Hangover Breakfast

The day after Lawson and I threw a party at which we drank a lot of beer, we ate this restorative breakfast.

The omelet contained cheese and chives. And bacon is sometimes extremely necessary.

Curiously Satisfying

Here's one of my favorite starchy side dishes--although with some cheese it will do for a vegetarian main dish. I can't remember where I got the recipe, but I do remember the writer commenting that Italians loved bouillon cubes as a seasoning. I find the 12 cloves of garlic very bracing and restorative.

Penne with Garlic and Tomato Sauce

2 tablespoons olive oil

12 cloves garlic, peeled and lightly crushed

1 16-ounce can diced or crushed tomatoes

1/2 bouillon cube

Salt and pepper to taste

In large skillet, saute garlic in olive oil over medium-low heat until pale gold. Add remaining ingredients and simmer together for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, cook enough penne for two. Drain, toss with sauce, and top with Parmesan cheese.

Zucchini Gratin II: An Actual Recipe

My camera's broken, which is just as well, because I just went digging through our archives for a zucchini recipe for tonight's dinner and found what has to be my most obnoxious post. There's no actual recipe there, just some blabber and a pretty picture. So for tonight's post I re-reconstructed the zucchini gratin recipe. Here it is:

Combine:
-2 pounds zucchini, cut into 1/2-inch chunks, and lightly steamed if tough
- 2 eggs, beaten
- 1 small can green chiles, diced
- 1 teaspoon dill seed
- 2 cups cheese. Use any combination of shredded or diced mozzarella, jack, or cheddar; cottage cheese; Parmesan; whatever.
- salt and pepper to taste

If you used drier cheeses, you might also want to add up to 1/4 cup of milk or cream.
Put everything in a buttered casserole dish. Mix together and sprinkle on top:
- 1/2 cup bread crumbs or 2 slices bread, diced
- 1 or 2 tablespoons melted butter or olive oil
- Parmesan, if you have any

Bake uncovered at 375 for about 20 minutes, or until browned and bubbly.

I served it with garden spinach drizzled with a warm caramelized onion and tarragon dressing, an ad hoc and surprisingly good side dish. For dessert we had banana bread.

Classic Sauces in the Blender

These recipes were included in the little cook-booklet that came with my first Waring blender back in the 70’s and are still viable. I used the same technique to make that fancy Aioli for our tapas meal.

Mayonnaise

1 egg
½ teaspoon dry mustard
½ teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon salt
Dash cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons white vinegar
¼ cup salad oil (I use canola, usually)

Put everything in the blender and start. After about 5 seconds remove feeder cap and add in a steady stream:

¾ cup salad oil

By the time all the oil is added, the mayonnaise will be thick. Scrape down and process a few more seconds if necessary.


Blender Hollandise Sauce

3 egg yolks
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Pinch cayenne
Dash salt

Put above ingredients in blender container and blend briefly.

1 stick butter

Heat butter until very hot but not brown. Turn on blender and add butter in a heavy stream, about 15 seconds total.

Essential Kitchen Implements

My friend Kerry pointed out this story about the bare minimum equipment needed for a kitchen. You would think a list of basic kitchen items would be uncontentious, but no: I disagree with at least a third of these suggestions. He has things on that list that Lawson and I, with our merged and overflowing kitchen, don't have. Tell me how a salad spinner is essential. And a mandoline? Minimalist? My knife skills suck, too, but come on.

An instant-read thermometer would have been nice when I was learning to cook, but I didn't have one until last year, and we only use it for barbecue (and, lately, for measuring the temperature of the compost heap).

The more I think about it, every cook's minimal list would likely be quite different -- not just a sharp knife and a saucepan, as you might expect. Cookbooks with lists of "essential" equipment always contain some truly puzzling items, right? My theory: unless you grow up insanely privileged, you probably first cook on your own under somewhat financially distressed conditions, and what you do and don't have during that time shapes what you consider essential. I cannot imagine dealing with the plastic cutting board recommended in the article, but I could happily do without a food processor, a skimmer, or a slotted spoon. Oddly, I have never owned a slotted spoon. But I've always owned a big heavy chunk of wood on which to chop.

