When I was little we lived in a sequence of places that were nowhere particularly near Virginia. This is only relevant because Virginia was where my grandmother lived, and my mother and I used to spend a month visiting with her every summer. I loved the month we spent in Richmond, among other things it has left me with a lifelong appreciation for heat and humidity which pretty much nobody else I know shares. What I didn’t love was the process of getting there, which was long and tedious. I imagine it was even longer and more tedious for my mother who had to play the responsible adult in that scenario as opposed to being the bored 7 – 9 – 12 – 14 year old whose biggest responsibility was trying to sleep on the plane, picking at the food, and not being too much of a pill about traveling for 24 hours straight.

One of the ways my mother combated travel ennui was with a ‘Wheel’s Off Kit’ (idea, I believe, courtesy of my godmother who used it on her children for similar long haul flights). The contents of a Wheel’s Off Kit varied depending on what continent we were on when my mother was putting it together, how old I was at the time, and how long a flight we were anticipating. Usually it contained some variation on one or two small game (Uno was awesome for the plane), a book of puzzles, a small toy, and some kind of candy. It was presented to me the night before we departed wrapped in a firmly sealed opaque bag to be packed away in my carryon luggage, and in no circumstances to be opened before the wheels of the plane left the ground. In the case of the really long haul flights from Hong Kong to New York via Tokyo, the relevant airplane wheels were the ones on the plane from Tokyo to New York.

Now that I’m a (theoretically) responsible adult, I no longer get Wheel’s Off Kits. So, rather than anticipating the opening of an intriguingly bumpy sealed Wheel’s Off Kit, I have developed a strict airport ritual to help me bide my time while I wait at the departure gate.

1 – I am not allowed to start my book until the plane is in the air. This is mostly for fear that I will run out of book before I run out of flight. Let’s just say I don’t cope well when I run out of reading material and leave it at that.

2 – After I clear security I buy a New York Times and a cup of coffee to read at the gate while I wait for boarding to start. It’s the only time I ever buy a hard copy of a newspaper and I spend the entire time I read it thinking how inconvenient newspapers are to read offline.

3 – When I buy the NYT I also pick up a food magazine to read on the plane between boarding and take off. And, the rule is that I am not allowed to skip around glancing at the pictures and skimming the recipes. I have to read it cover to cover, in order, and read even the recipes I know I’m never going to make.

This year I picked up the most recent issues of both Food & Wine and Saveur to read. I enjoyed both magazines enough that when I got back from my Christmas vacation I went online and subscribed to both of them (to supplement the Bon Appetit and Cook’s Illustrated that I already get, because apparently there can never be too many iterations of glossy food porn on my coffee table). I subscribed in early January, with the expectation of the March issue being the first hard copy that would arrive on my doorstep. To date – as I expected – I have not yet received the first issue of either magazine.

Given that I have yet to receive the first issue of my subscription to either magazine, imagine my surprise when I got a renewal notification from Saveur in the mail last Friday. I understand the exigencies of maintaining a subscriber base, and I am perfectly comfortable with the judicious use of the delete button in my email, and the recycle bin outside my front door, however getting a request to resubscribe to a magazine I haven’t actually received yet is just tacky.

It irritated me enough that I actually emailed the Customer Care Department at Saveur and suggested that this particular sequence of events was likely to make me less, not more, inclined to renew when my subscription came due. The email I got back from them this morning is a stunning example of a failure of customer service.

“We received your order on January 25, 2012. It takes approximately 8-10 weeks to start receiving your magazines. Your subscription starts with the March 2012 issue and will expire issue 01 of 2014.”

If you think about the sequence of events outlined in that email what it means is that I placed an order on January 9th. It took them two and half weeks to process the order (January 25th). And then, the first thing they did after processing the order – a solid month before I am due to receive my first issue (March) – was to send out a subscription renewal request, which arrived on my doorstep on February 3rd.

The thing that really irks me about all of this is that it would have taken so little from them to assuage my irritation. All I was really looking for was an acknowledgment that perhaps they should have waited until I had at least gotten at least the first issue of their magazine before pressuring me to renew. On the other hand, the timeline suggests that this isn’t a glitch in their system so much as a deliberate company policy. Apart from being generally tacky, the problem with this policy is that the avariciousness that it betrays pretty much guarantees that I won’t resubscribe. I know I’m just one subscriber, but the way the print industry is going these days they can’t really afford to alienate any subscribers.

Dinner Last Week

Last week got away from me somehow. I’m not entirely sure where the time went, but while Dinner made it to the table, nothing made it to the blog about Dinner.

Balsamic Lemon Chicken
Mustard Roasted Potatoes
Apple Sauce
Green Beans

Balsamic Lemon Chicken

Recipe previously given: Summer Lovin’ Happened So Fast

Mustard Roasted Potatoes
(serves somewhere between 6 and 10 people depending on appetite)

I liked these, but would make them with amendments next time. I was concerned that they would come out unbearably mustardy, which they don’t at all. In fact I think you could stand to intensify the mustard flavor, maybe by using part whole grain Dijon mustard (which tends to be fairly mild) and part a smooth or spicy Dijon mustard (which tends to have a more intense flavor). I would also up the amount of lemon zest I used, but that may be because I’m on a lemon kick at the moment and want to spike everything with a lemony kick.

That said, these roasted up beautifully with crispy exteriors and tender light interiors. I was worried that the mustard seeds in the grainy mustard would burn, but they didn’t. My only caveat is that Gourmet seems to think that 3 lb of potatoes will serve 10 people, to which I can only say that they’ve clearly never fed Dinner. I made about 4 lb of potatoes and served six, and could possibly have stretched that to seven or eight if absolutely necessary.

½ cup grainy Dijon Mustard
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp butter, melted
2 Tbsp lemon juice
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp lemon zest (I’d use more next time)
1 tsp kosher salt
3 lb mixed red and white potatoes, cut into ¾” wedges
Pepper

Preheat your oven to 425.

Whisk together the first seven ingredients. Add the potatoes. Season generously with pepper and then toss with the mustard mixture.

Oil two rimmed baking sheets and then spread dressed potatoes on them, leaving any excess mustard mixture behind in the bowl.

Roast for 20 minutes, then toss the potatoes, making sure that a different edge of the potato is side down on the baking sheet. Roast for another 25 minutes until crispy outside and tender inside.

Apple Sauce

Recipe previously given: Bangers ‘n’ Mash

Dinner This Week

Pork Chops
Twice Baked Potatoes
Roasted Broccoli
Roasted Pear Chutney
Salad

Pork Chops

Recipe previously given: In Which I Fail At Birthdays, but Am Graciously Forgiven

Twice Baked Potatoes

Recipe previously given: Curried Fruit & the Internet

Roasted Broccoli

Recipe previously given: It Could Always Be Worse

Roasted Pear Chutney
(makes 2-3 cups – I doubled it, served 6 and had about 2 cups leftover)

I was a little dubious about this when I put it in the fridge on Monday night. It was good, but not quite what I was expecting from a chutney. By Tuesday night, when the flavors had had time to marry and mellow, it was all I could do not to sit down with the bowl and a spoon and forget the rest of dinner.

As a note, this will never become a thick gooey chutney, but it does tighten up a little as it sits in the fridge. It’s a little fiddly to make, but absolutely worth the time.

2 ripe Bosc pears, peeled and cut in half
2 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
¼ cup + 1 Tbsp sugar
¾ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp cloves
Vegetable oil
¼ cup maple syrup
1 small red onion, very roughly chopped (you want largish pieces)
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tsp grated fresh ginger
3 Tbsp raisins
3 Tbsp golden raisins*
½ cup white wine vinegar
1 tsp hot red pepper flakes
1 tsp chopped fresh thyme
1 cup diced mango

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a baking pan with a double layer of foil (see the picture at the top of this week’s menu for evidence as to why this is such a good idea). Lightly oil the foil.

In the pan toss the pears with the lemon juice, 1 Tbsp sugar, cinnamon, and cloves. Arrange the pears so that they are cut side down, and brush the tops with a little vegetable oil. Roast until caramelized and tender, about 40 to 50 minutes depending on the degree of ripeness. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

While the pears are roasting, bring the remaining ingredients to a boil in a nonreactive saucepan. Reduce the heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.

Core the now cooled pears (trimming off any parts that seem more burned than caramelized), and cut into a ½” dice. Add the pears to the onion mixture. Stir to combine. Cover and refrigerate at least 1 day before serving.

* I think this would also be good with dried cranberries or dried cherries.

In the mid 1980’s we lived in Hong Kong for 18 months during which period we somehow managed to have enough time to visit Malaysia, the Philippines, Japan, China, Macau and Singapore.  On the apparently rare occasions that we were at home, we used to meet my father at noon every Saturday and go have Dim Sum.  We’d meet my father at his office, and then cross through a public garden which on a Saturday was full of brides in bright red wedding dresses having their wedding pictures taken (possibly Statue Square?), to the Dim Sum restaurant at the top of the neighboring office tower.  

