Cover bottom of pot with oil and then some
Add chopped onion and two chopped potatoes
Sauté, stirring to keep them from burning
Wash and trim shitake mushrooms
Reserve a handful and chop the rest. Add chopped m’rooms to pot
When it starts to smell good, add a cup or two of water and 4 – 6 large carrots, cut in smallish pieces. Add several grinds of cracked pepper
Slice and lightly sauté the reserved mushrooms
Grate two largeish pieces of ginger in the food processor; add the vegetables when they have cooked to medium tenderness. Blend it all, adding soup liquid as necessary to get it to blend.
Return to heat; add reserved mushrooms and a good handful of cilantro
Serve
It’s good
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Fish Stock Musings
When I first moved to Gloucester, I had been a vegetarian – almost a vegan – for a decade or more. This was inspired by our son, Evan, who at six said that if we had to eat animals it would be ok, but since they weren’t necessary to keep us alive it was wrong to kill them. On occasion he would retrieve hamburgers from the lunchroom trash at school, on the theory that the damage had already been done, but more and more he became a strict vegetarian, and I learned to cook healthy meals for him. Once we went to a really fancy club in Newport with my dad (if I think of the name, I’ll go back and fill it in) and they made a great vegetable plate for him. Now, of course, they’ll do that for you almost anywhere.
I was an organic gardener and grew most of the vegetables we ate in the summer time. Shifting over to vegan cooking and eating seemed quite effortless. I learned to cook all sorts of whole grains with vegetables and seasonings. I baked bread so much that I could set out a dish of flour, sugar, and water in the kitchen and it would begin to bubble from the yeast in a few hours. I felt better too. I just about stopped eating meat and fish altogether, and ate eggs and milk only a little.
One of my most disappointing vegan moments was on a trip to France. We stayed in a converted abbey in Nantes for a week. We were served an elaborate beef dish for lunch on the first day; I told the waiter that I was vegetarian and he served me a replacement meal. For the rest of the trip I ate tomatoes and pasta. Waiters would place a beautiful dish containing fish or lamb or chicken under my nose and then sweep it away with an “oh, pardon madame. Vous etes vegetarian.” “Non, non” I wanted to shout, but in those days putting people out to serve your dietary needs had to be backed up with medical or quasi-religious claims, so I ate my meal. “Voila! Encore une salade de tomate!”
But when we moved to Gloucester, it seemed ridiculous to avoid fish. I began to cook more and more fish. Neighbors used to give us fish – usually bluefish, which most people don’t like and that I’ve learned to cook really well. I have even experimented with harvesting shellfish from the shores below our house. I don’t do it in the summer, though, when the kids are here. I don’t worry much about serving a bad shellfish and getting us sick, but to involve the whole family seems not quite right.
I soon found that the best place to buy seafood is at Connolly’s, a wholesaler that has a small retail shop. The cases are always filled with translucent, shiny fish very carefully marked as to type and source. The dish I want to memorialize here is fish stock. Connolly’s will give you fish frames – free – whenever they have them. They filet fish in the back room – from the retail store you can see them working in knee high black boots and yellow slickers – and they save the skeletons. Just today my brother Don picked up the ingredients for paella, along with a huge cod frame. I’m preparing fish stock for the paella as I write this.
The first thing to know is that fish frames usually have the gills intact, and that according to the Joy of Cooking the gills impart a very bitter flavor. So before you prepare your stock, find the gills (they are right where the ears would be, and bright pinky-red). Pull them out and discard them. Then check the frame over for anything else that displeases you. Usually Connelly’s frames are clean as a whistle. I just wash them off and put them into a big pot with water to cover. Today I added peppercorns, a few small carrots, garlic, leek tops (I’m saving the rest of the leeks for the paella), and a kind of bouquet garni from the garden of thyme, parsley, and marjoram.
I once read, I think in an Asian cookbook, that you should bring the stock to a boil and then turn off the flame and let the stock sit for a while, and repeat this several times. So that’s how I do it. It seems to make sense – the fish is so delicate, and each time you return the stock to a boil it smells more and more fragrant. That’s what I’m doing now – writing a few paragraphs and then going out to the kitchen to bring the stock back to a boil for a second or two.
After the stock has been brought to a boil three or four times I’ll let it sit until it’s cool. Then I’ll strain the broth and reserve the amount I’ll need for tonight’s paella. The rest I’ll freeze in 2 cup containers for later.
