Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Superfoods -- Generally nutritionally dense edibles (low calorie for food value), often high in anti=-oxidants declared good for our health and well being. Though magazines and advertisers relish the term it is not in common use by scientists or dietitians. In fact it is nothing more than a marketing term popular since 2004.
And still as each new year turns, I haul out the same old "superfood" ingredients -- spinach, kale, sweet potatoes, lentils to name a few, in another valiant effort to make us better than we are. Healthier, stronger, happier.
Tonight's offering . . . buckwheat. An undeniably healthful fruit seed related to rhubarb, tonight I stirred up a risotto of the non grain, grain. After toasting the buckwheat in the pan along with some onions and garlic I deglazed with white wine and then started adding broth by the 1/2 up until the buckwheat was tender, toothsome, and creamy just like risotto. I finished the dish with a pat of butter and a sprinkling of cheese. I hope buckwheat really is superfood enough to counteract those purely tasty but not all that pure additions.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Monday, January 18, 2016
We start every year pledging to be healthier and stronger and somehow a couple months in we find ourselves back living in bacon city. I am the cook. I am probably to blame. I fall back on what I know and, I guess, take the easy way to flavorful foods.
I can't say this year will be different but I was encouraged by a slew of interesting, grain based and vaguely Japanese recipes in the January issue of every food magazine I read so I decided a little pantry update and lighter cooking might just be in order -- for now.
Clearly there are more healthful and interesting grains but tonight, not yet ready to brave the grocery store, I started with rice -- plain old white rice. I love it. Then I went searching through the fridge for what might add color and texture.
A little bit of leftover broccoli, a little past it's prime, was quickly boiled and dressed with a tiny drizzle of sesame oil. Butternut squash, sitting on the counter since I didn't serve them for Christmas dinner, was sweet and gingery. I quickly fried several slices of ginger in canola oil, added in the squash cut in 1 1/2" pieces, 1/2 tsp of salt, 2 tsp of sugar (okay not quite the healthful star here but it is very Japanese) and 1/2 cup of water. I brought the liquid to a boil, covered the pot, reduced the heat to medium low and let the squash cook for about 10 minutes until tender.
With rice in the rice cooker, squash and broccoli cooked and set aside to be served room temperature on hot rice, I got a little more ambitious.
Every rice bowl (and Japanese meal) needs something pickled and a sauce. I quickly combined 1 cup rice wine vinegar, 2 TB of sugar, a pinch of salt and ground chile and let celery sticks and carrot rounds soak in that brine for about 1/2 hour. Easy. I'd have used a little lemon zest if I'd had any. For the sauce I mixed 1 TB tahini, 1 TB honey and 1 TB soy sauce with 1 tsp sesame oil. Ready. All that was left was to put it all together -- almost.
When it came time for dinner I cooked a couple eggs seasoned with soy sauce and a touch of sake into a flat omelette that I rolled and cut into slices over one side of the rice. Facing that a bit of sautéed chicken -- leftover legs and wings I tucked in the freezer after a holiday season Hainanese chicken dinner.
I wasn't too sure what to expect when James sat down to dinner. But, he seemed pleased by the lighter style and lighter plate.
It's fun to step out of my comfort zone and try something new. Not a bad way to cook in 2016.
Sunday, December 27, 2015
A simple soup. Stracciatella. Italian egg drop soup this time with poached chicken, spinach and egg noodles.
It couldn't be easier or more comforting. First I brought lightened turkey stock (I usually would use chicken but I had some nice rich turkey stock made from our Thanksgiving leftovers waiting in the freezer) up to a boil and added in thinly sliced chicken and a package or pappardelle (Italian egg noodles). After about 7 minutes I added in a couple handfuls of fresh spinach and a combination of 4 eggs and about 1/3 cup parmesan cheese. I gave the broth a little swirl with a fork, poured in the egg and cheese mixture and let every thing simmer about 3 minutes more.
Friday, December 25, 2015
Our country Christmas.
There was a last minute reversal. I wasn't happy with the meat I ordered and just yesterday ran to the store to see what I could find.
Though it's not generally James' favorite I landed on prime rib. I considered a whole NY roast but it just didn't seem festive enough. Right at the meat counter I came up with a plan from a recipe way n eh back of my head. To open up the roast (after it was separated from the bones) slather it with a horseradish, parsley, garlic paste, roll it back up and roast now highly seasoned meat resting on the bones.
"Can you butterfly that for me?" I asked.
"No, no I wouldn't want to do that," the first butcher replied across the meat counter.
"I've been in some kind of food service for 9 years and I have never heard of anyone doing that," the second butcher -- now interested, chimed in.
I explained the recipe I was thinking about.
"You could do that yourself," the first butcher offered up.
