Review: Hawaiian Yellowtailfrom Kona Blue

Unadulterated Delight



A week or so ago I got an email from someone commenting on SG and wondering if I was interested in receiving some free fish: "I’d be happy to send you Kona Kampachi and invite you to prepare it any way you like. If you’d like to share about the fish with your readers, great, but if not, don’t worry about it – it’s completely up to you." I happen to be a great believer in getting free stuff I'm interested in with no strings attached, so after checking out Kona Blue's Web site I told her to send it along. I'd try it and might or might not write about it and I might or might not be positive about the experience.

I'm here to say, "Wow!"

Yesterday (as I write this) I received a large, heavy package from the company. I was expecting it having received notification that it had been picked up by Fed-Ex two days earlier. I opened the box and found a huge plastic bag. I opened the bag and found an aluminized thermal blanket. I opened the blanket and found about a dozen frozen freezer packs. I dug through them and found a smaller plastic bag. I opened it and found two fresh (not frozen) fillets weighing about a pound each wrapped in plastic. I stuck my nose in the bag and sniffed — pure ocean. Supper had arrived.

Kona Blue raises Hawaiian Yellowtail (also known as Almaco Jack and trademarked as Kona Kampachi) commercially in deep-water farms near Hawaii. The company claims their methods are sustainable and minimize environmental impact. I read about this type of ocean farming several years ago and from what I recall, if done properly it can meet both claims.

The fish I received had been harvested on Sunday. It then went into an iced brine which killed it. On Tuesday it was gutted, cleaned, and shipped. Kona only harvests enough fish at a time to serve that week's orders so the fish is always as fresh as they can make it, but most of their sales are wholesale and for whole fish to restaurants. The company's retail presence is limited.

It's not cheap. The two fillets I received retail for $17.00 each and shipping is another $33.00. Nevertheless, I could have easily fed six for that $67.00, about the cost of a good steak dinner at home. And as I said above, "Wow!" This was certainly in the top 10 of fish I've ever eaten. They say it's sushi grade so I tried a bit raw and it certainly is. But I elected to cook it.

I cut a fillet into thirds and brushed two of the thirds with olive oil, sprinkled sweet Spanish paprika on them along with a bit of salt, and then broiled it until barely cooked through. It was like eating butter. My plan had been to eat only one third and use the other cooked third in a salad for lunch today. Not possible. The fish was just too good and I ate it last night as well. I still have the third third and will do something with it this evening.

I also understand why the company was so laissez faire about whether I wrote them up or not. They knew that no real foodie could resist singing the praises of this fish once he or she had tasted it. It really gripes me to be so predictable, and I wish I could think of something negative to say to at least give the appearance objectivity, but the truth is saying something negative wouldn't be objective. The fish is just that good.

Hmmm, perhaps I should have held out for a press junket to Hawaii...

Technorati: Food | review | kevin d weeks | seriously good | seafood | hawaiian yellowtail | Kona+Kampachi

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Paisano: Senate Bean Soup

Legislative Legacy



I've been working on an article for NPR's Kitchen Window about bean dishes. One that I recall from my childhood is the famous Senate Bean Soup, which is served in the U.S. Senate dining room every day. The exact origins of the dish are unkown, but according to the official Senate Bean Soup Web site the original recipe is unknown, but one reputed original version contains mashed potatoes. However, the recipe served today doesn't include potatoes.

I never really cared for what my mother made (although as best I can recall she used the current version that now appears on the Web site). So recently I set out to see if I could improve it.

Senate Bean Soup is served in the U.S. Senate dining room every day.

First, both recipes published on the Senate site call for Navy Beans and these aren't a favorite of mine because I find both the texture and flavor somewhat chalky. My favorite white bean is the cannellini. This bean has a subtle sweetness and an almost silky texture.

Step two was hydrating the beans. In one case the recipe calls for a smoked ham hock and in the other for ham itself and a ham bone. Experience has taught me that the only opportunity you really have to flavor the beans themselves (as opposed to the liquid they're in) is when they're hydrating and soaking up liquid and whatever flavors that liquid contains — and as with pasta, if you want to salt the beans do it when they're soaking up liquid.

I decided to flavor the liquid with a smoked ham hock, salt (lots), dried sage, black pepper, celery, onion, and parsley. In effect, I made a stock.

For the final dish, I discarded the vegetables in the stock and added sautéed onions, country ham, and diced potatoes. The potatoes were primarily for visual and textural interest.