There were two floors of the Dim Sum restaurant, one for the gweilos, and one for the locals.  I have no idea what happened if you frequented the gweilo floor because we never went.  The floor for locals was a labyrinthine series of rooms full of round banquet tables set just far enough apart to allow the passage of the dim sum carts.  You got a big bowl of rice, a bottomless pot of tea, and then you waited until a Dim Sum lady passed by your table at which point she’d open up steamer baskets of dumplings and you’d point to the ones you wanted.  Each basket of dumplings garnered you a stamp on a card, and at the end of the meal – which was never over until you’d had at least two rounds of the bao filled with sweet barbecued pork – you paid for however many stamps you’d racked up on your card.

I spent a lot of years after we moved away from Hong Kong with fond memories of weekly dim sum, and eating a lot of Chinese brunches in search of that experience again.  I have to admit, I didn’t think that Boston was going to be the place that I rediscovered the delight of properly served dim sum given that I spent the first few years I lived here trying to find a Chinese restaurant that feel the need to include Italian bread with your takeout order.  However, first I found Yangzee up in Lexington, which serves a limited cart-style dim sum brunch on the weekends.  Lexington has a fairly sizeable Chinese population, and you see a lot of them eating at Yangzee which is always a good sign.  Then friends introduced me to Hei La Moon in Chinatown and I refound the nirvana of dim sum on a weekend morning.

You have to get to Hei La Moon early, because if you get there too late in the morning you’ll be standing in line forever.  You should to wear loose clothing when you go because you’re going to want to eat your body weight in dumplings – and you always end up eating more dumplings than you planned while you wait for that one cart with the dumpling you’re absolutely craving to come around.  If possible take a growing boy with you so that he can vacuum up all the leftover dumplings on the table while you wait for the bao cart.  If you’re really lucky you’ll know someone who speaks Cantonese who can maybe tell you what’s in all the dumplings you’re devouring (although, sometimes ignorance is the best policy).  And, most importantly, you need to go in a group because the more people you have at the table the more kinds of dumplings you can order without leaving food on the table, and without feeling like you’ve just committed the sin of gluttony.

Dim Sum at Hei La Moon is the dim sum of my childhood – a bottomless pot of tea, an endless stream of dim sum carts (always wheeled by women – the waiters are all men, but women control the carts), and a card full of mysterious stamps at the end of the meal (which somehow never ends up being more than about $15/person no matter how much you eat).  I’ve seen reviews that suggest that the Winsor Dim Sum Café in Chinatown has a better Dim Sum menu, but you have to order a la carte, and for me if you aren’t pointing at mysterious steamer baskets full of dumplings you’re missing half the fun of going out for dim sum.  We no longer go to dim sum every weekend – which for the state of my waist line is probably a good thing – but in honor of Chinese New Year, and because I’ve been craving dim sum since early December, we are going this weekend and as a result the rest of this week cannot pass fast enough to suit me.

(Pork & Chive) Wonton Soup
Lemongrass Meatballs
Peanut Sesame Noodles
Black Tea (baked) Dumplings
Ginger Dipping Sauce
Chinese Greens

We moved to Hong Kong in January of 1984, and a few weeks later we watched the fireworks for Chinese New Year over Hong Kong Harbor.  Coincidentally that year Chinese New Year fell on my father’s birthday and he tried to convince me that the fireworks were in honor of him.  For the record, even at 8 I was skeptical of this claim.

Chinese New Year was Monday, welcoming in the Year of the Dragon, which as it happens is my sign.  In honor of that, Dinner this week is a panoply of pan-Asian(ish) dishes ranging from the Chinese(ish) (Pork & Chive) Wonton Soup, to the Vietnamese(ish) Lemongrass Meatballs, to the Thai(ish) Peanut Sesame Noodles, to the distinctly California-Chinese fusion Black Tea Dumplings.

(Pork & Chive) Wonton Soup

I won’t lie, making wontons is a little fiddly and time consuming.  On the up side, you can do it in advance and freeze the wontons.  This means that (a) you’re not making wontons the night you’re trying to serve them, and (b) if you make enough you can have leftovers in your freezer for any emergency wonton needs you might have at a later date.

Pork & Chive Wontons (makes 30-40 wontons)
½ lb ground pork
½ Tbsp Shaoxing wine (or dry sherry)
¼ tsp sesame oil
½ tsp chili-garlic sauce
1 ½ tsp finely grated ginger
½ tsp rice vinegar
2 tsp soy sauce
½ tsp kosher salt
Pinch of pepper
3 Tbsp finely chopped chives
3 Tbsp finely chopped scallions
24-30 wonton wrappers

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and mix well.

Place a slightly rounded teaspoon of filling in the center of a wonton wrapper.  Moisten the edges of the wrapper with some water and fold wrapper over filling and seal (make sure you don’t have air pockets).  Bring the corners together and moisten with water and press to seal together to form a tortellini kind of shape (see below).  Repeat until you run out of filling.

Either cook immediately in simmering soup for 3 minutes.  Or, freeze on a baking tray, and then add to soup directly from the freezer and cook for 7-8 minutes in simmering soup.

Wonton Soup (serves 8)
12-14 cups chicken stock (use the good homemade stuff)
4-5 heads of baby bok choi, leaves separated and rinsed
24-32 pork & chive wontons (3-4 wontons/person)

Bring the soup stock to a simmer.  Cook the wontons for 3 minutes (fresh) or 7-8 minutes (frozen).  Divide the wontons evenly among the bowls (3-4 wontons/person) with a ladle of the broth to keep them warm while you cook the bok choi.  Add the bok choi leaves to the simmering soup and cook for 1-2 minutes to wilt the leaves.  Divide the bok choi evenly among the bowls.  Fill the bowls with as much stock as desired.  Serve.

Lemongrass Meatballs with Scallion Oil
(serves 4 / about 16 meatballs)

There was so much food on the table for Dinner that I actually achieved leftover meatballs.  This is not something that has ever happened to me before, I almost didn’t know what to do with them I was so startled.

Scallion Oil
2 Tbsp vegetable oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
6 scallions, white and green parts, thinly sliced

Heat the vegetable oil in a medium skillet, then add the garlic and cook over medium heat until softened but not browned.  Add the scallions and cook until wilted, about 2 minutes.  Remove from heat.  Can be made in advance and stored in the refrigerator.

Meatballs
1 ½ Tbsp minced lemongrass (from 1 stalk)
1 lb ground chicken
1 ½ Tbsp minced shallots
1 Tbsp fish sauce (or 2 tsp soy sauce + 1 tsp lime juice)
1 Tbsp cornstarch
1 serrano chili, seeded & minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp light brown sugar
½ tsp kosher salt

Remove and discard the tough outer layer of the lemongrass to reveal the pale inner stalk.  Trim off the bulbous tip of the stalk.  Then thinly slice the lemongrass until you reach the tough upper stalk.  Transfer to a food processor and pulse until finely minced.  Measure out 1 ½ Tbsp minced lemongrass (freeze the remainder for later use).

Combine the lemongrass with all other ingredients and mix well.  Cover and refrigerate for at least 15 minutes, and up to 4 hours.  Shape into 16 meatballs (I use a 1 oz scoop which makes forming evenly sized meatballs very quick and easy).

You can either grill the meatballs on an indoor or outdoor grill for about 4 minutes/side.  Or you can put them on a parchment lined baking sheet, brush lightly with vegetable oil, and bake in a 375 oven for 20-25 minutes.

Serve the meatballs with the scallion oil and ginger dipping sauce (see below for recipe).

Note:  I served my meatballs with lettuce cups (Boston lettuce makes for nice convenient cups) so that people could form little packages of meatballs and scallion oil.

Peanut Sesame Noodles
(serves 6-8 as a side dish)

Dressing
½ cup smooth peanut butter
¼ cup soy sauce
1/3 cup warm water
1 Tbsp chopped fresh ginger
1 clove garlic
2 Tbsp rice vinegar
1 ½ Tbsp sesame oil
1 Tbsp honey
1 tsp dried red pepper flakes

Combine all ingredients in a blender and process until smooth.  Can be made in advance and refrigerated.

Salad
¾ lb soba noodles
4 scallions, thinly sliced
1-2 peppers, julienned (use pretty colors)
1 cucumber, quartered and then thinly sliced
1 cup edamame, cooked and drained
3 Tbsp sesame seeds, toasted

Cook the soba noodles until tender.  Drain and then rinse in cold water.  Drizzle with a little sesame oil to keep the noodles from sticking together.

Toss the cooled soba noodles with the vegetables, sesame seeds, and dressing.  Serve immediately (the noodles absorb the sauce, so this doesn’t hold particularly well over night).

Black Tea (baked) Dumplings
(makes 24-30 dumplings)

One of my requirements for entertaining is that I get to enjoy the evening with my guests.  This means that I don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen cooking while everyone else is eating and is why Dinner will never involve individual pizzas, or pancakes or anything else that has to be made in batches. This is also why there are no steamed or fried dumplings on the menu tonight (ditto on why the meatballs are baked not pan fried).  I lack the stove space to pan fry enough dumpling at once to feed Dinner, and I don’t have huge woks in which I can stack steamer baskets full of dumplings to cook (even if I owned steamer baskets).  This is another reason to go out to dim sum, they have large industrial kitchens and an army of people making and cooking all the dumplings you could possibly want.

