Kitchen Fiddler

Wild Mushroom Lasagna With Smoked Mozzarella

2012-02-29T00:50:00.000-05:00

Today’s post is about inner beauty. I tried to find a creative way to photograph this Wild Mushroom Lasagna With Smoked Mozzarella and was not entirely successful in my attempt. Yet it doesn’t matter so much how it looks on the outside, for it’s what’s on the inside that counts. This may not win the Most Beautiful Photograph Award on Kitchen Fiddler or anywhere else, but believe me when I tell you it was incredibly comforting and truly satisfying to eat.

I will admit it: I’m a bit of a lasagna slut. I love all kinds and have no problem going from one to another. I’ve even made three different pans of it this week. Are there support groups for that?

My favorite lasagna is a classic, the way they’d make it in the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy. How could you not love something that involves homemade spinach noodles layered with a béchamel sauce, freshly grated Parmesan, and a kick-ass Bolognese sauce that has simmered and intensified for hours? But I have no problem with a more Americanized version with a simple tomato-based sauce and lots of gooey cheese, similar to this excellent sausage-and-basil one I made with my lasagna-loving Little Chef last week. And I finally just made this wild mushroom lasagna, a recipe I first saw in the New York Times Magazine a few months ago and have been daydreaming about ever since.

And wow, was it ever daydream-worthy. A small mountain of shiitakes and crimini mushrooms cooked down to a very concentrated mixture, augmented by roasted radicchio strips that added a contrasting slightly-bitter note. A béchamel—a simple white sauce made with butter, flour and milk and flavored with additional shallots and nutmeg—served as the binding agent for the mushrooms and the pasta. You already know that there's smoked mozzarella in there, but did I mention the Gruyère and Fontina cheeses that also came to this lasagna party? Oh yes please.

While it is a definitely a luxury to make your lasagna with tender sheets of homemade pasta, most of us don’t have time for that. I happily admit that I have become a big fan of these Barilla no-boil lasagna sheets, for the noodles have plenty of time to soften in the oven while baking with the sauce. When your kitchen is as small as mine, it is a luxury of a different variety to not need an additional pot for boiling the pasta.

I invited several friends over to join me for this wild mushroom lasagna the other night, but in my excitement to serve it up and finally taste it, I totally forgot to grab my camera when the finished dish came out of the oven. It wasn’t until the next day when there were only a few small wedges left that I realized I hadn’t taken any photos of this earthy creation. I know it would have photographed better as a full dish, golden and bubbling hot. But regardless of how it looked, it tasted even better the second day, something almost unimaginable considering how much we all loved it straight from the oven.

Let’s hear it for inner beauty, all the way down to the very last bite.

One Year Ago: Chocolate Malt Ice Cream
Two Years Ago: Roasted Cauliflower Soup
Three Years Ago: Coconut Cupcakes

WILD MUSHROOM LASAGNA

Adapted a little from a recipe by Sam Sifton, who in turn adapted it from Monica Byrne of Home/Made, published in the New York Times Magazine on 11/24/11

For the filling:
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided
6 large shallots, peeled and minced, divided
1 – ½ pounds wild mushrooms, cleaned, trimmed and sliced (shiitake, cremini, etc.)
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1 cup dry white wine
1 large head of radicchio, cut in half, cored and cut into ¼-inch strips
salt and pepper, to taste

For the béchamel:
4 Tablespoons butter
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 cups whole milk
½ teaspoon grated nutmeg
1 cup grated Gruyère cheese, divided
1 cup grated Fontina cheese, divided
2 Tablespoons truffle oil (optional)

For assembling:
12 sheets no-boil lasagna noodles
1 large ball smoked mozzarella cheese, cut into thin slices

Preheat the oven to 350°. Heat ¼ cup of olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat until it begins to shimmer. Add half the shallots and cook till translucent, stirring occasionally. Add the sliced mushrooms and thyme leaves, cooking till they become golden and soft, about 12 minutes. Add the white wine to deglaze the pan, using a wooden spoon to scrape up any shallot bits that have stuck to the pan. Cook until the wine has reduced down to a syrupy liquid, about 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer the mushrooms into a large bowl and set aside.

Meanwhile, line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and scatter the radicchio strips over it. Drizzle with the remaining ¼ cup olive oil, tossing to coat evenly, and season with salt and pepper. Roast in the oven for 15 minutes, stirring once midway, until the strips are lightly browned on the edges. Add to the mushroom mixture and reserve.

Make the béchamel by melting the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When it is melted and foaming, add the remaining shallots and cook till they begin to soften. When the shallots are translucent, add the garlic and cook till it begins to soften. Sprinkle the flour over the shallot mixture, stirring to combine well. Cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until the flour is cooked and the mixture is a nutty golden brown. Slowly add the milk, whisking constantly, and cook until the sauce thickens. Add the nutmeg, ¼ cup of the grated Gruyère and ¼ cup of the grated Fontina. Stir to combine until the cheese melts in, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Reserve 1 cup of the béchamel and pour the rest over the mushroom mixture. Stir to combine and add the truffle oil (if using).

Assemble the lasagna by spreading the plain béchamel evenly over the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking pan. Layer 4 lasagna sheets over the sauce, then spread with a third of the mushroom mixture and top with some of the grated Gruyère and Fontina. Make another layer of pasta, mushrooms and most of the smoked mozzarella. Repeat with a third layer of pasta, the rest of the mushrooms and scatter all the remaining cheeses on top.

Cover with a buttered sheet of aluminum foil and bake in the center of the oven for 45 minutes. Remove the foil and continue to bake until the cheese is bubbling and golden brown on top. Makes 6 to 8 rich servings.