This was a great bowl of soup. Packed with flavor and with a marvelous texture.

Senate Bean Soup

1 lb cannellini beans
1 smoked ham hock
2 tbsp salt (seriously)
2 md onions
1 lg stalk celery — broken in thirds
2 tsp dried sage
1 sm bunch parsley
1/2 tbsp cracked black pepper
1/2 lb white potatoes — cut into 1/2" dice
8 oz country ham
freshly ground black pepper

Slice through the skin on a smoked ham hock in several places — this makes it easier for the hock to contribute flavor and to recover the meat at the end of cooking. Peel and quarter one of the onions.

Place beans, ham hock, celery stalk, quartered onion, salt, sage, and cracked pepper in a soup pot and add enough water to cover the beans by 2 inches. Over high heat, bring just to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover pot, and simmer for 3 hours. Check at two hours to see if you need to top up the liquid.

In the meantime, dice the remaining onion and country ham. Cook in a skillet over medium heat with a bit of oil or butter until the onions are translucent. Reserve.

When the beans have cooked for three hours, remove and discard the onion quarters, celery, and parsley. Extract whatever meat you can from the hock and add back to the pot. Add the diced onions, ham, and potatoes. Adjust liquid, and continue to simmer for 30 - 40 minutes until potatoes are done. Adjust seasonings and serve.

Technorati: Food | recipe | kevin d weeks | seriously good | soup | beans | senate bean soup

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Spot-On: Meat & Three

If you wander the byways of the South, avoiding the interstates and instead taking what William Least Heat Moon called the "blue highways" you'll eventually begin to notice signs for that mainstay of Southern eateries: the meat-n-three.

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

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BLT 2007

First BLT of the season on homemade sourdough bread.

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Cannellini Méditerranée

Mediteranean Medley



As a personal chef I'm always on the lookout for dishes that will be new to my clients, but not too new. Dishes that are somewhat exotic, but not too exotic. Dishes that are easy for me to prepare, but don't seem easy to prepare. And above all, dishes that freeze well. A couple of years ago I came up with one such dish.

I didn't start out to make something suitable for my clients, instead I had an urge for cassoulet but didn't want to take the time to make it. True cassoulet involves a multitude of ingredients, a lot of separate steps, and anywhere from one to two days (I even ran across a recipe once that took four days to prepare). Cassoulet is well worth the effort, but isn't a task taken on lightly. I wondered if I could make something more quickly that, although not up to the standard of a great cassoulet, would still be good. I looked up several cassoulet recipes and developed the recipe below. It far exceeded my expectations.

It's only dinner, but cooking makes honest people of liars, realists of dreamers, and well-ordered minds of chaotic and impulsive ones. ~ Molly O'Neill

When cooking for myself I seldom repeat dishes. I have a small repertoire of favorites that I might fix at most twice in a year: tuna casserole, jambalaya, fondue, corned beef and cabbage, gazpacho… But for the most part there are just so many things I haven't tried yet that I avoid repeating myself. However, this bean dish has become a staple not only for my clients, but for my own table. It meets all the criteria for my clients (and is inexpensive to boot) and it's deeply satisfying to eat.

Don't think of this as a quick cassoulet, enjoy it as a good bean recipe in its own right. It's richly savory, has a nice herbal background, and the red pepper gives it a nice bounce. It's not too heavy for summer eating. Serve it with a hearty red wine, focaccia, and a green salad with a simple vinaigrette. (Note: I've published this recipe before, but it's so good I wanted to do so again.)

Cannellini Méditerranée

2 19 oz cans cannellini beans
1/2 lb Italian sausage — cut into 1/2" slices
2 tbsp olive oil
1 md. yellow onion — diced
1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
1 smoked turkey leg — skin removed and diced
2 garlic cloves — minced
3 tbsp tomato paste
2 sprigs fresh sage
4 sprigs fresh thyme
1 sprig fresh rosemary
2 bay leaves
healthy pinch of red pepper flakes
1 - 2 c chicken broth

Heat oven to 300F.

Brown the Italian sausage in olive oil in a dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant (about 1 minute).

Add all reamining ingredients to the pot along with just enough chicken broth to bring the liquid level with the other ingredients.

Cover the pot and place it in the oven for 1 1/2 hours. Remove the cover and continue cooking for another hour until a few beans began to split and release some starch into the broth for thickening.

Note: this is one of those dishes that improves with age.

