Moving Pains

 It’s an immutable fact that moving sucks.  

Ask anyone.  Really…ANYONE, and they will confirm this.  

There's the stress over logistics:  how exactly will you transport your belongings from A to B?

Wrangle friends into helping you?  Hmm, how is it that everyone is going to be out of town that very same weekend?  Borrow your cousin's van?  Or, wow, maybe you're ready to be a true adult and actually pay for movers.    

Then there's the seemingly endless process of packing.  Putting everything you own into a box makes it seem as if your belongings have multiplied like rabbits.  Everywhere you turn there is a closet or enclosure full of things calling out to be packed and offering clear evidence to contradict your earlier, optimistic predictions that "we don't really have that much stuff".  

And don't get me started on the frantic, last minute items that remain, lurking, waiting to be discovered as the movers are carrying your possessions out....the crap under the kitchen sink or tucked into corners in the garage, or, strangely enough, an entire cabinet in the kitchen that was somehow missed.  

So, you get yourself transferred somehow, and teetering on the brink of exhaustion, you now have to buck up and start UNpacking.  There are the boxes you packed in the beginning of the process, and their meticulous, carefully wrapped contents.  Then, there are the frantic boxes.  Unlabeled and filled with odd assortments of items thrown into a box, any box.   The entire process is painfully messy and unsettling.  And yet, throughout this adventure, one has to eat, no?  

Sadly, the cookbooks have long been packed up, and there they stay until the bookcase situation can be sorted out.  The kitchen is like a foreign country.  You haven't quite mastered the local dialect and it feels like you need a map to navigate unfamiliar drawers and cabinets.  There's takeout for several days...and that's combined with sandwiches and cold prepared foods, but if you're like me, you can only take so much of that before you start craving a hot, home-cooked meal.  

This is where having an easy pasta recipe up your sleeve proves to be very handy for that first, hot-cooked-meal-in-your-new-home.  In the case of a move four years ago, that pasta recipe was cacio epepe, essentially a version of the favorite children's classic, spaghetti + butter + cheese = comfort.  But I like to think I am a continuously evolving human, and my move a few weeks ago had me craving a different Italian comfort classic:  pasta amatriciana.  Tomatoes, bacon (or pancetta) and hot pepper flakes.  What’s not to love?

Bacon and tomatoes genuinely like each other (case in point:  BLT) and in this case, a little zing provided by the pepper flakes makes things interesting.  As soon as I had unpacked the last pan, I got the sauce going and cooked up some spaghetti.  The smell of sizzling onions, garlic and bacon proved to be just the morale booster I needed.  Tumblers of wine were poured.   Packing paper was cleared off the table.  A hot meal was served.  Home at last.

Bucatini Amatriciana

(straight from Mario Batali)

serves 2

2-3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
6 oz thick-sliced bacon or a chunk of pancetta, roughly chopped
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced into half-moons
1 clove of garlic, sliced
pinch of red pepper flakes
1 cup canned chopped tomatoes
1/2 lb bucatini or spaghetti
Pecorino-Romano, freshly grated
Salt for the pasta water

1.  Bring a large pot of water to boil and add a couple teaspoons of salt.
2.  In a large saute pan over low heat combine the olive oil, bacon or pancetta, onion, garlic and pepper flakes.  Cook until the onion is softened and most of the bacon fat has rendered, about 12 minutes.
3.  Add the tomatoes and turn up the heat to bring the sauce up to a boil.  Lower the heat to simmer, and let bubble for 6 or 7 minutes.
4.  While the sauce is simmering, cook the pasta until very firm...about a minute less than the package directions and drain.
5.  Add the pasta to the simmering sauce and toss to coat for about a minute.  
6.  Serve in warmed pasta bowls with a shower of grated Pecorino.

A Classic

Since sharing the find of the year with you, I've been doing more thinking about 'the basics'.  Those reliable, go-to dishes that never fail to comfort, revive and bring a happy smile to your loved ones' faces.

If I were to make a list of my favorite basics, it would go something like this:

Chicken soup -- of course.  And if you know me, you know I border on fanatical in my devotion to this Cook's Illustrated method which yields a rich, golden broth that puts other chicken stocks to shame.

Cacio e pepe -- no doubt one of the all-time, most comforting pastas.  But as my friend K. points out...make sure your kitchen sponge is due for a change-out, because the pan clean up on this one is a destroyer.

Frittata -- my favorite weekday supper.  You just can't go wrong with eggs for dinner.

Meatloaf -- good meatloaf can make your day.  I have not blogged about this because in our house my husband is the meatloaf chef and he swears by an old Martha Stewart recipe that is absolute perfection. 