Shredded Brussels Sprouts Sauté With Bacon and Pecans

2012-02-23T17:21:00.000-05:00

I just ate an entire recipe’s worth of this Shredded Brussels Sprouts Sauté, a dish that is supposed to serve four. I’ll admit I’ve done far unhealthier things, such as snarfing entire pints of Haagen-Dazs or large bags of tortilla chips in single sittings, but I really felt like I was bingeing at lunch here. Maybe it’s the addition of bacon and toasted pecans on top of the shredded sauté that made it feel like a guilty pleasure.

How did I become so crazy about brussels sprouts? I can’t seem to get enough of them these days, which is odd considering how I used to avoid them like the plague. Even though they look like adorable miniature cabbages, I think many of us have bad childhood associations of soggy sprouts, boiled to within an inch of their lives and woefully underseasoned.

Yet clearly I got over my distaste for them, for this is my second post about this much-maligned vegetable in just under 15 months, so go figure. Roasting them with bacon and garlic brings out an earthy richness, a la this version. It’s definitely a great way to go. And if you don’t feel like turning on your oven, this sauté puts a delightful fresh spin on those tiny cabbages.

A food processor fitted with the shredding disc makes light work of the prep. If you have good knife skills and a sharp blade, you can also manually slice the little green globes into thin ribbons. You’ll need a knife anyway for chopping up the bacon and pecans that add a touch of decadence and color to the otherwise spring-green dish.

Not only does shredding the brussels sprouts alter their texture dramatically, but they taste remarkably clean and bright when lightly sautéed. There’s none of the bitterness that I often associate with the whole little orbs, and I find the taste reminiscent of thinly sliced broccoli stems. (I happen to love steamed broccoli stems, almost more than the florets themselves.) It’s familiar yet still intriguing.

Once again I need to thank Julie for introducing me to yet another recipe at her Thanksgiving table, one that I find myself compelled to make on my own and then share with all of you. (Thank you, Julie!) This recipe was one of many side dishes with a twist in the Bon Appetit Thanksgiving issue a year ago. I think that these shredded brussels sprouts are festive enough for a special occasion, yet totally satisfying for a solo lunch at home.

One Year Ago: Chocolate Malt Ice Cream
Two Years Ago: Roasted Cauliflower Soup
Three Years Ago: Coconut Cupcakes

SHREDDED BRUSSELS SPROUTS SAUTE WITH BACON AND PECANS
Adapted from a recipe in Bon Appetit, November 2010

The original recipe calls for country smoked ham, but I usually have bacon in my fridge, so that was a no-brainer substitution for me.

1 pound brussels sprouts, washed and patted dry, root ends trimmed
4 slices hickory smoked bacon, cut into ¼-inch slices
2 large cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons olive oil
1/3 cup vegetable broth or low-sodium chicken broth
salt and pepper
¼ cup pecans, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped

If you have a food processor, coarsely shred the brussels sprouts using the shredding blade attachment. You can also do this manually with a sharp knife, slicing the brussels sprouts lengthwise into thin shreds.

Heat a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add the bacon pieces and cook, stirring frequently until the fat is rendered and the bacon begins to crisp around the edges, around 5 minutes. Remove pan from heat and drain off the rendered bacon fat. (I do this by pushing the bacon to one side and adding paper towels to the pan absorb the rendered fat, then removing the towels using a pair of tongs.)

Return the pan to medium-high heat and add the olive oil. Add the minced garlic to the bacon and cook for 30 seconds, stirring constantly. Add the shredded brussels sprouts and the broth, cooking until just tender-crisp and bright green, about 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from heat, seasoning to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer to a serving dish and sprinkle with chopped pecans. Makes 4 generous servings.

Arugula-Stuffed Baked Potatoes

2012-02-17T19:01:00.037-05:00

When I was a kid, my mother constantly tried out new recipes from her extensive cookbook collection. Mom rarely repeated a dish no matter how much the rest of the family liked it, since she had an ever-growing list of new things she wanted to cook. I’m the opposite in that I tend to make a recipe I like over and over again until I get sick of it. However, I don’t think I could possibly grow tired of eating these Arugula-Stuffed Baked Potatoes. And I think that once my mom tries these for herself, these beauties will be making repeat appearances at the family table as well.

One of my best discoveries of last year was the Sea Salt Baked Potatoes from 101 Cookbooks. This was the very first food blog I began following years ago, and author/photographer Heidi Swanson continually surprises me with her creativity. It’s worth checking out for the stunning photographs alone, and the mouth-watering super-natural recipes on her site always keep me coming back for more.

Talk about a winner! Imagine a baked potato, the skin crisp and flecked with sea salt while the inside is fluffy and tender. But instead of loading this spud with enough dairy products to alarm your cardiologist, the steaming hot potato flesh is drizzled with a rich mustard vinaigrette. A baby arugula salad, tossed with more of the vinaigrette and sprinkled with Parmesan cheese, tops the whole thing off.

Alissa first told me about this recipe last July, and once I made it for myself, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t care that it was the middle of a blazing hot New York City summer, and I kept turning on my oven to bake these potatoes, regardless of the heat index outside. I even served these at my rooftop birthday dinner last August where they received rave reviews.

This particular photo was taken on my rooftop six months ago today, and you can see that these festive potatoes are clearly ready for the party. While they were the perfect accompaniment to an expertly grilled steak, they're certainly capable of holding their own as the star of any meal. Whether you’re serving a crowd of fifteen or just feeding yourself, these arugula-stuffed baked potatoes make any meal feel like a special occasion. Once you have your first bite of them, I think you’ll agree.

One Year Ago: Chocolate Malt Ice Cream
Two Years Ago: Affogato
Three Years Ago: Cinematic Cocktails

ARUGULA-STUFFED BAKED POTATOES
Barely adapted from a recipe by Heidi Swanson on 101 Cookbooks

I’ve made the dressing without the egg for friends who are squeamish about eating raw egg yolks, and the recipe still works wonderfully. But if salmonella is not a concern in your area and you have access to good cage-free organic eggs, I would definitely encourage you to try it using the egg yolk, which adds a richness and depth to the finished dish. I usually double the recipe, making extra arugula salad to either serve on the side or to keep adding to the potato as I make my way through it, salty skin and all.

