purple cabbage shallot puree, polenta and steak with brown beer mustard sauce

This dinner was definitely one of the best things I have cooked this year. From left to right we have a nice rare steak with a beer and grainy mustard sauce, creamy polenta with parsley, and a purple cabbage and shallot puree. I won't beat around the bush. It. Was. Awesome.



This meal came about when I saw this recipe. Unlike the gloppy looking purplish goo that I came up with, the photo that accompanied original recipe was so damn pretty that I couldn't believe it wasn't actually a dessert. I when I realized that it was actually the prettiest cabbage that I've ever seen, I knew what I was making with some of my seemingly endless supply of purple food co-op cabbage. (Seriously, that stuff doesn't go bad, and it multiplies like Jesus with the loaves and fishes when you try to chop it up!)

While my dish didn't quite compare visually, I am happy to report that it was super delicious. I'd even go so far as to say that this may be the tastiest cabbage preparation I've ever eaten. The cabbage is cooked slowly with plenty of chopped shallots in some olive oil, so everything turns sweet and mellow as the shallots caramelize. Then you blend everything up with some milk or half and half to make a nice smooth puree.

I am telling you, this was such a pleasant surprise. I never knew that cabbage could be so silky and sweet. I couldn't stop eating it. And, even if it wasn't as pretty as I thought it would be, I definitely enjoyed having something purple on my plate. What can I say, sometimes I am girly like that.



I used this nice Belgian beer to make a sauce for my steak. I swear to you that I got the idea for a beer and mustard pan sauce from some recipe I saw on Serious Eats or perhaps some other food blog, but I can't seem to find the original anywhere. So I guess I will just have to take all the credit. Perhaps I merely dreamed that I read about a delicious steak, seared on high heat and then left to rest while the pan is deglazed with a nice ale and some grainy mustard. Sounds like a pretty sweet dream to me!



The steak was perfectly rare on the inside with a nice crust on the outside, and the beer and mustard sauce thickened up into a wonderfully rich glaze. It was very easy to make up this sauce, and it was a good way to scrape up all those lovely brown bits that are left behind in the pan after you sear the steak. A pan sauce is such a great thing, and I really should try to make them more often.



Paired with some easy, cheesy polenta and a nice green parsley garnish, the steak and cabbage were a great dinner, and one of my 2011 dining highlights to date!

colcannon mashed potatoes

cabbage and mashed potato colcannon

Wow, I could use a break from this whole "writing a blog post every day thing" already, and its only the 8th. I have a feeling it is going to be a long month. Today I read an interesting article about the growing popularization of vegetables, which are no longer considered second class citizens in a meat eater's world. Between my diet being dictated by my injury and the epic veggie share at the CSA, I've become much less dependent on meat in my own diet, so I found it an interesting read.

In fact, the last couple of posts, in conjunction with today's, represent a great meatless dinner I put together for Laura and Nathan back in September. Luscious, tender leeks in vinaigrette, nutty and peppery romesco sauce, and creamy crunchy colcannon potatoes. It was a pan-European meal, what with the French leeks, Mediterranean romesco and Irish cabbage and potatoes. It was also extremely filling and satisfying without any meat or even cheese. If I had thickened my mashed potatoes without milk and butter, it would have even been vegan! I know I know, this is scaring me too.

But seriously, what with the horrible state of livestock farming in this country, it's obviously good for each of us to scale our meat intake down a little bit. Feed lots are a huge health problem in our world, not to mention totally disgusting and rife with animal cruelty. I know it's easy to get blindsided by a carnivorous love for meat, but I'm here to tell you that it's possible to cook such delicious food that you won't even miss your daily steak or pork chop. I know Nathan still raves about this meatless meal months later, and if that's not a ringing endorsement, I don't know what is.

I made the colcannon based on this recipe. I had never heard of colcannon, but basically all it is is mashed potatoes mixed with some boiled kale or cabbage , onion and parsley that has been seasoned and dressed with some lemon juice and olive oil. The author used kale, but mentioned that cabbage was also traditional. There was a big head of CSA cabbage in the fridge, so that's what went in. It was a nice variation on plain mashed potatoes and quite delicious.


Irish mashed potatoes

Together with the leeks and romesco sauce, the colcannon made for a very hearty and filling meal. We wanted for nothing. Not even a little meat.

borscht

beet and cabbage soup

In my ongoing attempt to get rid of my food co-op beets, I made borscht. This is easy, and tastes pretty good. I had made a borscht last summer too, but I didn't remember which recipe I used, so I started my search afresh.

