle.
Cork the bottle and let it rest for at least 1 week before using it. Or as long as you can stand. I think we waited about 5 minutes.
Remember back to the SATs? Venice : Labyrinth :: Adriatic Sea : ?
Get my meaning? Good. Then you'll understand what a remarkable feat it was even finding our hotel let alone the serendipity of finding one of the best restaurants in the whole city.
We took the train from Florence to Venice (assisted by a few very pleasant gypsies who helped fleece us out of 10 Euros more than they should have) and arrived at a train station. Not entirely remarkable to itself, as we were traveling by train (see previous sentence), however, only in Venice will the train station be on the bank of a major water way trimmed in grand architecture dating back to the 13th to 18th centuries. Speaking with the European tourists who frequent the city, we learned of the Vaporetti--the water buses that are the most commonly accessed water transport. Studying multiple maps, we gained a good sense of what stop we needed and so we settled into the ride--jostling with locals and tourists from around the globe, and getting swept up in the sights of Venice.
We arrived at our stop, but on exiting the vaporetto, we had no markers to indicate which "street" would lead us to our hotel. Wheeling our luggage behind us, we entered the closest alleyway to us. As it turns out, everything in Venice that isn't water and isn't a building is either a bridge, a piazza or an alley. And since the only land transportation is walking, size of alley doesn't really indicate the importance of the alley. Wide alleys may dead end and narrow alleys may lead exactly where you want to go. So it was with this alley we chose. I remember thinking, "this can't be right," because the alley was so narrow I could not wheel two suitcases behind me side-by-side without scraping them against the 4-story buildings defining the passage way.
We passed restaurants in open piazzas (mid-afternoon, so most were closed for lunch but may have served some light fare) then ducked back into another alley--still without any real idea of our direction. By happenstance we glanced up an another alley we thought SHOULD be close to our destination, and there it was: our hotel.We checked in, got the scoop from the boys at the front desk, toweled off (SO HOT and HUMID!) and then went back outside to explore.
Venice is everything I wanted it to be and so much more. I could go back tomorrow and enjoy it as if it were my first time.
Initially, I had a mind to try and live on a budget. This is probably the financial advisor in me, but I was really trying to shop and eat on the cheap. At least until lunch on the second day. We found a good, out of the way place (everything is sort of out of the way: did I mention that Venice is a maze?) and ate some really wonderful cuisine: frutti di mare. Then everything sort of fell into place in my mind--like finding that one long piece in Tetris that clears all the rows: I'm ME. I love food. Why would I punish us by avoiding some of the best food opportunities in the world? Budget minded living gets you Olive Garden Venice.
We walked back to the hotel that night and past a little restaurant not 50 feet from the front of our hotel door. We had passed it every time we went into or exited from our hotel, but with my newly renovated mindset, I noticed a basket of wild mushrooms, including boletes--mushrooms of the finest quality. I used to hunt mushrooms in New Mexico and those were prizes, if found. Their locations were closely guarded secrets by any mycologist lucky enough to find them. Now, here they were, half a world away, and no less prized. We told the maitre d' that we needed a shower but we would be back soon.
They set a table for us upwind from the smokers (everywhere is a designated smoking area in Venice, doubly so outside) and we ordered a bottle of wine and asked how the chef recommended the mushrooms. Like climbing the steps to Heaven, my taste buds ascended to levels of ecstasy they had never before known. We split a serving of the boletes as an appetizer, then a shared course of risotto with seafood, we shared a small steak and vegetables, and finished with a panna cotta for dessert. THIS! This is what I know we deserved.
We returned the next two nights, playing a repeat of that same theme: The second night having ravioli for an appetizer, a chanterelles risotto, seafood entree, more wine, more panna cotta. The third night we looked to blow out all the stops.
Flashback: I remember in college, The Old Towne Ale House had dollar beers and 10 cent wings on Wednesday nights. Wednesday night became my night of gluttony, damned be the consequences. And sure enough, the consequences usually damned me, some way, some how, either that night or the next morning.
A voice in the back of my head may have whispered that this was about to happen again. On a much larger scale.
Damned be the consequences?