The Perfect Roast Chicken -- now you may think you have a good roast chicken recipe, but unless you are making the legendary Zuni Cafe roast chicken, you are most likely mistaken.  There is no better way to roast a chicken.  Period.  Lucky for you, that recipe is here.  Now go get a chicken!

An egg salad sandwich -- sigh...  on pumpernickel bread or a good rye.  Nothing better...or easier.  I've made some tweaks in my recipe since I posted on this, courtesy of one of my favorite local chefs, Tyler Florence, and his mother-in-law's potato salad recipe.  I now grate the hard-boiled eggs on a box grater, and the resulting egg salad's texture is absolutely heavenly.

and, last but not least, a decent Bolognese sauce.

I've spent years searching for a sublime, satisfying ragu, and not to get too philosophical...like many things in life, the search is an ongoing journey with many side roads, detours and failures.  My mother's attempts to pass off skillet-browned ground beef mixed with 'sloppy joe' seasoning (!) from a packet, mixed with a can of tomato sauce launched me on my journey...and dissatisfaction with what was often served up in restaurants in the guise of a Bolognese sauce just fueled the fire. 

I had a period of slavish devotion to Marcella Hazan's version.  There were brief flirtations with Gourmet magazine recipes and various restaurant cookbook takes on 'Sunday sauce'.   One thing is for sure...everybody has their own idea of what Bolognese sauce should be...and with so many variations  everybody is right. 

My own taste leans toward the region of Emilia-Romagna and the traditional Bolognese there...distinguished by the use of milk or cream.  Something about the long-simmered sauce becomes over-the-top luxurious when you add a bit of cream.  For several years, I've been very pleased with a Bolognese I found in a cookbook by Englishman (shocker, I know!) Nigel Slater. I've tweaked it a bit to add some character with dried porcini (truly, the 'secret ingredient'), and despite the 'at-least-three-hours-of-simmering' prescribed by most Italian nonnas (Nigel says one and a half hours) I usually go about two hours. 

Perfect for a winter Sunday afternoon when there are newspapers to be read and napping to be done.  The sauce is hearty and beefy and yet suave with its touch of cream.  (To my taste it becomes even more amazing as next day's leftovers...so you've got that going for you.)  Serve it over a fat, tube pasta like rigatoni or some fresh fettucini and add a generous grating of fresh Parmesan.  It's so perfect that for me, all searching for a Bolognese sauce has come to a halt.

Now, if I could just settle down with a good chocolate cake recipe...


Spaghetti Bolognese
adapted from Nigel Slater's the kitchen diaries

serves 4


2 tablespoons butter
chunk of pancetta, approx. 1/2 inch wide, diced into small cubes
a medium onion, finely chopped
2 fat cloves of garlic, minced
1 carrot, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
1/2 cup dried porcini mushrooms, soaked in boiling water for 10 minutes--reserving the soaking liquid
2 bay leaves
1 1/2 pounds ground beef
1 29 oz can crushed tomatoes
1 cup dry, red wine
3/4 cup low-sodium chicken stock
a few grindings of fresh nutmeg
1/2 cup (or less, to taste) heavy cream

To serve:
1 pound rigatoni
grated Parmesan

NOTES:  
The Pot -- I like to use my large, enameled cast-iron dutch oven for this -- it seems to hold heat well and control the simmer to a bare minimum which is important.  If you have a stainless stockpot you may have trouble keeping the simmer low enough, so in that case you should use a 'flame tamer' disk over your burner (available at hardware stores).

About the nutmeg...I actually do have whole nutmeg and I give it a few swipes along a microplane grater for this recipe.  The difference between freshly grated nutmeg and the stuff in a jar you've had for three years in your spice cabinet is HUGE.  Give it a go with whole nutmeg -- it really does add something magical.


1.  Set the dried porcini in a heatproof bowl and bring some water to a boil.  Pour the water over the mushrooms and let them steep while you cook the pancetta. 

2.  Melt the butter in a heavy pot over medium heat, then stir in the cubed pancetta and let it cook for 4-5 minutes -- you don't want it to color too much.

3.  Stir in/add finely chopped onion, celery, carrot and garlic to the pot with the pancetta.

4.  Drain the porcini mushrooms through a fine strainer  (I reserve the liquid and add a couple tablespoons to the pot with the wine, later.) and give them a rough chop.  Add to the vegetable/pancetta mixture in the pot.

5.  Tuck in the bay leaves and let the whole thing cook for ten minutes or so, stirring frequently.

6.  Turn up the heat to high and add the ground beef, breaking it up well with a fork or edge of a wooden spoon.  Let it cook for three to four minutes without stirring -- you want it to start browning.  When it starts to brown give it a good stir to turn the pieces and let it continue to color so there is no pink left.

