Valentine's Menu

Please be Mine



Last year Valentine's Day was the big event on my About.com web site, Cooking for Two. The week before I had more hits than either the week before Thanksgiving or the week before Christmas. Not too surprising I suppose, even childless couples are more likely to spend those two holidays with family, but Valentine's Day is made for two. In the hope that this year will prove to be the same I've devoted a good deal of attention to it and I figured, while I was at it, that I'd provide a V'day menu here as well.

Because the Saint Valentine on whom the holiday is probably based (there were actually two or three Saint Valentines) was likely Turkish, I thought an Eastern Mediterranean menu would be appropriate, beginning with Fried Chick Peas.

Fried Chick Peas: I first had these in Italy and developed my recipe based on that experience, but chick peas are beloved throughout the eastern medierranean and I've since learned that similar recipes are popular in Turkey and Lebanon (and likely other areas). You can make these up in advance as they're good even a day later, but they're so quick and easy I prefer making them just before eating them. Note: They would be delicious with a dry sparkling wine.

Veal with Feta Cheese Sauce: I developed this recipe one night after cooking a cooking glass on Veal with Artichokes. I had a couple of veal scalopini left over but was out of marinated artichokes, so I tried making a feta cheese sauce. It was excellent, particularly served over pasta. This would be equally good made with chicken cutlets if you don't eat or can't find veal.

Glazed Carrots: Tese carrots are first steamed, and then glazed in butter, lemon juice, and mint. It's a very Mediterranean flavor combination and, you might consider adding a pinch of cumin or ground coriander to the pan. Besides, the bright orange carrots and green mint are gorgeous on a plate and you want to think about plating on special occasions.

Green Beans with Anchovies: This recipe is actually an adaptation of an Italian recipe for broccoli raab. But it works beautifully for green beans as well and because the umami in the anchovies enhances the other savory flavors on the plate as well as the beans they make a great general addition to the meal. And if beans don't appeal, the raab is really excellent and for that matter so is spinach.

Key Lime Mousse: This light, refreshing mousse would make an excellent ending to this meal. After the salt of the feta, and savor of the pancetta and anchovies a cool, refreshing, creamy mousse is hard to beat. If you can't find key limes, Persian limes also work. A tip on juicing key limes, cut them in half and then use a garlic press to squeeze out the juice.

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SG Archive:Raspberry Shortcake

Serendipity



Sunday I ended my soup marathon by making Cioppino for my mother's birthday. It turns out "cioppino" is a Genoese term for "fish stew" and the dish, no doubt, originated with Italian fishermen. The Italians loved California and we have them to thank not only for cioppino, but for the olive oil and wine that are such key ingredients in the soup.

Along with the soup I served a pear and beet salad that Stephen had posted on Stephen Cooks and a loaf of fresh sourdough bread — which for some reason was the best loaf I've yet made. We finished the meal off with a sort of raspberry shortcake.

I began by warming the mascarpone up to room temperature and then whipping it with, perhaps, a teaspoon of sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of lime juice, and a pinch of lime zest.

I wanted something slightly sweet, with raspberries and mascarpone. This little number worked out beautifully. I began by warming the mascarpone up to room temperature and then whipping it with, perhaps, a teaspoon of sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of lime juice, and a pinch of lime zest. I mashed most of the raspberries (which were quite tart) with a fork and added a dollop of Amaretto, some ground, roasted almonds; and just a little bit of sugar — preserving the essential tartness. Then I layered the mascarpone and raspberries on a piece of pound cake (that provided most of the sweetness) set on a red and blue plate. A few strips of lime peel for garnish, and voila!

It was absolutely delicious and only 10 minutes work. But there was something about its appearance that was tickling my mind. I didn't figure it out until that evening when I flipped on the TV and saw the Romanian flag flying at the Olympics — red, blue, and yellow.

Originally published on February 28, 2006.

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Potato/Beer Chowder

Brewpub Basic



It's odd how the lunch culture varies from workplace to workplace. I worked at one company where everyone would go out and get fast food then (usually) bring it back and eat it at their desks. At the next place I worked I got involved with a crew that went out to lunch every day. Sometimes there'd be six or seven of us, sometimes just two or three, but it was always the same basic group.

In Oregon everyone brought their lunch to work, although we'd go out to eat at one of the three greasy spoons in the area about once a month (we called these "editorial bonding lunches"). While in New Hampshire everyone ate at the company cafeteria

We'd go out to eat at one of the three greasy spoons in the area about once a month (we called these "editorial bonding lunches").

In California we'd grill burgers outside every now and then, but for the most part everyone ate alone at their desks. However, there was a brewpub not far from the office and every three or four months we'd go there for lunch. The beer was good and the food, typical pub fare, wasn't bad on the whole. However they served a potato/beer chowder that was outstanding. So I'd usually order a cup of chowder and half a sandwich

Of course I had to try to duplicate the recipe and I managed to come very close, the trick turned out to be the combination of milk, beer, and chicken broth. The chicken broth took me awhile to figure out.

Potato/Beer Chowder
Serves 4.