There’s usually enough flesh on Connelly’s frames to make it very worthwhile picking it out. I’ll do that when the whole thing is drained and cool, and use the fish in the paella along with the scallops, mussels, and two little lobsters that Don brought back. Tonight’s paella – which I’m going to cook with barley, not rice – will also include peppers and zucchini from the garden, a Chorizo sausage, a can of bamboo shoots, and a half a package of frozen peas.
I was an organic gardener and grew most of the vegetables we ate in the summer time. Shifting over to vegan cooking and eating seemed quite effortless. I learned to cook all sorts of whole grains with vegetables and seasonings. I baked bread so much that I could set out a dish of flour, sugar, and water in the kitchen and it would begin to bubble from the yeast in a few hours. I felt better too. I just about stopped eating meat and fish altogether, and ate eggs and milk only a little.
One of my most disappointing vegan moments was on a trip to France. We stayed in a converted abbey in Nantes for a week. We were served an elaborate beef dish for lunch on the first day; I told the waiter that I was vegetarian and he served me a replacement meal. For the rest of the trip I ate tomatoes and pasta. Waiters would place a beautiful dish containing fish or lamb or chicken under my nose and then sweep it away with an “oh, pardon madame. Vous etes vegetarian.” “Non, non” I wanted to shout, but in those days putting people out to serve your dietary needs had to be backed up with medical or quasi-religious claims, so I ate my meal. “Voila! Encore une salade de tomate!”
But when we moved to Gloucester, it seemed ridiculous to avoid fish. I began to cook more and more fish. Neighbors used to give us fish – usually bluefish, which most people don’t like and that I’ve learned to cook really well. I have even experimented with harvesting shellfish from the shores below our house. I don’t do it in the summer, though, when the kids are here. I don’t worry much about serving a bad shellfish and getting us sick, but to involve the whole family seems not quite right.
I soon found that the best place to buy seafood is at Connolly’s, a wholesaler that has a small retail shop. The cases are always filled with translucent, shiny fish very carefully marked as to type and source. The dish I want to memorialize here is fish stock. Connolly’s will give you fish frames – free – whenever they have them. They filet fish in the back room – from the retail store you can see them working in knee high black boots and yellow slickers – and they save the skeletons. Just today my brother Don picked up the ingredients for paella, along with a huge cod frame. I’m preparing fish stock for the paella as I write this.
The first thing to know is that fish frames usually have the gills intact, and that according to the Joy of Cooking the gills impart a very bitter flavor. So before you prepare your stock, find the gills (they are right where the ears would be, and bright pinky-red). Pull them out and discard them. Then check the frame over for anything else that displeases you. Usually Connelly’s frames are clean as a whistle. I just wash them off and put them into a big pot with water to cover. Today I added peppercorns, a few small carrots, garlic, leek tops (I’m saving the rest of the leeks for the paella), and a kind of bouquet garni from the garden of thyme, parsley, and marjoram.
I once read, I think in an Asian cookbook, that you should bring the stock to a boil and then turn off the flame and let the stock sit for a while, and repeat this several times. So that’s how I do it. It seems to make sense – the fish is so delicate, and each time you return the stock to a boil it smells more and more fragrant. That’s what I’m doing now – writing a few paragraphs and then going out to the kitchen to bring the stock back to a boil for a second or two.
After the stock has been brought to a boil three or four times I’ll let it sit until it’s cool. Then I’ll strain the broth and reserve the amount I’ll need for tonight’s paella. The rest I’ll freeze in 2 cup containers for later.
There’s usually enough flesh on Connelly’s frames to make it very worthwhile picking it out. I’ll do that when the whole thing is drained and cool, and use the fish in the paella along with the scallops, mussels, and two little lobsters that Don brought back. Tonight’s paella – which I’m going to cook with barley, not rice – will also include peppers and zucchini from the garden, a Chorizo sausage, a can of bamboo shoots, and a half a package of frozen peas.
Fusion Spelt
Spelt with carrots
Soak 1 lb spelt for a few hours. Bring to boil and cook until tender (maybe 45 minutes). Add four carrots in coins and simmer a few minutes until the carrots are tender. Add the juice of ½ lime.
Serve with:
Fusion veggies
In a wok sauté 1 chopped onion in 2 tbs. olive oil. Add two sliced garlic cloves, 1 minced hot pepper, 4 or 5 sliced mushrooms and a small hunk of ginger in slices, adding each as prepared and stirring all the while. Add juice of ½ lime and two heads of broccoli, stir and cover the wok. When the broccoli is tender, add the skin of ¼ of the lime sliced into tiny slivers.
Serve the spelt covered with the veggies and their liquid.