7.  Mix in the the tomatoes, breaking them up a bit with the wooden spoon, red wine, stock, a tablespoon or two of the mushroom soaking liquid, a grating of nutmeg and some salt and pepper. (start with a teaspoon of salt and taste after a couple hours).  Let everything come to a boil and then turn the heat way down to low, so that everything just barely bubbles.  There should be movement, but one that is gentle and not quite a simmer.
Partially cover the pan wiht a lid and let it putter away for at least an hour and a half.  Stir from time to time and check the liquid levels.  You don't want it to be dry.

8.  After a couple hours, pour in the cream, a small amount at a time, stir, and continue cooking for another 20 minutes.  This is when I put the water on for the pasta.


9.  Check the seasoning, you may need a little more salt.  Serve over pasta and add a grating of Parmesan.


Pour a nice glass of red and enjoy.

Back to Basics

Happy New Year! 

It's a relief, isn't it? As the festive food-and-drink-athon known as “The Holidays” winds down and we all stagger to the finish line that is New Year's Day, I find basic, homey foods are what I crave come January. Chicken soup...braised beef...the beautiful winter greens in the markets now...chard, kale, Brussels sprouts etc...and a simple, sunny tomato sauce to perk things up on a cold winter evening. 

The basics.

 For most basic recipes, I have my own personal favorites...tried and true. Tested over time, I rely and go back to the same recipes over and over again. In the case of something as simple as basic tomato sauce for pasta, I use an improvised recipe that involves sauteing some garlic, salt and red pepper flakes in olive oil and then dumping a can of crushed tomatoes and simmering for ten or fifteen minutes. If the sauce is going on pizza I add a pinch of dried Italian seasoning blend and that's it.

Every once in awhile, I take a new recipe for a spin and lo and behold, things change!

The local SF restaurant, Delfina, has long been a favorite of mine and their simple spaghetti pomodoro is the very essence of sunshine-y perfection. The tomatoes, even in the depths of winter, are bright and tasty and the texture is chunky, not liquidy. I order the dish every time I go there and have been in a state of perpetual wonder at how they achieve such perfection with what look, and taste, like the most elemental ingredients. When, oh, when was there going to be a cookbook from this fine establishment that would reveal the secret of this basic tomato sauce?!

Well, I have my answer! One of my Christmas gifts was The Bi-Rite Market cook book, Eat Good Food (delightful, by the way...you'll be seeing more mentions of it here in the future) and wouldn't you know it, they are situated on the same street as Delfina. Chef-owner Craig Stoll kindly shares his recipe in the Bi-Rite book and as soon as I read it, I pretty much ran to the kitchen to try it. The resulting sauce tasted just as lovely as it does at the restaurant and the secret is all in the technique. Ohhh, there's no going back once you've tried Craig's method. This classic Italian technique has you cook the spaghetti half way, and then finish it in the sauce, so it cooks into the pasta. Genius!! 

There's a longer cooking time at the start, to reduce the sauce, but that extra 45 minutes is SO worth it. (I can't recall getting this wound up since I tried the Cook's Illustrated version of chicken soup.) You end up with a beautiful plate of homey, simple spaghetti with sauce that nourishes the soul...
and you can't get more basic than that.

Delfina's Spaghetti

adapted from Bi-Rite Market's Eat Good Food and Craig Stoll of Delfina

2-3 servings, as a main course

1 (28 ounce) can peeled whole plum tomatoes

3 cloves of garlic

kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

pinch of chile flakes

14 large basil leaves

8 oz. Dried spaghetti

Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano for serving

1. No seeds! Working over the open can of tomatoes, break open each one and scrape the seeds with your fingers back into the can. (I never used to seed the tomatoes, so this was big for me.) Squeeze the seeded tomatoes in your hand to break them up slightly and drop into a separate bowl. Strain the juice from the can into the bowl with the tomatoes and discard the seeds.
2. Chop the garlic coarsely, sprinkle with a pinch of salt and scrape the two into a mortar and pestle. (or use the knife side to smash and press the garlic into a paste. I've tried both ways and the knife method is challenging.) Put the garlic paste and the olive oil into a medium, heavy skillet, cover and put over medium-low heat. Cook the garlic very slowly until soft and feather-looking but still creamy in color – about 5 minutes. You don't want it to brown, so keep an eye on it and make sure the heat is medium-low for sure.
3. Add the tomatoes and juice, along with the chile flakes, 1 ½ cups water, ½ teaspoon salt and a few grinds of pepper. Increase heat to medium-high and bring just to a boil. Lower the heat to a rapid simmer and cook, until the sauce is reduced, about 45-50 minutes. (I went almost a full hour.) Stir occasionally to prevent sticking or burning.
4. Remove the sauce from the heat. If you have and immersion blender (oh, light of my life!) pulse the sauce to break up some of the larger chunks. Otherwise run about a third in a food processor and return to the pan.) Add the basil leaves to the sauce.
5. Bring a large pot of lightly salted (about a tablespoon of salt) water to a boil. Add the spaghetti and cook for 6 minutes. This is important: Dip in and reserve about a cup and a half of the starchy pasta water and set aside before you drain the pasta.
6. Put the sauce in the same pot you used for the pasta and add the half-cooked spaghetti plus ¾ cup of the cooking water and bring to a rapid simmer. Cook, stirring frequently until the pasta is cooked to al denteal dente.
7. Taste and season with more salt as needed. Top each serving with Parmigiano and serve right away.