2 large russet or Idaho potatoes
sea salt
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 Tablespoon white wine vinegar
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 Tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for finishing
several large handfuls of arugula

Preheat the oven to 400°. Scrub the potatoes well and pat dry with paper towels. Prick each potato several times all over with a fork and generously sprinkle with salt. Place the potatoes directly on the top rack of your oven and bake until done, about an hour or so, depending on the size of your potato.

While the potatoes are baking, make the vinaigrette. In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the egg yolk, mustard and vinegar until smooth. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil in a thin stream, whisking constantly until all the oil is incorporated and the vinaigrette is emulsified. Add the grated Parmesan cheese, then season the dressing to taste with salt and pepper.

Toss the arugula with a few spoonfuls of the mustard vinaigrette until just lightly coated. Reserve the remaining dressing.

When the potatoes are done, remove from the oven. When they are just cool enough to handle, cut an X in the top of the potato and push in on the lengthwise ends. Carefully scoop out the potato flesh into a small mixing bowl and add the remaining vinaigrette. Mash together with a fork till well combined and season to taste with additional salt and pepper, as needed. Pile the mustardy mashed potato flesh back into the potato skins, mound the arugula salad on top, and sprinkle with additional grated Parmesan cheese. Makes 2 very satisfying servings.

Elderflower Champagne Cocktail

2012-02-12T23:24:00.038-05:00

I’ve been dying to tell you about my new favorite drink, a festive Elderflower Champagne Cocktail. I made countless pitchers of this beverage when the One-Year-Plan group gathered for our annual New Year’s Day 6-hour brunch, and I think that will be a yearly tradition from now on. I’ve waited to tell you about it until now because I think it’s absolutely perfect for Valentine’s Day.

Isn’t it gorgeous?

Here are your instructions for Valentine’s Day. First task: go to your local liquor store for a bottle of St. Germaine. If you’re not already familiar with it, believe me when I tell you that this delicate French elderflower liqueur is something that you will definitely want in your home. Floral and beguiling, it’s also extremely drinkable, as you can see from what little is left in my own bottle.

Secondly: pick up a bottle each of sparkling wine and club soda. You don’t have to splurge on fancy champagne for this recipe, not by any means. I usually use prosecco for this, or you can use any sort of inexpensive French or domestic sparkling wine that tastes good to you.

Third of all: why bother using ice cubes when frozen raspberries will serve the same purpose? These icy berries keep your drink cold while adding a dash of color and panache to your glass.

Next order of business: get out your prettiest champagne flutes. Drop in a few frozen raspberries, add a tablespoon or so of the St. Germaine elderflower liqueur, and fill the rest of the glass with equal parts sparkling wine and club soda.

Finally: clink glasses with someone you love. Sip and enjoy, and try not to guzzle. (But if you do, I don’t blame you. You can always make yourself another one.) As for what you do with the rest of your Valentine’s Day celebration, that’s totally up to you.

One Year Ago: Chocolate Malt Ice Cream
Two Years Ago: Black Magic Cake, Lavender Pavlova
Three Years Ago: Tiger Cake, Sesame Kale and Rice Bowl with Poached Eggs

ELDERFLOWER CHAMPAGNE COCKTAIL
I first experienced this delightful drink when my friend Julie served it as a festive beginning at this year’s Thanksgiving dinner. I’ve given the proportions to make individual cocktails, but if you are serving a crowd, it works very well to mix all the ingredients, including the frozen berries, in a large glass pitcher and pour accordingly.

For each drink:
Several frozen raspberries
1 tablespoon St. Germaine (elderflower liqueur)
Chilled sparkling wine (I usually use prosecco)
Club soda or seltzer water

Place several frozen berries in the bottom of a champagne flute. Add the St. Germaine liqueur, then fill the rest of the glass with equal parts sparkling wine and soda water. Stir gently with a spoon, and taste. You may want to add a little more St. Germaine if you like a sweeter drink, or add a splash more bubbly. Stir again and enjoy thoroughly.

Killer Chocolate Sauce

2012-01-31T23:31:00.023-05:00

Here’s a simple yet killer Chocolate Sauce you’ll want to have up your culinary sleeve whenever you want to dress up a dessert. Whether you’re spooning it over your favorite ice cream, serving a small puddle of it alongside a sliver of a decadent torte, or drizzling it over a champagne semifreddo (recipe for THAT coming soon!), I’m convinced that this is likely to become your go-to chocolate sauce. This sauce is like that perfect accessory that pulls an outfit together, adding a classy distinctive touch without overwhelming the rest of the ensemble.

Most chocolate sauce recipes I’ve found involve butter and/or cream, but this ridiculously easy one from David Lebovitz involves neither. The richness comes from both unsweetened cocoa and bittersweet chocolate, and it doesn’t leave you feeling heavy afterwards since it doesn’t contain any dairy. It’s practically diet food. Okay, I realize that’s a bit of a stretch, but perhaps I’m trying to justify the fact that I’ve already made this chocolate sauce twice this week. Whoops…

I am having intense chocolate cravings these days that are most definitely emotionally-triggered. It’s not surprising, considering that the Broadway show for which I played in the orchestra these past months just closed on Sunday. It was a real blow, for though we knew it would be a limited run, it wasn’t supposed to be quite this limited. Our quirky musical didn’t enchant all the edgy New York critics, but every night we saw countless audience members welling up with emotion and enthusiastically singing along with the title song at the end, and people loved it. I was genuinely thrilled to work there each night, playing that gorgeous musical score with hilarious and lovely colleagues in the pit, not to mention a fabulous cast that included two leads who gave me serious goosebumps every single time I heard them sing. (Click here to hear what I’m talking about it.)