Soak 1 lb spelt for a few hours. Bring to boil and cook until tender (maybe 45 minutes). Add four carrots in coins and simmer a few minutes until the carrots are tender. Add the juice of ½ lime.
Serve with:
Fusion veggies
In a wok sauté 1 chopped onion in 2 tbs. olive oil. Add two sliced garlic cloves, 1 minced hot pepper, 4 or 5 sliced mushrooms and a small hunk of ginger in slices, adding each as prepared and stirring all the while. Add juice of ½ lime and two heads of broccoli, stir and cover the wok. When the broccoli is tender, add the skin of ¼ of the lime sliced into tiny slivers.
Serve the spelt covered with the veggies and their liquid.
Sadana’s Indian Eggplant
Sadana visted us with her family for a week several years ago when they were visiting from India. She cooked meals for all of us every day. The one thing she didn't like about living here was that the market was so far away. One day I asked her if I could cook dinner with her. When I arrived in the kitchen, all the prep was done. All we had left to do was to combine and cook.
She never used curry, but in many of her recipies she used canned tomatoes, tumeric, and ground pepper. I wish I had written down more of her recipies -- even this one was half-remembered weeks after they left.
Saute one onion in 2 T vegetable oil. Add 1 clove garlic, chopped fine. Rinse and cut in half, lengthwise, baby Italian eggplants (2 per person). Lay the eggplant cut side down in the oil/onion mixture and sauté until the eggplant is lightly browned. Add 2T of Sadana’s favorite spice (turmeric) and stir. Add 20 or more serious grinds of pepper. Add 1 can chopped tomatoes. Simmer gently until the eggplant is tender. Add ½ cup chopped cilantro (optional). Stir and serve.
Serve with brown rice.
She never used curry, but in many of her recipies she used canned tomatoes, tumeric, and ground pepper. I wish I had written down more of her recipies -- even this one was half-remembered weeks after they left.
Saute one onion in 2 T vegetable oil. Add 1 clove garlic, chopped fine. Rinse and cut in half, lengthwise, baby Italian eggplants (2 per person). Lay the eggplant cut side down in the oil/onion mixture and sauté until the eggplant is lightly browned. Add 2T of Sadana’s favorite spice (turmeric) and stir. Add 20 or more serious grinds of pepper. Add 1 can chopped tomatoes. Simmer gently until the eggplant is tender. Add ½ cup chopped cilantro (optional). Stir and serve.
Serve with brown rice.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Ginger rice and vegetables
This one got rave reviews. It's really simple, and you don't need to use any particular ingredients. I started with the broccoli, celery, and cabbage that had been in the fridge for days. Then I remembered that I could get some jerusalem artichoke and kale from the garden. The key is cutting the vegetables into similar size pieces. And I would, next time, add the artichokes to the wok early -- they didn't quite cook through.
My friend Robin suggested that if you are cooking rice to be served plain, you can add ginger (or garlic) to add flavor. It really works!
The fish sauce and lime juice are Thai inspired. Not adding soy sauce allowed those flavors to stand out, along with the ginger in the rice.
Here's the recipe:
Cut up about a square inch of fresh ginger root into pieces about the size of a grain of rice. Add it to the water in which you cook a cup or so of brown rice.
Saute one onion, chopped, and a package of reconstituted mushrooms, also chopped, in oil in a wok. Add a head of broccoli, several stalks of celery, Chinese cabbage, jerusalem artichoke, and kale, all cut in small pieces. Add fish sauce and lime juice.
Steam all this in the wok and serve it over the rice.
My friend Robin suggested that if you are cooking rice to be served plain, you can add ginger (or garlic) to add flavor. It really works!
The fish sauce and lime juice are Thai inspired. Not adding soy sauce allowed those flavors to stand out, along with the ginger in the rice.
Here's the recipe:
Cut up about a square inch of fresh ginger root into pieces about the size of a grain of rice. Add it to the water in which you cook a cup or so of brown rice.
Saute one onion, chopped, and a package of reconstituted mushrooms, also chopped, in oil in a wok. Add a head of broccoli, several stalks of celery, Chinese cabbage, jerusalem artichoke, and kale, all cut in small pieces. Add fish sauce and lime juice.
Steam all this in the wok and serve it over the rice.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Platfforms
The other day, teaching a yoga class, I realized that I had totally forgotten a posture sequence called "rock the baby." It's a nice hip-opener that I often do at the beginning or end of class, or when I'm practicing on my own. It had just dropped out of sight, leaving no perceptible gap.