1 tsp black tea leaves (Lapsang Souchong is particularly good), ground to a powder
1 Tbsp sesame oil
3 shallots, finely chopped (or half a red onion)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 lb mushrooms, finely chopped
1/3 head Chinese cabbage, thinly sliced
2 handfuls baby spinach
2 Tbsp soy sauce
24-30 wonton wrappers
2 tsp sesame oil

In 1 tsp of the sesame oil sauté the Chinese cabbage until it is wilted and starting to brown a little.  Transfer to a bowl.

Add another 1 tsp of the sesame oil to the pan and sauté the mushrooms.  Cook until they release and then reabsorb their liquid.  Continue to cook until they start to brown.  Transfer to the bowl with the cabbage.

Add the rest of the sesame oil to the pan and sauté the shallots and garlic until softened.  Add the spinach and cook until it wilts.  Transfer to the bowl with the cabbage and mushrooms.

Season the mixture with the soy sauce and ground tea.  Mix well, and then adjust seasonings to taste.  Allow to cool to room temperature.

Place a rounded teaspoon of filling in the center of a wonton wrapper.  Moisten the edges of the wrapper with some water and fold wrapper over filling and seal (make sure you don’t have air pockets).  Repeat until you run out of filling.

Place the dumplings on a parchment lined baking sheet.  At this point you can either freeze them, or you can bake them immediately.  Just before you bake them brush each dumpling with a little sesame or vegetable oil, then bake in a 400 oven for about 8-10 minutes, turning the dumplings over halfway through, until they are golden and crispy (if you’re baking directly from frozen this will take about 12-15 minutes).  Serve with ginger dipping sauce (see recipe below).

Ginger Dipping Sauce
(makes enough for 2-3 people)
This gets better if it has time to sit and let the flavors intensify and meld, and it will keep quite nicely in your fridge for a while.

2 Tbsp soy sauce
2 Tbsp chicken stock
1 Tbsp fresh ginger, finely minced
2 Tbsp scallions, finely minced
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tsp sugar

Whisk together and allow to sit for 15-20 minutes for the flavors to marry.

Chinese Greens
(serves 8)

The key to making broccoli rabe is blanching it.  I spent years trying to get around this, because it’s another step and another dirty pan and it seems like something you should be able to skip.  Unfortunately, you really can’t.  Blanching the broccoli rabe softens the bitter flavor, it also means that when you sauté it later you won’t turn the leaves to mush as you wait for the stalks to get tender.

3-4 bunches broccoli rabe (or Chinese broccoli if you can find it), tough lower stalks cut off
8 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
1” chunk fresh ginger, peeled and grated
Sesame/Vegetable/Olive Oil
Soy sauce
Salt/pepper

Bring a large pot of unsalted water to a boil.  Add the broccoli rabe to the water and cook for 2 minutes.  Drain and immediately rinse with cold water.  Place on a towel and pat off excess water.  At this point you can wrap the broccoli rabe in paper towels and refrigerate it for up to 2 days.

In a little oil sauté the thinly sliced garlic and grated ginger until the garlic is just softened, and starting to turn golden around the edges (1-2 minutes).  Add the broccoli rabe and toss to coat.  Saute until broccoli is heated through (about 5 minutes).  Season to taste with salt and pepper (and/or a splash of soy sauce).  Serve.

I’m slowly working my way through the cookbooks on the 2011 Best of lists that I talked about in early December.

I’ve perused The Food of Spain by Claudia Roden which was pretty, but didn’t inspire me to copy out a single recipe.

I’ve drooled over the pretty pretty pictures in The Food of Morocco by Paula Wolfert, but mostly relegated it to the realm of ‘and this is why I go to restaurants’. She had some spectacular recipes for tagines, including a lamb tagine with honeyed squash that involves a shredded squash that’s cooked down to a jam like consistency with honey and lemon juice and then layered over a slow braised lamb and browned in the oven. Expect to see this on the Dinner menu sometime this winter, although probably with beef not lamb.

On the other hand, she also had a lot of sections that started like this:

“A few words about tagines [ . . . ] Must you acquire one? No, you don’t have to but you really should. A tagine will make it possible to cook Moroccan food the authentic way and present your dishes beautifully at table, and the results will greatly reward you. To put the question another way, would you even consider embarking on an exploration of Chinese food without purchasing a wok?”

Answer? Yes, yes I would. I have nowhere to put a wok, and for the amount of stir frying I do a heavy skillet is entirely sufficient. As much as I covet a tagine, for it’s aesthetic qualities if nothing else, a dutch oven is just fine for my tagine making needs.

And this:

“If you love couscous as much as I do, you’ll want to acquire a true couscousier. But you can steam couscous perfectly well in a colander (metal or, even better, stoneware) that fits snugly over a tall pot, or in the type of pasta pot that comes with a shallow steam insert.”

One, a couscousier? Really? Two, the only stoneware colanders I’ve ever seen have been small, and generally for the purposes of draining fruit in a decorative manner on your counter. And three, she then proceeds to give a two page, six step method for making couscous that involves rinsing it twice and steaming it three times. I have a fairly high bar for unnecessarily complicated, but that’s way way over it.

As an antidote to the sheer improbable (although probably very authentic) impracticality of Paula Wolfert, I checked out Ana Sortun’s* Spice: Flavor’s of the Eastern Mediterranean. It’s sitting on my coffee table and I’m daunted by the multitude of recipes I want to copy out and make.

* Owner/chef of “Oleana” which I’m now referring to as my favorite restaurant I’ve never been to.

I read Make the Bread, Buy the Butter by Jennifer Reese and was passably amused by it. I am, to a certain extent, the choir to her preacher. I already make most things from scratch (bread being a notable exception), and the things I don’t make from scratch I’m usually perfectly happy to spend the money for someone else to make for me (see ricotta, mozzarella, yogurt . . . ). On the other hand, I was genuinely entertained by her description of the three day long saga that was making homemade hot dogs. Verdict, she spent three days, achieved something that tasted exactly like ballpark hotdogs (which was the goal), and now knew precisely what was likely to be in a mass produced hotdog (her recommendation – buy it sporadically when you have a craving).

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain got picked up this week as T-ride reading material. I’m about 100 pages in, and I’d say I’ll never eat brunch out again except that I have a brunch reservation for this Sunday.

Truly Mexican by Roberto Santibanez is waiting for me at the library, and I added American Flavor by Andrew Carmellini to my list after I ran across a recipe for a lamb chili with chickpeas and raita that was included in the book.

Pasta with Pumpkin Sauce
Salad
Bread

Pasta with Pumpkin Sauce

This week’s Dinner is evidence that I can in fact take a hint after everyone (no really, everyone) wistfully commented in the weeks leading up to Christmas that we hadn’t had Pasta with Pumpkin Sauce in such a long time. Also, next week’s Dinner is probably an overly ambitious nod to Chinese New Year, so I have to take my simple where I can this week.

Recipe previously given: Season of Mists & Mellow Fruitfulness

Petra has convinced me that, even though I’m a complete slacker (who disappeared for, oh, years), she still loves me and wouldn’t mind sharing the blog space again. After we managed to get the West Coast MND going again in 2010, a series of events pushed it into hiatus for about 10 months.

However! In those intervening months, I moved into a bigger kitchen (though, honestly, it would have been difficult to move into a smaller one). Two people can actively cook/prep/wash without knocking the other person over. And not only can more than two people cook, there’s space for people to hover in the doorways. A social kitchen, how I have missed you.

We’ve had a successful MND since about October, so I feel fairly confident I can start blogging about it again, though I still haven’t remembered to take photos of preparations. I promise pretty photos in the future.

For Christmas, I got dutch oven (things I never thought I’d be excited about when I was younger, for $500 Alex) — and have been using it as often as possible. I decided to get my feet wet with some Indian-inspired recipes. Now, I can’t say these would have made an Indian mother proud (nor do they constitute a full Indian dinner), but they were successful nonetheless.

Menu:
Dinner:
Chicken Cashew Curry
Saag
Basmati Rice
Takeaway Naan (provided by one of our guests)

Dessert:
Apple Crumble w/ Vanilla Ice Cream (provided by Laura and her sixteen bushels of CSA apples)

Chicken Cashew Curry
adapted by Gourmet
Served 7-8 as I made it, with some leftover. As always, I used a bit more of each spice than the recipe called for. I added about a tsp of garam masala. The cayenne gave it a nice kick of heat at the end.