I found this great website about supporting Ukrainian orphans that looks like it is straight out of 1997 and has a whole section devoted to the world's best borscht. I explored their collection of recipes, and got a pretty good sense of what I wanted to do: Beets, cabbage, carrots, celery, onion, potato, parsley and dill. The ingredients varied from recipe to recipe, but those were the most common across the board.

I started off with the mire poix of carrots, celery and onion. I had saved the water that I boiled my syrian beets in, so I poured all that in after everything had started to brown. I would have added some chicken stock also, but I accidentally defrosted pesto sauce instead, and started to add that instead before I realized my mistake. Near disaster! Haha. Then I added half a head of cabbage, a small bunch of chopped parsley, some minced dill and a handful of small red diced potatoes. I let that all cook for a while and then I added three GIANT peeled and diced beets.

I cooked that all for long while more and then tried to mash it all up a bit since there wasn't much liquid. It was pretty chunky, but when I tasted it, it was good. It's common knowledge that soups are better after a day or two when the flavors have had a chance to meld, and borscht is no exception. Two days later, topped with dill flavored sour cream, thinly sliced radishes, scallions and fresh dill, it was a delicious meal.

I still think beets are kind of boring, but making them into a hearty borscht is not only tasty, but a cool refreshing lunch for the dog days of summer.


borscht topped with radishes, dill and scallions

cilantro lime coleslaw

coleslaw with a kick

This was my first foray into the world of slaws, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This mammoth bowl of coleslaw is only half of what I made. A head of cabbage goes a long, long way!


a brightly colored slaw

I decided to make this coleslaw because there was a big old head of red cabbage languishing away in the back of the fridge. Back when Nathan and I made our second bagna cauda pasta dish, I had been in charge of the grocery shopping. I was tired after a long day of work, so when I went to my local Key Food I half hoped/half believed that the red cabbage they had on display in the produce section was actually radicchio. When Nathan arrived he quickly set me straight, and was so kind as to head back out to try his luck at Fine Fare. We both feared the mission would prove fruitless, but he inexplicably found two lonely radicchio heads, sitting in the produce case as if they were waiting specially for us. Indeed, the cashier had no idea what they were, nor how to ring them up, and the manager was equally flummoxed. After much discussion, it was determined that they must be runty red cabbages, so they ended up costing about fifty cents collectively.

That worked out great for the bagna cauda dish, but it also meant that I wound up with a totally superfluous head of red cabbage. Fast forward to my first food co-op pick up a few weeks later, and I've got a fridge full of veggies and a barbecue to attend at my dear friend Christine Jones nee Flood's house. I know I want to bring something to eat, and when I remember I have the cabbage, coleslaw is the obvious choice. I also still have winter food co-op carrots that aren't getting any younger, so I'm thinking this is perfect.


coleslaw close-up

When it comes to finding a recipe, I turn immediately to the smitten kitchen, where Deb has a well established love for slaws. This basic Ina Garten recipe seemed like it would work well enough, but then I dug a little further and discovered this cilantro-laden variant. Since I had gotten a bunch of cilantro from the co-op, I decided to go in that direction.

I chopped up a full head of red cabbage, about half of a small red onion, and then I peeled and thinly sliced 7 or 8 little carrots. This took forever and a day, but I like to think my newly acquired knife skills would now speed up this process considerably. I also decided to add some garlic scapes, which I sliced into little rounds. Then I chopped up some of the cilantro. After all the slicing and dicing was completed, I packed all my chopped veggies into the biggest tupperware I had, which was fit to burst.

I brought this home to Long Island and dressed it the next day, about a half an hour before the party. I was in a bit of a rush, so I ignored the recipe's measurement and just mixed together some mayo, salt, pepper, sugar, lime juice, cayenne pepper and dijon mustard. This only lightly coated my slaw, which was actually what I was aiming for. At this point I realized that I had enough coleslaw to feed a small army, and that only about half of it was going to fit into the largest salad bowl my parents had. Needless to say, I had a lot of leftovers. This slaw is great, but it gets soggier and more liquidy as the days go by, so unless you're having a party of 20 people, stick to half a head of cabbage. That being said, cilantro and lime are a kick ass way to jazz up a typical slaw. It was a great take on a traditional summer dish, and I would certainly make this again.