Technorati: Food | recipe | beans | cannellini

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Coffee Granita

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Spot-On: Think About It

Three weeks ago in "Teach Your Children Well" I wrote: "It seems that more and more folks either don’t cook at all or cook as a matter of self-image and for the sake of conveying a lifestyle. But we should cook, mostly, to have something good to eat and because cooking itself is nourishing to our souls." Last week I added another thought to this in my commentary on the current glut of chefs. ...

You can read the entire article at Spot-On.

Technorati: Food | essay | spot-on | food column | food commentary

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Barbequed Beans

Beans Are Good for the Heart — and Soul



When I was a kid there were times when I took my lunch to school and other periods when I bought my lunch at the cafeteria. Thinking back, I don't recall a particular rhyme or reason to it nor do I particularly remember caring except in one case, when the cafeteria was serving beans I wanted to take my lunch.

In the South at that time beans were often a main dish — and they were horrible. Pinto beans would be cooked for six or seven hours, with perhaps a ham hock as the only flavoring, until they were a lumpy grayish-brown paste. Horrible things that turned me against dried beans.

Beans beans, they're good for the heart
The more you eat the more your fart
The more you fart, the better you feel
So eat your beans at every meal.
~ traditional

There were exceptions, I've always liked cassoulet and my mother made a mean pot of Senate Bean Soup, but even in those cases, a single helping was enough to last me for a year. But for the most part I've had problems getting past the memory of those nasty beans served in the school cafeteria.

But a couple of years ago something prompted me to make a quick cassoulet-like dish that completely blew me away and prompted me to further beanish experiments — among them a stab at making real (smoked) barbequed beans. As you can see from the article, that didn't work out, but this past Memorial Day I tried again and this time I succeeded.

Barbequed Beans
Serves 8.

1 lb dried, dark pinto beans
1 tbsp salt
1 smoked ham hock
1 onion — peeled and cut into eighths
6 oz thick cut bacon — cooked until slightly crisp and cut into lardons
1/2 onion — diced and sautéed in bacon fat
1/4 c brown sugar
1/4 c molasses
1/2 c barbeque sauce
1 1/2 c canned, plain tomato sauce
1 tsp dried sage
1/2 tsp ground mace
2 tbsp chili powder
salt and black pepper to taste

Put the beans, ham hock, onion quarters and 6 cups of water in a soup pot. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to low and simmer, partially covered, for 2 1/2 hours. Drain beans, keeping about 1 cup of cooking liquid. Pick the meat off the ham hock and add back to the beans.

In the meantime, cook the bacon in a skillet and drain most of the fat, keeping about 2 tablespoons. Sauté the diced onion in the bacon fat until the onion begins to brown. Set aside.

In an aluminum-foil roasting pan, combine the beans and all other ingredients. (Everything to this point can be done a day in advance.)

If you don't have a smoker or don't want to use it, the beans should be cooked for about 3 more hours, uncovered, in 225F oven. But if, like me, you have a barrel smoker, then once your fire is going place a rack in the middle of the smoker (this is directly over the water pan in my smoker — and do fill the water pan). Set the beans, uncovered, on this rack, then add the top rack and set whatever meat you're planning on smoking on it. I did ribs, but even turkey or chickens would be all right. The idea is that as the meat cooks any juices drip into the beans adding still more flavor. Smoke for at least 3 hours and 5 to 6 is better.

The beans came out tender, but mostly whole (no lumpy mush) with a distinct smoke flavor. Absolutely delicious, a complete success.

Technorati: Food | recipe | beans | side dish | barbeque | bbq

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Spot-On: White Jacket, Blue Collar

Jacques Pepin, the master chef who helped popularize French cooking in the U.S., was apprenticed to a chef at age 14. Apprenticed. Cooking has always been a blue-collar job - at its best, a craft. It's a craft that was well-regarded in France, where people have long taken their food seriously, but nevertheless it held a position in the social framework not different in kind from such jobs as seamstress or automobile mechanic.

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

Technorati: Food | essay | food column | food commentary | chefs | spot-on

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Potato Salad

Not Your Grandmother's Potato Salad



My family has few traditional recipes. There's Mummo's Bourbon Cake, a Christmas treat that's made Thanksgiving weekend and then aged (with regular shots of bourbon) until Christmas. And while Mom made the bourbon cake, Dad would make eggnog, which was also aged until Christmas.

During strawberry season there would be one Saturday or Sunday night supper that consisted solely of Strawberry Shortcake, which Mom made. And summers featured Dad's salad dressing, a soy sauce-based dressing that's particularly good on a green salad that includes leftover grilled steak.