1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
2 medium onions, finely chopped (2 cups)
2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 tablespoon finely chopped peeled fresh ginger
3 tablespoons curry powder
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1 (3 1/2- to 4-pound) chicken, cut into 10 serving pieces
1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
3/4 cup cashews (1/4 pound)
3/4 cup plain whole-milk yogurt

The recipe is fairly forgiving, I feel. I chopped 3 lbs of boneless, skinless chicken thighs and a 1 lb of chicken breasts into bite sized pieces, instead of the whole chicken. I also used 1.5 cans of tomatoes, because I had some tomatoes left over from a previous meal. I think it worked – may even add more next time. I also used 2% Greek Yogurt, which didn’t seem to impact the flavor. I had a guest with a nut allergy, so I removed a serving of the curry prior to adding the nuts — the sauce didn’t thicken with just the yogurt, but the taste still worked.

Heat butter in a 5- to 6-quart wide heavy pot over moderately low heat until foam subsides, then cook onions, garlic, and ginger, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add curry powder, salt, cumin, and cayenne and cook, stirring, 2 minutes. Add chicken and cook, stirring to coat, 3 minutes. [On Petra's suggestion, I tossed in the thighs, did the next step, and then 20 minutes later, I added the breast meat. It seemed to work; the breast meat didn't get overcooked but still grabbed some great flavor.] Add tomatoes, including juice, and cilantro and bring to a simmer, then cover and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until chicken is cooked through, about 40 minutes.

Just before serving:
Pulse cashews in a food processor or electric coffee/spice grinder until very finely ground, then add to curry along with yogurt and simmer gently, uncovered, stirring, until sauce is thickened, about 5 minutes.

[Curry, without yogurt and cashews, can be made 5 days ahead and cooled completely, uncovered, then chilled, covered. Reheat over low heat before stirring in yogurt and ground cashews.]

Saag
Served 6-7

So, there’s a lot of butter in this. I’m sure you could make it with less butter, but I haven’t tried it yet. And it’s the first recipe for homemade saag that I think really has the taste I’m looking for from saag.

1/2 cup butter
2 teaspoons cumin seed
1 green chile pepper, seeded and diced
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 tablespoons ground turmeric
1 pound chopped fresh mustard greens
1 pound chopped fresh spinach
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon salt

I’ve made this recipe twice now. The first time, we used two bunches of rainbow chard and one bunch of spinach (side dish for 7). This time, I used kale and spinach. It tasted amazing both times. I think you can use any combo of greens – but do use the full pound of each because it cooks down so much. Someone recommended using cornstarch to make it thicker and, if you want the thick saag from a restaurant, you may want to do that. Otherwise, it was good as is. I did just leave it alone and let it cook down at the end, and I think that really helped.

In a large skillet or wok, melt butter over medium-high heat, and cook and stir cumin seed, chile pepper, garlic, and turmeric until fragrant, about 2 minutes.

Stir in the chopped mustard greens and spinach a little at a time, adding the tougher parts first (the stems and thicker leaves). Continue to add greens, and cook and stir until all greens have been added and all are thoroughly wilted. Stir in the cumin, coriander, and salt. Cover; reduce heat and simmer until greens are tender, about 10 minutes, adding water as needed to keep the greens moist.

2011 was the year of discovering that it wasn’t that I disliked entire categories of ingredients or cuisines, it was just one iteration of them that I disliked and that iteration happened to be the only one I’d ever eaten.

First there was the discovery that I don’t dislike eggplant, I just dislike breaded and fried eggplant. Actually, I quite like eggplant so long as it isn’t soggy with oil. To read between the lines, what I mean is I don’t particularly like eggplant parmesan, but will enthusiastically order Fainting Imam at my local Turkish restaurant, or any wok seared eggplant in a Chinese restaurant. I also now frequently roast eggplant for dinner, either just plain or doused in spicy sweet ginger honey sauce.

Then, I came to the realization that I don’t dislike Mexican food, I just dislike Northeastern TexMex. I qualify TexMex with Northeastern, but it’s entirely possible that I would like TexMex when made somewhere closer to the actual Texas-Mexico border than Massachusetts. This realization was conveniently timed for me to be excited by the opening of a Mexican bistro in my neighborhood. It also means I have an entirely new subset of cookbooks to eye enterprisingly. I still can’t get excited about flan though.

Finally, it turns out I don’t dislike lentils in general, I only dislike lentils in the specific. This is to say, I can’t get excited by brown and green (aka French) lentils. I mean, I’ve had them in restaurants and cleaned my plate, but that tends to be more a of ‘huh, for a lentil this isn’t bad’ rather than a ‘wow, I need to run home and find this recipe online so that I can recreate it’ kind of reaction. On the other hand, it turns out I can get very enthused about Indian dals,. Partially, I suspect this has to do with liking ginger and garlic and garam masala, but it’s also because they tend to cook up creamy and comforting rather than into distinct pellets like a French lentil (look, even really well cooked French lentils are hard and pellet like, they never really collapse, which is fine, they’re not supposed to, it’s just not a design feature I like in a lentil).

This was also the year of the chickpea. This goes hand in hand with the fact that this was also the year I tried to make at least one vegetarian meal a week. Since I don’t like tofu, refuse to consider tempeh, faux-meat products, or seitan, and don’t want to eat pasta or eggs as my vegetarian meal every week, I had to find other sources of protein. Chickpeas are an awesome source of protein, and they lend themselves nicely to a variety of applications. You turn them into falafel (even better when you add pumpkin) and tuck them into a pita with lots of garlicky tzatziki sauce. You can stir fry them with lemon zest (I skip the tofu, but tend to add something else like mushrooms or zucchini and serve them with cauliflower fritters). You can simmer them with tomatoes and garlic and ginger and serve them with naan and cool raita. You can pan fry them and then mix them with a curried yogurt sauce for an unexpectedly amazing summer salad (I add some chopped apples and a handful of dried fruit to mine). The possibilities are endless.

I also started experimenting with Indian food at home this year. Thanks to cookbooks and cooking shows from Monica Bhide, Anjum Anand, and Bal Arneson I got over my skittishness about the complexity of Indian food, and my conviction that it necessarily involved a cup of heavy cream in every dish. I have turned out successful paratha, roti, and dosas. I have experimented with curries other than tikka masala, and made more raita than I can begin to describe.

So what’s on the docket for 2012?

Firstly, this is the year that I am going to get to Oleana for a meal. I keep saying I want to go, but have yet to achieve this goal. So 2012 will be the year of Oleana, even if I have to go by myself.

I’ve been experimenting lately with Asian food (East Asian vs. Indian Asian). I finally bought a bottle of fish sauce last week to make Thai Basil Chicken, and it was amazing. Yes, it smells marginally funky when it’s raw, but as soon as you add it to the hot pan it changes its nature and adds a wonderful deep savory note to the dish. Also, I have now made dumplings, and provided you don’t feel an urge to make your own dumpling wrappers, they’re remarkably easy and I will make them more often. So, the Asian food experiments will continue.

Also on the roster for experimentation are milk braised pork, tea smoked spare ribs, and red beans and rice. I also resolve to cook more duck because it’s tasty and so much easier than I expected.

I’d like to start eating more fish, and more varieties of fish. I know I don’t particularly like the heavy oily fishes like salmon and tuna, and that I do like white fishes like tilapia, cod and haddock. But there are whole other worlds of fish beyond those five that I couldn’t say if I like or not – there’s trout and bass and swordfish just for starters. So, more visits to seafood restaurants, and being more adventurous with ordering when I’m there. What I really need is some kind of seafood sampler plate so that I can try a lot of different kinds of fish at once.

I’d like to say this will be the year that I conquer my phobia about yeast, but I haven’t decided whether the ability to bake my own fresh bread is actually a temptation I need to bring into my life. I find bread tempting enough even when my house hasn’t been filled with the smell of it baking.

So what are your food resolutions for 2012?

Braised French Onion Chicken with Gruyère
Salad
Bread

Braised French Onion Chicken with Gruyère
(serves 4-6)

This is the answer for people who like the theory of French Onion soup, but find it too rich to eat in practice. And by people I really mean me. I like French Onion Soup, but tend to find it so rich with the butter, and cheese and beef stock that four spoonfuls into a bowl I’m done. This has the same glorious caramelized onion base, but is sauced up with chicken stock instead of beef, and cut with roasted chicken thighs to balance the richness of the onions.

I won’t lie, this is time consuming. It has two saving graces. One, you can assemble it the night before and put it in the oven to bake when you get home the next night. And two, provided you do it in two pans you can get everything else for the recipe done and cleaned up while the onions are caramelizing (because they really do take the better part of an hour to achieve that melting caramelized state of nirvana and you shouldn’t try to rush that kind of bliss).

3 Tbsp unsalted butter
2 lb onions, sliced into thin half-moons
4 garlic cloves, sliced
2 small sprigs thyme, leaves only
4-inch sprig rosemary
2 cups chicken broth, divided*
1 Tbsp Calvados (optional)
1 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 ½ Tbsp whole grain mustard
½ Tbsp Dijon mustard
3 lb (bone-in/skin-on) chicken thighs (or one thigh/person)
2-3 oz Gruyère cheese, finely grated

Melt the butter in a large heavy pot over a medium heat. When the butter has melted completely and foams up, add the onions. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper and stir to coat all the onions in the melted butter. Cook over a medium to low heat for 40-60 minutes, stirring occasionally.