The whole barbecue was awesome, although I'm sure any Southerner worth his salt would have had a few choice words with us for calling it that. Mrs. Flood served up a typically impressive spread, including amazing brats. Meaghan made some delicious orzo salad with chickpeas, grape tomatoes and basil which would have totally housed Jimmy Bradley's lentil version. It was a delicious dinner, and not bad to look at either— and neither were the lovely guests! It's always a blast to get back together with my high school friends, and I only wish it could happen more often.


it may not be real barbecue, but it still looks like summer to me!

buttermilk carrot pancakes/cilantro ginger and lime marinaded chicken, and orrechiette with bacon, wilted radicchio and cabbage/pork fried rice

These three dinners are quick things I've whipped up in the last few weeks based on what I've had lying around in the fridge. The pancakes were only alright, but the other two meals were definitely winners.


carrot buttermilk pancakes with sour cream

These I made to try and use up some of the extra buttermilk I had after I made Irish Soda Bread. I was in a rush to get out the door, so I was just trying to do something simple and easy. Pancakes are the obvious use for buttermilk, but I wanted to make them a little more substantial for dinner, so I decided to grate in two carrots from the co-op to make them into a sort of latke. I also added two eggs, a tablespoon or so of vegetable oil, and enough flour to make it into a spoonable batter. Fried in butter and served with a hefty dollop of sour cream, these were palatable enough, but I'm sure I could make better pancakes if I gave it another shot.


cilantro ginger and lime marinaded chicken, pasta with cabbage, radicchio and bacon

This was my favorite of the three meals. Laura had cooked some chicken earlier in the week, but there was still one breast in the fridge, begging to be cooked rather than be left to spoil. I had a bunch of cilantro and some limes left over from making spinach dip for my birthday party, and we still have a huge ginger root in the fridge that we are only slowly chipping away at. A little fresh ginger goes a long way. I had an inkling that I could combine the three ingredients with some white wine, sesame oil, garlic, salt and pepper for a decent marinade, as it was similar to a preparation my mom uses. A quick peek in my Flavor Bible confirmed my suspicions. I let the chicken marinade for about 45 minutes, and then I just cooked it in the cast iron skillet. SUCH a good flavor combination. I only wish that I had had more than one measly chicken breast.

Meanwhile, I also had half a head of cabbage leftover, and small amount of radicchio from that bloggers' favorite pasta dish. I thinly diced three or four slices of hearty bacon, and fried that up til nice and crispy. I removed that from the pan and cooked half of my remaining cabbage, a fist-sized head of radicchio and some sliced garlic with salt and pepper in the drippings. I added some balsamic after it was starting to get soft, which reduced nicely. I also cooked some orecchiette, and just tossed that with the bacon, cabbage and radicchio. I think I added a little butter to make sure the pasta was all coated, and to make the dish even less healthy. I probably could have sprinkled on some romano cheese, but it didn't occur to me at the time and it was still pretty delicious. Oreccheiette is a pretty hefty pasta, so it stood up well to the hearty mix-ins. Even though I completely winged this and it seems like a strange dish, I would definitely make this again. More specifically, I would highly recommend cooking radicchio with balsamic, as it loses all its bitterness and becomes so sweet and delicious.

The pork fried rice I did not photograph, but it was very similar in spirit to the Mark Bittman recipe that I featured on the blog last month. Once again, I minced up garlic and ginger and fried them in vegetable oil. I used the sesame seeds once again, but I dry toasted them in the pan, in the hopes they'd be crunchier. I think this worked better than frying them with the ginger and garlic. Next I defrosted an old pork chop and and diced it up, sauteing it with scallions, salt and pepper. Then I scrambled an egg and chopped it up. Finally, I took some old rice from the fridge and cooked that until it dried up and got sticky. I still didn't have soy sauce or sesame oil, but I went out and bought some the next day, and they made a world of difference on the leftovers. Fried rice is a great, versatile dish, and I look forward to experimenting with it more in the future.

irish soda bread/corned beef and cabbage

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I know that most people primarily think me as Italian, but I'm actually nearly half Irish, (with one Austrian great grandfather that I'm not really sure what to make of). When I was growing up, my mom always made a big deal over St. Patrick's Day. We'd always go into the city to see the parade, and have a great big dinner with her sister, Aunt Cathy, my grandma, and her brother, my Uncle James, among other folks. The dinner menu never varied: Irish soda bread, corned beef, boiled potatoes, steamed cabbage with vinegar, and Colman's hot mustard powder, which I only tried once and nearly incinerated my taste buds.

