Red Salad from Fergus

Most people think of Fergus Henderson as a man who mainly cooks meat. His best-known book is Nose to Tail Cooking, in which he successfully uses all parts of the pig. In the first season of Gourmet's Diary of a Foodie we watched Fergus lovingly place half of a pig's head on a plate.  But the first time I ate at his London restaurant, St.John, the dish that blew me away was not his famous marrow bones, but a simple plate of asparagus. Plump spears, each one still taut and dripping with flavor. I ate them with my fingers, licking up every morsel.

Last night a friend cooked an entire dinner from Fergus' newest book, Beyond Nose to Tail. The most memorable dish was this gorgeously simple salad. Think of it as a deconstructed borscht, the way you wish borscht would taste except it doesn't. It glows with color - the perfect winter vegetable. And I love the way Fergus writes; who could resist "nustle your blob"?

Serves 6

2 raw beetroot, peeled and finely grated
¼ raw red cabbage with its core cut out, very finely sliced
1 small red onion, peeled, cut in half from top to bottom and finely sliced
6 healthy dollops of crème fraîche
2 healthy bunches of chervil, picked

For the Dressing

Healthy splashes of extra virgin olive oil
A little gesture of balsamic vinegar
A small handful of extra-fine capers
Sea salt and black pepper

Method
Mix everything together for the dressing. Toss all your raw red vegetables in the dressing, then on six plates place a bushel of this red mixture.Next to this, nustle your blob of crème fraîche as if the two ingredients were good friends, not on top of each other as if they were lovers. Finally a clump of the chervil rested next to the other ingredients in the friendly fashion. A very striking salad ready for the eater to mess up.

More Favorite Flavors of 2009

    As the year comes to a close I find myself indulging in taste memories, flipping through the card file in my mind, calling up my favorite flavors.  It's an extremely satisfying way to remember the year.
    First up, the glorious smush of chicken liver on toast that begins every smart meal at The Spotted Pig, Disgustingly ugly, insanely decadent, and a fine reminder of how good it is to be alive.
     The kale salad at Osteria Mercato in Red Hook, perfect proof that not everything that tastes good is bad for you.
      Enrica Rocca's seafood pasta.  The secret is that the spaghetti is cooked right in among the seafood, absorbing the stock until the pasta itself becomes one with the shrimp, squid and clams. (This recipe, from Adventures with Ruth, is at gourmet.com.)
      Peking Duck buns at Corner 28 in Flushing.  Is there a better $1 snack anywhere in the world?  I doubt it.
      Fish and Chips at the King's Arms in Bath, England.  The perfect collision of crackling crunch and smooth silky fish.  Eating it with Dianne Wiest, who likes it even better than I do, doesn't hurt.
      Nancy Silverton's hamburgers.  Everything Nancy makes is wonderful, but her burgers are the best. Her secret? She grinds in extra beef fat so that they are juicy and filled with flavor.
       The uni sandwich at El Quinto Pinto on 24th St.  Crisp, buttered ficelle stuffed with the soft roe of sea urchins; need I say more?
       Tuna with foie gras at Le Bernardin. When Eric Ripert hides a nugget of foie gras perched on a crisp slice of toast beneath a sheer sheet of bright raw tuna, the clash of textures and flavors is so intense that I gasp every time I encounter it.
        The one tomato that survived this rainy summer in my garden. It may have been the most expensive tomato on earth, but it was worth it.  The promise of a sunnier summer in every bite.
        More later.  Maybe.  I am making myself very hungry.....