When the onions have developed an even light beige color, add the garlic, thyme leaves, and whole rosemary sprig, and cook for a few minutes more, stirring frequently. Turn the heat up to high and cook for a further 5-10 minutes, stirring frequently. You want dark, slightly burnt spots to appear on the onions, and for them to develop a rich mahogany color.

When the onions get quite dark, add 1 cup of the chicken broth. Scrape the pan vigorously to scrape up any burnt or stuck-on bits. Bring the liquid up to the boil and allow to cook for about 5 minutes, or until reduced by about half. Remove the rosemary sprig.

Take the onions off the heat and spread them in an even layer on the bottom of a 9×13” baking dish.

While the onions are cooking, heat a large heavy pan over medium-high heat. Trim any excess fat/skin from the chicken thighs, pat dry, and season lightly with salt and pepper. When the skillet is hot, add the thighs skin side down and brown for about 5-7 minutes, or until the skin has formed a golden brown crust. Turn the chicken over and brown for another 3 minutes or so, or until some color has developed. You will probably need to do this in two batches. Remove from pan and set chicken aside.

Drain the fat from the pan, and then deglaze with a splash of Calvados (or other alcohol of choice – sherry would be good, so would brandy). Add the remaining 1 cup of chicken stock, balsamic vinegar and mustards. Bring up to a boil and simmer for about 5 minutes, or until liquid is reduced by about half.

Pour the sauce over the onions in the pan. Arrange the chicken, skin side up, on top of the onions. Cover the pan tightly with a double layer of foil.

At this point you can refrigerate the dish overnight. If you are dubious about the effects of browning the chicken and then refrigerating it, you could do that part just before you baked it, but I put the whole thing together on Monday night and baked it Tuesday and so far everyone seems to be okay, so . . . .

Preheat your oven to 350-375. Bake the dish covered for 30 minutes, then remove the foil (add a little water or chicken stock if it looks like your onions are drying out – this was not a problem I had) and continue to cook until a meat thermometer registers 170 (about another 10-20 minutes depending on the size of your thighs). At this point sprinkle the cheese evenly over the chicken and return to the oven for 5-10 minutes, or until a meat thermometer registers 180 and the cheese is melted.

If you happen to have some on hand, garnish with some chopped chives for color. Serve immediately with lots of warm crusty bread to mop up the sauce.

* I made 1.5 x the recipe (so 4lb of bone-in chicken thighs) but did not increase the amount of liquid I used (I still used 2 cups total). My dish came out with just enough sauce to moisten the onion jam, but if you’d like a saucier dish up the quantity of liquid you use.

Salad
I livened up the salad with some thinly sliced fennel, an apple cut into matchsticks and some dried cranberries.

Bread
The fact that I don’t bake is enabled by the large number of excellent bakeries in the area who can provide me with a baker’s dozen of crusty sourdough dinner rolls, and a loaf savory cranberry rosemary bread for under $10.

Let me back up.  In a novel turn of events my parents and I spent Christmas on the marginally obscure Caribbean island of Curacao (yes, like the liqueur).  Why, you might ask, did I go to an island most people in the US have never heard of . . . . did I mention the 85 F sunshine?  Actually, I had a better reason than that (although currently I’m inclined to think that 85 F is its own reward – I found myself unironically describing 26 F as balmy earlier this week).  The better reason is that when my father was a teenager he lived on Curacao for several years.  This was back when Curacao was on the far edge of nowhere as far as anyone in Europe was concerned, there was a mail boat that arrived sporadically and the entire island turned out to see it come in to port (and find out what packages it was carrying).  He went back in the ‘90s for work and was pleasantly surprised by how the island had developed, and preserved its past.  My mother and I have always wanted to visit but it never seemed to work out until this year.

I think there is a magic age when you are about 13-15 when wherever it is you live becomes home for you in a way that nowhere else has been before.  You’re old enough to go exploring on your own and find your own secret favorite places (even when they’re massive public spaces) and that you love for reasons that are entirely your own and have nothing to do with your parents or friends or siblings.  For me that place is Paris, for my father it turns out that place is Curacao.  It was really lovely to have a chance to see the places where he lived, and went to school (some of which have aged better than others), and hear stories not just about living there in the ‘50s, but also about just growing up there.

Most people in the US are more familiar with Aruba – as witnessed by the fact that there’s a direct Jet Blue flight from Boston to Aruba, and there’s an entire terminal at the Aruba airport devoted to US bound flights (downside – once you enter it’s like you’ve ended your vacation early and are back in the US; upside – you clear customs in the tiny airport of Aruba and therefore get to skip the tedium of doing it in the much larger airport of Boston).  However, if you’re Dutch, you’re probably more familiar with Curacao – as evidenced by the daily direct flights from Amsterdam.

Oddly both islands (+ Bonaire) are Dutch historically and currently (in some convoluted way that neither my parents nor I could ever fully parse).  Landing in Aruba this is not obvious since all signs are in Spanish, and the airport is in fact called the Aeropuerto Internacional Reina Beatrix.  Curacao, on the other hand, is emphatically Dutch, from the hagelslag (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it) and krentenbrood in the supermarkets, to the kroketten broodjes on every lunch menu (I prefer them in bitterballen form – but they are tasty in that way that deep fried things are usually tasty).

Curacao (and Aruba and Bonaire – collectively and imaginatively the ABC Islands) was originally settled by the Spanish at the very end of the 15th C who promptly enslaved the native population, but never fully appreciated the island itself because it suffered from a lack of gold and an easy supply of fresh water.  The Dutch West India Company (WIC) conquered/inherited/took over the island in 1634 and unlike the Spanish realized the strategic and commercial potential of an island with an enormous defensible deep water harbor.  For context the Schottegat (the internal bay) is large enough to house an oil refinery, the largest dry dock in the Western hemisphere and a naval station without looking crowded.  It’s also only accessible by a narrow channel where the WIC cleverly built a town – now the capital of Willemstad – to protect and oversee access to the harbor.

(pictures of ever so picturesque oil refinery in the Schottegatt, and the actually very charming Fort Nassau that sits on a hill overseeing the Scottegatt and the canal are here)

The West India Company turned Curacao into a nexus for the slave trade – the Curacao Maritime Museum engages in some entertainingly revisionist history and assures the visitor that while the slave trade was obviously a tragedy and a scandal, but that if you had the misfortune to be on a slave ship you wanted to be on a Dutch slave ship because the Dutch transported fewer slaves at a time and took pains to keep the ships clean.   Along with the slave trade Curacao became, as all good Caribbean islands should, a nexus for trade and piracy.  It changed hands between the French and the English a few times during the Napoleonic Wars before reverting to Dutch rule in 1815 under which it has remained ever since.

Currently the island engages in some oil refining, a lot of financial services, and tourism.  It has some sun and sand tourism – the calmer south side of the island has beaches and coral reefs and the windier north side of the island has some good wind surfing, but unusually for the Caribbean it also gets a lot of cultural tourism because Willemstad has been on the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites since 1997.

Technically the architectural style of the island is known as Dutch Baroque (or at least that’s how local historians refer to it).  I think it looks like you took a row of Amsterdam canal houses and decided to build them out of fondant and royal icing.  They are gorgeous ridiculous confections of buildings in a rainbow of cheerful colors.  Apparently originally all the buildings were white washed until they realized that the sun reflecting off the blue Caribbean sea on to all white buildings was blinding the population and causing massive eye strain at which point the governor ordered everyone to paint their houses.  This not only cured the island’s collective migraine, but also resulted in a charming waterfront.

More pictures of the downtown area, and the old Jewish suburbs (now mostly government and office buildings can be found here (Punda), here (Otrabanda), and here (Scharloo))

There’s been a lot of restoration of the old town houses which have been turned into shops and government buildings in the downtown area, and office parks and restaurants in the suburbs.  Sitting at my desk in the 1960’s monstrosity that is my office building (it’s not as bad as Boston City Hall, but it’s in the same vein), I feel keenly envious of anyone who gets to go to work in a building that looks like this instead.

Further out on the island there are the old landhuisen – the homesteads of small plantations (the island’s not big enough to have large plantations).  Not all of them have been restored, we certainly drove past a number that are still awaiting their turn, but a lot of them have been, and are now restaurants (we ate Christmas dinner in an old restored landhuis), and museums, and some of them are even still private residences which is the kind of thing that always blows my mind a little.

(more pictures of landhuisen can be found here)

In between sunning ourselves on beaches, gawking at restored and unrestored home,, and visiting my father’s old haunts, we also had time to go out for a very nice dinner at Landhuis Classics on Christmas Eve, observe some local wildlife up close and personal, and take an egregious number of pictures of the Queen Emma pontoon bridge opening and closing to allow tankers, cruise ships and the occasional flashy Coast Guard boat to enter and exit the Schottegat.  All in all, a very good time was had by all.  If you’d like more proof, I took an egregious number of pictures during the ten days I was there.