This meal was very different from the pasta and steak and salad variety dinners my parents would prepare the rest of the year, but it was always amazing. The star was clearly the tender, fatty, bright pink corned beef, but all the elements combined to create the perfect meal. Before this year, I had never attempted to recreate my mom, aunt and grandma's St. Patrick's Day feast, but with the holiday falling smack in the middle of the week and busy weekends on both ends, there was no opportunity to go home for my favorite annual March treat. So, for the first time, I took it upon myself to replicate it in my apartment, for what Nathan refers to as "BEEF NIGHT."

beef night

I was surprised to discover how straight forward and easy each component of the meal was. That's not to say I got everything exactly right, and nothing was quite as good as my mom/aunt/grandma would make it. Something about perfectly replicating the family classics is just impossible. However, I do feel confident in sharing the instructions with you all, should you feel so inclined to prepare an Irish American feast this evening in honor of the holiday.

First of all, set aside three and a half hours for cooking the corned beef. This is a completely painless process, as you basically leave it alone most of the time, but it does take awhile. After cooking all that time, the corned beef will definitely shrink up a great deal, so plan on a pound to a pound and a half per person. Err on the side of more so you can have awesome corned beef sandwiches from all the leftovers. The best brand, according to my mom, is Friedrich, and you should get the thin cut as it is the most tender. Put the corned beef in a pot and cover it with water. Bring it to a boil and then dump out the water and add fresh water. This keeps it from getting ridiculously salty. Then you put it back on the stove for what my mom described as a "rolling boil," for three hours. My boil was actually too boily, so watch out for that because it will make your beef a little chewy and tough. It was still delicious, but I will definitely watch the flame and the water more carefully next time. Keep it somewhere between a simmer and an outright boil and you should be fine.

all the fixins for an irish american feast

The potatoes and cabbage are super easy. I peeled the potatoes and boiled them until soft in salted water. I sliced them into rounds so they would cook faster, but my mom usually only cuts them in half. I think I got yukon gold potatoes, and they were surprisingly delicious with only some butter and freshly ground pepper. Nathan had been bellyaching for mashed potatoes instead, but ended up not missing them in the least.

boiled potatoes topped with salt, cracked black pepper, and butter

I sliced up half of a relatively small head of cabbage and cooked it with a few glugs of white vinegar and two spoonfuls of this great grainy dijon mustard that was on sale at fine fare. Of course, the flame went out and since it was on the back burner behind the pot of potatoes it was about 20 minutes before I realized why it was cooking so slowly, aka not at all. Then I obviously cranked up the flame in frustration and all the vinegar and water evaporated too quickly and the cabbage started to burn a little, even while it was still slightly underdone. Whoops. I caught it just in time though, and it was nicely flavored from the vinegar and the mustard despite the burnt-yet-crunchy quality of some of it.

The final part of the meal was the soda bread. In elementary school, my teachers would always have little St. Patrick's Day party for the class. This usually meant green munchkins, sugar cookies and bagels, but I was always called upon to bring in my mom's Irish Soda Bread. (Bridget Dormer's mom always made some too, but even though her dad was legit born in Ireland, their soda bread wasn't as good, so THERE.) I've watched my mom make this, and helped my mom make this, but this year wsa the first time that I actually attempted to make it myself. It is incredibly easy, and super delicious. Unfortunately for Matt, it is the only part of the meal that isn't gluten free, and we've yet to devise an alternative that he can eat.

In honor of it being my grandma's recipe, I will end this entry by posting the whole thing as my mother gave it to me. Like my mom, I used a full cup of raisins, and I made it without the caraway seeds that Aunt Cathy loves so much. If you don't have buttermilk, you can add a tablespoon of vinegar or lemon juice to a cup of milk to achieve roughly the same effect, but with a bread with so few ingredients, this is not recommended.

fresh irish soda bread

Irish Soda Bread
2 cups flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup raisins (I think I use 1 cup)
1 tsp caraway seeds (optional)
About 1 cup buttermilk (better to use a little less & then add if needed)

Sift flour, baking powder, soda & salt. Add raisins & seeds. Mix to a soft dough with buttermilk.
Form into oval, cut cross on top & put on ungreased baking pan (sprinkle pan with a bit of flour). Preheat oven to 375. Bake for 10 min., reduce heat to 350 & bake about 30-40 min.

Should sound hollow when you knock on bottom of loaf.
Check expiration date on powder & soda.
If dough is sticky, sprinkle a little bit of flour on exterior.