I guess I should balance that rant out with a picture and a recipe. Here are chard stems:


And here is my favorite way to cook chard:

Saute in 2 tablespoons olive oil:

- 2 cloves garlic, sliced
- one small dried red chile (de arbol, Thai, whatever), deseeded

Turn heat to medium high and add:

-1 big bunch chard, washed, stems separated and cut into 1/2" pieces

(Add the stems first, then the leaves a few minutes later. Chard stems are soooo tasty and should not be thrown away unless they are horrendously tough.)

Saute for a few minutes until stems are soft and leaves are wilty. Remove from heat and sprinkle with:

- 2 or so ounces feta (think of it as seasoning, not topping -- this is in lieu of salt)

I like it best after about fifteen minutes, just above room temperature.

I leave for the beach tomorrow. I will cook some good food there and post about it.

Closely Read Asparagus Bearnaise

You know the Deconstructed Menu Item conceit? I guess it's a few years old now. This is where a pretentious gourmet chef will serve, say, a Deconstructed Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich, which will be candied grapes, roasted sugarcane rolled in chopped peanuts, and sauteed wheatberry triangles, or something.

The idea is consistent comedy gold. I like to present Lawson with dishes like Deconstructed Spaghetti alla Carbonara (a box of uncooked spaghetti, a package of bacon, an unbroken egg) and Deconstructed Cat Vinaigrette (a bottle of vinegar, a bottle of olive oil, and the cat). The joke never, ever gets old.

All this is by way of introducing my dinner last night.

Lawson has been working absurd hours -- the contract he works under is up for rebid -- so he hasn't been around for dinner much lately. I believe that dinners cooked and eaten alone should be a little weird. (I think this comes from you, because we would always eat lighter, stranger dinners when Dad was out of town. Also, you once told me that when you were first married you just ate tortillas and cheese when he was gone.) Sometimes weird means mildly embarrassing comfort food, like pieces of cheddar cheese topped with powdered cumin. Sometimes weird means mismatched dishes: on Thursday I ate a spinach omelette accompanied by sauteed Swiss chard, because spinach and Swiss chard are two of my favorite things and I wanted them both. Generally I wouldn't serve two dark green leafy things at the same time, right? But mostly weird just means unbalanced, like one elaborately sauced vegetable and nothing else.

Anyway, yesterday I wasn't very hungry, but I wanted to eat the asparagus from the fridge. And I'd never made hollandaise or bearnaise sauce. I'm not sure I've even had them as an adult. You must have made hollandaise a few times when I was young, and that's the only time I've ever had it. So I wanted to try it, not least because of its reputation for difficulty.

But I was out of lemons. No citrus, period. So instead I invented this, which contains all the components of asparagus bearnaise but is infinitely more refined and witty. The recipe is doubled here, but you should halve it for solitary authenticity.

Steam until tender and arrange on two plates:
-One bunch asparagus

Top each plate with:
-One egg, fried, over medium
-Olive oil drippings from pan
-Salt
-Pepper
-Chopped fresh tarragon

Imagine:
-Lemon wedges

It was tasty.

Fattoush

These are Lawson's cucumber plants from last year. So far this year they're only eight inches high.

Yesterday I made some fattoush for the going-away party of one of my friends at work. This is adapted from a Claudia Roden recipe:

Salt and drain in a colander over the sink for half an hour or so:
- 2 cucumbers, peeled and chopped (I like 3/4" cubes)

Combine in a large bowl:
- whole wheat pita bread (or whatever other flatbread is around), very well toasted and snapped into roughly 1" shards.
- juice of 1 or 2 lemons
- 1/8 cup olive oil, or much more

Add:
- a few cups of fresh tomatoes, chopped
- 1/2 red onion or mild onion, finely chopped
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- handful fresh mint, chopped
- handful parsley, chopped

Mix in cucumbers. Add salt to taste. Someone should probably experiment with letting the flavors blend for several hours and then adding some separately dressed bread...as it is, there's a tension between wanting the bread to be fresh and wanting the whole thing to sit and mellow for a while, especially because of the onion.