We told the maitre d' that we'd be back in 45 minutes and asked if we could have what had become our table. We cleaned up and changed, and made our way back. Our regular server had the night off, but we had seen tonight's server the previous nights and he had been prepared for our evening--looking forward to it, even. We asked what he recommended for a bottle of wine to which he said the maitre d' recommends a very special bottle for us. We accepted the personalized recommendation. Let the stop blowing begin. I asked about the mushrooms for the day, and there was a special treat: in addition to the chanterelles of the previous night, they also had a very beautiful, very large and very fresh truffle from the mainland. Truffle risotto? Fillet with a truffle sauce? We elected to have a simple saute of chanterelles for an appetizer, cuttlefish and pasta, the fillet et truffle and then we'd decide on something for dessert.
The mushrooms came out of the kitchen and our waiter presented us two plates, as opposed to our customary one. He hadn't been serving us the previous nights, and I hadn't thought to tell him that we share the courses. (In all honesty, each serving was exceedingly generous. There would be no way we could each have eaten that much food without sharing, and we wanted to try as many dishes as we could. Hence: sharing.) We indicated our preference to our new waiter, but the appitizer damage was done. And since we weren't really ordering from the menu, we didn't know the price. We didn't think (want?) to ask, either.
Damned be the consequences. We ordered another bottle of wine.
We smiled and joked with the staff, with other patrons (Hello, John "James" Bond 006 3/4. We agree, you didn't quite make it.) and passers-by. We watched as people passed, women dressed to impress in their short dresses and high heels, staggering not at all on the cobbled walkways, the families with beleaguered children (or sometimes parents) in tow, the young, the old, the wealthy, the middle class, all flowing like water through the passageways of Venice.
The hours passed and our evening started to wrap up. My beloved excused herself to the women's room and our waiter and some of the staff joined me at the table. I expressed my gratitude for the hospitality and the wonderful cuisine of the last few days. I discovered that all of the ingredients are as local as possible and some--like the chanterelles, boletes and truffles--may be found wild. They then presented the bill.
I would love to believe that I had a good poker face. I knew the tab would be high. I know I held it together well enough, because everyone was still smiling as my beloved returned with the maitre d', having been introduced to our chef. I paid the tab and kept the receipt. Later I discovered the appetizer--those lovely chanterelles, hand picked and lovingly prepared--came to 75 Euros. The rest of the dinner, the bottles of wine, all added up to a pretty penny. Damn those consequences.
Rather than leaving, our maitre d' invited us inside (completely empty--for all the bustle of the restaurant, everyone wanted to sit outside) and offered us limoncello. We sat and sipped and talked of good food and travel. We shared some of our favorite recipes, and they presented us with a cookbook. We shook hands and embraced as appropriate and we took our leave. We waddled up to our room to go to bed for our last night in Venice. The gondoliers still paddled through the tight canal, four stories below our window, their lanterns looking like fireflies dancing over the water.
We reflected: the food was wonderful, the people were terrific. The bill was large but worth it and the cookbook was a charming gesture of the hospitality of our hosts. From one family who enjoys food to another. The consequences were not that damned bad.
Here are a few interpretations of our favorite Venitian cuisine. Buon appetito!
Sauteed Chanterelles
If you're lucky enough to get fresh chanterelles, that's great! If you can't, don't despair: they dry well and can easily be reconstituted. Simply simmer for 5 minutes in water, or white wine and water, or broth. Remove from the heat and let stand, submerged in the liquid and covered for 10 minutes. When they've softened, trim off the tough stem ends. Reserve the liquid to flavor other dishes (like risotto).
1 1/2 cups fresh or reconstituted Chanterelles (I'm partial to Golden, but Black are also available and delicious)
1 1/2 tablespoons of Butter
1 large clove of Garlic, minced
1 small Shallot, sliced very thin
1/4 cup Dry White Wine
1 tablespoon Parsley, minced, plus a few whole leaves for garnish
(If the mushrooms have been reconstituted, saute them in a dry skillet for a few minutes to steam out most of the residual liquid. Then continue.) Melt the butter in a skillet on medium high heat until it stops foaming, then add the garlic and shallots. Stir gently for 60 seconds (or one minute--your choice. I'm not picky.) then add the chanterelles. Saute for 2-3 minutes, moving them gently, occasionally. Add the minced parsley and saute with the chanterelles for another minute. Add the wine and reduce the heat to medium low. Let simmer for 3-4 more minutes.