Buon appetito!

Ruffled Feathers

We are preparing to move...again, and I don't like it.
I keep asking Steve, so, doesn't it seem like just yesterday that we were moving?
General household disarray...half-packed boxes...scattered clutter.  It all ruffles my feathers.

There's also a cooking hiatus.  The kitchen is starting to get boxed up...the cookbooks too.  I will have to chill out for a bit and this just somehow adds to my irritation.

It's never a good sign when I pull Little Women off the shelf, seeking comfort in its familiar chapters.  (Odd, what gives us consolation, I know.)  It's been this way since I was a child.  Whenever I don't feel well, or am unsettled don't rub my head or make me tea.  Just leave me alone with my Louisa May Alcott and I'll be okay.

So there's the Little Women thing and luckily, another source of comfort.

It begins with a box of dry spaghetti.

The phrase 'comfort food' gets thrown around quite a bit these days, but it usually refers to things I think of as heavy.  Meat loaf.  Mashed potatoes.  Macaroni and cheese.  Don't get me wrong, on a good day, I love all that stuff, but it seems a bit much if you're truly in need of comforting.  I feel like in addition to being distressed, you're going to have this big, heavy pile of food just sitting in your stomach.  Not helpful. 

My own version of comfort food has evolved over the years.  For a good long time, there was spaghetti with butter and cheese.  (The quality of the cheese has improved as the years have gone by...and yes, I first started out with a few shakes of the legendary green can of Kraft Parmesan Cheese.  You know the one.  It reassures you on the label that it is "100% Real Parmesan Cheese".) Now that's comfort food.  Simple to prepare, with staples that are pretty much always on hand.  My spaghetti with butter and cheese always felt perfectly consoling.

A while back I started to add a tiny bit of chopped Italian parsley.  It added a cheerful bit of zip.  This advance probably coincided with the discovery that most herbs will keep, for weeks, in the refrigerator if stored like a vase of flowers.  Bingo.  Parsley available at all times, hence it started to appear in almost everything I cooked.

Then, several years ago, on a business trip to Italy (read:  stress...nerves...anxiety) I ordered a bowl of cacio e pepe (cheese and pepper pasta)  for dinner one night and it rescued me.  No long list of ingredients.  No fancy stuff.  The pasta was clearly the dried stuff from a box.  Yet, it calmed me in a way that I was intensely grateful for.  The sauce, more of a creamy coating than a sauce really,  was fragrant with Pecorino.  The black pepper provided a warmth that radiated throughout my being, restoring my spirits.  Well, there was also a glass of red wine.  That helped.
 

So, of course, I had to find a way to recreate a proper cacio e pepe at home.  There was plenty of investigation. Restaurant versions here in the U.S. were hit or miss...mainly miss.  Almost always there was an overwhelming amount of olive oil.  Spaghetti swimming in oil is not my idea of comfort.  I searched.  I experimented.  We ate many sub-par versions of cacio e pepe.  The perfect recipe remained elusive. And I kept wondering...how can just oil, pepper, cheese and pasta water create the creamy mix I remembered?  Many, many batches later, multiple sources contributed to what I think is the ultimate combination:  SAVEUR magazine (make sure to toast the pepper in the hot oil) with a bit of Batali (add pinch of Parmesan and butter) and a splash of Tyler Florence technique (something called burro fuso, which means cold butter simmered in starchy pasta water).

Tadahhhh...perfect cacio e pepe!
This, my dear friends, is comfort in a bowl!

The pantry has yet to be packed.  The boxed pasta is ready for the stressful week ahead.  That, and my beat up childhood copy of Little Women discreetly stashed by my bedside. 
I think it's all going to be okay.



Cacio e Pepe (Cheese and Pepper Pasta)
Serves 4

1 lb.  dried pasta, (spaghetti is good, but I like bucatini or perciatelli as well)
4 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
2 tsp. freshly cracked black pepper (I like a mix of 1 tsp. ground with a mortar and pestle so it's coarse and the remaining 1 tsp. from the pepper grinder.)
4 tbsp. cold butter
1 1/2 cup finely grated Pecorino Romano
1/4 cup finely grated Parmigiano (heresy, I know...no true Roman would stand for it)

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Cook the pasta until al dente (about 8-10 minutes if you're using spaghetti.) 
**Make sure to set aside a cup of the starchy pasta water before draining the pasta.

