Category Archives: Food

This fish-rice-vegetable (FRV) trio consists of rainbow trout and green beans (both in a fresh tarragon and lemon glaze) and some steamed rice (with black sesame seeds). The trout was sprinkled with a little paprika, then grilled in foil for a few minutes. It probably could have withstood a direct grilling, but the fishmonger said foil would be safer. When it comes to dinner, I won’t risk losing anything through the grill slats. (That’s a side of me that no one wants to see.)

The FRV has become a summer standard this year, in my wavering quest to eat a bit healthier. Come fall, I’ll need to find a new way to prepare all this fish – we’ve been spoiled with the grill. (And yes, I said the ‘F’ word – fall. It’s coming, whether we like it or not.)

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light.

– Edna St. Vincent Millay

Apart from the wretched fig newton, or the occasional pizza-with-arugula-goat-cheese-and-fig, I’ve never had much experience with figs (other than the ornamental fig tree, Ficus benjamina). That changed when a friend alerted me to a bunch of fresh ones at Trader Joe’s. They were perfectly ripe – exceedingly soft, like the thickest velvet – so I picked up a small package and sought out help from another culinary expert. He advised me to try them plain, and also with goat cheese and honey.

Their taste is sweet, but not overly so. The texture is distinct, the seeds soft, and I love that you can eat the skin and all. They’re quite a sensual fruit – lovers in other lands must have fed them to each other while lounging in silk robes and whispering of conquests and legacies and a love to defy time and space.

These paired well with the goat cheese alone, but the light bite of the latter was much better when tempered with a coating of honey. It’s hard to imagine improving upon such a perfect product of nature, but honey lifts a lot of things.

I’m told that figs also pair well with prosciutto, which I can see. There’s a magical bond between sweet and savory if done correctly, but I’m saving that for another day.

Second Fig

Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

–  Edna St. Vincent Millay

All due apologies to the politically-correct among you who may object to the name of these sweet treats, but I didn’t come up with it, so don’t blame the messenger. My pal Peaches delivered a batch of these brownies all the way from Cape Cod a couple of weekends ago, and I was instantly hooked. She didn’t initially reveal what was in them, instead making me guess at what I was tasting. First off, they are aptly named, as you will feel like you just got hit by the best thing you’ve had in your mouth since you know what, and the explosion that results is far tastier too. Second, though some of the flavors sound impossibly disparate (peanut butter and mint?), they somehow come together for something miraculous.

The recipe is simple enough, with lots of room for variation, and the work consists mostly in the assembly. Line a baking pan (9″ x 11″) with parchment paper or non-stick cooking spray. Lay down a layer of chocolate chip cookie dough (use a boxed version for best results), then a layer of snack size peanut butter cups (not the mini size), then a layer of grasshopper cookies (or mint oreos), then in the spaces between fill in with a smaller chocolate items. (Peaches used dark-chocolate-covered pomegranates – I opted for simple chocolate chips.) On top of all this, pour a layer of brownie batter (again, a simple box version works best). Bake this at 350 degrees for about 40 to 45 minutes (under-bake when in doubt). The results are amazing. I literally could not eat less than two every time I passed the kitchen. Many thanks to Peaches for the recipe, and for ruining my waist line! (It was so worth it.)

Continuing on the poached egg kick, this was a breakfast sandwich I made using an English muffin, some smoked salmon, roasted asparagus, and a poached egg. When the ingredients are good, you don’t always need a fancy sauce to cover things up. A little salt and pepper, perhaps a pat of butter on the muffin, and you’re good to go.

Until last week I had never poached an egg in my life. I’ve certainly enjoyed them in quantity, but never personally done the whole poaching thing myself. I’d heard tales of what a pain it was to do correctly, how sometimes it was nothing short of disastrous, but nothing terrible befell me on my virgin attempt. I wanted it to top a radish and avocado salad – a light little summer dish that, with the egg, could double as an entree. (And to appease the impatient part of me, a plate of radishes and salt with a baguette until the assembly and poaching was complete.)

A friend advised the use of an egg poacher, but I was not about to get any additional kitchen paraphernalia (we have way too much stuff – the apple peeler-corer-slicer has not been seen in years). Luckily people have been poaching eggs without professional poachers for years. The directions I used called for softly boiling water – just barely bubbling – and a tablespoon or so of cider vinegar. I’m a big fan of vinegar, so the warnings of it affecting the flavor did not matter to me, and if it was going to help keep the egg together I was all for it. I swirled the water around a bit, cracked the egg into a small bowl, and then carefully deposited it in the center of the pot. It stayed pretty much put, and I spooned some water over it to help cook the top. After three minutes, I removed it with a slotted spoon and placed it carefully upon the salad.