Whole gallery is located here.

Gingery Split Pea Soup
Sweet Potato Biscuits
Ham
Roasted Chestnuts
Salad

Gingery Split Pea Soup
(serves 6)

In much the same way that Malta acquired a disturbing fondness for mushy peas from 150 years of British occupation, Curacao inherited a taste for erwtensoep from the Dutch despite the year round 80+ degree weather.  I quite like erwtensoep, and grew up eating it, but declined to indulge in a bowl while sitting under a palm tree wearing a tank top, even if it was December.  However I’m back in Boston now and a bowl of erwtensoep feels a great deal more appropriate.

This is not the erwtensoep I grew up with, it’s more of a deconstructed homage to that erwtensoep than anything else.  For one thing I used yellow instead of green split peas – the taste difference is negligible, but they result in a gorgeous cheerful sunshiney yellow soup (although it takes a very boring picture).  For another thing, this soup is spiked with Indian flavors in the form of coriander, lots of fresh ginger, and then finished with a bright hit of lemon.  And, finally, I’ve moved the ham from the body of the soup to the side of the plate tucked inside a sweet potato biscuit.

1 tsp ground coriander
1 ½ Tbsp olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
2” piece ginger, peeled & minced
1 large onion, chopped
2 carrots, peeled & chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 large leek, rinsed & sliced
1 lb yellow or green split peas, picked over and rinsed
4-6 cups liquid (I used half stock/half water)
2 sprigs rosemary
1 bay leaf
1-2 tsp kosher salt
½ tsp pepper
Zest and juice of half a lemon

Toast the ground coriander in the pan until fragrant (about 30 seconds).  Add the olive oil and sauté the garlic, ginger, onion, carrots, celery and leeks until tender.  Add the split peas, rosemary, bay leaf and 4 cups of liquid.  Bring to a boil, cover, reduce to a simmer and cook for 60-90 minutes until the split peas are tender (you know you’ve cooked them long enough when just stirring the soup more or less purees the peas – you want it creamy, but with some texture).  Season to taste with salt, pepper and lemon zest and juice.  Add more liquid if necessary to thin to the desired texture (I ended up adding nearly the entire extra 2 cups of liquid).

Note:  Don’t add the salt and pepper until after your split peas have cooked.  If you try and season the soup before the split peas have cooked through they will never get as tender and creamy as if you wait.

Also, when you reheat the soup (either because you made it a day in advance, or because you’re eating leftovers) be sure that you stir it frequently.  The thick puree of the peas has a tendency to sink to the bottom of the pot and start to burn on the bottom if you don’t.

Sweet Potato Biscuits
I forgot to measure the cooked sweet potatoes (again), but I did manage not to burn the bottoms of the biscuits this time.

Recipe previously given:  Obvious Answers, Optimism & Guinea Pigs

Ham
For New Year’s Eve I indulged myself and cooked an 11 ½ lb spiral cut ham (and by cooked, I mean I stuck it in a warm oven for several hours to reheat – the effort to pay off ratio on a spiral cut ham is wildly in your favor).  We did our best on New Year’s Eve and made our way through a significant chunk of the ham, but come New Year’s Day there was still a hefty amount leftover.  This was an entirely deliberate calculation on my part and if we hadn’t had enough leftover I would have been forced to go buy more ham from the deli counter to have for Dinner.  Fortunately that wasn’t remotely necessary because while all ham is tasty, this ham was spectacular (although still not as good as a Virginia ham – one day I will do a whole ham dinner).  I carved up the rest of the ham for Dinner and stashed the bone in the freezer for future soup use.  At the end of the night there was just enough ham for a few sandwiches and to put on top of a ‘pizza’ (with pumpkin sauce and apple slices) on Sunday night.

Roasted Chestnuts
I bought chestnuts on whim for New Year’s Eve, but didn’t end up making them then because there was so much food on the table that it was wildly unnecessary.  I made them for Dinner instead (where, to be fair, they were also wildly unnecessary) and ended up introducing them to almost everyone at the table.  It hadn’t really occurred to me that nobody else would have had them before because I grew up buying roasted chestnuts from street vendors first in New York (when we would go in for the Christmas windows), and then in Paris and Geneva (all winter long), and lately in Avignon (when we go to the Christmas market).  However, I think almost nobody at Dinner had ever had them before, and on reflection I don’t think I’ve ever run across them being sold in Boston.  Now that I know how easy they are to make at home I think I’m going to indulge in roasted chestnuts more often.  The homemade version lacks the romance of walking around with a paper twist of piping hot chestnuts on a crisp winter’s day.  On the other hand, this is not a romance that’s apparently available in Boston and I’d rather have prosaic homemade roasted chestnuts than atmospheric, but unavailable, ones.

1 -2 lb fresh chestnuts
¼ cup water
1 tsp vegetable oil

Cut an X into the top of each chestnut with a sharp knife, making sure you slice through both the hard outer shell and the papery inner shell (the hard outer shell so they don’t explode when you roast them (really), the papery inner shell because it makes them easier to peel later).  Try not to cut too deeply into the flesh of the nut (this is easier than it sounds, really).  Toss with the vegetable oil.

Heat a large heavy skillet (ideally a cast iron skillet) over a low to moderate heat and then add the chestnuts.  Cover with a lid and cook for 15-20 minutes, shaking occasionally.  Add the water and allow to steam/cook for a further 5-7 minutes until the nut meats are tender.

Serve immediately.

If you have leftovers peel them and store in a ziplock bag in your fridge.  You can either snack them straight out of the bag, or you can turn them into soup, put them in stuffings, risottos, sauté them with Brussels sprouts . . .

As a side note, chestnuts are significantly easier to peel when they’re warm than when they’re cold, so if you’re roasting chestnuts to use as an ingredient in something (as opposed to just because you want to eat roasted chestnuts from the shell) don’t let them cool before you peel them.

This was to be the last Dinner of the year – Saturday I’m heading off to sunny Curacao for Christmas with my parents (I know, my life is tragic).  So, unless ninjas decide to hijack the blog again next week like they did last year, I will see you all in the New Year.  Happy Holidays to all.

This is the time of year when everyone comes out with their “Best of Lists” and either my reading material has changed in the past year (entirely possible) or cooking/food has become a much bigger deal (also possible) because I’ve seen more “Best of 2011 Cookbook” lists in the past few weeks than I think I saw in the previous decade.

A random, and completely unscientific, sampling of lists (epicurious, Bon Appetit, NPR, the NYT, the Boston Globe, Serious Eats, The Kitchn, David Lebovitz, Kirkus, and The Huffington Post) reveals the following moments of agreement and endorsement.  And, in a rare moment of being insync with the zeitgeist I have not only read two of the three books, I wholeheartedly second their endorsement.

Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi is gorgeous and even after you mentally subtract about ¾ cup of olive oil from every recipe, his recipes still sound mouth watering.  The Eggplant with Buttermilk Sauce recipe came from that book.

Cook This Now by Melissa Clark is currently sitting on my coffee table awaiting return to the library.  It’s a lot more down to earth than Ottolenghi, but this lends itself well to a more day-to-day existence.  I haven’t made anything for Dinner from it yet, but I’ve made a Swiss Chard and Apricot Bulgur Pilaf for us, and the New Year will bring the arrival of her Coconut Beef Stew spiced with jalapenos and garam masala and cooled down with coconut milk and limes; just reading the recipe makes me hungry.

I haven’t read or seen American Flavor by Andrew Carmellini.  When Borders went under downtown Boston lost its only bookstore which makes futzing through cookbooks during my lunch hour so much harder these days.

Slightly less uniformly endorsed, but still widely recommended were:

Momofuku Milk Bar Cookbookby Christina Tosi I’ve heard of this book – and I’ve heard of the actual Momofuku Milk Bar – and while I certainly wouldn’t object if someone wanted to make me something from it, I don’t bake enough to get all that excited about it.

Ruhlman’s Twenty: 20 Techniques, 100 Recipes, A Cook’s Manifesto by Michael Ruhlman I’m always vaguely annoyed by cookbooks that promise me that they’ll teach me the basic techniques so that I don’t need to rely on recipes.  I like recipes.  I like seeing what flavors and ingredients other people have paired together, because frequently they’re things I wouldn’t have thought to marry.  Also, I like trying out new cuisines and I need recipes to work with when I’m trying out new styles of cooking.  Also, and this is petty, but I object to the syntax of his subtitle.

The Art of Living According to Joe Beef:  A Cookbook of Sorts by David McMillan, Frederic Morin, Meredith Erickson Apparently this is a cookbook derived from a restaurant in Montreal.  It sounds like fun, although also full of things I’m never likely to cook.

The Food of Morocco by Paula Wolfert This went on my library request list pretty much as soon as I saw the word Morocco.