Needless to say, I wasn’t the only person incredibly bummed out about our final curtain falling in late January as opposed to early July. In some ways, this premature closing has felt similar to being in a relationship in which you know that the other person isn’t The One but you still have an absolute blast together—and then suddenly your other half blindsides you by announcing that it’s over. No discussion, no negotiation, nothing. And you can’t change their mind, no matter how loudly you protest, “I knew this wasn’t for the long-haul, but weren’t we having a great time together? Can’t we continue for just a little bit longer, please?!!”

When it comes to break-ups, be it affairs of the heart or the end of a much-loved job, I usually respond by spending serious time in the kitchen. I’ll be here on Kitchen Fiddler more frequently now, since I have a bit more time on my hands as well as a need to redirect my creative energies. But chocolate is also one of my tried-and-true coping strategies for break-ups. And I’m here to tell you that as fabulous as this chocolate sauce is served alongside your favorite decadent dessert, it is also quite satisfying eaten directly from the saucepan with a spoon, no matter what your emotional state is. Ice cream is strictly optional.

One Year Ago: Cornmeal Arugula Soup
Two Years Ago: Ruby Port Cocktail
Three Years Ago: Louise's Perfect Martini, Chocolate Toasts

THE BEST CHOCOLATE SAUCE
Adapted from a recipe by David Lebovitz

I usually use agave nectar for this recipe because corn syrup skeeves me out a little, but you can use whatever you like. The corn syrup will make your sauce impossibly glossy and ready for its close-up. The agave will not make your sauce quite as shiny from a purely visual standpoint, but it adds a honey-like note to the sauce that I really enjoy.

½ cup sugar
½ cup agave nectar or light corn syrup
¾ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup water
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 teaspoon vanilla

Combine the sugar, agave nectar (or corn syrup), unsweetened cocoa and the water in a small heavy saucepan. Whisk over medium heat until the ingredients are thoroughly combined and bring to a boil. Once the sauce comes to a simmer and begins to boil, remove the pan from the heat. Immediately add the chopped chocolate and the vanilla, stirring until the chocolate is completely melted.

At this point you will have a rather thin sauce, but allow it to stand for an hour or two to thicken up a bit before serving. This will keep covered in the refrigerator for up to 10 days.

Crispy Kale Chips With Smoked Paprika

2012-01-23T23:29:00.031-05:00

Okay, let’s get back on a healthy eating track. After last week’s Butterscotch Pots de Crème incident, I think I’d better give you something to offset that craziness. Check out these Kale Chips. They may not be the most photographic chips, but what they lack in visual pizzazz, they certainly make up for it with a big nutritional punch. They also happen to be very tasty, and they have become my new favorite guilt-free snack while watching television late at night.

I’ve gotten hooked on “Downton Abbey” lately, as many of you probably are as well. I’m a little late coming to this party having never seen it until recently, but I got totally swept up in the Upstairs/Downstairs intrigue of it all two weekends ago, bingeing on the complete first season over a 48-hour period. I had a total Pavlovian reaction when I first started watching, for as I drooled over the characters’ gorgeous period costumes and their grand English manor, I immediately began craving tea and scones with clotted cream and jam. After one night of indulging that craving with a little bowl of whipped cream dotted with big dollops of raspberry jam (who even needs the scones and the tea?!), I knew I needed to figure out a healthier alternative quickly. Since it is January and I’m still doing post-holiday damage control, I began making roasted kale chips to go along with my Season 2 “Downton” episodes.

It couldn’t be easier. The kale, when roasted with olive oil and sea salt till crisp, takes on a texture similar to Lay’s potato chips. I’m not kidding. The papery roasted kale shatters when you bite into it, just like a mouthful of extra-thin crunchy chips. I’m finding that it’s the ideal salty snack for my late-night movie watching these days. While I’m perfectly capable of inhaling an entire large bag of Lay’s potato chips in a single sitting, I feel much better in every way after eating a equally large bunch of kale.

I’m playing around with the seasonings, sometimes just using olive oil and sea salt or perhaps adding a sprinkling of sherry vinegar to make a fancy version of salt&vinegar chips. I’ve also tried a more exotic version sprinkled with fresh lime and chile powder, or in tonight’s variation that involved a light dusting of Spanish smoked paprika which takes the kale chips to a whole new level of spicy crisp happiness. I’ll definitely have to make that version again when next week’s new episode of “Downton” airs.

Kale Recipes on Kitchen Fiddler: Esalen Kale Salad, Raw Kale Salad, a la City Bakery, Sesame Kale and Rice Bowl with Poached Eggs, Tuscan Kale with Olive Oil Fried Eggs
One Year Ago: Orange Fennel Salad
Two Years Ago: Spaghetti Squash With Sauteed Shiitakes and Greens
Three Years Ago: Sweet Potato and Peanut Soup

KALE CHIPS WITH SMOKED PAPRIKA
For this recipe, I’ve been using the flat-leaf kale also known as Tuscan kale, lacinato kale or dinosaur kale. I suppose you could make this with regular curly kale leaves too, but whatever you use, make sure to rinse and dry your leaves completely so that the kale gets really crispy in the oven.

1 bunch Tuscan kale, stems removed and washed
1 Tablespoon olive oil
sea salt, to taste
¼ to ½ teaspoon smoked paprika, to taste

Preheat oven to 350°. Line a large baking sheet with foil.

After washing, make sure to dry the kale thoroughly. I usually spin it dry and then blot with a paper towel just to wick off any last droplets of water, which will otherwise cause the kale to steam in the oven. (You don’t want the kale to steam, because then it won’t get crispy a la potato chips!)