Once cut, the yolk ran golden yellow and gooey, coating the salad and avocado with rich cholesterol. I don’t often have instantly successful kitchen stories (ask Andy about the pancakes sometime) but every now and then it all comes together like a perfectly poached egg.

And for those three minutes of poaching/lollygagging, don’t forget the baguette.

For someone who doesn’t eat or like breakfast all that much, Andy sure knows how to cook up a decent omelette. On decadent days he renders the grease from some bacon for the process, but for summer that’s a little too much stove-top action. On these days we go a little lighter, with some fresh herbs from the garden.

This is the first year where I’ve consciously planted a number of herbs for our culinary preparations, and it has certainly paid off. A collection of dill, flat-leaf parsley, and basil comprises the addendum to this omelette. (A garnish of curly parsley centers the dish.)

With a small sliced tomato and a couple of toast points, breakfast is served.

PS – How obnoxious is the term ‘toast points’? I think very, which I why I won’t stop using it.

Having gotten more comfortable with a simple vinaigrette (a lot of whisking goes a long way), I tried my hand at this easy salad recipe, utilizing a base of baby greens and thinly-sliced fennel, topped with a few slices of avocado. It’s the perfect choice to pair with a chicken or fish dish that utilizes lemon in some other fashion. To halt the avocado from turning brown once it’s sliced, rub with an extra lemon wedge – the acidic juice will prevent it from going brown (the same trick that is used for apples).

As for the dressing, this was a very good one – filled with flavor from the zest and the garlic, and given a different twist by the miracle elixir that is White Balsamic vinegar. I’ve seen it recommended to add the olive oil in a slow steady stream while whisking furiously. I’m not that coordinated, so I end up with everything added at one time, but the addition of the mustard starts the mixing process, and if you use enough arm action it should come together nicely. (Keep your sexual innuendoes out of my salad-preparation, please.)

Lemon Dijon Vinaigrette

– 2 Tbsp. lemon juice

– 1 tsp. lemon zest

– 2 Tbsp. white balsamic vinegar

– 1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard

– 6 Tbsp. olive oil

– 1 clove garlic (pressed through garlic press)

– Salt & pepper to taste

The inspiration and jumping-off point for this cocktail, the Rainier cherry is splendid in appearance and taste. I like the fact that it’s not quite as sweet as its traditional counterparts. Too much sweetness can be a bad thing, in both cocktails and fruit.

This simple summer salad combines the sweet tangy tartness of fresh raspberries, with the creamy bite of crumbled goat cheese, and the buttery crunch of walnuts for a combustible flavor punch. When doing a salad like this, the best thing to do is keep the ingredients fresh and simple, and go for a homemade raspberry vinaigrette, as I managed to do with relative ease.

With the aid of the following recipe from Martha Stewart, the dressing came together all right. It’s a lighter dressing, and a bit on the watery side (in texture, not taste). You’ve got to use a lot of hand power to emulsify this one, so have the whisk at the ready. The trickiest part is pushing the fresh raspberries through the wire strainer with a wooden spoon. At first, it will feel like nothing’s happening. You’ll check the bottom and wonder where all the juice and puree has gone – just stick with it. Move the spoon back and forth, pushing the raspberry mush through as best as possible. Soon, it will start dripping through. It just takes time and effort.

As a prelude to the Pasta Puttanesca, and to fortify myself after a day in the office before beginning the admittedly simple recipe, I put together this easy plate of appetite-whetters. A few cherry peppers, some olives, a few slices of salami, and a couple of multi-grain flatbread crackers made for a bright beginning to the evening of salty goodness. A white Spanish wine accompanied the whole affair (not sure if that’s appropriate or not, but it’s all Andy could rustle from the wine cellar, a.k.a. the wooden rack in the basement).

I used to think that small plates like this were foolish, but they really do work well, especially in the summer, when you want to take a moment to decompress after a long, hot day.

The origin of Pasta Puttanesca seems as variable as the ways to properly make it. Some claim the dish and its (supposedly) quick prep and cooking time was the result of prostitutes trying to fit in a quick meal between clients. Others maintain that the prostitutes, at least the not-so-good ones, were down to the bare bones of their kitchen, and could only come up with the ingredients here. Personally, I’m happy with any dish that’s good enough for a hooker. Yes, I am a tramp.