The Food of Spain by Claudia Roden Here’s the thing.  I’ve been to Spain three times and never had a good meal while there.  On the other hand, outside of Spain I’ve had spectacular Spanish food at both Dali in (the People’s Republic of) Cambridge, and at Solea in Waltham.  My conclusion is that I should probably give the cookbook a try, since apparently I do like Spanish food so long as I’m not actually in Spain while I eat it (or I was eating in all the wrong places – also possible).

The Homesick Texan by Lisa Fain Everyone loves this cookbook.  I’m a little eh about it.  I’ve flipped through it and not been particularly inspired.  On the other hand, SmittenKitchen made a recipe for carnitas from it that I’m pretty sure is already on next year’s Dinner request list, so possibly I should flip through it again.

Truly Mexican by Roberto Santibanez This one I hadn’t heard of, and in light of my recent discovery that I actually quite like Mexican food so long as it isn’t filtered through the kitchens of a Northeast chain restaurant, I clearly need to go add this to my library request list.

I’d add an honorable mention for Supernatural Every Day by Heidi Swanson.  It only made one of the lists that I looked at, but it was one of the cookbooks I really looked forward to this year and patiently waited to come in for me at the library.  It’s where the recipe for the Yogurt Biscuits came from, and is the source of my new favorite ginger cookies (two kinds of ginger + dried apricots + chocolate and then rolled in turbinado sugar before they’re baked).  Her blog 101Cookbooks  is my go-to source for interesting vegetarian recipes.

Then there are the books that are not so much cookbooks, although they frequently include recipes, as they are memoirs.  There are always a plethora of these that come out every year.  Sometimes they annoy me greatly (see Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle), but sometimes they’re a lot of fun.

Currently I have on request at the library (along with everyone else in the world):

Make the Bread, Buy the Butter by Jennifer Reese There’s a whole trend in books with the premise of ‘I spent a year doing _____, and here’s my story’ or ‘I lost my job and did ______, and here’s my story’.  This is one of the latter, and while usually I run far far away from books like that, this one sounds entertaining, plus it’s all about the calculus of the intersection between taste and cost and convenience when it comes to making food from scratch which is something I’m always thinking about.

Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertant Education of a Reluctant Chef by Gabrielle Hamilton This is more or less what it sounds like from the title, but it’s gotten really great reviews.

How to Eat a Small Country by Amy Finley Mostly I’m curious because it’s set in France.  I can’t quite decide which side of the annoying versus charming line it’s going to fall on for me.  I like David Lebovtiz’s The Sweet Life in Paris because it was clear (for me, at least) that he loved living in Paris but this didn’t blind him to the foibles of living in a foreign country and he wrote about it with bemused affection.  Unlike, on the other hand, David Sedaris’s ruminations on living in Paris which always make me want to tell him to just move back to New York if he’s going to be that disagreeable about everything.

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain I’m possibly the last person on earth to jump on the bandwagon and be curious about reading this book.

Brandied Cranberry Beef Stew with Roasted Butternut Squash
Bread
Salad
Chocolate Pudding Cake

Brandied Cranberry Beef Stew with Roasted Butternut Squash
(serves eight)

This was a birthday Dinner that was entertainingly chosen with the comment that ‘I don’t like three of the main ingredients [ginger, cranberries, squash], but it still sounds super delicious’.  I think that in the final analysis she came down on the delicious side of the quandary rather than the disappointing side.  At least I hope so.

4 lb stew beef, cut into 1-2” chunks *
2 medium onions, finely chopped
1/3 cup flour
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped **
5 cups reduced-sodium beef broth
½ cup brandy
½ cup dried cranberries
2 Tbsp minced candied ginger
1 Tbsp orange zest
1 ½ cups fresh cranberries

3 lb butternut squash, peeled, seeded & cut into 2”long x ¼” wide wedges ***

Season the beef with salt and pepper and then brown in a little vegetable oil in batches.  Reserve.

Either drain most of the oil from the pot, or add a little more if your meat was lean.  Add the onions and sauté over medium heat until softened (about 3 minutes).  Add the flour and cook, stirring constantly, until golden brown (about 5 minutes).  Don’t let it burn.  Stir in the garlic and chocolate and cook until fragrant (about 1 minute).  Stir in the brandy, and broth, scraping to get up all the fond on the bottom of the pan.  Return the beef to the pot and add the dried cranberries, ginger and orange zest.  Bring to a boil, then partially cover and simmer for 1 ½ to 2 hours.

Allow to cool to room temperature and chill overnight.  Skim off any fat from the top of the stew and bring up to a simmer again.  Add the fresh cranberries and cook for about 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally.

For a fancy presentation:
While the cranberries are cooking, heat your oven to 375.  Toss the squash wedges with salt, pepper and olive oil and roast for 25-30 minutes, turning once, until cooked through and slightly caramelized.  Place a number of wedges in the bottom of a wide bowl, ladle the stew over the top and garnish with a few dried cranberries.

If you have leftover stew & leftover roasted squash, just add the cooked squash to the stew and reheat all together the next day for lunch.

For a practical presentation:
Instead of cutting the squash into wedges, cut it into ¾” cubes.  When the stew has returned to a simmer add the cranberries and the squash and cook for 30-40 minutes until the squash is tender.  Serve.

* The original recipe called for 6 lb of bone-in beef short ribs cut (by your butcher) into 2” lengths.  I think that short ribs are (a) over rated, and (b) annoying to both cook and eat, so I made my life easier and substituted regular stew beef.  If you want to go the short rib route, you can either cook the meat on the stove top as above, or you can braise it in a 300 oven for about 2 ½ hours.
** I suspect that you could also use 3 Tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder + 1-2 Tbsp honey if you didn’t have any bittersweet chocolate on hand.
*** The original recipe called for kachoba squash which I’ve heard tastes kind of like the middle ground between an acorn squash and a pumpkin.  I’ve never actually run across one, so I used butternut squash.  I’m betting you could use whatever kind of squash you like/have available – acorn, butternut, pumpkin, hubbard, etc.

Chocolate Pudding Cake
I never cease to be fascinated by this recipe.  It looks so unlikely as you put it in the oven, and so crazily delicious when you pull it out.

Recipe previously given:  Birthday Related Baking

I got to the week before Thanksgiving and I had menus planned for every week from then through when I leave for Christmas (12/17) and as a consequence I kept thinking it was later in the year than it actually was and panicking about the rapid passage of time.  Eventually I realized that it was still November, not the second week of December, and two things I was planning to do fell through which was on the one hand disappointing because they were brunch and a whisky tasting, and on the other hand gave me so much breathing space.

Now it actually is two weeks before I leave for Christmas – to Curacao!, I plan to return tanned and make everyone envious – and I’m not panicking because I got it all out of the way two weeks ago when I thought it was December already.

The upside to having lost track of time is that my Christmas shopping is all but done, my menus are planned through when I leave for Christmas, the annual New Year’s Invitation has been sent and my list of things to do before I leave is remarkably short.  Now I have time to relax and go see a friend perform at a Christmas concert on Friday night (and celebrate the 78th anniversary of the repeal of Prohibition with cocktails afterwards), go out to see Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy on Saturday night, and decorate the house on Sunday evening.

One of the downsides to my frantic mental scurrying is that I never posted last week’s post-Thanksgiving recovery Dinner.  Technically last week should have been a Birthday Dinner, but I always need a week of abstemiousness to recover from the over indulgence of Thanksgiving, so I was kindly permitted to push her Birthday Dinner to this week.

Baked Chicken Nuggets w/ Cherry Chipotle Sauce
Broccoli Slaw
Warm Potato Salad
Grilled Apples
Salad

Baked Chicken Nuggets w/ Cherry Chipotle Sauce

Recipe previously given:  Oscars 2011

Broccoli Slaw

Recipe previously given:  Each Peach Pear Raspberry?

Warm Potato Salad
(serves 4-6)

2 lb baby potatoes (I used a mix of Yukon Gold and Red potatoes)
½ tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper
3 Tbsp finely minced shallots (I used red onion)
½ Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp whole grain mustard
1 Tbsp white wine vinegar
3 Tbsp olive oil
3 Tbsp chopped parsley
Zest of 1 lemon

Cook the potatoes in well salted boiling water until tender, about 10-15 minutes.  Drain and cut in halves/quarters (depending on size).

While the potatoes are cooking whisk together the salt/pepper, mustards and vinegar.  Drizzle in the olive oil and whisk to emulsify.  Stir in the shallots.

Toss the dressing, parsley and lemon zest (if using) with the warm potatoes.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Note:  This would probably lend itself well to the addition of a couple of slices of crisply cooked & crumbled bacon, if you had such a thing lying around your kitchen.

Grilled Apples
This isn’t a recipe so much as a process.  Figure on about 1 apple/person.

Cut apples into ¼” thick slices (leave the skin on, it helps hold them together).

Brush both sides with a little melted butter.  Sprinkle with whatever takes your fancy – I used some garam masala, but I’ve also done it with cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, etc.

Place on a hot grill pan and grill for about 2-3 minutes per side.

Serve.