They doubted but this was one of the best roasts I have ever made. Tender, flavorful, juicy. I might never cook prime rib any other way. My delicious flavor paste, BTW, was 6 anchovies, about 1/3 cup fresh horseradish (I love horseradish and roast beef -- that was the major attraction of this idea), 3 cloves garlic, 2 tsp chili flakes, about 1/8 tsp fresh ground nutmeg, 1 cup parsley, and about 1/4 cup olive oil cobbled together from a recipe I found in Bon Appetit.
I rubbed the paste inside the butterflied cuts, along the bones that served as a roasting rack and all over the outside of the roast. In another unusual step I started the room temperature meat at 500º for about 40 minutes and then turn doth even down to 350 for an additional about 15 minutes a pound until the temperature hovered around 130-135º for medium rare.
Beautiful and delicious -- exactly the kind of showstopper I was hoping for.
I just wanted to do something fun for dessert. Of course there were cookies and gingerbread cake pops made from my signature Christmas cake batter but after hours and hours or watching The Great British Bake Off (I'm totally hooked and binging) I felt like a stretch. Oh there is never enough time and I decorated and redecorated. Never happy in the end I settled for festive but not quite homemade ribbon trim and let the inside speak for itself.
A very Merry Christmas one and all.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
It's not the presents under the tree. It's not flashy diamond rings. For me, it's not memories of great events.
It's the little every day reminders and the unexpected.
James comes to rescue me when the car battery dies even though I could call triple AAA. It's raining and he drives me to the store, not because I need him to . . . just so I don't have to.
It's a little box that came right at dinnertime. This time from my brother (and his family).
I've been a California girl for many many years now. But I was born on the other coast, not far from the Chesapeake Bay. I grew up eating and loving steamed crabs. My family might eat a few -- my brother would never touch them -- but I love them. I miss summer on the East coast and settling down to hot spicy steamed blue crabs.
And then this box.
Packed in tidy styrofoam in a well traveled cardboard shell were a dozen out of season (and probably insanely expensive and hard to find) steamed blue crabs.
The taste of my childhood for Christmas.
My siblings and I stopped exchanging gifts years ago in favor of the next generation. I wasn't expecting anything and my brother does't expect anything in return.
But there it was, a just because box.
I heated them in the oven.
Were they as good as the fresh in season crabs I remember from years ago? No. They were better.
They tasted like family and home and love.
They tasted like Christmas.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
A veritable temple to fois gras, there are croquettes, crepes, burgers, tarts and even poutine -- Montreal's classic dish of french fries, cheese curds and gravy -- featuring the controversial, creamy fattened liver.
Vegetarians beware. Picard's homage to traditional Quebec specialties rests heavily on his love for meat, in enormous portions. Duck, bison, goose, deer, horse (yikes) and of course the namesake pig are all featured in super rich dishes ideal to keep a lumberjack or trapper warm in cold Canadian winters and to assure he won't have to plan for a long retirement.
The menu is short on description but the wait staff, all seemingly truly delighted to be part of this pork fueled rave, are happy to describe any dish. I literally saw stars dancing in our waitress' eye as she gushed about the "meat pie" filled dumplings -- a play on Montreal's Christmas favorite tourtière.
"Every bite is like Christmas," Carol, our waitress, beamed. "Like my grandmother made when I was a little girl."
How do you say no to that?
We quickly ordered 6 dumplings.
Sure enough. Meat and cloves and wine and butter. It's a mouthful of Christmas and a most unusual dumpling served with house-made ketchup sauce. Delicious.
We wanted to try everything but Carol kept us in check. "Too much, too much," she declared. "The leg, dumplings and salad. Is already a lot."
We had no idea how right she was until the pig's trotter stuffed with foil gras, the restaurant's signature and perhaps most publicized dish arrived at the table swimming in a sea of creamy mushroom sauce and snowy beach of cheesy curd potato purée.
"Since I have been here," Carol explained. "Only one has ever eater it all."
That dish could easily feed four or even six sensible people. My willing friend and I were spurred on by the delicious hearty sauce and super tender meat which I later learned from a friendly line cook had been removed from the foot boned, roasted, re-stuffed and cooked sort of sous vide for more than 12 hours and then crisped in the restaurant's beautiful brick oven.
Oh and that salad? Pork cheeks, lardons, radishes and sunflower sprouts grown on the dining room window sill. A spicy, herby, fatty salad.
I suppose one could say that PDC is a lot of show. In another famous dish duck is cooked inside a can (instead of a sous vide bag) which is ceremoniously opened table side. Our dessert of peach preserves and most ginger spice cake topped with crème anglais and maple caramel sauce was given the same "canned" treatment. But this kitchen does not rely on gimmicks. This is real food, with sophisticated voluptuous flavors expertly prepared and served with an undying sense of pride . . . and fun.
There is no other restaurant like it. I can't wait to come back. I think I am in love with Martin Picard.