Meanwhile heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat until it shimmers and add the pepper, toasting it in the oil until fragrant (about 1-2 minutes). 
(This pretty much lifts your spirits immediately!)

Ladle 3/4 cup of the pasta water into the skillet with the oil and pepper.  (There will be a big, noisy commotion when the water hits the pan...prepare yourself not to freak out.) 
Bring this mixture to a boil and add the butter, which will melt and then simmer for 3-4 minutes until the sauce thickens. 

When your pasta is ready and has been drained, transfer it, using some tongs, to the skillet with the water/oil/pepper/ butter mixture and add the cheese, (I mean this...no lazy stirring here!) to combine. 

Continue to stir over heat until the sauce is creamy and clings to the pasta, about another minute or two, adding some of the remaining starchy pasta water if it begins to look too dry. 
Transfer to bowls and serve immediately.

Mangia! and feel better...

Ready. Set. Roast!

As I mentioned in my year end post, I've been roasting.

There really is not much I have not tried to roast...

Artichokes.  Check.  (With Meyer lemons...a tasty addition if I do say so...)

A giant bag full of garlic and four types of shallots, given to us by a college friend, who's become quite the gardener and has the good fortune to live in Oregon.  Check.

(Sprinkle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  Roast.  Pile the resulting, heavenly 'marmalade' on bread or roast chicken.)

Cauliflower.  Check.  (Thought you didn't like cauliflower?  Have I got news for you!)

Ok, these sound good, but really...not that radical, right?

So try this....
how about Clam Sauce?!

TWIST!

Yes, folks...in the past month, I've come across two new roasting recipes that have me giddy...so I thought I'd share.

First.  Yes, you heard me.  Pasta with Clam Sauce.  ROASTED!
Ridiculously easy and oh so delicious, that it had me asking, where-oh-where has this recipe been all my life?  The magical thing that happens here is with the tomatoes...fresh, cherry tomatoes love being in the oven.  (Live clams?  Hmmm, maybe not so much, but hey.... that's the food chain for you.)  For a Clam Sauce lover like me, this was nothing short of nirvana.

You start an oven-safe pan on the stove with some pancetta and then, while your spaghetti is cooking in another pot, toss the remaining ingredients into your skillet before popping the whole thing into the oven.  Presto!  The result is perfect broth-y goodness.  The clams release their natural juices into the sauce, an intoxicating blend of pancetta balanced with the brightness of tomatoes and white wine.  A shower of torn fresh basil leaves and chopped parsley as garnish at the end.  Lean over, close your eyes and take a sniff....you are in Italy.   The recipe is from a Tyler Florence book, and I have to say...yes, it is indeed The Ultimate Spaghetti with Clams.

But maybe you're like my brother, and you live in that arctic tundra known as Minneapolis...and you're thinking, "yeah, well, that's all great, but umm, where are we supposed to get fresh clams?!', or maybe you don't even like clams or clam sauce.

Then I say to you, Roast Pears!

And I mean, underripe pears.  (We can ALL find those, right?!)  This roasted pear recipe (from Sally Schneider on The Atlantic's food channel) is so wonderful, I urge you to get pears as soon as is humanly possible--do not pass GO--get your hands on a real vanilla bean (the true hero in Roasted Pears) and pre-'pear' to be amazed.  (sorry, just couldn't help myself there...)

Here, the most humble ingredients (pears, water, sugar, butter, lemon juice and the vanilla bean) are completely transformed in a hot oven.  What you get are meltingly wonderful, carmelized pears...perfect spooned over ice cream, OR, drizzled with chocolate sauce and topped with toasted slivered almonds, OR drizzled over oatmeal, or pancakes...there is no stopping these pears and their magical powers to make people swoon.  The vanilla-flecked pear juices which become like a caramel sauce in the oven...they alone are worth the effort.  Trust me on this.

Now go on...get out there and start roasting...and don't look back!

Note:
About vanilla beans...skip the shriveled, dried up specimens packaged in expensive little bottles you find at the supermarket.  You want plump, moist vanilla beans so consider either your fancy grocery store where you'll find them sold individually in glass tubes, or I've been using mail order (I used to buy vanilla beans at Trader Joe's, but mine has stopped carrying them -- they were a total steal and pretty good quality, but alas, no more.) and the quality has been impeccable.  It really does make a difference.
My favorite source is Spice House and they have several locations in Illinois and Wisconsin, if you live out that way.