As the year comes to a close I find myself indulging in taste memories, flipping through the card file in my mind, calling up my favorite flavors. It's an extremely satisfying way to remember the year.
First up, the glorious smush of chicken liver on toast that begins every smart meal at The Spotted Pig, Disgustingly ugly, insanely decadent, and a fine reminder of how good it is to be alive.
The kale salad at Osteria Mercato in Red Hook, perfect proof that not everything that tastes good is bad for you.
Enrica Rocca's seafood pasta. The secret is that the spaghetti is cooked right in among the seafood, absorbing the stock until the pasta itself becomes one with the shrimp, squid and clams. (This recipe, from Adventures with Ruth, is at gourmet.com.)
Peking Duck buns at Corner 28 in Flushing. Is there a better $1 snack anywhere in the world? I doubt it.
Fish and Chips at the King's Arms in Bath, England. The perfect collision of crackling crunch and smooth silky fish. Eating it with Dianne Wiest, who likes it even better than I do, doesn't hurt.
Nancy Silverton's hamburgers. Everything Nancy makes is wonderful, but her burgers are the best. Her secret? She grinds in extra beef fat so that they are juicy and filled with flavor.
The uni sandwich at El Quinto Pinto on 24th St. Crisp, buttered ficelle stuffed with the soft roe of sea urchins; need I say more?
Tuna with foie gras at Le Bernardin. When Eric Ripert hides a nugget of foie gras perched on a crisp slice of toast beneath a sheer sheet of bright raw tuna, the clash of textures and flavors is so intense that I gasp every time I encounter it.
The one tomato that survived this rainy summer in my garden. It may have been the most expensive tomato on earth, but it was worth it. The promise of a sunnier summer in every bite.
More later. Maybe. I am making myself very hungry.....

Hoarfrost

Woke up yesterday to the most astonishing vision: Every tree was etched in a filigree of frost, delicate lines of white outlining every limb, every leaf. I've never seen anything like it before; up close it was as if some giant creature had waved a wand and flocked each tree with snow.

Nick and I went walking through the woods, following deer trails and looking around like two wide-eyed little children. The soft snow crunched deliciously beneath our feet. We came in breathless, red-cheeked, happy, built a fire and began to cook.

Does anything smell better than a really good prime rib, slowly roasting? It's such a sensual smell, and as it began to fill up the house I iced a cake in billows of 7 minute frosting that looked just like snow, dusted it with freshly grated coconut, and began to braise celery root and apples.

A dozen of us sat down to dinner. Another year has passed, and we're still together. We toasted the season and each other. It all felt very Dickens as we tucked into rare roast beef, baked potatoes, green beans with shallots, celery root puree and big puffs of Yorkshire pudding. I wonder if Tiny Tim ever tasted coconut cake?

Best Bites of 2009

   Away for almost a month, eating only my own cooking, I find myself dreaming about the taste of New York. At odd moments the flavors of my favorite dishes come drifting into my mind.
    This morning I woke up to the taste of Marea's sea urchin bruschetta, the rich golden roe encased in a glistening sheet of melting lardo. It is the single most indulgent dish I know.
     Right behind that came the memory of the first bite of a Gray's Papaya hot dog, that snap when your teeth cut through the dog, the outside of the bun is still toasty, the onions still slightly warm.
How wonderful that would be with an Elio's martini, so cold that a thin layer of ice floats across the top.
      Spaghetti neri at Esca, the only place i know that gets the balance of the squid ink, chiles and pasta exactly right.
      And now, suddenly, I must have the rice sticks with sausage and Chinese broccoli at Momofuku, a giant mouthful of heat and texture  And while I'm there, just a single bite of the slcik raw hamachi topped with its crisp salty crumbs.
        Caesar salad at Pearl, the most macho salad I know, all crunch and cheese, every bite dusted with garlic.
        Chiles with black beans at Grand Sichuan, pure fire when the chiles are right.
        The ridiculously wonderful $26 hamburger at Minetta Lane.
        A rare Porterhouse at Peter Luger.
        Uni chawan mushi at Sushi Zen.
        Pollo alla Diavolo at Lupa.
       I think it is time to make myself breakfast.  This morning: leftover pureed watercress topped with a poached egg, sprinkled with grated parmesan and a dash of Sriracha. Just the thing to celerate the shortest day of the year. Tomorrow, the days grow longer!
       
      
   
    

Emergency Crostata

There was a foot and a half of snow in the city, but up here on the mountain the storm went right around us, and people kept showing up all day. I just kept cooking.