Tear the kale into bite-sized pieces and place in a large bowl. Add the olive oil and toss thoroughly so that the leaves are evenly coated with the oil. (Use your hands if necessary to really work the oil into the kale.) Sprinkle with sea salt and spread the kale into a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Depending on how large your bunch of kale is and the size of your baking sheet, you may need to use two baking sheets. Bake until the kale is crisp, for about 30 minutes, stirring once or twice to make sure that the kale roasts evenly.

When the kale is crispy, remove from the oven. Sprinkle with a ¼ teaspoon of the smoked paprika and toss to coat evenly. Taste for seasoning, and add up to a ¼ teaspoon more if you want a bit more kick. Serves 1, if your name is Louise and you have a compelling movie or television series to watch.

Butterscotch Pots de Crème

2012-01-15T22:25:00.072-05:00

Hello there. I’ve missed you all these past few months, I really have. Let me make it up to you by sharing a divine recipe for Butterscotch Pots De Crème, which was definitely one of my best culinary discoveries in 2011.

If December is typically a season of much merriment and revelry, January is traditionally the time to jumpstart my commitment to becoming a healthier and more vibrant person. Most January magazine issues are filled with empowering articles with titles such as “Two-Week Detox For Foodies!” or “Ten Steps To A Newer Healthier You!” Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with committing to regular exercise and all of those other good things that I know I should do. I do love eating vitamin-rich greens and nutritionally dense whole grains, and in January I usually try to post recipes here that help facilitate the post-holiday-party-season detox process.

But it’s been a long time since I’ve been here on Kitchen Fiddler for a whole variety of reasons: cranking out thousands of truffles for CocoaRoar, being locked-in to a new show, still trying to navigate many of the things I wrote about here, etc. I’m confident that you will find enough inspiring healthful recipes elsewhere to permit me to share this totally decadent dessert with you today. I know you won’t be sorry once you try it for yourself.

A pots de crème is essentially a rich custard. The ingredients for this particular recipe are simple enough: two kinds of brown sugar, cream, egg yolks, and a bit of vanilla for flavor. (Next time I’m going to substitute bourbon for the vanilla, just to see what happens.) The custards are gently baked in a water bath at a low temperature, which guarantees that their texture will be impossibly silky and smooth. After they’ve baked and cooled, these little butterscotch pots are topped with a generous dollop of lightly sweetened whipped cream and a pinch of flaky sea salt. We’re talking heaven in a ramekin.

The recipe specifies using both muscovado and demerara sugars that add complexity of flavor. The dark muscovado tastes deeply of molasses and has an appealing texture like wet sand at the beach, while the lighter demerara sugar crystals sparkle with golden sweetness. I splurged for the fancy sugars, but I think you could use regular light and dark brown sugars and still not be disappointed with the results.

This was originally printed in Gourmet a few years ago, but I first encountered the butterscotch pots de crème recipe on Orangette, one of my all-time favorite food blogs. The post is entitled “Pots of Gold”, and believe me, I felt like I hit the jackpot when I tasted my first bite of this. Rich and thick, this deeply caramelized custard is comfort food at its finest. However, as unprepossessing as they appear, these golden creamy custards are definitely festive enough to serve at the conclusion of an elegant dinner party, something I have done to rave reviews on several recent occasions. Be prepared for moans of pleasure from your guests once they experience that first spoonful.

This is a great trick to have up your sleeve as the recipe falls into the Easy-Yet-Totally-Impressive category of desserts. And who couldn’t use more of those recipes in their repertoire?! I promise that next time I’ll bring you something more appropriate for a Healthy January, but I couldn’t resist sharing this today, especially since I am so glad to be back here again. Happy New Year indeed!

One Year Ago: Baked Egg Custard With Gruyere and Chives
Two Years Ago: Scallops with Lychee-Champagne Sauce
Three Years Ago: Chorizo and Clam Stew (aka Happy Clams)

BUTTERSCOTCH POTS DE CRÈME
Adapted from a recipe by M.J. Adams in Gourmet, October 2003

I have found the muscovado and demerara sugars at places like Whole Foods, Williams-Sonoma, and other specialty food stores. But even if you don’t have access to these specific sugars where you live, please don’t let that deter you from making this recipe. While the flavor might not have as much complexity and warmth as this version, you can substitute regular light and brown sugar as I’ve indicated below, and I promise that you’ll still be happy with your custards.

It's worth noting hat these taste best on the day that they’re baked. But if you must make them ahead of time, cover them with plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to two days.

1-½ cups heavy cream
6 tablespoons dark muscovado sugar (or dark brown sugar)
¼ teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons water
2 Tablespoons demerara sugar (or light brown sugar)
4 large egg yolks
½ teaspoon vanilla extract

lightly sweetened whipped cream, for serving
flaky salt, for finishing

Preheat the oven to 300°F. Position the oven rack in the center of the oven.

In a small heavy saucepan, bring the cream, muscovado sugar and the salt to a simmer over medium heat. Stir until the sugar is dissolved.

In a 2-quart heavy saucepan, combine the water and demerara sugar over medium heat. Stir until the sugar is dissolved, and continue to cook for an additional 5 minutes until the mixture is golden and bubbly, stirring occasionally. Remove the pan from the heat and carefully pour in the hot cream mixture.

Whisk the egg yolks and vanilla together in a large bowl. Carefully pour in the hot cream mixture, slowly adding it to the egg yolks in a thin stream, whisking constantly until well combined. Place a fine-mesh sieve over a large glass-measuring cup and pour the custard through the sieve to strain out any lumps.

Divide the custard between six 4-ounce ramekins. Line the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish with a folded dishtowel and place the ramekins inside the dish. (You don’t want the custards to scorch, so the towel protects the ramekins from directly touching the hot pan.) Cover each ramekin with a little piece of foil to prevent a skin forming on the top of the custard as it bakes.