I also sent this to a stranger today as part of a recipe exchange. Since it was already typed up, I figured I should put it up here. Oh, I love summer food.

Pre-cooking

This weekend I decided it was time to start composting again, but that I was sick of the abandoned, messy, unscientific compost heap in the corner of the yard. I did some research, then went for a walk around the neighborhood to think about what kind of compost bin to construct. I was imagining a wood-and-wire box, was even planning what to buy at Lowe's to ineptly build it myself, when I happened upon a large old wood-and-wire birdcage someone had set out by the street. It was beautiful. I went and got my car to haul it home. As I was loading it into my car, an old man came out of the house I was in front of and asked if I needed help. "I had some lovebirds in there," he said, "but I didn't have much luck with them, so I let them go. Decided to let them fend for themselves."

I'll bet those birds are toast. We have at least one neighborhood hawk whom I have seen in the very graphic act of killing a smaller bird.

I pried the top of the cage off with a crowbar and pulled out all the perches and feeders and mirrors. Then I hosed the whole thing down and installed some hinges and a handle on the top. Today I gathered together dry leaves, weeds, a few days' worth of vegetable parts and coffee grounds, ashes, and some other things (okay, diluted urine) and built a starter heap inside the cage. I'm hoping it'll heat up in the next few days and be more productive than my usual halfhearted composting efforts.

So, compost's not food, but it directly contributes to food. Here are spinach and parsley from Lawson's garden:

Dad Cooks

Dad made a couple of delicious meals this week: the Red Snapper Veracruz and salad (home-grown) pictured above, and Lahmajoun.

The Lahmajoun is a sort of Middle Eastern lamburger. We used that ground lamb Lawson bought at the Caravan market, which was very lean and wonderful.

Lahmajoun

½ pound lean ground lamb
½ onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 teaspoon oregano
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes

Mix together and spread on:

4 whole wheat pita breads

Top with:

4 ounces crumbled feta cheese
¼ cup pine nuts

Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes. Garnish with parsley. We served these with a dill/yogurt sauce on the side.

Self-Portrait with Soba

Yesterday was Lawson's birthday. I knew I wanted to make him some carrot cake, because I only recently found out he is a big fan of it (who knew? I have always thought of carrot cake as really lame.) So I made some carrot cake and decided that homemade, with lots of nutmeg and trustworthy raisins, it's pretty okay, though still not favorite-worthy.

Anyway, at the grocery store Saturday I bought some wonderful fresh tuna. Good fresh fish is so rare here that I rearranged all birthday meal plans in order to cook it right away. And I knew exactly what I had to make with it: soba noodles. From scratch. I might have gone a lifetime happily buying soba noodles from the store, but my friend Ken (the one who works at the mill) gave me some soba flour last month, and I had to use it for something. I swear, these grain gifts from Ken force me into overambitious food experiments -- I suppose that's a good thing.

We do not have a good Japanese cookbook. I looked up soba noodle recipes online and learned that I'd need to use part wheat flour and part soba flour -- buckwheat has no gluten -- but never found an authoritative recipe. I ended up using 1.5 cups of wheat flour, 1.5 cups of soba flour, two eggs, salt, and water. The dough was nice and easy to roll out, but the noodles were a little firm and bland. So next time I think I will use a larger proportion of soba flour.

I tried to cut the noodles by hand according to some instructions I found online, but I abandoned that pretty quickly and pulled out the hand-cranked pasta maker.

Ronnie pulled down a noodle and ate it:

Tomato Toast

Here is this morning’s version of Tomato Toast, a breakfast I make almost weekly with whatever is in the house. Today’s layers: whole wheat toast, Brie, sliced tomatoes, marinated artichoke hearts, and Parmesan—all broiled until melty and brown.