I began by putting a ham in the oven, letting it cook very slowly while I made applesauce from the last of the Knobbed Russets - they do make the most wonderful sauce.  A luxuriously cheesy Gratin Dauphinoise was as much cream as potatoes; the secret is to slice the potatoes, cook them in cream on top of the stove, and then dump them into a casserole and bake it  the oven.  It's the most forgiving dish I know. I pureed watercress, and took the leaves off Brussels Sprouts and quickly sauteed them in butter, adding a few toasted pinenuts at the end. 

It was all delicious, but the piece de resistence turned out to be the Cranberry Crostata.  It's a recipe of Gina's, but I've made it so often now that I've ended up making it my own. I generally double the crust recipe and put half in the freeze; you never know when you'll need an emergency crostata.
.
Here's my recipe:

11/2 sticks butter
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
2/4 cup toasted almonds, ground
grated rind of one lemon
1 teaspoon vanilla
drop of almond extract
pinch of salt
2 cups flour

Beat the butter with the sugar in a stand mixer until light.  Add egg, then remaining ingredients.
Form into two disks, wrap in wax paper and chill for 30 minutes (or more).

1 package raw cranberries
juice of one orange
1/2 cup apricot preserves
1/2 cup sugar

Cook cranberries, juice, jam and sugar at high heat, stirring, for about 5 minutes.  Cool.


Roll out one disk of dough into a 12 inch circle. Don't worry too much about this step; it will tear, and you can just press it into a 9" springform pan, bringing the sides up about 1/2 an inch.  Put cranberry filling into crust.  Roll out remaining disk and cut into 8-12 strips, forming a lattice over the crust. Again, they will be soft, but don't worry.  You can patch them together.

Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for about 45 minutes, until golden. 

Cool on a rack, removing the sides of the springform pan.
(I like it even better on the second day. )

What we ate last night...

  Raucous party: a dozen adults and 5 little kids who spent the entire evening chasing from one end of the house to the other. Loved the noise and the action. And the fact that it was a really easy dinner that tasted terrific.  Here's what we ate.
 
   To Begin:
    Bacon-Cheddar Toasts - a glorious smoosh of chopped bacon, Montgomery, onions and horseradish, slathered onto thinly sliced white bread and baked in a hot oven until it's melted into a crusty jumble.
    Chicken liver mousse
    Tomato-Red Pepper Dip with vegetables - an easy take on muhammara made with bottled sun-dried tomatoes, red peppers, toasted walnuts, olive oil, vinegar and pomegranate syrup.
     Guacamole (avocados were ripe and cheap at the store)

     Main Course:
     Pork loin, stuffed with cognac-soaked prunes and braised in white wines with onions. The meat stays moist, and the onion, wine and prunes turn into a sweetly seductive sauce.
     Pommes Dauphinoises - Jacques Pepin's recipe is one of my go-to dishes.  First you boil sliced potatoes in milk and cream, then you bake the whole thing with cheese until it's dissolved into a rich potato pudding.
      Sauteed Brussels sprouts. (The oven was full. And I love sprouts when they're julienned and quickly cooked.  Although I have to admit that I overcooked them.)

     And Finally.....
     Raspberry crumble tart
     Blueberry pie.
     Vanilla ice cream

     We drank a lot of delicious wines.  My favorites were a 2005 Chateau Lagrange and an extraordinary 2006 Raven from Sine Qua Non.
    

Ode to a microwave

   Leftovers are my life, which is one reason I have such a close relationship with my microwave oven. Last night I discovered one more justification for their existence: Nothing makes better basmati rice.
   I learned this long ago from Julie Sahni, and I should have known better than to doubt her. But despite all her assurances that the microwave not only cooks basmati rice perfectly, but actually makes each grain longer, I've continued to use the conventional method.  Last night, however, every burner on the stove was occupied. I decided to do it her way.
    It couldn't be easier: You wash 2 cups of basmati rice until the water runs clear.  Then you put it in a bowl (or some other microwave-friendly vessel), add 3 cups of water and cook at the highest power for 15 minutes.  Cover the bowl, cook it 5 minutes more, and let it stand for an additional 5 minutes.
    Fluff with a fork and proudly serve the remarkably fragrant rice. This rice is long, thin and extremley elegant. More importantly, each grain retains its individuality, refusing to reach out and grab its neighbors in the clingy fashion of so many lesser rices.
  And it makes great leftovers.