Garnish with a couple of whole parsley leaves and serve hot.
Fruiti di Mare
Most every culture that exists near the sea has some kind of seafood stew. I can't think of any that don't, but then again, I'm not really trying. This is one inspired by the seafoods available locally in eastern Italy, but adapted for the supermarket fish available in the mountains of Colorado.
1 lb Shrimp, shelled and deveined
1/2 lb each of live Clams and Mussels
1/2 lb small Squid, cleaned and cut into rings (and tentacles if you're lucky enough to get the whole squid)
10 Roma Tomatoes, chopped
2 cloves Garlic, minced
1 large Shallot, sliced fine
3 tablespoons fresh Parsley Leaves, minced
1/2 cup White Wine
Olive Oil
Salt
Red Pepper Flakes
1/2 cup Chicken or Fish Stock
Pasta (spaghetti or linguine)
In a large pan over medium high heat, add 1/4 cup of olive oil. Wait 30 seconds until the oil can be swirled easily in the bottom of the pan, then add the garlic, shallots, 1 teaspoon salt and 1 (slightly rounded) teaspoon of red pepper. Stir gently in the pan until the garlic has softened. Add the white wine and stock and cover. Let come to a simmer and reduce heat. Add the clams and mussels and cover the pan again. (Take care to sort out any with broken shells or which have already opened.) Let simmer for 10 minutes until the shells have opened.
Add the chopped tomatoes and 2 tablespoons of parsley. Cover and let simmer for 5 minutes. Add more wine and stock if needed.
Start a large pot of salted water to boil. Cook the pasta according to directions.
As you put the dried pasta in the pot, add the shrimp and calamari to the tomatoes and shellfish. Cover the pot. Cook for about 5 minutes then stir to mix everything. The shrimp should be pink and the calamari white. Cover and remove from the heat.
Drain the pasta, and in a large bowl, combine the frutti di mare and the linguini and toss once or twice with tongs. Sprinkle with the remaining parsley. Serve in individual bowls with a little crostini on the side.
Limoncello
My beloved has been making this for years, but has recently changed the recipe. This is a wonderful after dinner liqueur, or you can mix it with sparkling water for a summer afternoon treat.
2 large, organic Lemons
Cheese Cloth and String
a large Glass Jar with a Lid
750 ml Pure Grain Alcohol (Everclear)
1 cup Water
1 cup Sugar
juice of the 2 Lemons
Wrap the lemons in a piece of cheesecloth and tie the ends like a satchel, leaving enough string on both ends to hang a few inches below the top of the jar.
Pour the alcohol into the glass jar. Holding the string ends, make sure the lemon does not touch the alcohol. Secure the string around the mouth of the jar and close the jar tightly. (If your jar does not have an airtight seal, you can seal the lid by wrapping the seam with adhesive tape.) Leave the jar in a cool, dark place for 3 months. (Beauty like this takes time. Deal with it.)
Unseal the jar, remove and juice the lemons. Pour the alcohol into a large jar along with the syrup. Add the lemon juice. Mix very well. Pour the mixture through a coffee filter into a bottle.
Cork the bottle and let it rest for at least 1 week before using it. Or as long as you can stand. I think we waited about 5 minutes.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Welcome Back
Hello again. Miss me?
I needed this hiatus. My posts became increasing preachy and I needed some time to refocus. I didn't know it would be a year, but there you are.
In the mean time, I've still been cooking. We've been travelling (Florence, Venice, Slovenia, Marrakesh). I took my first cooking class. I've been experimenting with gelatin and agar agar. I don't have an oven but I do have crazy good skills for finding alternate heating sources to cook food. I've explored more wild foods. We've fallen in love with even more restaurants.
I promise to share all of it with you.
So where to go first? How about a few recipes and then we ease back into all this? Here's two. Please enjoy.