All in all, we thoroughly enjoyed our meal, and it's simple enough that pretty much anyone could handle it, although Nathan may have bitten off more than he could chew.


his eyes were bigger than his stomach

cooking in harlem/chez panisse lobster

dinner on 5th ave

That was the first meal Nathan and I enjoyed in my new Harlem apartment. I have to admit, after a long and exhausting move, to a kitchen with 18 inches of usable counter space, I wasn't in the mood to prepare a big meal. Instead, I breaded and fried some pork chops, an easy favorite of mine. I also cooked up the extra egg and breadcrumbs afterward, which is always a yummy extra treat. For the starch and the veggie I sauteed some spinach and cooked up some tortellini. This time, I went for something a little more unusual than tomato sauce: I defrosted the lobster sauce I had made some months ago while preparing an Alice Water's recipe for lobster stuffed cabbage rolls. We paired it all with a Jose Reyes branded Cabernet that Lauren and Grace had so generously given me. Yes, Jose Reyes has his own wine. Let's go Mets.

a great way to kick off cooking in my new home

Nathan and I had made the initial lobster dish for his mom and his grandma, who had previously given me the Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook after we went to the restaurant for what was an absolutely amazing meal. When we tried to recreate Chez Panisse's amazing food in Chelsea, it was among one of the most time consuming and ambitious meals I had ever prepared. However, it did yield lots and lots of a very delicious and flavorful creamy lobster sauce, which was great over Borgatti ravioli, linguini and the tortellini pictured above.

As for Alice's cabbage and lobster, I think it was a particularly impressive meal, and so I've included the recipe, which Nathan and I followed pretty faithfully. However, Alice has a whole crazy menu with lamb and shit that she serves her lobster with as part of a four course meal at Chez Panisse. With a dish this labor intensive, that was obviously not happening. (As it was, we were cooking for four hours, much to Nathan's grandma's displeasure.) So, when Alice says it serves six, keep in mind that is as first course, not a main. We only accompanied our meal with a nice loaf of french bread, and it comfortably fed four, with lots of left over sauce.

So, without further ado:


Lobster in Cabbage Leaves with Roasted Peppers
(from Alice Waters' Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook, published in 1982)
serves 6

lobster in cabbage leaves with roasted red peppers

The Cabbage:
1 head savoy cabbage, about 1½ pounds
Cut out the cone-shaped heart of a firm green savoy cabbage. Remove the outer leaves and blanch the whole cabbage in boiling salted water for 2 to 3 minutes. Drain. When the cabbage is cool enough to handle, separate the leaves and blanch them for 1 to 2 minutes. Drain them and dry them well. Cut out the large ribs of 12 leaves and blanch them for 1 to 2 minutes. Drain them and dry them well. Cut out the large ribs of 12 leaves and trim them into rectangles about 5 inches by 3 inches.

boiled alive

To Cook the Lobster:
3 lively lobsters, 1 to 1½ pounds each
½ cup coarse sea salt
2 bay leaves
4 sprigs thyme
1 lemon
10 to 12 black peppercorns
Prepare a court-bouillon of 8 to 10 quarts water, ½ cup coarse sea salt, 2 bay leaves, 4 thyme sprigs, 1 sliced lemon, and 10 to 12 black peppercorns. Bring the court-bouillon to a rapid boil and cook the lobsters in it for about 3 to 4 minutes. Remove the lobsters. Strain and reserve the court-bouillon. When the lobsters are cool enough to handle, remove the meat from the tails and claws and reserve it. Remove the gravelly stomach sac and discard it; reserve the shells and the coral, if any.

dismemberment

The Lobster Bisque:
The reserved shells (and coral) from the cooked lobster
2 table spoons olive oil
¼ pound unsalted butter
2 medium carrots
2 medium onions
1 medium leek
1 celery rib
3 shallots
2 tablespoons Armagnac or Cognac
1 cup white wine
3 medium tomatoes
Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium-high heat and saute the shells of the lobsters for 3 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium and add ¼ pound butter (and the reserved coral). Cook over very low heat until the butter melts. Trim and dice finely 2 carrots, 2 onions, 1 leek, 1 celery rib, and 3 shallots. Add the vegetables to the pan and cook over medium heat for 5 minutes. Increase the heat and flame with 2 tablespoons Armagnac or Cognac. Add 1 cup white wine, 3 chopped tomatoes, and water to barely cover. Simmer for 30 minutes. Break the shells in a blender and force the shells and sauce through a very fine sieve. Let the sauce rest for 5 minutes to allow the butter to rise to the surface. Skim the butter and reserve it.

lobster bisque simmering

To Assemble the Lobster Packages:
The prepared cabbage leaves
The reserved lobster meat
The reserved lobster butter
12 chervil sprigs
The strained court-bouillon
Allow one half of a claw and one quarter of a tail for each package. Lay the 12 cabbage leaves flat on a worktable. Place the lobster meat, red side down, in the lower center of the leaves. Drizzle some lobster butter over each package and put a sprig of chervil on top of each. Fold the bottom of each leaf over the lobster, then fold in the sides and roll forward over the top of the lead to make a tightly closed package. Steam the packages to 8 to 10 minutes over the simmering court-bouillon.

cabbage lobster rolls in the steamer

The Sauce and the Garnish:
The lobster bisque
½ pound unsalted butter
1 small red pepper, roasted, peeled, and cut into ¼-inch dice
12 chervil sprigs
Reduce the lobster bisque by half over high heat and whisk in ½ pound butter, cut into bits and softened. Remove the sauce from the heat.
Place the lobster packages on warm plates and spoon the sauce over them. Garnish with the diced peppers and chervil.