   

World's Finest Citrus

  Last year I gave a four-year old friend a handful of tiny Kishu mandarins and he actually squealed with delight. "Oranges for children!" he said, clearly wondering why all foods don't come scaled for little people.  He began to peel the miniature fruit, delighting in the tiny sections.  Then he put one into his mouth.  And didn't say anything until he had devoured 6 of them.  "More," he said simply when he was done.

These are extraordinary little treats, better, to my mind because their season is so short. They're like the first real strawberries of spring, the fleeting local cherries, the tomatoes of high summer... Something to anticipate with pleasure and eat with utter abandon, trying to fix the flavor in your mind so you can bring it forward when all you have is memories. 

Kishu mandarins won't be ripe until January, but the orchard is taking pre-orders now.  Here's the link:
(http://formdesk.com/kishu/order2email)

Rice Pudding

  Woke up early, snuggled into bed and reached for the nearest books on the table.  First up, "A Place of Greater Safety,"  (I'm on a Hilary Mantel jag, and no wonder when she writes sentences like these.  "I have tried to write a novel that gives the reader scope to change opinions, change sympathies: a book that one can think and live inside.  The reader may ask how to tell fact from fiction.  A rough guide: anything that seems particularly unlikely is probably true.")

I got so absorbed that I began to understand how easily I could spend the entire day living inside of that book, so I moved on to the old cookbooks I bought at Bonnie Slotnick's store last month. (Another addiction.)  "The House of Chan Cookbook" turned out to be a ridiculous volume from 1952 that begins in embarrassing pidgen English and offers entire chapters on Chop Suey and Chow Mein. But "Cooking a la Longchamps," with its evocation of a long-gone New York, was a wonderful slice of nostalgia.  It was a time of "Crabmeat Exquisite," "Abalone Steaks in Rhine Wine Sauce" and gnocchi that were called "Baked Cream of Wheat with Parmesan."  Turning the page, I realized what had made me buy the book, My father couldn't pass Longchamps withoug going in for a bowl of rice pudding. And why not?  They were famous for this dish, which was served in little brown custard cups, with a pitcher of cream to pour over the top.  I loved it too. 

I haven't made the recipe yet, but I will, soon.  I have to admit that the amount of cream seems suspiciously small; how do you whip half a cup of cream and make it cover an entire casserole? And doesn't this rice cook an awfully long time? We'll see.

Longchamps Rice Pudding with Raisins
3/4 cup rice
1 quart milk
3/4 cup sugar
pinch salt
1/2 cup raisins
4 egg yolks
1 cup heavy cream, divided
1 teaspoon vanilla
grated riind of 1 lemon.
powdered cinnamon.

Parboil rice in 3 cups boiling water for 10 minutes.  Drain and combine rice with milk, sugar and salt and cook for 25 minutes until mixture is thick. 

Meanwhile cook raisins in boiling water for 10 minutes and drain.

Beat egg yolks with half the cream. Add to rice with raisins, vanilla and lemon rind.  Put in a casserole.  Whip remaining cream until stiff, spread on top of rice miture, sprinkle with cinnamon. 

Bake in a preheated 400 degree oven for 8 minutes, until cream turns golden.

Cool and serve with more cream.

Dumplings Redux

 There I was, with a craving for dumplings, and no Chinatown within miles.  So I went scrounging through the refrigerator to see if I had anything that might pass for dumplings.  Happily, I had some wonton wrappers. And a few raw shrimp. In mere minutes I had produced a very satisfying substitute for serious shrimp dumplings.  Herewith, the recipe.

Sort of Shrimp Dumplings
1/2 pound shrimp, peeled
2 cloves garlic
a small knob of ginger
3 skinny scallions
1 teaspoon soy sauce
splash of grapeseed oil
wonton wrappers

I never bother to devein shrimp, but if you're fastidious, do that. Then chop the shrimp finely (this is much faster and easier than it sounds). 

Mince the garlic, ginger and scallions and mix them into the shrimp.  Add soy sauce and a splash of oil and mix well.