Essential Roasted Pears
adapted from Sally Schneider


Serves 4

    • 1/4 to 1/3 cup sugar
    • 1/2 vanilla bean (optional)
    • 1 1/2 pounds slightly-under-ripe, fragrant, medium pears, peeled if desired and halved though the stem
    • 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
    • 2 tablespoons water
    • 2 tablespoon unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Place the sugar in a small bowl. With a thin, sharp knife, split the vanilla bean lengthwise in half and scrape out the seeds. Stir the seeds into the sugar.

Arrange the pears in a large baking dish, cut-side up. Drizzle the lemon juice evenly over the fruit, then sprinkle with the sugar. Nestle the vanilla pod among the fruit. Pour the water into the dish. Dot each pear with some butter.

Roast the pears 30 minutes brushing them occasionally with the pan juices. Turn the pears over and continue roasting, basting once or twice, until tender and caramelized, 25 to 30 minutes longer (if the pears are small, test for doneness after 35 or 40 minutes of cooking; a paring knife poked into the thickest part of one should meet with no resistance). Serve warm.

Dining In

Let me say right off the bat here that I love eating out.  I've always loved it.

When I was about eight, my family spent a long weekend on Mackinac Island at the Grand Hotel.  On our first morning there, we sat in the hotel's formal dining room for breakfast and were treated to our plates of scrambled eggs and French toast delivered to the table topped with high-domed silver covers, which the waiters removed with a flourish.  My mother loves to tell the story of how I turned to her after first seeing this and  said  "I feel like a queen!"

It is indeed a treat to have someone prepare and serve your meal...BUT...(you knew there was going to be a but, right?!) for the past several years, I've been championing a different style of eating out.  I can't pinpoint exactly which overcrowded Saturday night out at a 'hot' restaurant with an hour-and-a-half wait converted me, but there was indeed a turning point.  No more going out on Friday or Saturday.  It had simply become unpleasant to eat out during the weekend.  And, remember Anthony Bourdain's book, Kitchen Confidential?   I've taken to heart his admonishment that weekend diners are getting the worst service and food.  

So for some time now, we've been following the George Costanza rule -- Do The Opposite -- and eating out on the occasional weekday, while saving weekends for cooking and having friends over.  So here I am...ready to convert you, first, by telling you that this schedule is AWESOME!  No more jostling in the bar with the crowds, no more trying to flag the overworked wait staff for a water refill or another glass of wine.  And, think about it...it really does make sense.  If you cook or entertain over the weekend, you'll have time to shop and when your friends are over and enjoying a leisurely dessert, no one will be pushing you out hoping to turn the table quickly.

Over the holiday weekend, we were cleaning out a closet filled with moving boxes and I came across my long-missing file folder boxes of Cook's Illustrated magazines.  It was as if I had found a long lost friend.  These were back issues I'd saved from when the magazine first started and I affectionately referred to them as The Cooking Nerds.  So I spent a highly entertaining hour sitting on the hallway floor reading and, wouldn't you know it...re-discovered one of my favorite 'recreate-a-restaurant-dish-at-home' recipes ever!

Remember when Italian restaurants were just that?  Typically they had red checkered tablecloths and things like Veal Scallopine, Eggplant Parmigiana and Spaghetti with Meatballs on the menu.  (...reminds me of Rao's Cookbook!)  If you grew up in Chicago, or New York, Italian restaurant menus often included Shrimp Scampi.

This was always my favorite--tender shrimp, bathed in a delicious garlicky, lemony, sauce, perfect for mopping up with a slice of Italian bread.  Mark Bittman is also apparently a fan of Shrimp Scampi, and he put together the recipe below for Cook's Illustrated.  It's fantastic and ridiculously easy--my favorite combination.  I had it marked from the January 1999 issue where it first appeared, and made it pretty regularly.  Since moving almost two years ago, the recipe has been sadly out of sight, and out of mind.

That very afternoon I found the magazines, I made the shrimp scampi and served it right from the pan.  With a nice salad and a loaf of good bread for soaking up the lovely sauce, it was the perfect 'restaurant' meal, at home.

I'm happy to report...there was no wait for a good table.

*          *           *           *

Simple Shrimp Scampi

serves 4

adapted from Mark Bittman, in Cook's Illustrated

NOTE:  My own adjustment is to use a larger skillet (Bittman originally suggests 10-inch).  Make sure you have all your ingredients prepped and ready to go -- this dish takes just minutes.

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

4 medium garlic cloves, minced

2 pounds large shrimp (21-25 count per pound) peeled, deveined and rinsed

1/4 cup minced fresh parsley leaves

2 tablespoons juice from 1 lemon

Salt

Cayenne pepper

Heat oil and garlic in a large (I used 12-inch) skillet over medium heat until garlic begins to sizzle.