1 1/2 lb Yukon Gold potatoes — peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
4 strips bacon
1/4 c all-purpose flour
1 lg onion — peeled and diced
1 c beer
1 c milk
2 c chicken broth
6 oz sharp cheddar cheese — shredded
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp ground mustard
1/2 tsp salt
pinch of cayenne pepper

Cook the bacon to desired doneness in a large soup pot over low heat. Drain bacon (reserving rendered bacon fat in the soup pot) and crumble.

Heat milk and beer in the microwave on high.

Add onion to bacon grease and cooking until lightly browned — about 5 minutes. Add flour to pot and stir, cooking, about 4 minutes longer. Stir in the milk and beer, being careful to avoid clumping and continue cooking until thickened.

Stir in the chicken broth. Add the potatoes and simmer until tender. Stir in the cheese a handful at a time, stirring between each addition until soup is homogenous. Stir in remaining ingredients.

Serve garnished with bacon and chopped green onions.

Try this chowder with...
Schwarma
Garlic Bread
Tomatoes Parmigiano

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Candied Bacon

In 2009 Candied Bacon was all the rage. Ok, so in 2009 anything involving bacon was all the rage including bacon placemats and chocolate-covered bacon. But of the less-over-the-top ideas, candied bacon was a definite winner. It's easy to make, absolutely delicious, and good for breakfast, lunch and dinner. For that matter, it's an awesome snack at any time of day.

Recipe here...

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Wordless Wednesday

Recipe here...

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Sardines & Crackers

Sardines and crackers, some cheese, and a shared bottle of beer — LaBatt's Blue, as I recall. I've had fancier and more interesting picnics, but in this case I was smitten with my traveling companion. There was something almost unbearably romantic about the two of us, perched on our respective guitar cases just outside of Halifax, Nova Scotia sharing this simplest of meals before putting our thumbs back out to catch our next ride

We'd sit around the fire eating supper — good solid French Canadian fare — and afterwards sip hot chocolate or coffee.

It was the summer of 1972, I was 18, and I'd known my traveling partner for two days — a slender, dark-complexioned girl from Brooklyn with an accent you could cut with a knife and a wonderfully clear singing voice. We'd met at the tented youth hostel on Prince Edward Island a few days before and the people sharing her tent "conspired" with the people sharing my tent to get us together. We only had a few songs in common, but we managed a couple of impromptu concerts.

I was on my second great adventure.

The summer before I'd hitchhiked through Europe eating pastries in Venice, schnitzel in Salzburg, wurst (and the most amazing French fries I'd ever had in my life) in Munich, amazing cheeses and wine in Switzerland. Croissants and espresso in Paris, and Cornish pasties in England. I was 17 and I liked to cook and could turn out a decent meal, but I wasn't looking for food. It found me - but, clueless post-adolescent that I was, I didn't realize how much the food had formed my memories.

When the dark-haired girl and I discovered we were both planning to go to Nova Scotia next we decided to travel together and so we found ourselves, on a gorgeous summer afternoon, brushing cracker crumbs from our shirts and trying to avoid dripping oil on them.

Back in those days, hitching was fairly safe for single men, but less so for single women. So it behooved a woman to find a male to travel with — a choice that carried its own risks. On the driver's side, picking up men was considered somewhat risky, but not picking up women. Picking up couples was also considered reasonably safe so both the girl and I benefited from our partnership. In fact, in our case it paid off almost immediately that day.

We only been trying to get a ride for about 30 minutes when a ramshackle old army bus pulled off the road for us. We grabbed our packs and guitars and piled up the steps to be greeted by a man in his late 30's. The bus had been converted to an camper (this was before the days of off-the-shelf RVs) and there were bunks in the back, a small galley, and seats in the front. There was also an older woman (50's perhaps?) and two small, blonde-headed girls about 9 and 10. It turned out we had the girls them to thank for the ride.

The youngsters had spotted us and our guitars and convinced their father to stop for us. We learned they were on vacation from Montreal and the mother/wife had ended up having to work at the last minute and was joining them a few days later in Halifax. The older woman was the man's mother-in-law.

We'd barely sat down before the girls, excited as they could be at this adventure with hitchhikers (and chattering away in a mixture of French and English), insisted we pull out our guitars and play for them.

Our plan had been to circumnavigate the Nova Scotian peninsula and this was also what the family was doing, so we ended up spending a leisurely three days with them. Each evening we'd find a campground, my companion and I would pitch her tent to sleep in, and Madame Belle-Mère would cook dinner in the galley while the father built a fire. Then we'd sit around the fire eating supper — good solid French Canadian fare — and afterwards sip hot chocolate or coffee and practice some of the songs the girls knew. Eventually we arrived in Truro and went our separate ways. The girl and I spent another day together before she had to head back home and I began my trip to Vancouver.

I seldom eat sardines and crackers these days, I just never think of it. But when I do I can still feel the guitar case under my butt and hear the cars passing us on the road while the girl and I shared lunch. I can still taste oily fish and the saltines. I can also still taste those fries in Munich, the gruyere in Switzerland, and the pasties in England. Almost 40 years later my memories of those adventures is reduced to a sparse collection of flavors and scenes. Actually, that works for me.

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