Chicken & Mushroom Mac n Cheese
2 Chicken Breasts
1 large Clove of Garlic, minced
Olive Oil
Mushrooms, chopped
Butter
Cheddar Cheese, grated
Cream
Salt & Pepper
1 1/4 cup Orzo (dry measure), cooked and drained
Parsley, chopped and Cheese, grated
Slow cook chicken breasts, with salt and pepper in olive oil and garlic. Remove chicken from pan, leaving drippings and garlic. Add mushrooms and increase heat to sauté. When mushrooms have cooked, chop the chicken and add back to the pan, and reduce the heat to low.
In sauce pan on medium high heat, melt the butter, then add the cheese and cream, stirring constantly. When the cheese is completely melted and the sauce is smooth, stir in the chicken and mushroom mixture. Stir in the orzo.
Serve with a little grated cheese and chopped parsley on top.
Thai Chili Bitters
1 tsp Cloves
10 Juniper Berries
1 tbsp Allspice Berries
1 Bay Leaf
1 tbsp Black Pepper Corns
1/2 star of Anise
6 Green Cardamom Pods
2 tbsp Coriander Seeds
2 Thai Chilies
Gentian Root Extract
750 ml Everclear
Follow the basic recipe for Bitters that I posted in 2010.
After you've strained and filtered the bitters, pour it into a large non-reactive pot. Reduce it over a very low heat. This is the purest alcohol you can get and it's extremely volitile. It will reduce quickly and you want it down to about 1/5 of it's original volume. Use extreme caution if you are using a gas stove, because it could explode! Do not cover. Don't stir. In fact don't even make this recipe unless you've got the fortitude to wade across a lava flow carrying that old lady who was too stubborn to leave her home until it was too late, even though Peirce Brosnan warned her to go. But if you decide to make it, you will be rewarded with a spicy little number to accent your gin or rye.
I needed this hiatus. My posts became increasing preachy and I needed some time to refocus. I didn't know it would be a year, but there you are.
In the mean time, I've still been cooking. We've been travelling (Florence, Venice, Slovenia, Marrakesh). I took my first cooking class. I've been experimenting with gelatin and agar agar. I don't have an oven but I do have crazy good skills for finding alternate heating sources to cook food. I've explored more wild foods. We've fallen in love with even more restaurants.
I promise to share all of it with you.
So where to go first? How about a few recipes and then we ease back into all this? Here's two. Please enjoy.
Chicken & Mushroom Mac n Cheese
2 Chicken Breasts
1 large Clove of Garlic, minced
Olive Oil
Mushrooms, chopped
Butter
Cheddar Cheese, grated
Cream
Salt & Pepper
1 1/4 cup Orzo (dry measure), cooked and drained
Parsley, chopped and Cheese, grated
Slow cook chicken breasts, with salt and pepper in olive oil and garlic. Remove chicken from pan, leaving drippings and garlic. Add mushrooms and increase heat to sauté. When mushrooms have cooked, chop the chicken and add back to the pan, and reduce the heat to low.
In sauce pan on medium high heat, melt the butter, then add the cheese and cream, stirring constantly. When the cheese is completely melted and the sauce is smooth, stir in the chicken and mushroom mixture. Stir in the orzo.
Serve with a little grated cheese and chopped parsley on top.
Thai Chili Bitters
1 tsp Cloves
10 Juniper Berries
1 tbsp Allspice Berries
1 Bay Leaf
1 tbsp Black Pepper Corns
1/2 star of Anise
6 Green Cardamom Pods
2 tbsp Coriander Seeds
2 Thai Chilies
Gentian Root Extract
750 ml Everclear
Follow the basic recipe for Bitters that I posted in 2010.
After you've strained and filtered the bitters, pour it into a large non-reactive pot. Reduce it over a very low heat. This is the purest alcohol you can get and it's extremely volitile. It will reduce quickly and you want it down to about 1/5 of it's original volume. Use extreme caution if you are using a gas stove, because it could explode! Do not cover. Don't stir. In fact don't even make this recipe unless you've got the fortitude to wade across a lava flow carrying that old lady who was too stubborn to leave her home until it was too late, even though Peirce Brosnan warned her to go. But if you decide to make it, you will be rewarded with a spicy little number to accent your gin or rye.
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