Labor intensive, but undeniably delicious, successfully preparing this dish gave Nathan and me a huge sense of accomplishment. However, we did make a couple of changes and had a few difficulties which I guess I should make note of:

1. We did not trim the cabbage leaves into rectangles, which seemed overly fussy and a waste of perfectly good cabbage. I see no reason you should either. I also am not sure what savoy cabbage is, but I used a slightly purply looking one I had gotten from the food co-op, and it was just fine.

2. The trickiest step was breaking down the bisque in the blender. Alice says to break the shells in the blender, so we wasted a good deal of time trying to do this in a leaky food processor. Personally, I don't see the point. In our attempts to force the shells through a sieve, we wound up with some tiny tiny but still crunchy pieces of lobster shell, which was kind of gross. If I made this again, I would strain the sauce and remove the shells, making sure they didn't have any of the vegetables lodged inside. Then, I would go to town with my immersion blender. I probably wouldn't even use the sieve, although I'm sure it'd be smoother and more velvety that way.

3. We couldn't find chervil, which I must admit I've never cooked with, so I don't really know what it tastes like or if it would have improved the dish. I do know there were supposed to be chervil sprigs in each cabbage roll, and that fresh thyme sprigs were not a great substitution-- the stems are too woody.

4. We had spent hours getting everything done, and rolled and steamed all our little lobster packages only to discover that we should have been reducing the bisque by half all along. By this point, we had one very impatient and hungry grandmother on our hands, and bisque that was taking forever to reduce. We ended up serving it in a thinner, more broth-like state, without the extra half pound (!!) of butter. It was like a cabbage lobster roll in a bowl of lobster soup. I reduced the large amount of leftover broth the next day, and it was definitely better for it, although it was still really delicious and incredibly flavorful as we served it.

5. OK, there is no note five, but I felt strange leaving off at four, so let me just say that I'd probably just make the bisque part of this recipe and do something else with the lobster. I might just even eat it plain with melted butter. Yum. Or make lobster roll sandwiches, which I love. This is not to say that the cabbage rolls weren't tasty, but they did hide the beautiful lobster, and I'd like to try serving my lobster in a different way next time. However, I'd DEFINITELY use the shells to make the amazing and delicious bisque. So. Good.

not the liveliest lobster, but still slightly startling, right Nathan?

Zero Cabbage

tomato-braised cabbage

Don't worry about that bread in the picture. Tonight we're talking about cabbage.

This is a really easy way to add a vegetable with a complex, acidic flavor to your meal. The basic idea is to braise some cabbage with various tasty liquids. I call this dish Zero Cabbage. I used to call it Ultimate Cabbage, because I just made this shit up and I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. Then tomato puree got added to the mix, and it was an entirely new, decidedly better dish. My humble name didn't leave a lot of room for improvement, so I went with the strategy they used when they discovered a new, more important Law of Thermodynamics: call it number zero, because zero comes before number one. Thus Zero Cabbage, a preparation of braised cabbage with various sauces and tomato puree, was born.

As an added bonus, this is one of the few dishes Sarah will stuff into her craw that doesn't involve any onion, garlic, or olive oil. Imagine that.

To make the pictured cabbage, you will need:
- About half a head of cabbage, roughly chopped (this makes enough for 2-4 people)
- Vinegar. Any kind will probably do, I've used balsamic and white on different occasions, both to good effect.
- Worcestershire Sauce
- Mustard. Honey mustard is best, but as long as you've got a reasonable mustard (i.e. not just French's) you should be fine.
- Tomato puree of some sort.

The beauty if this recipe is that you can use anything that happens to intrigue you as you rifle through your kitchen. At various points, I've thrown in red wine, teriyaki sauce, chicken stock, and citrus, in addition to or in place of the above ingredients. Go buck wild. Think of the cabbage as your canvas as you fling a hideous modern art masterpiece of flavor onto it.

