Category Archives: Food

Fresh heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The simple makings of a mouthful of pleasure. This is the sort of thing I will miss most about summer. It just isn’t the same with supermarket stuff found in the dead of winter. That only makes me appreciate it more ~ the summer, and the flavor. I’ve added a sliced baguette to this in the past, which is even better at soaking up the oil and vinegar, but for the carb and gluten avoiders no bread is needed, and the effect is just as delicious.

This makes a lovely late-morning or early afternoon snack, or a great appetizer before a summer evening of grilling. When the vegetables are at their peak, there’s no need to mask or amp up the flavor – they speak vibrant volumes on their own. Equally pretty to look at, it’s a feast for the eyes, mouth and summer-seeking soul.

It’s amazing what such a little piece of pasta can accomplish, and how it can fill such a large bowl when used en masse and plumped with water and warmth and a bit of EVOO love. Though the close-up on this cup of pasta misleadingly magnifies the size of the tiny noodles, trust me that in their dry form they are small and insignificant. Only in their quantity do they amount to much. I like the lesson of life inherent in that metaphor. One small part, no matter how small, can make a difference when it’s not alone.

This pasta plays a part in another delicious recipe from Lidia Bastianich – a classic Italian dish, Pasta e Fagioli Veloce – which relies on a cannellini bean base for thickness, into which the ditalini goes to retain all of its starchy goodness. Hand-crushed tomatoes and freshly chopped parsley add pizzazz to the hearty dish – perfect for those cold nights and showery April days. A bit of grated cheese over the final product, and a rustic baguette for dipping, make it a meal unto itself, or the ample beginning of an evening of delicious sustenance.

Pasta e Fagioli Veloce

• 3 15-ounce cans cannellini beans, drained
• ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 3 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 3 quarts water
• 1 fresh rosemary sprig, needles stripped
• 2 tablespoons kosher salt
• ¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper
• 1 15-ounce can whole tomatoes, crushed by hand
• 2 cups ditalini
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley

Method:

In a blender, purée 2 cans of the beans with 1 cup water. Set aside. In a large soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic. Once the garlic is sizzling, sprinkle in the flour. Let the flour toast for a minute but not color; then add 3 quarts of water, the rosemary, salt, and red pepper flakes. Bring to a boil, add the tomatoes, 1 cup slosh water from the tomato can, and the bean purée. Simmer until the soup thickens and is creamy and flavorful, about 30 minutes. Add the ditalini and the final can of beans (not puréed), and simmer until the pasta is al dente. Stir in the parsley and serve.

My obsession with Lidia Bastianich of the Create channel rages on with this delicious recipe (which can be found on her website here). It’s a substantial chicken breast variation that manages to keep the meat moist and flavorful thanks to its preparation method. The combination of orange and olives works an unexpected magic, lending a flavor-packed punch to the proceedings. There is an olive oil/butter combo at the start that you could probably forego if you want to keep things lean, but you’d be doing yourself a disservice if you go that route. Keep the whole thing intact to get the exquisite full-effect of the recipe – that bit of butter isn’t going to matter in the grand scheme of things.

As Lidia mentions, a chicken breast recipe is the bane and boon of many a family chef, and finding new but simple ways of turning that lackluster piece of meat into something extraordinary is always welcome.

Chicken Breast with Orange and Gaeta Olives
Pollo con Olive ed Aranci

• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 1/2 pounds thin sliced chicken cutlets
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• all-purpose flour for dredging
• 1 large red onion, sliced
• 1 cup pitted Gaeta or Kalamata olives, halved
• Juice and zest of 1 orange
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 1 teaspoon fennel powder
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian parsley

In a large skillet over medium heat, add the olive oil and butter. Season the chicken with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and lightly dredge it in flour. Lightly brown the chicken in the skillet (you want the chicken to end up with a blonde-colored crust and slowly build the color, and flavor, up) on both sides, about 2 minutes per side. Cook the chicken in batches, if necessary, depending on the size of your skillet. Remove to a plate as it is colored.