Food has replaced sex in my life, now I can't even get into my own pants ~ Unknown

In fact, for a brief period of time my brother Loren cooked for banquets at a local hotel. The first time there was leftover steak from the banquet he brought it out to my parent's house for the dogs. My mother had a fit over feeding "perfectly good steak" to the dogs so she cut it up for salad. Loren was too squeamish to eat it, but I happened to be there that day and I agreed with my mother — after all, the only things that had touched the meat were a steak knife and my brother's hands.

But those few recipes are about it for traditions, except for Sutherland Potato Salad. And although this isn't your grandmother's potato salad, it is my grandmother's — maybe even her grandmother's.

This is an old recipe (if you can even call it a recipe) from my mother's family that's unusual because the dressing is just oil and vinegar, salt and pepper. The salad itself consists of nothing but potatoes and onions — no eggs, celery, pickles, relish, mayo, mustard, or anything else. Those who've never had this salad are often put off by the idea because it's so drastically different from most potato salads. Nevertheless, one bite always produces raves. It really is a case of the total being greater than the sum of it's parts.

But, given such simple ingredients, every Sutherland who makes it has their own little tweaks. Some swear by baking potatoes while others prefer red potatoes. Some use white onions and others red onions or yellow onions. My Aunt Gloria insisted on white vinegar while I think cider vinegar is best. My mother added fresh dill to her's for a while and I've come to consider the dill essential.

The basic recipe consists of:

3 lb potatoes
1 lg onion
salad oil (vegetable, corn, or canola)
vinegar
salt and pepper

My version consists of:

3 lb Yukon Gold (or baking/Russet/Idaho) potatoes
1 lg red onion (3" diameter)
canola oil
cider vinegar
1/4 c minced fresh dill
salt and pepper

Ingredients
Yukon Golds are perfect for this salad. I like their hint of sweetness and they're a medium-high starch potato. I avoid low starch potatoes for two reasons. First, higher starch potatoes are absorbent and will soak up the oil and vinegar, while with low-starch potatoes the dressing tends to pool in the bowl. Second, high-starch potatoes crumble a bit during mixing and these potato particles absorb more of the dressing and cling to the larger pieces of potatoes resulting in something akin in texture and function to mayonnaise. (Look at the photo, it isn't out of focus, it's grainy because of the potato sauce.)

Red (Bermuda) onions are relatively mild and slightly sweet, which offers a nice contrast to the sour vinegar. Also, the purple color makes for a much more visually appealing dish.

I use canola oil, but any neutral oil will do. The purpose of the oil is mouth feel, not flavor, so avoid olive oil.

I prefer cider vinegar, but white (distilled) vinegar is also fine. Avoid wine-based or flavored vinegars, they detract from the whole rather than contribute to it.

You can skip the dill, but of all the variations on this recipe that I've eaten over the years dill is the only one that works (although, Aunt Gloria was horrified by the idea). The dill adds an herbal, grassy note that gives the salad a freshness it is otherwise missing. And, like the red onion, it makes a more visually appealing result.

Assembly
Cut the onion in quarters vertically, then each quarter in half horizontally. Separate the layers and cut the larger pieces in half again. You should end up with a collection of 1/2 inch squares and some randomly-sized pieces from the center. Dump the onion into a large bowl.

Peel the potatoes and cut into bite-size pieces (1/2 to 3/4 inch square). Cook in boiling, salted water until completely cooked — about 12 minutes. Drain and immediately add to the onions. Mix with 1/2 cup of oil, 1/4 cup of vinegar, a tablespoon of salt and a tablespoon of black pepper. It's essential that the potatoes be hot when mixing in the oil and vinegar because they'll absorb the liquids.

Let the salad sit for a couple of minutes, then taste it (be sure to include a bite of onion). You will almost certainly need to add more oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper but at this point how much of each is a matter of your personal taste. Ideally the flavor will be on the tart side because the tartness will decline as the salad ages.

Let the salad cool to room temperature, then mix in minced dill. Taste again and tweak as needed. Chill for at least four hours, but ideally overnight. Stir and taste one last time before serving.

Note, with the coating of oil and acidity of the vinegar, this is probably the safest potato salad you could take on a picnic.