Reduce heat to medium-low and cook until fragrant and pale gold, about 2 minutes.
Add shrimp, increase heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until shrimp turn pink, about 7 minutes.  Be careful not to overcook or the shrimp will become tough.

Off heat, stir in parsely, lemon juice, and salt and cayenne pepper to taste.  Serve immediately.

Dining out photos, above:
Tacos at Tacubaya, Berkeley, CA
Fish and Chips at Fish in Sausalito, CA
Vegetable kabobs at Greens, San Francisco, CA

The Year in Cooking

Some things about cooking...eating...and food in general that I'm only now getting around to mentioning...

Roasting
 I was on a bit of a roasting kick this year.  And there's a laughably easy formula I've discovered:
"your choice of vegetable" + splash of olive oil + salt/pepper to taste + hot oven = fantastically delicious.
One can roast just about anything this way.  I've roasted carrots, parsnips, artichokes, sweet potatoes, squash, Brussels sprouts (with the added bonus of a bit of chopped up pancetta) and, my favorite -- broccoli, finished with a sprinkle of Parmesan and a squeeze of lemon.  That one's a total winner.  I saw it on an episode of Tyler's Ultimate, tried it once and have never looked back.  You too, need never steam broccoli again!

So, I say...Roast...and be happy.

Cardamom
This is one of those vaguely mysterious spices I never paid much attention to.  I have some pretty green cardamom pods in a spice jar, that probably date back to the early nineties, but I have no memory of why I bought them, or what I may have used them for.  Then, early this year I stumbled across a recipe for a Vanilla Cardamom Pound Cake which sounded simultaneously homey and exotic.  Now, I've never met a pound cake I didn't like, and this one called for vanilla bean (yet another of my relatively recent obsessions) so before you could actually say cardamom, I was pulling the mixer out and digging in the spice rack for a tin of ground cardamom that had been knocking around for at least a couple years.

The result?  Heavenly.  Baked in a Bundt pan, the cake was moist, golden and perfumed with that amazing combination of vanilla and cardamom.  A perfect match if you ask me.  I've made it several times since and it never fails to impress or turn your home into a fragrant paradise. 




The Chicken and Egg Thing
It seems like owning chickens is The Thing these days.  Friends have chickens.  Relatives of friends have chickens.  Susan Orlean has chickens and wrote about it for The New Yorker.  A colleague told me he got his chickens from MyPetChicken.com.  Seriously.  And then...one day, he brought me some eggs.

They were beautiful.  Steve and I poached them the next morning and I swear to you that there was nothing more delicious than those perfectly poached, incredibly fresh eggs.   Unforgettably wonderful.

Pancetta
So this was the year I stopped using bacon in recipes that called for pancetta.  Ohmy, what was I thinking?!    The subtle, beautiful porky goodness of pancetta is something almost entirely different.  Silly me.  In certain recipes the lack of smokiness that is bacon's hallmark is a good thing.  It is not there to overwhelm or obscure the other flavors in your dish.  Don't get me wrong -- I LOVE bacon.  But, when the recipe SAYS pancetta...trust me.  They're telling you something important.  I've figured out that pancetta can keep in the fridge, wrapped in wax paper and placed in a plastic container or bag, for at least a week.  I also found a couple excellent local makers of pancetta.  So, now it makes sense to me why I never thought Pasta alla Amatriciana was a big deal.  Ha!  Try using pancetta!!  Magnifico!

Building a Better Meatball
I didn't think it was possible...I had a meatball recipe that was pretty good.  A version of a Cook's Illustrated recipe that I thought was incomparable.  That is...until Rao's.   A legendary Italian restaurant in New York,  Rao's has a cookbook that reveals many of their secrets.  My friend, K., gave me the book for my birthday this year, inspiring us to create a Red Sauce Sunday dinner with recipes from the book.  I kid you not when I say the meatballs were a revelation.  Light, with an almost fluffy texture they were a huge hit.  Okay.  I'll say it...mama mia!!

The Pot
So I finally succumbed and spent what seems like a small fortune on...a pot.  Not just any pot.  An enameled cast iron beauty of a Dutch oven made by Le Creuset.

For years, I hemmed and hawed.  I used to stop in at Sur La Table or Williams-Sonoma every so often simply to ogle it.  It really was ridiculous in a way.  I mean, all this agonizing...over a pot!  And then one day this past spring, I just thought, "I am going to buy that pot."  So I did.  And, I must tell you, it is a regular work horse.  I have it on the stove at least once or twice a week and I absolutely love it.  (Ohh, the beauty of a pot that gives you the tiniest of simmers in a Bolognese sauce!) 