For my virgin stab at the Puttanesca, I used the following recipe from the New York Times:

Pasta Puttanesca

Start the sauce while the pasta water is coming to a boil; finish it while the pasta is cooking. Add a salad and a loaf of bread and you’re out the door to your evening’s activity, whatever it might be.

Ingredients

• Salt to taste
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 3 or more cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled
• 3 or more anchovy fillets
• 1 28-ounce can whole plum tomatoes
• Freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 1/2 cup pitted black olives, preferably oil-cured
• 2 tablespoons capers
• Crushed red pepper flakes to taste
• 1 pound linguine or other long pasta
• Chopped fresh parsley, oregano, marjoram or basil leaves for garnish, optional

Method

• 1. Bring pot of water to boil and salt it. Warm 2 tablespoons oil with garlic and anchovies in skillet over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until garlic is lightly golden.
• 2. Drain tomatoes and crush with fork or hands. Add to skillet, with some salt and pepper. Raise heat to medium-high and cook, stirring occasionally, until tomatoes break down and mixture becomes saucy, about 10 minutes. Stir in olives, capers and red pepper flakes, and continue to simmer.
• 3. Cook pasta, stirring occasionally, until it is tender but not mushy. Drain quickly and toss with sauce and remaining tablespoon of oil. Taste and adjust seasonings as necessary, garnish with herbs if you like, and serve.

I didn’t vary much for my maiden voyage into whoredom: I followed the recipe pretty faithfully (right down to the oil-cured black olives). The result was good, but a little on the dry side. I think that draining the tomatoes may have been an unnecessary move. (Crushing them with my hands, however, was the best, and most fun, part of the whole endeavor.) Having just heard someone refer to anchovies as the ‘bacon of the sea’, I added a few more than three, and as we didn’t have any fresh marjoram, that got omitted from the list of possible garnishes. The result, though, seemed to be a good representation of this venerable dish. It’s got a rustic flare to it, a bit of the burn (I used a generous ‘taste’ of crushed red pepper flakes), and a hearty flavor thanks to the potent, salty ingredients. Still, I think there’s room for improvement, so suggestions are always welcome.

For a style-over-substance guy like myself, the most important part of any meal or libation is the garnish. And in a dish that can get dull and played-out, like this salad, the garnish can reinvigorate everything, giving new life to the tried and true. Here, a simple pile of spring greens and sliced fennel is sprinkled with shaved parmesan, pine nuts, and some freshly-ground pepper. That such simple things can make for such a wondrous difference is one of the ways that food will always be infinitely interesting to me.

Andy has long been a fan of the beet. Me, not so much. But better late than never, and the past year has seen a beet boon in my kitchen, and on my restaurant plates. (I still get giddy at the thought of a certain phenomenal beet salad I had at Five-O earlier this year.) For their taste, consistency, and most especially that gorgeous color, it’s hard to beat the beet.

For a seafood lover like myself, it’s slightly strange that scallops and shrimp don’t rank that high, but for whatever reason I don’t usually choose them. I’ll go to town on shrimp cocktail if it’s on hand at a party, but for the most part I keep my seafood selections to fish and lobster and oysters, with some occasional calamari. Every once in while though, I get a hankering for scallops, so if we find some decent ones (even at $19.99 a pound) I’ll indulge. Such was the case the other day, and the timing was fortuitous as there was a great recipe for grilled scallops in the New York Times magazine that week.

The ingredients are simple (I only had to locate the miso and the scallops):

* 1 pound scallops (but at that exorbitant price point, I went for eight large ones as it was a meal for one)

* 2 Tbsp. miso

* 2 Tbsp. mirin

* Vegetable oil

* Black pepper

* Toasted sesame seeds and scallions (for garnish)

The recipe:

Grilled Scallops with Miso Glaze

Whisk together 2 tablespoons miso, 2 tablespoons mirin, and some black pepper. Thread scallops onto skewers. Brush with vegetable oil, and grill until almost done.

Brush miso mixture on both side and continue to cook, turning once or twice until glaze caramelizes a bit and scallops are done.

Garnish with toasted sesame seeds and thinly-sliced scallions.

Here are the grilling instructions for scallops – the main secret to success is to err on the underside of cooking:

Heat gas grill until very hot. Rub grill with oil and set 3 to 4 inches from heat. Grill scallops until brown on bottom and release easily from grill (2 to 3 minutes). Turn and brown other side; total cooking time should be 3 to 5 minutes. You want to take scallops off before interior becomes completely opaque.