Technorati: Food | recipe | potato salad | potatoes | picnic | barbeque | salad

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Paisano: Saltimbocca

Jump in the Mouth



Saltimbocca is an Italian word meaning "jump in the mouth" and is the name of a Roman dish classically made with veal, prosciutto, and sage. It's also sometimes made with chicken or pork and cheese is a frequent addition. I've had it a few times made with either chicken or veal and although it was good, I can't say it jumped in my mouth.

This past Saturday I taught a class on Roman cooking and decided to see if I could really make Saltimbocca jump. The first thought that occurred to me was adding a few red pepper flakes – sort of a literal interpretation of "jump." But after a bit of thought I decided that was too literal and would detract from the flavor of the sage. What I wanted to do was to keep the classic flavors, but somehow boost them without altering them.

I decided to go with chicken breasts for the class. Although I have access to flavorful, humanely-raised veal it's expensive and the food allowance for the class wouldn't allow for it. The first thing I decided to do was marinate the chicken in Pinot Grigio with fresh sage for four hours. This would up the wine and sage flavors.

Next, I decided to briefly fry the prosciutto to intensify it's flavor. And lastly I decided to add a tough of anchovy paste and a squeeze of lemon to the sauce.

Anchovies are a natural source of glumates, which enhance savory flavors. The goal wasn't to taste the anchovies, but add just enough to lurk in the background adding deeper and richer savor to the dish.

Although this added four steps to a simple dish, the additional effort is almost nonexistent and this version does do a little skip, hop, and jump with each bite.

Chicken Saltimbocca
Serves 4.

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts – pounded to 1/2 inch thickness
1 cup Pinot Grigio
2 sprig fresh sage – crumbled
3 tablespoons olive oil
2/3 cup flour
3 tablespoons minced fresh sage plus four sage leaves for garnish
8 slices prosciutto
4 slices provolone
1/4 teaspoon anchovy paste
2 tablespoons butter

Place wine, sage sprig, and chicken breasts in a ziplock bag and marinate for 4 hours, turning occasionally.

Heat oven to 375F.

Heat oil in a sauté pan over medium-high heat. Briefly cook prosciutto, about 5 seconds per side.

Remove chicken from bag, pat dry, and season with salt and pepper. Dredge chicken in flour, shaking off excess, and then brown both sides in the sauté pan. Set sauté pan aside but don't clean.

Place chicken breasts on a foil-lined baking sheet and cook in the oven for about 15 minutes. Top each breast with minced sage, two slices of prosciutto, and a slice of cheese. Cook for another 5 minutes until cheese melts.

In the meantime, deglaze the skillet with the wine, discarding the sage and reduce by 1/2. Stir in anchovy paste and lemon juice. Remove from heat and stir in butter.

Plate the breasts and drizzle each with sauce.

Technorati: Food | recipe | saltimbocca | chicken | italian | paisano

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Spot-On: Teach Your Children Well

I got an odd phone call a few weeks back. In fact, it began with the woman who’d called introducing herself and then saying, “I have an odd request.”

April 26 was “Take Your Child to Work Day” and the call was about the woman’s daughter Emma. It seems her son was going to work with her husband on the 26th, but Emma wanted to be a personal chef when she grew up — Lord knows how she got that particular idea. Wanting to be a famous chef a la Emeril is one thing, but wanting to be a personal chef is all about the food and cooking.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

Technorati: Food | essay | spot-on | food column | food commentary

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Strawberry Gastrique

Quick & Dirty



I’m short on time, energy, and attention. But strawberry season is almost over and I wanted to share this while there are still good berries available.

A gastrique is a sweet, vinegar-based sauce. It’s marvelous on meats including chicken (which I originally made this for) and pork (which I had it on tonight.).

Strawberry Gastrique

3/4 c white wine
3/4 c balsamic vinegar
3/4 c sugar
1 1/2 c strawberries
1/4 tsp salt

Combine all ingredients in a small sauce pan and simmer until reduced by 2/3. Blend until smooth. If you wish, you can then force the mixture through a sieve to remove any seeds.

Technorati: Food | recipe | sauces | strawberries

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Popovers with Strawberry Conserves

Popping Fresh



My mother believed that three practical skills were essential for all civilized human beings regardless of gender: cooking, sewing, and something I can’t remember (so I'm probably not as civilized as she would wish). Consequently I was the one who sewed all the badges on my scout uniforms and at one point I borrowed a sewing machine, learned to use it, and made curtains for a house I rented, I even got hooked on embroidery, briefly, in my late 20s and did some small pieces as gifts (I think I still have a half-finished dragon and a rather tacky parrot in a basket somewhere). There's something indefinably soothing about embroidery and if I had any sense I'd cook a bit less and sew more. But I don't.