Put a rounded teaspoon of filling in the middle of a wrapper, dab the edges of the wrapper with a bit of water and fold into a triangle, pressing the edges together.  Fold corners together to make a tortellini shaped-object.

Plop into a pot of gently boiling water for about 3 minutes, until filling is cooked.

Eat very happily, dipped into ginger-scented soy sauce. 

This makes about 20 little dumplings.

More Great Stuff

Today I'm craving the savory matzos from Blue Ribbon Bakery.  "Matzo" doesn't begin to describe these crisp, cheesy crackers (although while we're on the subject, is there anything more delicious than a square of matzo spread with cold sweet butter?), but they are utterly impossible to stop eating. These wonderfully crackly rounds taste of garlic, rosemary and parmesan cheese leave your fingers slicked with such delicious olive oil that you simply have to lick them clean. We ate dozens of them during Thanksgiving week, and I am feeling bereft now that they're gone.

In fact, today I'll go foraging in the Berkshires, and see what I can find that might replace them. Stay tuned.

Dumplings!

It took me a while to get the weekly Gourmet Newsletter right.  I thought we'd be writing about all the great stuff we found out in the world, like the incredible Satsuma oranges that are available for just a couple of weeks every year.  Tiny, intensely flavorful and so irresistible that you eat a dozen before you  know it, they're a treat I want everyone to experience.  Or the amazing Richter raspberries, summer's ripest flavor, that come bursting out of the box, begging you to eat them.

Alas, it turned out that what people really wanted were recipes.  So that's what we started to give them, week after week.  It was easy - but pretty boring, at least to me.

Here, of course, I can say anything I want. And what I want to write about is the foods I find myself craving. Today it's dumplings from Supertaste on Eldridge Street, just below Canal.  Bud brought them as a Thanksgiving house gift, but we ate them so greedily every morning that now they're gone. You buy them frozen - 50 to a bag- and simply throw them into a pot of boiling water for 7 minutes.  The transformation - from frozen white lumps into knobbly little pockets of fragile dough filled with a sweetly pungent mixture of pork, garlic and scallions - is astonishing.  As they bubble merrily in the pot they send wafts of fragrant steam up into the air.  The anticipation is so intense that by the time they're ready to eat you're willing to burn your mouth, and you find yourself dumping them into the sauce and scooping them into your mouth without even bothering to let them cool downl.

Heaven. 

The Guests are Gone

Does everybody get depressed when the holidays end?  I've so loved having this houseful of people to cook for, loved the way people roll out of bed when they smell the coffee brewing, come into the kitchen, faces hopeful, to see what might be for breakfast.  I love the way fresh orange juice smells when it mingles with frying bacon and the warm brown scent of buttery toast.  I love the hunt for different kinds of jam and the pawing through the refrigerator by the people who prefer leftover meatballs to just-made pancakes.

I love the constant conversation, the going out for walks or off to the movies, the feeling of life happening in every room.  Now that everyone's gone back to their own lives, and even Nick is back in  school, the house feels yawningly empty and slightly hungry, waiting for what's next.

Thanksgiving, 2009

Around the table there were 23 people, ranging in age from 19 to 70.  Median age was 23, which gives you some idea of how much the young outnumbered the old.

What was on the table?  Herewith, a list.

To stave off hunger while we cooked;

Spiced nuts
Marinated eggplant
Chinese pork and chive dumplings
Liver pate
Cheesy home-made crackers
An assortment of cheeses

Two turkeys
Herbed apricot stuffing
Sausage, mushroom and chestnut stuffing
Creamy mashed potatoes
Roasted sweet potatoes with miso butter
Red Cabbage
Brussels sprouts with pine nuts
Pureed squash
Rutabagas mashed with butter and cream
Creamed pearl onions
Cooked cranberry sauce
Fresh cranberry and orange sauce
Pomegranate gravy

Pumpkin pie
Pecan pie
Cranberry crostata
Apple pie
Whipped cream
Assorted chocolates
Tangerines

Wines: Charles Ellner Champagne, Bavard Burgundy, Adelsheim Pinot Noir, Beaucastel, Cotes du Rhone, Cognac