Executing this dish is simple:

1. Chop the cabbage. It doesn't need to be even, pretty, or even all that small. Don't kill yourself.

2. Put 2-3 tablespoons of each other ingredient in the bottom of a medium-sized pot. I just made that measurement up, you really just want to eyeball it. Put the cabbage on top. If you feel like adding some more ingredients at this point, just pour them in on top of the cabbage. No need to be precise, just use what seems like an appropriate amount of liquid for the cabbage.

3. Cover the pot and place it over medium-low heat. Let it do its thing for half an hour or so, occasionally checking on the cabbage to make sure it's not getting too hot or dry. If it is, just lower the heat or add a splash of water.

4. Remove the pot from heat and keep covered until you are ready to serve.

Enjoy.

julia's roast chicken

So tonight's blog entry is coming to you sans photographs, because our dinner took so long to cook that I lost all hope of it being any good. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Last night, during "Snotorious" or whatever, Nathan came over to cook dinner. I had off courtesy of the storm so I decided to defrost the half a chicken Laura and I had gotten from the food co-op back in December.

Nathan is not exactly the world's biggest chicken fan, so he was pretty unhappy when I told him what I had in mind for our meal. However, I stood my ground and decided to roast it and serve with some plain white rice and food co-op cabbage. Nathan acquiesced, on the condition that we try to do SOMETHING to make a plain roast chicken more interesting. I had gotten an email from Cook's Illustrated with this recipe that prescribed coating the skin with baking powder so as to make it extra crispy, but required it sitting for 12 to 24 hours before cooking, so I went back to the drawing board. One basic search provided the obvious solution: Julia Child's famous roasted chicken. It didn't require any special ingredients or complicated techniques, and is one of those classic recipes that's been garnering rave reviews for decades. Also, Julia Child is my girl. I grew up watching her and the Frugal Gourmet (who turned out to be a perv, but that's beside the point).

The recipe basically calls for washing and drying the chicken in hot water, which I did, and rubbing it with salt, pepper and butter. Throw a halved lemon and onion inside the cavity, and throw it in the oven for 15 minutes at 425 degrees. After that, turn it down to 350 degrees, and baste. Julia's instructions included plenty of basting, but I didn't see much liquid to baste with. I definitely wanted to keep things nice and moist, so I just drizzled on some olive oil. After another 15 minutes you were supposed to toss in a chopped onion and some chopped carrots, but I was out of carrots so the onion had to suffice. I also added more olive oil.

At this point, it should have been done after another 15 to 30 minutes, but this chicken took FOREVER. I was starving and we tried the thermometer, and no dice. Ten minutes later, I was ravenous, but the thing was still legitimately raw when we cut it open. In desperation we cranked up the heat and let it sit, and finally the thing cooked all the way through. At this point I was cranky and Nathan's chicken skepticism was severely lowering my expectations. However, this was a fucking beautiful organic chicken, and I was cooking with Julia's instructions, and I should have known to keep faith.

Big surprise: Julia Child knew what she was doing when it came to roasting chickens. I know, I know, this is something she's universally renowned for. However, that doesn't mean that the results aren't extraordinary. Juicy, moist, bursting with flavor with amazing crispy onions.... This may have been the best chicken I had ever eaten. So amazing. I was thrilled with the results, and even Nathan concurred that this would be worth making again if we could get our hands on a nice chicken.

I just wish I had a photo of this deceptively simple masterpiece!

cooking 2010

Nathan and Jess both independently have suggested I keep note of everything that I cook, so I figured it could be somewhat of a project for the new year.

I didn't cook anything the week after Christmas, but I think I quite made up for it this week.

Nathan recently got me this great book, The Flavor Bible, and I happened to flip open to the monkfish page on Monday. For every ingredient, they have complied a list of other ingredients that accomplished chefs consider to be complementary, as well as brief descriptions of their go-to dishes for that ingredient. Serendipitously, monkfish was described as a great match with cabbage, garlic and potatoes, (all of which I had recently gotten from my CSA food co-op), and bacon, (which I pretty much always have on hand). Since I wasn't sure of what to do from there, I typed in those ingredients into google, and came up with this recipe, which included a couple of other things I had lying around: shallots, red wine, fresh thyme, bay leaves, orange juice, and chicken stock, which I had made and froze myself. All I had to buy was the parsley and monkfish, which cost $10 a pound.

I quartered the shallot and also a small onion and I think a couple of smashed garlic cloves, and sauteed them with the bay leaves, parsley and thyme in some butter and olive oil. I added a cup of wine, some stock, the juice of two small oranges, some salt and pepper and cooked the cabbage in the mixture for 40 minutes. There was a lot of liquid involved, but in the end it all cooked off, leaving a deliciously flavored vegetable behind. I think that the homemade stock really gave it an added richness and depth of flavor, but even without it this cabbage would have been a winner.