Cooking really stuck. When I was about six she taught me to make Jello, eventually I graduated to making brownies and the like from mixes and by the time I was 14 I was cooking entire meals on occasion. Today I make my living cooking (and writing about cooking and food issues).

Kissing don't last; cookery do! ~ George Meredith

There's a certain hubris in cooking a special meal (as I have each Mother's Day for years) for the woman who taught me to cook. Simultaneously, it is entirely appropriate to present your mentor, the master you learned from, with your best efforts. And, in fact, I'm a better cook than she is.

Perhaps this isn't surprising because she is a skilled and accomplished teacher (she taught at the University of Tennessee while I was growing up) as well an accomplished and skilled cuisinier. So I learned as much from her failures as her successes — because she insisted.

When I was a child we would sit down to a meal and rave about it. In response she'd note how she'd subbed skim milk for half and half because that's what she had and the dish should have been richer had she used half and half. I suspect that was largely a way of deflecting complements, but in doing so she taught me to examine my cooking critically. And over time, I learned her particular cooking faults and how to avoid them.

As usual, this Mother's Day, I fixed brunch. We had Cheshire quiche, asparagus with Mayonnaise Nicoise, and popovers with strawberry conserves and Devon Cream, It was all good, but the popovers and conserves were especially tasty. Mouth-achingly good.

Strawberry Conserves
Makes 1 pint.

1 lb strawberries
1 c sugar — separated
1/4 c Cointreau

Wash and stem strawberries. Cut berries in half or quarters (depending on size) place in a bowl and mix in 1/2 cup sugar and Cointreau. Cover and leave sitting on counter for 24 hours. Stir once or twice.

Pour juice into a small sauce pan over low heat and add remaining sugar. Heat, stirring frequently, for 10 minutes. Add berries and simmer for 30 minutes. Cool and pour into a sterile jar.

Butter Popovers
Makes six large popovers or 12 small.

<1 c Wondra flour (must be Wondra)
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp sugar
1 c whole milk — at room temperature
2 eggs — at room temperature
4 tbsp butter — melted

Heat oven to 425F 30 minutes in advance. Place one oven rack on the bottom level and the other on the second level (this avoids having the popover rising into the other rack).

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, salt, and sugar. Slowly add milk using an electric mixer on low. Add eggs one at a time, thoroughly mixing after each addition. Add two tablespoons of butter to batter. Transfer to pitcher for pouring.

Brush popover cups with butter then distribute remaining butter evenly among the cups.

Heat popover pan in oven for 3 minutes. Fill each cup halfway with batter.

Cook popovers on the second rack for 15 minutes then reduce heat to 350F and continue cooking 20 - 35 minutes until well puffed and brown. Do not open oven for at least the first 20 minutes. Six - 10 minutes before popovers are done, use a small, sharp knife to poke a slit in the top of each popover ad allow steam to escape.

When done, remove popovers from the pan and cool on a rack.

Adapted from The Bread Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum.

These are the best popovers I've ever eaten, the butter adds richness and tones down the strong eggy flavor most popovers have.

Technorati: Food | recipe | popovers | bread | strawberries

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Spot-On: Going for Silver

My mother gave me a copy of the first edition of The Silver Palate Cookbook for Christmas the year it came out and it quickly became my go-to book for recipe ideas, as it did for many other cooks. A couple of years later The Silver Palate Good Times Cookbook was published, followed in turn by The New Basics Cookbook. By this time my siblings also had copies and we took to calling them the White Book (because of its white spine), the Red Book (because of its red spine), and the Big Book (because it was big).

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

Technorati: Food | review | food column | spot-on | cookbooks

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Chicken Stroganoff

Variations



Supposedly Beef Stroganoff was created by a chef in Saint Petersburg for a culinary competition held in the 1890s. Although the dish was almost certainly named for Count Paul Stroganoff, a Russian noble and diplomat, Larousse Gastronomique points out that similar dishes were described in the 18th century. However, it also states that the particular version named Stroganoff was created by Charles Briere.

