Stuffed Mushrooms

A Great Success



"Rode hard and put up wet." And, in fact, that was pretty much the case. I had just catered a reception for 20, without help as always, immediately followed by a private dinner for four. I'd been on my feet, in the kitchen, for almost two days solid and when I got home at 9:00 Sunday night all I could do was crash on the couch for an hour of mindless TV to unwind, and then nurse this stiff old body into bed. The parties, though, were a huge success.

For the reception I made:

Feta-Stuffed Peppers
Saganaki (fried halloumi cheese)
Pears Wrapped in Prosciutto
Stuffed Mushrooms
Smoky Spiced Nuts, and
Pinchos Morinos (I did these as cubes of meat on toothpicks)

For the dinner I served:

Rack of Lamb with Port Demi-Glace
Potatoes Savoyard
Carrots Glazed with Mint and Lemon
Braised Brussels Sprouts, and
Chocolate Pots de Crème .

I'd done a previous dinner party for these folks so I knew the kitchen (a great work space with only one flaw, bad positioning on the fridge) and they knew me. They treat me with respect and appreciation as a professional providing a valuable service — a point that I was reminded of when one of their guests treated me like a servant by "ordering" a glass of ice water. (I was not serving the reception.)

All the food was a hit, and I absolutely nailed the quantities for the reception because at the end there were only three or four bites left of everything except the stuffed mushrooms. And I must admit, the mushrooms were exceptional.

My client is gluten-intolerant and so I had to come up with a mushroom recipe that didn't include bread crumbs. When I suggested crab stuffing I learned she couldn't eat shellfish either. But the solution immediately presented itself and it worked — witness the lack of any leftovers.

Mushrooms Stuffed with Pancetta and Dried Tomatoes

24 large button mushrooms
2 oz pancetta, finely diced
2 oz dried tomatoes (not oil-packed, and an ingredient the client suggested — it was perfect)
2 tablespoons Amontillado sherry
1 tsp dried thyme
3 tablespoons minced red onion
1 oz shredded Parmigiano
salt and pepper to taste

Heat oven to 400F.

Remove stems from mushrooms. I find the best way to do this is to make a vertical cut around the stem with a paring knife and then pop out the stem — this leaves a nicer and more predictable cavity for filling than simply pulling out the stem. Place the stems in a food processor and chop until about the consistency of very coarse corn meal.

Bring 1 cup of water (or chicken stock) to a boil in small sauce pan. Add dried tomatoes, remove from heat, and rehydrate for 15 minutes. Then remove the tomatoes from the liquid and coarsely chop.

Cook pancetta in a small, non-stick skillet over medium heat until lightly browned. Drain on a paper towel and discard all but a tablespoon of fat from the skillet.

Add chopped stems to skillet over medium heat along with a sprinkle of salt and black pepper and the thyme. Cook, stirring frequently, until the mushrooms are dry. Add sherry and chopped tomatoes and continue cooking until the liquid has evaporated.

Mix pancetta, mushroom mixture, onion, and Parmigiano in a small bowl. Taste and adjust seasoning. Stuff into mushroom caps and bake until you can see liquid leaking out — about 15 minutes. Serve.

Note: you can make these up to the baking point a day in advance and keep them in the refrigerator, covered with plastic wrap, until ready to cook.

By the way, apparently the Host of this party hates Brussels sprouts, but She insisted I keep them on the dinner menu because She loves them and never gets to eat them. I did and added the glazed carrots to make Him happy, but told Her He had to try one sprout. That recipe has converted more than one sprout hater and in this case he ate two of the five he was served. Apparently, in the past, his record was a mere half a sprout. And that was my greatest success on Sunday.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | party | stuffed mushrooms | hors d'oeuvres | appetizer | canape

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Cece Fritos

Ciao! Cece?



I’ve seen it argued that the most important dish in a meal is the dessert. This argument is akin to the idea that it’s best to have the last word in a debate, it is what people leave remembering. I think there’s a lot of truth to this thought, in both debates and meals, but the alternative assertion, that the first statement in a debate sets the terms, also has an element of truth and, in turn, the first thing served at a meal sets the terms for the meal.