Once the chicken is colored, add the onion and cook until softened, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add the olives, orange juice and zest, white wine and fennel powder. Add chicken back to the skillet and simmer until the chicken is just cooked through and the sauce coats the chicken, about 3 to 4 minutes. Season with remaining salt, sprinkle with the parsley, and serve.

From ‘Lidia’s Commonsense Italian Cooking‘

The only thing I did slightly differently was pounding out the breasts a bit before cooking. There’s nothing worse than a breast that’s too thick and requires extra cooking time. Such a set-up leads to the possibility of drying out the meat in order to ensure a safe cook-through. Pounding out any extra-thick pieces alleviates this risk, while tenderizing the meat in the process. It need not be super-thin, just slightly, and it will turn out fine.

To counter-balance the strong flavors of the entree, I served this with a side of couscous and fresh parsley.

Despite the ease with which it seemed my pal Simon tied up a piece of pork many years ago, I’ve always steered clear of anything that requires tying, at least as far as the kitchen goes. It’s one of my peculiar and unfounded fears, like my trepidation of the pool drain or the Easter bunny. But when a recipe for a basic braciole showed up online, and the weekend turned snowy, I gave the classic Italian dish a try – and it turned out pretty well.

The trick here, at least according to many iterations, is a quick searing in oil then a long, slow cook in your best tomato sauce. Here’s the recipe I used:

INGREDIENTS:

1 1/2 lb flank steak (usually labeled braciole meat)

6 tbsp fresh parsley leaves (roughly chopped)

8 garlic cloves (minced)

4 tbsp of olive oil

Salt and pepper to season

4 tbsp grated Pecorino Romano cheese

METHOD:

1. Lay out the braciole on wax or parchment paper. Pound with a meat mallet.

2. Season both sides generously with sea salt and pepper. Sprinkle with olive oil.

3. Spread garlic on top of the braciole evenly across the entire piece. Scatter grated cheese on top of garlic.

4. Add a thick coating of parsley.

5. Roll it up tightly and tie securely with baker’s twine.

6. Heat dutch oven on stove top to medium-high heat and add olive oil. Place bracioles in carefully and turn to brown on all sides. Add water if necessary to keep the meat moist.

7. When fully browned, cover with tomato sauce and reduce to medium-low heat and let cook slowly for 2- 2 1/2 hours. Serve bracoile and sauce over pasta.

The rolling and tying was the messiest part, but with practice I can see it becoming less unwieldy. I made a tomato sauce from scratch as well (hello kitchen ambition) and cooked it slowly for about three hours, at the end of which the meat was super tender. A variation that you may want to try is the addition of pine nuts in the braciole, for an extra Italian twist.

It seems that certain things do much better when they’re tied up. The kitchen likes it kinky.

(Try saying that three times in quick succession.)

This is neither a disaster nor a striking success story – it falls somewhere between the two and involves my first attempt at crafting a crepe. I’ve never really been a fan of the fancy pancake – my mind has never quite gotten itself around where it’s meant to fall on the sweet versus savory spectrum (I love a good spectrum). I know there are both, but I like something a little less malleable in my food options. At any rate, I found a quick and easy (and quite basic) recipe in a recent New York Times magazine, and it went like this:

UNMEASURED CREPES

Very adapted from ‘Ratio’ by Michael Ruhlman

1 vessel whole raw eggs

1 vessel all-purpose flour

1 3/4 vessel whole milk

1/4 vessel sweet butter

Dash to pinch of salt

1. Beat eggs. Add ingredients and whisk. Add salt and taste.

2. Heat nonstick pan or lightly oiled one on medium heat. Add ladleful of batter, just enough to thinly coat bottom of pan. Cook until edges begin to brown, maybe 30 seconds. Flip, with conviction, and cook ten more seconds.

3. Cook as many as desired, stacking on plate and covering with cloth towel until ready to serve.

4. Savory variation: chop up fresh herbs – parsley, mint, and/or dill – and add to batter before cooking. (As much as you like.)