Then I realized that recipies do that too. Ever since we redid our kitchen and my cooking habits got all messed up, I've been realizing how many of the cooking routines had slipped away.
That's what made re-starting this blog a bit more urgent. I had a vague memory of some basic recipe that I had used, principally with fish -- nice, white, poachable fish. But what was it, and where could I find it? I had started this blog to find out what blogs were so I could instruct my students to blog me their journals. I hadn't looked at it in a year -- and there it was. Betty Burr's Leeks a la Provencale. Recipe #1 in my blog (1 of 2).
Improvisational cooking depends on what product developers call "platforms." There are myriad ways that you can prepare a meal using some or all of the stuff in you kitchen. I learned that when I realized that a wonderful cookbook by Perla Myers, The Seasonal Kitchen, really had only 5 or 6 actual recipies. Having been pretty much a recipe slave, I started branching out and trying someone's idea for chicken with beef or fish (I was much more a meat eater back then).
So having nearly lost most of my "platforms" during the kitchen redo, I am going to use this blog to capture the favorites that I can remember.
Then I realized that recipies do that too. Ever since we redid our kitchen and my cooking habits got all messed up, I've been realizing how many of the cooking routines had slipped away.
That's what made re-starting this blog a bit more urgent. I had a vague memory of some basic recipe that I had used, principally with fish -- nice, white, poachable fish. But what was it, and where could I find it? I had started this blog to find out what blogs were so I could instruct my students to blog me their journals. I hadn't looked at it in a year -- and there it was. Betty Burr's Leeks a la Provencale. Recipe #1 in my blog (1 of 2).
Improvisational cooking depends on what product developers call "platforms." There are myriad ways that you can prepare a meal using some or all of the stuff in you kitchen. I learned that when I realized that a wonderful cookbook by Perla Myers, The Seasonal Kitchen, really had only 5 or 6 actual recipies. Having been pretty much a recipe slave, I started branching out and trying someone's idea for chicken with beef or fish (I was much more a meat eater back then).
So having nearly lost most of my "platforms" during the kitchen redo, I am going to use this blog to capture the favorites that I can remember.
Green beans for dinner
We didn't want a lot to eat, because we'd had a late lunch.
Steam about a pound of green beans just a little bit. Drain them and rinse in cold water to keep them from cooking more.
Chop 2 - 3 cloves of garlic; slice a pepper into longish/thinnish stips (they should work with the shape of the beans). Chop a hot pepper if you have one. If not, use red pepper flakes.
Add the peppers to hot oil in a wok (I used grapeseed oil, but any vegetable oil will do). Stir until they begin, as the cookbooks say, "to release their fragrance" and then add the chopped garlic. When you can smell the garlic, add the beans. Of course you are stirring and mixing quite constantly.
While all this is happening, rinse a large handful or two of cherry tomatoes. If they are large, slice them in half. Add them to the beans and continue to stir and cook. Be sure to adjust the heat -- you want the mixture to cook briskly but not boil or splatter.
At this point I added a good tblspn of tumeric. This brings a wonderful subtle heat. It also stained my wok orange. It's optional, but try it.
At the end you can add pine nuts, mozzerella balls, and chopped basil. Stir and serve.
Serving note: use this a side dish, serve with pasta, or serve with just a green salad and bread for a really light supper.
Steam about a pound of green beans just a little bit. Drain them and rinse in cold water to keep them from cooking more.
Chop 2 - 3 cloves of garlic; slice a pepper into longish/thinnish stips (they should work with the shape of the beans). Chop a hot pepper if you have one. If not, use red pepper flakes.
Add the peppers to hot oil in a wok (I used grapeseed oil, but any vegetable oil will do). Stir until they begin, as the cookbooks say, "to release their fragrance" and then add the chopped garlic. When you can smell the garlic, add the beans. Of course you are stirring and mixing quite constantly.
While all this is happening, rinse a large handful or two of cherry tomatoes. If they are large, slice them in half. Add them to the beans and continue to stir and cook. Be sure to adjust the heat -- you want the mixture to cook briskly but not boil or splatter.
At this point I added a good tblspn of tumeric. This brings a wonderful subtle heat. It also stained my wok orange. It's optional, but try it.
At the end you can add pine nuts, mozzerella balls, and chopped basil. Stir and serve.
Serving note: use this a side dish, serve with pasta, or serve with just a green salad and bread for a really light supper.
Sette Vegetale
One night in Chicago, after a cocktail hour following a conference on technology mapping, brain dead from making conversation with earnest engineers, I headed out and found an Italian restaurant only blocks from the hotel. It was a warm June night. I chose an outside table and ordered an appetizer called "sette vegetale" and a glass of wine.