Which brings me to some things I am planning to try and some books I'll be cooking from in the New Year...

• The now-famous No-Knead Bread recipe that first showed up several years ago in a New York Times article -- and yes, I will be using my Le Creuset!
• Foccacia.  I feel like this is one of those things I would like to try to make at home, especially a version of Pizza Bianca I found at Smitten Kitchen.  I love the idea, and taste of a simple dough, rosemary, olive oil and salt. 
• Anything and everything from David Tannis' book A Platter of Figs.  He is one of the chefs who shares the head job at Chez Panisse and his book is stunning.  It is laid out in seasonal menus for eight and I'm planning to start with the Lobster Risotto, for New Year's Eve.
• The Banana Cream Pie, the shortbread and ohh, a few other things from the Tartine cookbook.
• hmmm, and maybe some Asian food...I've always wanted to make my own spring rolls, with exactly the combination of shrimp, pork and greens I like... but also, I've been meaning to try Chez Pim's Pad Thai recipe since I first saw it...

Much cooking to do...so, I'll keep you, umm, 'posted'.

Happy New Year!

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Rao's calls for frying the meatballs in 1 cup of olive oil (!) but I use much less.  Depending on the size of your fry pan, you want there to be about a quarter inch of oil in the pan.  I've also had good results with broiling the meatballs.  Place the meatballs on a large, foil-lined baking sheet or jelly roll pan.  Brush each meatball with olive oil and broil on each side, turning as they become brown.

The other important element is to use your own, fresh breadcrumbs.  It makes all the difference in the world.

Anna and Frankie's Meatballs  (Polpettini)

adapted from Rao's Cookbook by Frank Pellegrino

(makes 28)

1 pound ground lean beef

1/2 pound ground veal

1/2 pound ground pork

2 large eggs

1 cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese

1 1/2 tablespoons chopped Italian parslety

1/2 small garlic clove, peeled and minced, optional

2 cups Bread Crumbs

2 cups lukewarm water

salt and pepper to taste

1/2 cup olive oil (approximately)

For the bread crumbs:

Use the finest quality Italian bread you can find and allow it to dry for at least two days.  Then grate/chop in a food processor fitted with a metal blade.  Store tightly covered and refrigerated for no more than a week.  (I've been freezing the leftover bread crumbs in a plastic container and they are good for at least a month.)

For the meatballs:

1.  Combine beef, veal, and pork in a large bowl.  Add eggs, cheese, parsley, garlic and salt and pepper to taste.  Using your hands, blend ingredients together.  Blend Bread Crumbs into meat mixture.  Slowly add water (personally I think this is the part that makes these great), 1 cup at a time, until the mixture is quite moist

2.  Shape meat mixture into balls (about 2-inches).

3.  Heat oil in a large saute pan (or place meatballs on a baking sheet and proceed with broiling option).  When oil is very hot but not smoking, fry meatballs in batches.  Yes, you will make a big mess of your stovetop, but oh, it's so worth it.  When meatball is very brown and slightly crisp turn and cook top half.  Remove from heat and drain on paper towels.

Put some Frank Sinatra on the stereo and sing along..."...that's Amore....!"

4.  Lower cooked meatballs into simmering Marinara Sauce and cook for 15 minutes.  Serve over pasta of your choice.

What?  You say you'd like a recipe for Marinara as well?

Ok, here you go...and promise you'll never buy jarred sauce again.  There really is no need, and they put corn syrup in that stuff.

For Marinara sauce:

2 28-ounce cans imported Italian plum tomatoes with basil (try to find tomatoes labeled San Marzano)

1/4 cup fine-quality olive oil

3 tablespoons minced onion

2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced

Salt to taste

6 leaves of fresh basil, torn

Pinch dried oregano (or Italian Seasoning)

Pepper to taste

1.  Remove tomatoes from the can, reserving the juice in which they are packed.  Using your hands, crush the tomatoes, gently remove and discard the hard core from the stem end, and remove and discard any skin and tough membrane.  Set aside.  (When you're in a hurry, Crushed Tomatoes in the can work well too.)

2.  Put oil in a large, nonreactive saucepan over medium-low heat.  Add onion and saute for 3 minutes or until translucent and just beginning to brown.  Stir in garlic and saute for 30 seconds or until just softened.  Stir in tomatoes, reserved juice and salt.  Raise heat and bring to a boil.  Immediately reduce heat to a very low simmer and cook for about 1 hour or until flavors have combined and sauce is slightly thickened.  (Cook another 15 minutes if you like a thicker sauce.)

3.  Stir in basil, oregano and pepper and cook for an additional miutes.  Remove from heat and serve.

Sauce stores well tightly covered and refrigerated for a couple days or in the freezer up to 3 months.