Place the pan on the rack in the middle of the oven and immediately add hot tap water into the baking dish, just enough to come up midway up the sides of the ramekins. Bake until the custards have set around the edges but are still a little jiggly in the centers, about 40 minutes. (Remove the foil to check this.) Use kitchen tongs to transfer the ramekins to a cooling rack, and remove the foil tops. Let the custards cool to room temperature, and they will continue to firm up a bit as they cool. Refrigerate until you are ready to serve them.

I like to serve these with a generous dollop of lightly sweetened whipped cream and a healthy pinch of flaky salt on top. Makes 6 small but rich servings.

Browned Butter Brownies

2011-04-29T16:18:00.110-04:00

No slumber party with my nephew is complete without a baking adventure in my kitchen. The Little Chef came over the other night while his parents went out for their anniversary dinner, and when I presented him with a few different scrumptious-looking goodies on my To Bake list, he naturally chose the most decadent option. (Is this kid related to me or what?) I’d had my eye on these Browned Butter Brownies for quite some time, and I was really happy for an excuse to make them with my little buddy.

These brownies were the cover recipe in the February 2011 issue of Bon Appetit. They are the creation of Alice Medrich, whose masterful book Bittersweet continues to give me great insight and understanding when it comes to working with chocolate. This recipe is similar to her Best Cocoa Brownies in Bittersweet, as both recipes produce a brownie with the most incredible soft texture and a crisp candylike crust on top. In this sublime version, the butter is cooked to a speckled brown before being blended with the cocoa and the rest of the ingredients. This simple-yet-ingenius step imparts a layer of fabulous nuttiness that dances perfectly in tandem with the richness of the cocoa.

As the Little Chef and I measured out dry ingredients and got to work browning the butter, I told him a story about my first year in New York when I cooked for a family in exchange for room and board. During my interview with them, I informed them that I had years of cooking experience, having trailed my mom in the kitchen since I was six years old. I made a point of telling them I had been occasionally hired to make cakes when I was in college and had actually catered post-concert receptions for friends. I was elated when I got the job.

Now I’m not sure what kind of cooks they’d had before I moved in because it took them a while to trust me in the kitchen. Eventually I won them over, but it was a long process that began with what I refer to as the Brownie Mix Incident.

One morning the mother (whom I’ll refer to as Mrs. K) informed me that they were hosting a big party at their home the next night, and while they were having the event catered, she wondered if I would make some sort of dessert for the evening. As visions of beautifully arranged fruit tarts and decadent chocolate tortes danced through my head in that instant, Mrs. K’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Do you know how to make brownies? Could you make brownies but not from a mix? ”

I resisted the urge to giggle. I replied that I could make whatever she liked and had absolutely no problem doing brownies from scratch if that’s what she wanted. “Great, because I really don’t like brownies from a mix,” Mrs. K said, still sounding unsure of whether or not I was up to the task. As she continued to harp on the evils of brownie mix as though she hadn't heard me, I finally had to spell it out that I had made plenty of brownies without ever using a box mix in my entire brownie-baking career, and that in fact I would be happy to make something even more festive for their party if she so desired.

It was a much longer conversation with a lot of debate and suspicion woven in as I tried to convince her that I really did know what I was doing. But in the end, I made two beautiful cakes—including my poached pear cheesecake—both of which were big hits with the guests and hostess alike. Actually, Mrs. K could hardly believe that I had created these in her kitchen, and she kept remarking on how professional-looking the cakes were and how glad she was that I could bake something other than brownies-from-a-mix! I do think she began to trust me a little bit more after that.

As I told this story to the Little Chef, he looked at me with a quizzical expression and said, “Louise, didn’t she know what you were capable of doing in the kitchen???” I laughed, cracking up to realize how well my nephew knows me and being glad that he has an appreciation for my baking even at his young age. While I tried to explain that sometimes you have to give people an opportunity to trust you and discover what you're capable of, he kept saying, “But that’s just crazy, I can’t believe she thought YOU might not be able to make brownies without a mix! It’s like asking Peter if he thought he might be able to draw a stick figure!” (His dad—my brother—is an incredible artist. And yes, he refers to his dad by his first name.)

These brownies may look average enough, but their taste is out of this world. I'd even venture so far as to describe them as the Superman of the brownie world, masquerading as Clark Kent in ordinary appearance but delivering an extraordinary taste impact. And while a plate of brownies may not be as visually stunning as an elaborate cake, all I can say is that if Mrs. K had tried our browned butter brownies, she wouldn’t have known what had come over her.

One Year Ago: Asparagus Pasta
Two Years Ago: Sumac Skirt Steak with Pomegranate-Shallot Sauce, Puerto Rican Chicken with Saffron Rice

BROWNED BUTTER BROWNIES
Barely adapted from a recipe by Alice Medrich in Bon Appetit, February 2011

Use the best cocoa you can, as it will only enhance your results. (I'm quite partial to Valrhona.) The original recipe calls for walnuts, but I used pecans to great effect. I also reduced the amount of sugar by ¼ cup, and I sprinkled the top of the brownie batter with a few pinches of flaky Maldon salt, as I love the interplay between salty and sweet.

Nonstick vegetable oil spray
10 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 heaping cup sugar
¾ cup natural unsweetened cocoa (spooned into a cup to measure, then leveled)
2 teaspoons water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon salt
2 cold large eggs
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 cup pecan pieces, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped (optional)
a few pinches of flaky sea salt, such as Maldon (optional)

Position your oven rack in the bottom third of the oven, and preheat to 325°. Line the bottom and sides of an 8x8 metal baking pan with foil, leaving a 2-inch overhang on opposite sides to facilitate easy removal of the brownies. Spray the foil with an even layer of nonstick spray and set aside.

Make the browned butter by melting it in a medium-sized saucepan over medium heat. The butter will create a white foam as it melts, but keep stirring until it stops foaming and begins to form brown bits at the bottom of the pan. This will take about 5 minutes. When the browned butter is nutty and fragrant, remove from the heat and immediately add the sugar, cocoa powder, water, vanilla and salt. Stir to blend well and let cool for about 5 minutes.