The waiter brought me a heaping plate of vegetables of many different colors and textures, all cut approximately the same size and shape. I was enjoying my light dinner and, intrigued by the recipe, I pulled one vegetable cube after another to the side of the plate and counted them. The waiter give me a sidelong glance. But I'm glad I spent the time not only enjoying the meal but inspecting it. It's become a favorite basic recipe.
I have no idea which vegetables I ate that night. But I have made some simple rules for composing sette vegetale.
1. Always use seven vegetables. Why? It stretches you. And you do have seven on hand. You have fresh broccoli or asparagus or beans or peas or brussel sprouts. You have peppers and mushrooms and carrots. You have onions, and you might have tomatoes or watercress or cucumbers or jerusalem artichokes. If your fresh supply doesn't come to seven, you can add canned artichokes or chick peas or in a pinch even a can of corn, well drained. Or maybe you have a box or a bag of frozen peas. Sometimes I cheat and count the garlic, but more often garlic goes in as a "no count-em".
2. Choose the smallest vegetable -- for instance, peas or beans -- or choose a basic shape if all your vegetables are on the large side. This will be the template for the size and shape of all the vegetables. If peas are your smallest vegetable you'll cut the others into small cubes. If you choose string beans, you might cut them into one inch lengths and then cut the other vegetables into small inch long rectangles. (This is a good rule for lots of other dishes -- stir fries, cobb salad, and so on.)
Those are the two basic rules. Having chosen your seven vegetables (and no more), prepare each according to its needs or your preferences. Canned vegetables simply need to be drained; frozen vegetables need to be steamed briefly, rinsed in cool water and drained. Fresh vegetables might be steamed or served raw.
Next, dress the vegetables. One might be happiest in a balsamic vinagrette. Another might do well tossed with a little soy sauce. Some might go in naked, or tossed with a bit of parsley or garlic or olive oil. The safe thing is to dress them all alike, like bridesmaids. The more interesting tack is to vary the dressings and let them come together when you mix the whole lot together.
I have often arrived home with no clue what we were going to have for dinner and searched out seven vegetables to serve with a glass of wine and a loaf of bread. I have also brought this to pot lucks, and served it as a salad dish as part of a grilled summer meal. Sometimes, but not often, I buy the vegetables specifically for the recipe. This is most fun in the summer when the local farm stands are overflowing.
Here are a few more rules. It's OK to use beets, but add them at the last moment. Add fresh chopped herbs at the end. Add garlic any time, and lots.
Try it, and let me know what you used and how it worked!
The waiter brought me a heaping plate of vegetables of many different colors and textures, all cut approximately the same size and shape. I was enjoying my light dinner and, intrigued by the recipe, I pulled one vegetable cube after another to the side of the plate and counted them. The waiter give me a sidelong glance. But I'm glad I spent the time not only enjoying the meal but inspecting it. It's become a favorite basic recipe.
I have no idea which vegetables I ate that night. But I have made some simple rules for composing sette vegetale.
1. Always use seven vegetables. Why? It stretches you. And you do have seven on hand. You have fresh broccoli or asparagus or beans or peas or brussel sprouts. You have peppers and mushrooms and carrots. You have onions, and you might have tomatoes or watercress or cucumbers or jerusalem artichokes. If your fresh supply doesn't come to seven, you can add canned artichokes or chick peas or in a pinch even a can of corn, well drained. Or maybe you have a box or a bag of frozen peas. Sometimes I cheat and count the garlic, but more often garlic goes in as a "no count-em".
2. Choose the smallest vegetable -- for instance, peas or beans -- or choose a basic shape if all your vegetables are on the large side. This will be the template for the size and shape of all the vegetables. If peas are your smallest vegetable you'll cut the others into small cubes. If you choose string beans, you might cut them into one inch lengths and then cut the other vegetables into small inch long rectangles. (This is a good rule for lots of other dishes -- stir fries, cobb salad, and so on.)
Those are the two basic rules. Having chosen your seven vegetables (and no more), prepare each according to its needs or your preferences. Canned vegetables simply need to be drained; frozen vegetables need to be steamed briefly, rinsed in cool water and drained. Fresh vegetables might be steamed or served raw.
Next, dress the vegetables. One might be happiest in a balsamic vinagrette. Another might do well tossed with a little soy sauce. Some might go in naked, or tossed with a bit of parsley or garlic or olive oil. The safe thing is to dress them all alike, like bridesmaids. The more interesting tack is to vary the dressings and let them come together when you mix the whole lot together.