On the other hand:

"It is doubtful that Beef Stroganoff was [Count Stroganoff's] or his chef's invention since the recipe was included in the 1871 edition of the Molokhovets cookbook...which predates his fame as a gourmet. Not a new recipe, by the way, but a refined version of an even older Russian recipe, it had probably beenin the family for some years and became well known through Pavel Stroganoff's love of entertaining." — The Art of Russian Cuisine by Anne Volokh with Mavis Manus, Macmillan, 1983

A recipe is only a theme, which an intelligent cook can play each time with a variation. ~ Madame Jehane Benoit

The dish didn't appear in American cookbooks until 1930. And according to Wikipedia, after the fall of Imperial Russia, the recipe was popular in Chinese hotels and restaurants before the start of the Second World War. Russian and Chinese immigrants, as well as U.S. servicemen stationed in pre-socialist China, brought several variants of the dish to the United States, which may account for its popularity during the 1950s.

As is usual with dishes that become popular, there was a rush to the lowest common denominator and I'm proud to have done my part in dragging it through the dust.

Seriously, though, I use the name "Stroganoff" advisedly in this instance. I don't claim that this is a version of the classic dish, but rather a related effort that is easy to make, is ready in an hour, and is delicious left over.

Chicken Stroganoff
Serves 6.

1 lb chicken tenders — but into 1 inch lengths
1 tbsp oil
1 c rice
1/2 lb musrooms — sliced
1 tsp dried thyme — separated
1 tbsp butter
1/2 ea lg onions — diced
1 clove garlic — minced
3 c chicken stock — separated
1/2 c vermouth
salt and black pepper
1 c sour cream

Make rice using 2 cups of chicken stock and 1/2 teaspoon of thyme. Set aside.

Add mushrooms to a dry 10" sauté pan over medium-high heat. Sprinkle with salt, and cook, stirring frequently until mushrooms begin to brown. Add 1/2 teaspoon thyme and 1 tbsp butter. Cook until well-browned. Put mushrooms on a plate and set aside.

Reduce heat to medium and add onions (you may need to add a bit more butter or oil). Saute, stirring occasionally until they just begin to brown. Add garlic and cook another minute. Add to plate with mushrooms.

Add 2 tablespoons oil and increase heat to medium-high. Brown chicken in two batches. When last batch is browned add vermouth and reduce by half, scraping up fond. Add remaining chicken stock and reserved vegetables. Reduce heat to medium low, cover, and simmer 15 minutes. Uncover, add rice and sour cream.

Technorati: Food | recipe | chicken | stroganoff

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Paisano: Strawberry Shortcake

Paisano: Strawberry Shortcake



There was a large patch of gravel in front of the rickety, boarded-up roadside stand, a plywood structure smaller than my closet that it seemed would fall apart if you looked at it closely. I drove by it each day going to and from work when I lived in California and never gave it much thought – just part of the landscape. Then spring arrived and one day I noticed the stand was open. There was no sign indicating what they had, but there was someone in the shadows of the hut, so I pulled in to see what they had.

Inside there was an old oriental man somewhere between 40 and 104 years old and a woman somewhere between 18 and 40. In front of them were trays of strawberries. Small berries, the size of the end of my thumb, perfectly ruby red and ripe. And now that I could look, I noticed that the field behind the stand – perhaps two acres in size – was filled with strawberry plants. I bought a container and, back in the car and headed home, ate a berry, then another, then a third. They were the sweetest, most intense strawberries I'd ever had in my life. Unbelievably good. I had plain strawberries for dinner than night.

They were the sweetest, most intense strawberries I'd ever had in my life.

For a week they were open every other day and I bought a container every other day. For the next week they were open every day and I exercised great will-power and still only bought them every other day, for a final week they were again only open every other day. And then they were gone, the season over, the gravel lot deserted.

I mourned, but this is what seasonal eating is about. You get while the getting's good. And I got good.

A year later the Paisano dropped by while the stand was operating and I had the pleasure of introducing him to these glorious gems. He was suitably impressed – and impressing him isn’t easy to do. I bought two quarts and told him I was going to make him strawberry shortcake. He was horrified.

He asked me how, as someone who loved food, who understood respecting the food, as a person he had taken under his wing and taught to eat (conveniently forgetting the 40-odd years I'd been eating before meeting him) I could make that… and he lapsed into Hungarian or Romanian or whatever language it is he uses when he's cursing. (He won't tell me and I can't figure it out beyond it being Central European.)

Anyway, I finally got him calmed down and determined his experience with strawberry shortcake had involved commercial angel food cake and that nasty gloppy strawberry jelly the grocery stores sell. I told him this wasn't what I was making. I told him I was making strawberry shortcake like my momma made – but even better.