Fortunately, at a meal, the cook can set the terms of the debate as well as making the last arugument. When I have a dinner party, or teach a cooking class for that matter, I like to have a munchy or two sitting out for people to snack on as they arrive. It gives them something to do right off the bat, covers my ass if I run late on the meal, and a well-chosen canapé or hors d’oeuvre sets the tone for the rest of the meal.

At a meal, the cook can set the terms of the debate as well as making the last arugument.

I haven’t posted many recipes for appetizers, hors d’oeuvres, or canapé because I seldom have time to take photos when I’m hosting a party or teaching a class. The number of such recipes certainly doesn’t reflect the number of such dishes I’ve made over the past four years. But I taught a class on Italian cooking last week and began with this recipe. When I had un-cooked cece left-over I brought them home and made a small batch. Too small a batch, sadly, because I could have easily eaten an entire can’s worth.

They’re so easy to do that even making them at the very last minute is practical, which is good because they’re best when eaten still warm from the skillet. They’re also messy — a greasy finger food — so provide plenty of cocktail napkins.

Cece Fritos (Fried Chickpeas)

2 cans chick peas/garbanzos (15oz cans)
1/4 c olive oil
2 tsp garlic powder
3 tbsp thyme leaves
1 1/2 tsp cumin
salt and pepper to taste

Drain, rinse, and dry the chick peas. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. Add the chick peas and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until the peas begin to pop.

Drain chick peas on a paper towel and sprinkle with seasonings, taste, and adjust seasonings.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin weeks | seriously good | appetizer | munchy | chickpeas | garbanzos | italian

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Pork Chops Florentine

alla Fiorintina



A few weeks ago Doc/Rev Biggles of Meathenge posted a photo of a gorgeous grilled pork chop. Then a week ago I received the August 2007 issue of Cuisine at Home that offered a recipe for "Pork Chops Florentine-Style." This was just too much. I haven't eaten a grilled pork chop since last summer and it was clearly time to do it again.

The recipe in Cuisine at Home intrigued me. Bistecca alla Fiorentina is a famous dish made with a thick T-bone or Porter House steak. I started doing research on it.

In this country we associate "Florentine" with spinach and cream sauces because of dishes such as Eggs Florentine or Chicken Florentine. The origins of this association aren’t clear, but according to one tale Catherine de Medici (yes, of those Medicis) brought spinach to the French Court and in honor of her Italian heritage, she called any dish containing spinach alla Fiorintina: "of the Florentines." Apocryphal or not, it probably was the French, those irrepressible arbiters of culinary terminology, who applied the term to any dish including spinach and cream. But no cuisine, particularly not one with the history of an Italian region behind it, can be so neatly encapsulated in a single preparation.

According to Lidia Bastianich, "[Steak Florentine] seems to have its origins with the many people from Northern Europe who fell in love with the countryside around Florence and decided to move to Tuscany. In fact, so many English relocated to the Chianti area that is has been dubbed 'Chiantishire.'" At any rate, ideally the beef for
Steak Florentine is from the Chianina cattle of the region, which were used primarily as draft animals and could be so large that a single steak might weight 6 pounds.

As I expected, the recipes were all over the map. If anyone ever tells you "this is the absolutely authentic and only way" to prepare a dish, put your boots on, the manure is getting deep. But lemon juice and olive oil were common ingredients in most of the recipes. So I took that as a given. The recipes were divided between marinating or not. I decided to marinate. I also decided not to include any acid in the marinade.

The two chops I had were grass-fed Berkshire hog and grass-fed meat tends to be tough. Marinating in acid would have made the meat even tougher. So instead of juice I elected to use lemon zest. To make sure the lemon got into the meat I heated the olive oil to a low simmer and infused it with the lemon zest, fresh oregano, and garlic. That was some damned-fine tasting oil.

Braciola di Maiale alla Fiorentina (Florentine Pork Chops)
Serves 2.