Add the eggs to the warm cocoa mixture, one at a time, beating vigorously after each addition until the mixture looks thick and glossy. Add the flour and beat vigorously for exactly 60 strokes until blended. Stir in the nuts, if using, and pour into the prepared pan. Sprinkle with a few pinches of flaky sea salt, if you wish.

Bake the brownies about 25 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out almost clean with a few moist crumbs attached to it. Let the brownies cool directly in the pan on a baking rack, then use the foil overhang to lift the brownies out. You can cut these into whatever size you like, but I suggest doing three lengthwise cuts, then three crosswise cuts to make 16 brownies. If you have the self-control to not gobble up these freshly baked brownies immediately, these can be made 2 days ahead if stored in an airtight container at room temperature.

Esalen Kale Salad Cravings

2011-04-16T23:04:00.085-04:00

I’m home! I’ve had a whirlwind three weeks in the Southeast region of the U.S. while touring with HCJ and his big band, and it’s been a genuine thrill to be part of it all. There’s still more to come with concerts in New Jersey and Connecticut next week plus a whole week in Boston in late April, but I’m grateful for a week at home to catch up with friends and family. I'm also having some much needed time in my kitchen, and upon arriving home after three weeks away, I immediately headed to my local health food store to buy a humongous bunch of kale. I’d been craving bitter greens for weeks, and I couldn’t wait to make this Esalen Kale Salad.

My friend Marjorie had first told me about this particular recipe from the Esalen Cookbook around the time I’d posted my take on the City Bakery kale salad last fall. My raw kale bowl—with its Italian flavor profile featuring a lemony olive oil dressing while punched up with toasted breadcrumbs and grated pecorino cheese—was something I made countless times last fall. But I was intrigued by Marjorie’s salad that combined kale ribbons and marinated red onion slivers with thin mushroom slices and avocado cubes, all bound together by a lemon-soy dressing and a liberal sprinkling of toasted crunchy pumpkin, sunflower and sesame seeds. This recipe came up again in a recent conversation and I asked Marjorie to send it to me, which she did on the first day of the HCJ tour when I arrived in Thackerville, Oklahoma.

Now to give you a little context for why I’ve been totally obsessed with making this recipe, allow me to set the scene for you. In a place like Las Vegas, there are many location-themed grand casinos such as The Paris, The Venetian, and The New York New York, all standing proudly along the main strip. However, at the Winstar Casino in Thackerville, all of these international locales were combined under one roof to rather incongruous effect. As you entered the casino from the hotel, the signs and décor screamed LONDON as you walked past replicas of Big Ben and London Bridge. After walking past 50 feet of slot machines, you could pass under a big archway and suddenly find yourself in “Paris” with a mock Eiffel Tower. Another 50 feet of slot machines and an archway later, the Coliseum in “Rome” loomed large, and so on and so forth.

Not to put too fine a point on it as I know I’ve mentioned this in the previous two posts, but I would just like to reiterate that the casino dining options were bleaker than bleak. For example, there was a greasy fish-and-chips joint in “London” and a scarier-than-usual-looking Panda Express in “Beijing”, and for reasons that made no sense to me or to anyone else in the band, the “Cairo” section hosted a Mongolian BBQ restaurant whereby you could create your own stir-fry dish. I've often enjoyed eating at Mongolian BBQ places in the past, but this particular establishment featured frozen-solid seafood along with pepperoni as protein options, multiple containers of the saddest-looking vegetables and a choice of day-glo bright sauces to bind it all together. I was seriously contemplating going on a 24-hour fast, when the Esalen kale salad recipe from Marjorie appeared in my inbox, ironically enough.

It was the cruelest tease. I actually laughed out loud as I read the recipe, thinking how unfair it was that she should send it to me when I was stuck in the middle of Nowhere, Oklahoma with no kitchen access for three weeks. I was absolutely salivating at that the thought of the leafy bitter greens co-mingling with velvety avocado and meaty mushrooms, happily imagining how that would all taste with the tangy lemon-soy dressing and the welcome crunch provided by the trio of toasted seeds. Upon reading this recipe, I swear I would have given an entire week’s worth of per diem to get my hands on some raw kale at that moment.

Fortunately the quality of food improved dramatically once we got out of Thackerville, and I was fortunate enough to enjoy some truly inspired meals over the next few weeks. (Please refer to the previous post for photos of some of the culinary highlights.) But that still didn’t stop me from thinking about this kale salad throughout the tour, and I knew I’d have to make it at the earliest opportunity. And once I finally had the opportunity to try it, I think it was worth the wait.

One Year Ago: Tuscan Kale with Olive Oil Fried Eggs
Two Years Ago: Sliced Spring Salad with Avocado and Feta

ESALEN KALE SALAD
Adapted from a recipe in the Esalen Cookbook by Charlie Cassio

I used a combination of purple curly kale and flat-leaf Tuscan kale when making this. I think the Tuscan kale works better texture-wise in the raw salad, but you can use whatever kind you like. The original recipe calls for Braggs Liquid Amino Acids in the dressing, but I think a good soy sauce makes a fine substitute. I also left out the optional sprouts from the original version, thinking that there was already enough going on in this salad which made the sprouts unnecessary.

1/3 cup tamari soy sauce
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
½ of a small red onion, thinly sliced into half-moons
¼ cup pumpkin seeds
¼ cup sunflower seeds
¼ cup sesame seeds
1 pound fresh kale
1 avocado, pitted and cut into ½-inch cubes
1 cup thinly sliced shiitake or crimini mushrooms

Combine the soy sauce and lemon juice in a small bowl, then add the olive oil in a slow steady stream as you whisk to combine completely. (Alternately you can add the three ingredients in a jar with a lid and shake vigorously to combine well.) Add the red onion slices to the dressing and let marinate while you prepare the rest of the salad.