I have often arrived home with no clue what we were going to have for dinner and searched out seven vegetables to serve with a glass of wine and a loaf of bread. I have also brought this to pot lucks, and served it as a salad dish as part of a grilled summer meal. Sometimes, but not often, I buy the vegetables specifically for the recipe. This is most fun in the summer when the local farm stands are overflowing.
Here are a few more rules. It's OK to use beets, but add them at the last moment. Add fresh chopped herbs at the end. Add garlic any time, and lots.
Try it, and let me know what you used and how it worked!
Visiting Frank and Dana
Frank and Dana's house is very old, just like Frank's first house, and like Frank's first house it has a large lawn and outbuildings. They have three cats. One of the cats is very insistent about coming into the bedroom through the window at about 6:30 am.
Frank and Dana are in Ireland, and we are in Connecticut for Duncan's 55 [!] reunion from Wesleyan. We're staying here for one night, and they told us we could "use anything we wanted" in the kitchen.
I've always thought it would be great to stay in other people's houses so I could read all their books. At Frank and Dana's, I want to drink all of Frank's wine and use all of Dana's cookbooks.
The kitchen is full of everything you need to prepare a wonderful supper. I found a brownish green pepper, and Duncan found the garlic, and cooked them together in oil. Duncan found a half an onion in the fridge, so that went in too. I probably should have taken the vegetable mix out of the frying pan before I put in the veggie burgers, but I didn't and they survived anyway.
I added a scant 1/2 tsp of Thai curry paste, and feeling slightly guilty, about 2T of the incredible Chateau Neuf du Pape that Frank had left for us. Mixed all that about and served the vegetables on the veggie burgers. The only bad thing was that I wiped my nose after I sliced the peppers and suffered from nose burn all the way through dinner.
[Note: always taste peppers before cooking them if you don't know their hotness -- and only taste a tiny bit!]
So that was dinner -- veggie burgers with a wonderful, rich sauce. And salad with chopped dried tomatoes. The salad was wonderful, I realized. Way better than mine. And I think I've found the reason -- the balsamic vinegar cost $16. I know that's a crass way to put it, but it does suggest that they may be going for somewhat higher end stuff than I do. It was so worth it. I read the whole label and found that it was sold by Williams Sonoma.
Now let's talk about the wine. Frank's Chatneau Neuf du Pape was amazing. As we drank it we found ourselves trying to describe it -- hints of cherry, something that reminded us of chocolate and raspberry. And we didn't finish the bottle. It was a whole different experience, not at all like opening the usual $10 Merlot or Cab and drinking it down with dinner.
As I wandered around the kitchen trying to figure out what to make for dinner, I realized how like my kitchen theirs is. The basic equipment, and lots of condiments from all over the world. Hot sauces, peanut sauces, cans of this and bottles of that. You could cook for weeks and never have to repeat.
Frank and Dana are in Ireland, and we are in Connecticut for Duncan's 55 [!] reunion from Wesleyan. We're staying here for one night, and they told us we could "use anything we wanted" in the kitchen.
I've always thought it would be great to stay in other people's houses so I could read all their books. At Frank and Dana's, I want to drink all of Frank's wine and use all of Dana's cookbooks.
The kitchen is full of everything you need to prepare a wonderful supper. I found a brownish green pepper, and Duncan found the garlic, and cooked them together in oil. Duncan found a half an onion in the fridge, so that went in too. I probably should have taken the vegetable mix out of the frying pan before I put in the veggie burgers, but I didn't and they survived anyway.
I added a scant 1/2 tsp of Thai curry paste, and feeling slightly guilty, about 2T of the incredible Chateau Neuf du Pape that Frank had left for us. Mixed all that about and served the vegetables on the veggie burgers. The only bad thing was that I wiped my nose after I sliced the peppers and suffered from nose burn all the way through dinner.
[Note: always taste peppers before cooking them if you don't know their hotness -- and only taste a tiny bit!]
So that was dinner -- veggie burgers with a wonderful, rich sauce. And salad with chopped dried tomatoes. The salad was wonderful, I realized. Way better than mine. And I think I've found the reason -- the balsamic vinegar cost $16. I know that's a crass way to put it, but it does suggest that they may be going for somewhat higher end stuff than I do. It was so worth it. I read the whole label and found that it was sold by Williams Sonoma.