2 bone-in rib chops, at least 1 inch thick
1 cup olive oil
zest of two lemons (reserve lemons)
2 cloves garlic — minced
3 sprigs fresh oregano
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper

Combine olive oil, lemon zest, oregano, garlic, salt, and pepper in a small skillet and cook over medium heat until it begins to bubble around the oregano sprigs. Remove from heat and let cool. Pour into a ziplock bag, add chops, and refrigerate for at least eight hours — turning occasionally to distribute marinade.

Remove pork from fridge an hour before cooking to warm up.

Build a hot fire in the grill. When the coals are ready, remove the chops from the marinade and dry on paper towels. Cook on each side for about 2 1/2 minutes over direct heat — until mahogany brown. Move chops off the direct heat but with the bone facing the heat and cover the grill and cook for four minutes more.

Serve with lemon wedges.

I had tabouleh with these chops — a perfect accompaniment. The flavors from the marinade are mild, but detectable, especially with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice on top. Encourage your eaters to season generously with salt and pepper. Encourage your eaters to gnaw the bones as I did, searching for that last delectable morsel.

Technorati: Food | recipe | italy | italian | steak | pork | pork chops | florentine

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Paisano: Treats on the 4th

Paisano: Treats on the 4th



A few years back when I lived was living in Eugene, Oregon I got a call from the Paisano the last week of June. It was an odd call. First he didn't really sound like himself — there was something funny in his voice. He sounded off. Second, he wanted to know if he could come for a visit.

Although I didn't know him as well then, I did know the Paisano never asks if he can visit and certainly never offers warning. He either shows up on my doorstep or calls me to come pick him up at the nearest airport, bus station, train station, or even gas station. On this occasion, he said if I didn't mind (didn't mind?) he would like to visit for a spell and thought he'd take the train up from California in a couple of days if that was Ok. WTF?

"In my family I am the baby so you must be my younger brother. When I am dying, bring food."

I said sure, come on. What else could I say? I picked him up at the train station on Sunday afternoon, July 2.

As usual I got a bear hug and kiss on both cheeks. As usual his baggage was a single military canvas duffle bag (no insignia, only the scar of a badge and a bleached section to leave you wondering which military). As usual his grey hair was a bit shaggy and his beard was immaculately trimmed. But on the drive back to my apartment he was a bit less ebullient than usual, his laugh a tad less hearty. When I asked if he knew how long he was staying he said he had to be in Vancouver at the end of the week.

July 4 was on a Tuesday that year, and I'd arranged to take Monday off to prepare for a party I was having on the 4th. I lived about half a mile from the University of Oregon stadium and each 4th the stadium hosts a big fireworks display — I had a near perfect viewing spot in my backyard. I figured we'd have a collection of munchies while watching the fireworks and then come back inside to eat dinner.

Sunday evening we talked about the party and menu. Paisano, as a matter of course, wanted to change everything, but gave up surprisingly easily when I resisted. So I told him I wasn't happy with the "bites" I'd planned on munching on while watching the fireworks and asked him to come up with something. We spent the rest of the evening tossing ideas back and forth and then went grocery shopping Monday morning.

I knew better than to push him about his problem. He puts Dick Cheney's secretiveness to shame. If I asked a direct question I'd get a direct answer — but maybe not a true answer. With the Paisano you listen between the lines and if he trusts you and wants to, he'll tell you. It took until Tuesday when we were prepping for the party for him to start talking.

With a chefs knife in a one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and array of ingredients spread across the counter, he began to talk.

His oldest brother, Michael, was dying of kidney disease in a hospital in Vancouver. They were close, but the connection didn't occur until Paisano was grown up, ten years was far too much distance to overcome as children. And, perhaps because the connection had come so late, it was particularly fierce. And now my friend was going to Canada to say goodbye. This was not something he was good at.

Eventually the guests arrived for my party bringing blankets and lawn chairs. Paisano immediately ditched me to handle the final dinner prep on my own while he served his hors d'ouevres, made new friends, and watched the fireworks.