Last night we had a simple meal of salmon, baked potatoes, and home-grown Swiss chard with garlic and jalapenos, followed by fresh strawberries and a piece of dark chocolate. Fresh wild fish is getting more rare and expensive every day. I have concerns about farmed fish and I don't know where to get any accurate information about safety--everything on the web about it seems to be written either by industry advocates or fringe food alarmists.

Tonight I’m going to experiment with a rolled, boned, and stuffed turkey breast. The stuffing will have bread and spinach, and I think it’s roasted on a bed of vegetables which are then used to make gravy. I’ll let you know how it is.

Lucky dog Emily will also get a turkey meal tonight. I’m sort of enjoying making dog food, since she so obviously relishes it. Bon appetit, Emily.

More tapas shots

I don't have much to add to what you posted below...just the only two pictures I managed to take. I had fun, though I admit I had a brief meltdown when I realized I had neither milk for the pudding nor sesame seeds for the cucumbers, and that the beets were not softening even after almost two hours of roasting. I recovered; I'm just not used to cooking in new places and after a large martini. I'll work on that.

Thanks for all the wonderful food you made during our visit!

Tapas

While Eva and Lawson were visiting us we decided to have a tapas evening, with everyone contributing one or two dishes. There were a few times during the day when it threatened to escalate into an Iron Chef competition, but we got through that.

We started out on the patio with fresh garden crudites (baby carrots, radishes, and snow peas) by Dick, served with aioli. Grandma brought a plate of cold sliced sausages garnished with grapes.

Next was Grandma’s homemade bread spread with aioli (homemade garlic/olive oil mayonnaise) and topped with sauteed mushrooms seasoned with sherry.

I’m beginning to forget the order here—but I think next was my squash-filled empanadas with chimichurri sauce. At the same time Eva presented two brilliantly colored salads: sliced baked beets dressed with orange juice beside marinated cucumbers with sesame oil and lemon.

Just when we were beginning to flag, Lawson served his Vietnamese shrimp cakes, made with shrimp, chickpea flour, and lots of ginger, and served with two sauces: one Thai sweet chili sauce and one yogurt-cilantro. These were beautifully plated with a dusting of herbs and a painting of the chili sauce.

For dessert we had Eva’s vanilla pudding, cardamom-infused and made with heavy cream!

There was constant cooking and dishwashing throughout the evening. We had a great time. I am recording the empanada dough recipe here, because it was spectacularly easy to make and handle. It’s from the February 2007 Cuisine at Home magazine.

Empanada Dough

2 ½ cups flour
½ cup butter, chilled
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon sugar

Pulse together in food processor until crumbly.

1/3 cup cold water
1 egg

Add water and egg and pulse until dough forms ball. (I rested the dough in the refrigerator for an hour, but the recipe doesn’t call for it).

Form into 6 balls. Roll each into a 7-inch circle. Fill, fold in half, and seal with a fork. Brush with a little beaten egg and bake at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes, until golden.

Pizzas

Our friend Mark lives in Kyoto and must be fed pizza when he comes to visit the US. The lower one is pepperoni; the upper one is herbs, anchovies, and mascarpone.

I'll be in San Francisco with no computer for the next four days...and then I'll be in Tucson! I promise we will post something together.

Vegetarian Reaction

We had a four-pound pork stew last night in honor of the visiting aunts and uncles. That menu was: Italian Pork Stew; Grandma's scalloped potatoes with tomatoes and onions; Grandma's salad with apples, glazed pecans, and Gorgonzola; freshly baked whole wheat bread; and Kathy brought a rum cake.

The general porkiness of that sort of meal, however delicious, turns me into a vegetarian for several days afterwards. So tonight we had vaguely Persian things, including potato and egg kuku, Dad's collards with olives and lemon, bulgur and walnut pilaf, and tomato/herb relish. Very restorative.