Now let's talk about the wine. Frank's Chatneau Neuf du Pape was amazing. As we drank it we found ourselves trying to describe it -- hints of cherry, something that reminded us of chocolate and raspberry. And we didn't finish the bottle. It was a whole different experience, not at all like opening the usual $10 Merlot or Cab and drinking it down with dinner.
As I wandered around the kitchen trying to figure out what to make for dinner, I realized how like my kitchen theirs is. The basic equipment, and lots of condiments from all over the world. Hot sauces, peanut sauces, cans of this and bottles of that. You could cook for weeks and never have to repeat.
No food in the house...
Tuesday January 17, 2006 - 10:12pm (EST)
Shrimp 'n Cabbage -- January 08, 2006 The other day -- not unusually -- there was "no food in the house." Except cabbage. So I tried this recipe:Slice cabbage; stir fry chopped garlic in a wok w/oil; add shrimp (which I happened to have in the freezer); when the shrimp is pink, add the cabbage and some fish sauce (which I happened to have in the fridge). Stir and cook till the cabbage is a bit cooked but still crisp. Serve with rice, with fresh lime, and with hot peppers or pepper sauce.The recipe is adapted from Thai Home-Cooking, by Wm Crawford and Kamolmal Pootarakasa. It's really good and really simple. I've also tried it with brussel sprouts instead of shrimp. Also good, not quite as.
Shrimp 'n Cabbage -- January 08, 2006 The other day -- not unusually -- there was "no food in the house." Except cabbage. So I tried this recipe:Slice cabbage; stir fry chopped garlic in a wok w/oil; add shrimp (which I happened to have in the freezer); when the shrimp is pink, add the cabbage and some fish sauce (which I happened to have in the fridge). Stir and cook till the cabbage is a bit cooked but still crisp. Serve with rice, with fresh lime, and with hot peppers or pepper sauce.The recipe is adapted from Thai Home-Cooking, by Wm Crawford and Kamolmal Pootarakasa. It's really good and really simple. I've also tried it with brussel sprouts instead of shrimp. Also good, not quite as.
Leeks a la Betty Burr
Leeks a la Provencale
Betty Burr gave me a wonderful recipe which she calls Leeks a la Provencale. I have used it as is, and altered it for many others. The mild oniony-garlicy leeks, plus the subtle taste of the lemon rind, are super in a lot of combinations, which I hope to catalogue here. When I use it in other combinations, for instance witn fish, I often leave out the olives.
Here goes:
Leeks a la Provencale
1 1/2 lbs leeks, cut in 1/2 inch slices, three tomatoes cut in quarters, 16 black olives stoned, 1/4 cup olive oil, rind and juice of one juicy lemon.
Put leeks, salt and pepper into warm oil. Cover pan and simmer 10 minutes. Add other ingredients and cook slowly 20 minutes.
Serve cool.
Betty Burr gave me a wonderful recipe which she calls Leeks a la Provencale. I have used it as is, and altered it for many others. The mild oniony-garlicy leeks, plus the subtle taste of the lemon rind, are super in a lot of combinations, which I hope to catalogue here. When I use it in other combinations, for instance witn fish, I often leave out the olives.
Here goes:
Leeks a la Provencale
1 1/2 lbs leeks, cut in 1/2 inch slices, three tomatoes cut in quarters, 16 black olives stoned, 1/4 cup olive oil, rind and juice of one juicy lemon.
Put leeks, salt and pepper into warm oil. Cover pan and simmer 10 minutes. Add other ingredients and cook slowly 20 minutes.
Serve cool.
Lyle's lobster paella
My grandson Lyle has 5 or 6 lobster traps just off the Old Wharf Lot. He's been setting the traps for three or four years now. He checks them every day, and lots of times the lobsters in his traps are too small, or egg-bearers, and have to be released. Sometimes, however, he gets a keeper, and recently he's been getting two at a time.
Still, with the size of our family (tonight's gathering was 13), two lobsters don't go very far (though one night he trapped a really big one and Duncan, Margi, William, and I shared it). So I had to come up with a recipe that would foreground the lobster and still feed a small army. Paella is it.
Paella, according to Julee Russo and Sheila Lukins (The New Basics Cookbook), was a Spanish cowboy dish "originally cooked outdoors and eaten directly out of the pan." I use their "grand gaucho paella" as an inspiration and starting point.
Tonight Lyle provided two lobsters, which his mother Julie cooked ahead of time (to make sure they lived and died in a proper way). The other key ingredient for my version is chorizo, the hot version, cooked on the grill.