Paisano made a half dozen meze or tapas, but these two were the most popular. They would be perfect to munch on July 4.

Stuffed Cherry Tomatoes

24 large cherry tomatoes
4 oz chèvre
2 tbsp mince basil (or oregano, chives, tarragon, …)
2 tbsp finely minced red onion
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp white pepper

Remove tops of tomatoes and core (a demitasse spoon is perfect for this task). In a small bowl combine all other ingredients then stuff into empty tomatoes. Serve at room temperature. (Note: these are best if the tomatoes are never chilled, but they can be chilled for picnics and such.)

Tuna Stuffed Eggs

6 hardboiled eggs — shelled and cut in half
1 can oil-packed tuna
2 tbsp finely-minced red onion
2 tbsp mayonnaise
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
2 tsp lemon juice
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp smoked hot Spanish paprika

In a small bowl beat together the egg yolks and all other ingredients until smooth. Spoon into hollowed out egg whites. Chill and serve.

The next morning when I woke my friend had already made coffee and had eggs ready for an omelet. He was back to himself again: "I told J.D. you might be late today and he said that was ok. We must go to the store again. I need to cook for Michael." J.D. was my boss and had been at the party the night before. Arranging my schedule with my boss (and without consulting me) was pure Paisano.

So we went to the store, came back and spent the day making Michael's favorite foods — "I can't cure him, but I can feed him" — and around 5:00 that evening I put the Pasisano on the train to Vancouver. When we parted he hugged me with particular vigor.

"In my family I am the baby so you must be my younger brother. When I am dying, bring food."

I will, brother.

Note: Pasisano is a fictional character created for a column published twice monthly on Gather.com.

Technorati: Food | recipe | paisano | deviled eggs | stuffed tomatoes | appetizers | hors d'ouevres | tapas | meze

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Feta-stuffed Peppers

Making a Meze



Last week was hellishly busy and up until today, so has this week. That's a good thing because it means I'm making money, but by last Saturday I was a vegetable and that was my only break before today. All of which is by way of explaining why it's been so long since I posted something real here.

The killer last week was a meze party on Friday evening for 25. Meze is the Middle-Eastern name for what the Spanish call tapas and I spent all day Thursday and Friday making "small bites." The menu consisted of:

Keftedes –— Greek meatballs
Marinated Lamb Kabobs
Hummus with pita and vegetables
Stuffed Peppers
Dolmades

You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six. ~ Yogi Berra


Lemon-marinated Chicken Strips
Tuna-stuffed Deviled Eggs
Fried Kefalotyri (cheese)
Orange/Yogurt Cake

It was a good selection of dishes and, aside from the dolmades falling apart during cooking (which prompted a substitution of mushroom crostini) the prep went smoothly. Although there was plenty of food, no food came back on plates meaning everyone liked everything they ate and while there was a bit of food leftover, everything was tried.

Ordinarily when I do these affairs I don't have time to take photos, but I've been wanting to post the recipe for these stuffed peppers for a couple of years now. These little bites are not only delicious, but they're easy to make and as good at room temperature or cold as they are warm. Because of their ease and flexibility they’re one of my favorite picnic foods in addition to being a great amuse Bouche. You can also substitute chèvre for the feta and use other herbs.

Feta-stuffed Peppers

3 ea lg. bell peppers (assorted colors)
6 oz feta chesse –— crumbled
1/2 ea lemon –— juiced
1/4 c minced red onion
3 tbsp minced fresh dill
1 ea egg –— beaten

Heat oven to 375F.

Stem the peppers and cut into eighths, top to bottom. Remove pith and seeds. Cut eighths in half cross-wise.

Mix all remaining ingredients in a small bowl with a fork, crushing any large chunks of cheese. Spoon about a tablespoon of the cheese mixture into each pepper segment and arrange on a baking sheet. Bake on the middle rack until cheese begins to brown – about 15 minutes.

Serve hot, warm, room temperature, or cold.

Technorati: Food | recipe | meze | tapas | appetizer | hors d'ouevres | picnic | greek

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