I gave it a whirl and it didn’t turn out badly. I love a simple recipe with a simple preparation. This time around the trickiest part was flipping the damn things, but even that went better than expected. Only two didn’t quite work out, and that’s because of early hesitation on my part. You have to commit to the flip. It has to be certain and definite, and a little bold. Any fear or hesitancy will not go over well. After a few tries, I found that the higher the crepe went in the air, the better chance I had of landing it perfectly. At first I was trying to keep it low and close to the pan. Go for the gusto and you’ll be fine.

As for the end result, I was pleased but not blown away. The first attempt was too thick – I’d used too much batter – and the crepe was a bit rubbery. After that, I cut down on the batter, keeping it very thin and spreading it around, at which point the traditional light and fluffy crepe consistency was achieved. My only complaint was that with such a quick cooking time, I still tasted a bit of raw flour. I wouldn’t have minded this so much with a sweet version, but in a savory style (I’d opted to add the fresh parsley) it was mildly annoying. (I know nothing about crepes – eating or making them – so I’m sure there are mistakes I made that contributed to the general ho-hum aspect of the whole process.) Perhaps FUSSYlittleBLOG or Carl can help a novice out with some tips…

Here are a few photos from a Thai lunch I had in Washington a number of months ago. I found them on my drive, and while I’ve forgotten the name of the place, the memory of how good it was lingers. Rather than go into the recipes and descriptions and a whole lot of hoo-ha, allow me to let the images speak for themselves. (In other words, you told me to shut up, so sit down and enjoy it.)

Tomorrow we are featuring a Special Guest Blog whose focus is on food, so let this be a mouth-watering preamble to that. Someone set the table, because this is going to be good.

A fabulous Duchess recently asked me for a soup recipe, and while I didn’t have the exact one she wanted, I’m putting up this version of Tom Yum soup I found online and tested out a few days ago. While my traditional go-to meal for staving off the cold of winter is pho, this one is a worthy winter-beater as well, with the heat from all the chili peppers giving some red-hot goodness to the spicy broth. (If you’re having trouble finding some of the more exotic ingredients and you don’t have access to a decent Asian market, try going online. I’ve found some wonderful suppliers of Kaffir lime leaves just a few clicks away, and once you get a batch they freeze quite well for a while.)

This somewhat-sour soup is said to have medicinal properties as well, with its classic Thai triumvirate of the aforementioned Kaffir lime leaves, lemon grass, and fresh galangal root. It is indeed hot and spicy, so if you’re unsure, add the chili peppers at the last possible moment (the longer they’re in, the hotter the soup will be).

 Tom Yum Soup

Ingredients

• 4 cups of water
• 2 stalks fresh lemongrass, trim off the very end of the root and smash; cut into 1 inch pieces
• 3 slices fresh galangal root (smashed)
• 3 fresh kaffir lime leaves
• 1 tbsp. tamarind paste, with or without seeds
• 1 tbsp. fish sauce
• 3/4 lb shrimp, medium to large size, shelled and de-veined
• 12 fresh Thai chili peppers, whole
• 1/2 small white onion, cut 1/4 inch slices
• 2 tbsp. roasted chili paste (nam prik pao)
• 1 (16 oz.) can straw mushrooms, drained and rinsed
• 1 small ripe tomato, cut into wedges 1/4 inch thick
• 1 small lime, squeezed
• 2 sprigs fresh cilantro (more if desired)

Preparation

Bring water to boil over high heat in a medium-sized saucepan. Add the lemon grass, galangal, kaffir lime leaf, fish sauce and tamarind paste. Add the shrimp, bring to a boil and cook 3 minutes. Add the onion, nam prik pao and mushrooms. Boil for another 7 minutes until the shrimp is cooked through. Add the chile peppers and tomatoes. Turn off the heat. Add the lime juice. Taste to adjust the seasoning, adding fish sauce to taste. Garnish with cilantro, roasted whole chili peppers and a splash of coconut milk if desired and serve hot.