I cook 4 or so cups of risotto rice, following the usual risotto recipe (saute onions, peppers, garlic in oil; add the rice; stir until the rice is golden; add a cup or so of white wine and stir and cook till the wine is absorbed. Continue to cook the rice by adding, one cup at a time, hot broth. Clam juice or mussel broth would be great -- tonight I used a can of crushed tomatoes cut with an equal part of water). Since we're doing a paella, I use lots of peppers.
When the risotto is al dente, spoon it into a paella pan. (I have one that I've had for over 40 years -- it's a Danske pan, about 14 inches in diameter, round and with sloped sides and two handles. If you don't have a paella pan, I think a large frying pan, or maybe even a wok, would do.) Put the rice in the pan into a warm oven (250). I stirred in some cut up steamed vegetables -- three small zucchini (one from my garden -- it's been a slow zucchini year), and a half a pound of green beans -- and a handful of pitted Calamata olives. I had some saffron, so I added that. I can't tell what difference it makes. I also added some frest cilantro.
Next cut up the lobster; add the tails, in little chunks, to the risotto. Reserve the claws and the feelers, and if there's any good roe or tamale stir that into the risotto. Grill the chorizo, slice it thin, and add that and shrimp to the paella, but don't stir those in. Put the pan back in the oven until you're ready to eat. Then add the lobster claws and the feelers -- decoratively. There's always a fight about who gets a claw.
This recipe fed 13 people with leftovers. We had some slices of grilled steak and chicken. They could have gone into the paella, but I left the meat on the side for the picky eaters. (I don't think there actually were any.) I served it with bread and butter, and a green salad (lettuce and cucumbers from my garden!)
Just before dinner I walked down to the beach. It was extreme low tide. I was tempted to harvest mussels and clams to add to the paella -- but I was just not sure enough that they'd be safe.
This is a real improv meal. A risotto or rice base, with whatever added in. After all, the gauchos were using whatever they happened to have on hand that night.
Still, with the size of our family (tonight's gathering was 13), two lobsters don't go very far (though one night he trapped a really big one and Duncan, Margi, William, and I shared it). So I had to come up with a recipe that would foreground the lobster and still feed a small army. Paella is it.
Paella, according to Julee Russo and Sheila Lukins (The New Basics Cookbook), was a Spanish cowboy dish "originally cooked outdoors and eaten directly out of the pan." I use their "grand gaucho paella" as an inspiration and starting point.
Tonight Lyle provided two lobsters, which his mother Julie cooked ahead of time (to make sure they lived and died in a proper way). The other key ingredient for my version is chorizo, the hot version, cooked on the grill.
I cook 4 or so cups of risotto rice, following the usual risotto recipe (saute onions, peppers, garlic in oil; add the rice; stir until the rice is golden; add a cup or so of white wine and stir and cook till the wine is absorbed. Continue to cook the rice by adding, one cup at a time, hot broth. Clam juice or mussel broth would be great -- tonight I used a can of crushed tomatoes cut with an equal part of water). Since we're doing a paella, I use lots of peppers.
When the risotto is al dente, spoon it into a paella pan. (I have one that I've had for over 40 years -- it's a Danske pan, about 14 inches in diameter, round and with sloped sides and two handles. If you don't have a paella pan, I think a large frying pan, or maybe even a wok, would do.) Put the rice in the pan into a warm oven (250). I stirred in some cut up steamed vegetables -- three small zucchini (one from my garden -- it's been a slow zucchini year), and a half a pound of green beans -- and a handful of pitted Calamata olives. I had some saffron, so I added that. I can't tell what difference it makes. I also added some frest cilantro.
Next cut up the lobster; add the tails, in little chunks, to the risotto. Reserve the claws and the feelers, and if there's any good roe or tamale stir that into the risotto. Grill the chorizo, slice it thin, and add that and shrimp to the paella, but don't stir those in. Put the pan back in the oven until you're ready to eat. Then add the lobster claws and the feelers -- decoratively. There's always a fight about who gets a claw.
This recipe fed 13 people with leftovers. We had some slices of grilled steak and chicken. They could have gone into the paella, but I left the meat on the side for the picky eaters. (I don't think there actually were any.) I served it with bread and butter, and a green salad (lettuce and cucumbers from my garden!)
Just before dinner I walked down to the beach. It was extreme low tide. I was tempted to harvest mussels and clams to add to the paella -- but I was just not sure enough that they'd be safe.
This is a real improv meal. A risotto or rice base, with whatever added in. After all, the gauchos were using whatever they happened to have on hand that night.
Cook Until Done
My brother Eric says "it sums up your philosophy around cooking. Just dive in and cook something."
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