We got back to my place and capped then halved the berries. I added just enough sugar to bring out the juices, and a healthy dollop of Fra Angelica. Strawberries pair beautifully with nut flavors and the Fra Angelica (as well as Amaretto) highlights them delightfully. While I was prepping the berries, I put Paisano to work skinning a handful of hazelnuts.

We let the berries macerate for about three hours.

When I was growing up my mother made strawberry shortcake using the shortcake recipe on the back of the Bisquik box. I confess I still do that myself sometimes, but for this occasion I wanted to convince the Paisano that this was a truly worthy dish. So I used a scone recipe and, after grinding the hazelnuts into flour substituted them for part of the flour. So now I had hazelnuts in the berries and the shortcake.

I placed a warm biscuit on each plate, added berries, and then unsweetened whipped cream. Paisano, took a bite. Chewed it slowly. Then another bite. He raised his glass of wine to me and said, "Bella." This is the word he uses to say something is as beautiful as a woman, it's a special complement.

Strawberry Shortcake

Strawberries:
2 quarts strawberries – capped and halved or quartered, depending on size
2 - 4 tbsp sugar – depending on berries sweetness
3 tbsp Fra Angelica
Shortcake:
1 3/4 c all purpose flour
1/4 cup hazelnut flour
1/4 c sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 tbsp butter – melted
1 c buttermilk

Prep the strawberries at least three hours in advance and as long as six hours before eating. Taste a couple of berries to get an idea of how sweet they are, then add the Fra Angelica and as much sugar as seems necessary. (Note: You do want to add some sugar because it draws the juices out of the berries.) Cover with plastic, and allow to macerate on the counter-top (refrigerating them will slow down the maceration and dull the flavor).

When ready to eat, heat oven to 450F.

To make the shortcake, place the flour, hazelnut flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Add the buttermilk and butter and stir in. You’ll end up with a sticky dough. Flour your hands and turn dough out onto a well-floured surface. Using your hands gently pat out into 6 by 9 inch rectangle. Using a 3 inch biscuit cutter, cut out as many rounds as you can (you should end up with six). Place rounds on an ungreased cookie sheet, shape remaining dough into a round and add it to the sheet.

Bake until well-browned on top (if you wish, you can melt some additional butter and brush the tops) – 12 - 15 minutes. Cut hot cakes in half and set on plates. Drizzle with strawberry juices then distribute strawberries and top with whipped cream. Eat immediately.

And the Paisano? He was delighted. In fact he actually made me write down the scone recipe.

Technorati: Food | recipe | Paisano | desserts | strawberries | shortcake | gather

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It may be a statistical accident that in the past 12 months we've had three large and unrelated cases of e-Coli contamination. Pure happenstance that a Georgia peanut butter plant was shipping peanut butter contaminated with salmonella... A mere fluke that gluten contaminated with melamine has shown up ... in food fed to pigs and chickens. But I don't think so.

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Technorati: Food | essay | food column | food commentary| spot-on | food safety

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As a cook and one-time musician, I'm much more likely to interpret someone else's work than create my own. But sometimes, I do manage work at a more imaginative level. I don’t claim, even as a cook, to operate at the level of a James Taylor, much less a Chopin. The culinary ideas of Daniel Boulud — and the skills and knowledge and imagination he brings to his ideas — are as far beyond my poor talents as Einstein's equations. Yet, why should Boulud have all the fun?

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Technorati: Food | essay | food commentary | food column | spot-on

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Paisano: Lamb Cannellini

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The Paisano sat across from me smirking into his wine. We'd gotten into a political argument over dinner and he was quite sure he had "won" the discussion. But the fact is Paisano has no more familiarity with the rules of logic than he does of playing a violin (and I've heard him attempt that). But if he proves a point to his own satisfaction, then it is, "Phhit! Proven!" Stephen Colbert is more capable of rational thought than the old man.

Phitt himself! He needs to trim his beard or shave, one. He looks like a homeless monkey. Yes, I know, an ad hominen attack, but he spent the evening attacking me and refusing to examine the facts of the issue. He says I'm effete, only he thinks "effete" means the same thing as "feminine" but without brains. He spends far too much time hanging around rich people and listening to their insular take on reality.

The discussion began with a remark I made about health care, and Paisano's response was, "Don't get sick." I averred and pointed out that getting sick isn't always a matter of choice, I offered being involved as a passenger in an automobile accident as an example.

His response was, "You just use what you have." I said, "But you have to have something." And, because we were in the kitchen and he had just complained I had nothing to eat, I thought I had won the point. Nope.