Like many recipes, this approximation of guacamole came about as a happy accident. A few months ago, I wanted a couple of slices of avocado to go with an egg sandwich I was planning on assembling. A neophyte to the world of cooking, and the supermarket in general, I did a giddy dance when I saw ripe avocados on a super sale – four for five dollars or something. I scooped up four and let my mind run free with visions of perfectly sliced avocado slivers in shades of lime and chartreuse.

When I got them home and sliced them open, my dismay was instant. Far from fresh and bright green, they were mottled with bits of brown, streaked with veins of gray. Even worse, they were so soft that they fell apart before I could even get them out of their skin, much less separated from their hard pit. Completely unacceptable for a breakfast that I wanted to photograph and post to my obnoxious Instagram feed. I’m all about occasional #foodporn and the oft-sought-but-seldom-achieved #foodgasm. Each of the avocados were in this over-ripe state, but rather than toss them into the trash, I took the lemons that life gave me and made lemonade. Or guacamole, as the case was.

I found a few stray limes, a small chopped onion, a lot of leftover cilantro from a Mexican dip the night before, then added some salt and pepper, and a diced tomato at the end. Served with some pita chips, it was a happy alternative to the sliced avocado I’d originally craved.

This past weekend, I saw avocados on sale again, but this time I went in with the intent to craft a batch of guacamole, using a trick that a friend taught me: save the pits and keep them in the final product in order to keep the guacamole from turning grey and brown. Previously, that’s always been the problem – any time that green flush gets in contact with air, it’s only a matter of moments before it starts to turn. Keeping the pit as part of the mix prevents it from turning. I don’t know the scientific explanation for it, and I don’t care, I’m just thrilled it works. (The same tip can be used if you want to save half of an avocado that you’ve cut – save the part with the pit still attached and it will remain fresher for longer.)

I love when science meets culinary craft to prolong the life of something like guacamole.

A few additional tips that made this batch superior to that first raw attempt: add some cumin to the mix. It’s that missing element that gives it a more authentic taste. I used a couple of green onions (scallions) in place of their larger cousin – I like the sweeter, less sharp flavor. Also, a finely chopped jalapeño pepper can be used for those who like things with a bit of heat.

While it may be tempting to eat the whole batch at once, after you’ve tasted for flavoring, let it sit (covered) at room temperature for an hour stirring once or twice, to allow all the flavors to  meld. (This is when the pit-trick really comes in handy.)

Andy is a magician in the kitchen, as evidenced by this recent beet and goat cheese pizza. A somewhat unorthodox pizza combination, it was supplemented by peppers and red onions, resulting in the riot of warm colors you see here. Food is about more than taste – it’s about texture and temperature and, yes, presentation. While pretty dishes don’t necessarily translate to yummy eats, when the two combine it makes for a merry moment, and a merry meal.

Has a more sensual pairing ever been found? From its fig leaf connotations to its sticky-and-sweet honey goodness, this is a couple for the ages. It’s sexy, sweet, and just a little bit sinful. Forget the apple, Adam and Eve should have gone straight for the figs and honey.

Nothing great is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of grapes or a fig. If you tell me that you desire a fig. I answer you that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen. ~ Epictetus

A great fig should look like it’s just about to burst its skin. When squeezed lightly it should give a little and not spring back. It must be almost unctuously sweet, soft and wet. ~ Yotam Ottolenghi

Life is the flower for which love is the honey. ~ Victor Hugo

Who writes poetry imbibes honey from the poisoned lips of life. ~ William Rose Benet

It took me a while, but once I got a taste of beets I fell in love. It’s Andy’s fault, really, as he snuck them onto a pizza one night and I was so ravenous I ate it all before questioning what was on it. That risky experiment paid off and I’ve been a beet lover ever since. We found a few fine specimens at a farmer’s market last week and he pulled another culinary rabbit out of the hat with this strawberry, beet, and goat cheese salad.

He boils them in vinegar and sugar, and it’s a heavenly combination that brings out the tanginess in their garishly-colored flesh.

I especially like the way the magenta dye bleeds onto the goat cheese. It seems too vibrant to be natural, but there it is – the beauty of Mother Nature on a plate. Sprinkled with a strawberry vinaigrette, it made for a lovely summer salad.