Meanwhile, I had marinaded the fish in olive oil with salt and pepper for about a half an hour. Before we started cooking it Nathan had to bone the thing, because I was not paying attention and didn't ask the fish guy to do it for me. My boyfriend is incredible, so he did this perfectly. So impressive. By the way, if you don't know, monkfish is incredibly hideous. We quickly pan seared it in the cast iron skillet, and then wrapped it in two slices of bacon and threw it in the oven for about 15 minutes. I stuck it under the broiler in the end so that the bacon would get nice and crisp. Amazingly, the fish was moist and delicious, but not undercooked. A triumph.

My recipe suggested preparing mashed potatoes, but I wanted something a little more toothsome. The potatoes I sliced thinly and pan fried with garlic in a little bacon fat, (sorry mom and dad). There were way too many of them in the pan, but I kept shifting them around to get as many as possible crispy. I finished them off in the oven with the lid on, and they were great. The crispy ones were great, but even the ones that weren't got cooked through nicely, and there were tasty garlic nuggets every so often.

Together, this made for an amazing meal. The Flavor Bible wasn't playing around when it suggested combining all these different things. Separately, each component of the meal was delicious, but together, the ingredients really sang. Wow. A symphony of taste!

Wednesday night we went a more traditional route and fried up some crispy onions with a couple of small blue seared shoulder round steaks from Whole Foods. These were pretty much raw in the middle, which was really rich and meaty tasting, but probably not a way I'd chose to eat my steak in the future, especially if it was a normal supermarket steak. As our side dishes, we made up some rice, a roasted red pepper, and creamed spinach with a poached egg. We used frozen spinach upon Nathan's insistence, but I'll grudgingly concede that it wasn't even half bad. The other ingredients were pretty basic, just half and half, flour, onions, garlic, butter and nutmeg. It was easy and delicious. Do not fear egg poaching-- just heat a couple of inches of water until bubbles are forming on the sides and then crack in your eggs for four minutes. Remove carefully with a slotted spoon, (Nathan managed to break my yolk, which was so sad and left me way less runny goodness) and this WILL be perfect.

Thursday I was home alone and made one of my standard issue dinners: panfried pork chops, orrechiette with sauteed mushrooms in a homemade tomato sauce with fresh rosemary, parsley and basil, and some steamed broccoli rabe with garlic and oil which I kind of burned because I am bad at cooking alone. I also overcooked the pork, which was a thinner cut than I am used to having. This dinner was not all that well executed, I'm sorry to say. I think I was missing my boy in the kitchen! However, I will say that the pasta was great with some grated Romano cheese. Still have some of that in the fridge to look forward to!

Saturday, Nathan and I had Bart over for dinner and made lamb chops with a radish salad and a potato leek gratin. We boiled the potatoes in the left over half and half from the creamed spinach, and sauted the leeks with butter and a little bit of bouillon because I didn't have a chance to bring my stock over to his house. We actually forgot to cream the leeks, and just poured the extra half and half over the whole thing, which ended up having an extra layer of potatoes on the bottom. This wound up being a little watery, but delicious.

Thinly sliced radishes with plenty of olive oil, garlic and salt and pepper are tasty enough on their own, but try tossing in some leek tops and the crunchy, slightly bitter leaves. Drizzle on the balsamic, and you have an amazing salad.

The third component of the meal offers this cautionary tale: Never cook with jerk seasoning on the stove top unless you have a super effective fume hood, (I suspect the oven would be better, but not a perfect solution). Nathan and Bart made this crucial mistake with their lamb, and we all paid the price. Our lovely chops had been on the griddle for only a few minutes when the jerk spices started burning, and the fumes became unbearable. It was like pepper spray, and Bart and I beat a quick retreat back to Pete's room to take refuge from the smoke. I could barely breathe and could not stop coughing. Nathan somehow managed to continue manning the stove, although he was forced to undercook the lamb a bit to stop the meat from releasing toxins into the air. That stuff is lethally hot, as my lamb managed to take on a considerable amount of heat just from being cooked in close proximity to their stupid jerk sauce. My lips were on fire. Despite that major hiccup, it was a tasty meal, with plenty of good wine courtesy of Bartosz.

All of these meals were great, (or would have been without hellish jerk seasoning), and were actually gluten free, save for the pasta and creamed spinach, which easily could be if you used the right flour and gluten free nutmeg. And that's my week in the kitchen in review, for posterity's sake!