I was not a kid who had to suffer through many cafeteria meals during my school years. I was spoiled and my mother packed me a lunch almost every day well into high school. By and large the only times I ever bought lunch were on the rare occasions that the school cafeteria was serving something I really wanted to eat. In the year I spent at Convent of the Sacred Heart this meant the days that they did Indian Fry Bread for lunch – don’t ask me how that was nutritionally viable, but it came hot from the fryer and covered in powdered sugar and everyone wanted one – and any time they served tater tots. In the year and a half I spent at the Old Greenwich Elementary School this meant the occasional pizza on Friday (why I wanted burnt pizza is an issue to explore some other time), and any time they served tacos.

Anyone who grew up in the Northeast (and probably other parts of the country) will recognize the school cafeteria taco – crispy (slightly stale) corn taco shell filled with a layer of (mildly) spiced ground beef, shredded iceberg lettuce, grated cheddar cheese and a dollop (or more than a dollop) of sour cream. I loved these tacos. Very occasionally my mother would make them for dinner and it was always a treat.

I think I won’t admit to how old I was before I realized that these tacos bore no resemblance to anything actually authentically Mexican. The discovery, when it arrived, was a disappointment to me because I was clinging to tacos as the only form of Mexican food I actually liked. I have subsequently, somewhat belatedly, come to the understanding that what I don’t like is TexMex food as interpreted by the Northeast, by which I mostly mean I don’t particularly like the food on offer at Border Café or Chipotle Mexican Grill. This, however, is fine, because as it turns out I do like Mexican food as interpreted by California. Or, in other words, I like fish tacos.

Now admittedly California/Baja style tacos – small soft tortilla filled with a little bit of meat or fish topped with some crunchy cabbage and garnished with a little crumbled cojita cheese or crema – may or may not bear any resemblance to something that would get served to you in Mexico. But, at the very least they’re a lot closer to the source material in California than we are in New England.

I like Baja style tacos so much that not only did a California style taco joint in Brookline make our standard restaurant rotation, when we haven’t managed to eat there in a while I will actually make a version of that style of taco for dinner. The degrees of separation between what I serve and authentic Mexican food are probably a little embarrassing to count – Mexican street food as interpreted by California cuisine, served to Northeasterners, recreated by someone who’s never been closer to Mexico than San Francisco (okay, my parents took me with them on a trip to the Southwest when I was nine months old, but I wasn’t really eating tacos at that point in my life). That being said, I like my new version of tacos as much as I liked the cafeteria taco I ate as a child, and that’s saying something.

Tacos with fixin’s
- Roasted Shrimp
- Braised Chicken
Black Beans
Orange & Kumquat Slaw
Salsa
Quick Pickled Red Onions

Tacos with fixin’s
(serves 6-8 with leftovers)

Roasted Shrimp
All credit to Ina Garten for introducing me to the idea of roasting shrimp. It is hands down the easiest and most reliable way to cook shrimp without overcooking them.

1 lb shrimp, defrosted, deveined & deshelled*
Salt/pepper
Olive oil
1 lime zested & juiced

Preheat oven to 400.

Defrost your shrimp. Dry them well on paper towels. Toss with salt, pepper and olive oil. Arrange in a single layer on a baking sheet. Roast for 6-8 minutes, turning once.

Toss the cooked shrimp on the hot baking sheet with the lime juice and lime zest. Serve.

* Unless you’re lucky enough to live somewhere within 45 minutes of shrimp being pulled fresh from the water daily then I recommend buying the frozen shrimp from the freezer case at your supermarket. The fish counter may say that they have fresh shrimp, but if you look closely the odds are that underneath that in small letters it will say ‘previously frozen’ and frankly you can defrost shrimp as effectively as they can and the less time your shrimp spends in a non frozen state the better. Plus, frozen shrimp usually come cleaned and with the shells split for easier deshelling and that’s the part of cooking with shrimp that I hate, so frozen shrimp are a winner all round.

To defrost shrimp simply place as many as you need in a bowl under running cold water (don’t ask me why running cold water defrosts things faster than running hot water, but it does) for about 15-20 minutes and your shrimp will be defrosted. Lay them on paper towels and pat dry thoroughly and then proceed with your recipe.

Braised Chicken
You can skip the cooling/refrigerating/reheating part of this, but trust me they’re better the next day when the meat has had time to relax and get groovy.

2 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp dried oregano *
1 bay leaf
Salt/pepper
Olive oil
1 large white onion, sliced into half moon rings
6 cloves garlic, smashed
1/8 tsp (or spinkle) red pepper flakes
½ cup chicken stock
½ orange, cut into 4 segments

Season the chicken generously with salt and pepper. Mix together the cumin, coriander, oregano. In a large bowl toss the chicken with the spices and let sit for 30 minutes to marinate.

Meanwhile sauté the onion and garlic in some olive oil until the onion is softened and starting to turn golden. Add the red pepper flakes and stir to combine. Add the chicken to the pan and stir to coat. Add the chicken stock and orange segments (giving them a bit of a squeeze as you add them to the pan). Bring to a low simmer, cover and cook for 20-25 minutes until the chicken is done. Allow to cool slightly.

Remove chicken from the braising liquid and cut/shred into largish chunks, return to pan. Cool and refrigerate overnight. Reheat in the braising liquid, stirring as little as possible because you don’t want to break up the shreds/chunks of chicken too much (you’re not aiming for pulled chicken here).

* Or, if you’re like me and when you reach for the oregano you discover that you’re mysteriously out, you can substitute some dried thyme instead.

Fixin’s
Chopped radishes
Diced avocado
Crumbled cojita (or ricotta salata)
(faux) Crema (i.e. some sour cream (or plain yogurt) whisked with a little lime juice to thin it out)
Small (4”) corn or flour tortillas (depending on what you can find)

Black Beans
(serves 2)

1 strip bacon, chopped
½ red pepper, diced
½ onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
½ tsp chipotle in adobo *
¼ tsp cumin (or to taste)
¼ tsp oregano
1 (small) bay leaf
1 (15 oz) can black beans, with liquid
Salt/pepper
Lime juice

Saute the bacon until crisp. Remove from pan and drain on paper towels. Reserve.

Add the onion, garlic and red pepper to the pan and fry in the residual bacon fat (pour some off if it looks like there’s too much – but with just one strip of bacon it’ll probably be fine). When the onion and red pepper have softened add the cumin, oregano and bay leaf to the pan and sauté for 30 seconds or so to bloom the spices. Stir in the black beans with their liquid, the chipotle, and the reserved bacon. Simmer for 15-20 minutes. Mash some of the beans against the side of the pan (you’re looking to thicken the sauce a little, not make soup). Simmer for another 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt, pepper and some lime juice.

You can make this a day ahead of time, refrigerate overnight and reheat – just be sure to stir it every so often or you run the risk of the mashed beans sinking to the bottom of the pot and burning.

* Chipotles in Adobo comes in small cans that still contain far more chipotles than I can use in one recipe. Fortunately they freeze nicely. Just separate them out on a plate and freeze until hard and then bag and label. Next time you need some you can remove just one chipotle, or even chop off a piece of chipotle if all you need is a ½ tsp. I’m still working my way through a can that I bought about 6 months ago this way.

Orange & Kumquat Slaw
(serves 6)
This is mostly because I saw kumquats at the grocery store this weekend and bought them on a whim. Any kind of slaw will work, I prefer vinegary slaws but a mayo based slaw would be fine too if that’s the way you roll.

Dressing
1/3 cup orange juice
1/3 cup rice wine vinegar
1 tsp honey (or to taste)
¼ tsp cumin
Salt/pepper
¼ cup (ish) olive oil

Whisk together all ingredients except olive oil. Slowly whisk in just enough olive oil to create an emulsion.

Slaw
(small) ½ head red cabbage, shredded finely
(small) ½ head green cabbage, shredded finely
1 apple, grated
10-12 kumquats, sliced finely (1/16th – 1/8th inch – I recommend a mandoline)
6 scallions, sliced finely

Toss the cabbages, grated apple, kumquats and scallions in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Toss with enough dressing to moisten, but not be goopy. Allow to sit for 20-30 minutes to marry the flavors.

Salsa
(makes about 2 cups)

2 large ripe tomatoes, diced
¼-½ large white onion, minced very finely
1 clove garlic, minced
1 jalapeno, seeded & minced
1 Tbsp lime juice (or red wine vinegar)
Handful of basil, chopped (or cilantro, if you like cilantro)
Salt/pepper

Mix all together in a bowl. Allow to sit for 10-15 minutes to marry the flavors.

Quick Pickled Red Onions

1 large red onion, cut in half and then sliced into thin rings
½ cup red wine vinegar
½ cup cold water
2 Tbsp kosher salt
1 Tbsp sugar
(optional – couple of dashes of hot sauce)

Combine all ingredients except onion in a bowl and whisk until sugar and salt are dissolved. Add onions, allow to sit for an hour. Serve.

This doesn’t keep particularly well overnight, I find it just gets overwhelmingly salty so plan to make it within a couple of hours of when you’ll be eating.