Toast the pumpkin seeds in a dry skillet over medium heat, stirring frequently, until the seeds are golden and fragrant. Keep an eye on them as they can go from golden to burnt in a matter of seconds. Transfer to a plate to cool. Repeat with the sunflower seeds and sesame seeds. Make sure to toast each type of seed separately as they’ll require different toasting times due to their varying sizes.

Remove the stems from the kale. Stack the kale leaves and slice into thin ¼-inch ribbons. Combine the kale and the marinated onions in a large mixing bowl with just enough dressing to lightly but thoroughly coat the leaves. (If you want, the Esalen recipe encourages you to really get your hands in there and massage the dressing into the kale—it’s quite satisfying, I must say!) Add the avocado, mushrooms and the toasted seeds and toss till well combined.

Makes 4 to 6 servings. However, if your name is Louise or you are a similarly kale-starved person, this makes 1-2 satisfying servings.

Memorable Meals On The Road

2011-04-09T16:29:00.038-04:00

One of the most fun things about going on tour is finding culinary inspiration from new sources. Though I don't have kitchen access while on the road, I am definitely taking notes and gathering ideas for when I can play in my own kitchen again. Our touring schedule has been rather compressed as we’re traveling a lot and performing in new towns practically every day, but I have made a concerted effort to carve out a little time for myself, if only to find a fun place for lunch. My solo dining experiences are more enjoyable knowing that I can at least share some of these meals with appreciative friends in photo form, if nothing else.

It was not a promising start as the Winstar Casino in Thackerville, OK left a lot to be desired in the culinary department, as I mentioned in the previous post. However, the next day I had a few hours in Austin which more than made up for it. This roasted poblano and cheese tamale at La Condessa was one of the best tamales I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. It was steamed to tender perfection and enhanced only by the avocado crema and kicky salsa, and I savored every bite.

I was tempted to order a second tamale, but I’m happy that I saved room for dessert instead. I’ve never tasted anything quite like this goat cheesecake with roasted pineapple cubes and graham cracker shortbread crumbles, and it was accompanied by a saffron crème anglaise that truly made my head spin.

I had the good fortune to be steered in the direction of Cochon in New Orleans, a delightful restaurant in the Warehouse District recommended by friends who live in town as well as by HCJ himself. Lunch began with a fricassee of roasted wild mushrooms served over a cheese grits cake and topped with a perfectly poached egg. I’m a total sucker for anything with a poached egg on it.

As if that soul-satisfying dish weren’t enough to brighten my day, how could I possibly resist a fried oyster and bacon sandwich with herb mayo?! Oh my…

My meal at Cochon skyrocketed up to a whole new level of ridiculous with these gorgeous apple fritters with pecan ale sorbet. I wished that everyone I love could have been at the table with me, for it almost felt wrong not to share them with friends. Almost.

Thanks to Open Table and Urban Spoon, I’ve been able to scout out good places when I haven’t had personal recommendations from friends. I’m really glad that I stumbled upon this pulled pork tostada at Kool Beanz Café in Tallahassee.

These lovely cupcakes came from Lucy & Leo's, a homegrown cupcakery baking up scrumptious little cakes that blew most popular Manhattan cupcakes out of the water. I brought back a dozen to the tour production office and they were devoured in no time.

With the aid of my new little Droid phone with its navigation apps, I’ve been well equipped to find my way around any town. Derek’s Culinary Casual was a great find in Sarasota, especially for these crostini topped with seared scallops, minted pea puree and watercress. Talk about beautiful spring bites.

Most of you know how much I love a poached pear. Imagine my delight when Derek’s dessert menu boasted a lavender honey poached pear with a tangy goat cheese ice cream and a black pepper caramel.

We have a few more days left in this southeast leg of the tour, though I have a feeling I might be spending my few free hours enjoying the Florida beaches while eating rather lightly. But as I’m soaking up the Florida sunshine, I know I’ll be planning some menus for once I’m home in my kitchen again. And I’m already scheming, trying to figure out how to recreate that crazy-good goat cheesecake with the roasted pineapple for all of us…

Asparagus Soup Daydreams

2011-03-26T02:19:00.004-04:00

Greetings from a tour bus somewhere in the middle of northern Texas! I’ve just begun a 3-week concert tour of the Southeast with Harry Connick Jr. and his big band, and I’m thrilled to be the “string boss” on the road with these guys. I’m sure I’ll have lots of stories by the end of the tour, musically or otherwise, and there are some great food cities on our itinerary, including Austin and New Orleans. However, I think it’s fair to say that our first stop in Thackerville, Oklahoma falls into the Culinary Wasteland category more than anything. In fact, the food options there were so abysmal that I made a dinner out of Airborne tablets dissolved in water and a ginger chocolate bar as my mind wandered back to the Asparagus Soup I’d made on Wednesday before I left town. Sometimes a daydream has to be enough to sustain you.

This recipe comes from Carla Hall, one of my all-time favorite contestants on Top Chef. You have to love someone who cooks from the heart the way she clearly does, and in watching her compete in both Season 5 and now Top Chef All-Stars, I’ve often wished that I could eat Carla’s food. I was delighted to find her asparagus soup recipe in the March issue of Food&Wine magazine.

Unlike the slow-simmering soups associated with cold winter months, this bright verdant soup comes together in a snap. After doing a quick sauté of onion and asparagus pieces, the veggies are simmered in broth until they lose their bite and then pureed in a blender till silky smooth. A glug of cream turns the soup even more velvety, and fresh tarragon adds a beguiling note.

Carla’s recipe also includes homemade Parmesan Shortbread Coins to accompany the soup, and I will definitely have to try those the next time I make this soup. However, I topped some baguette slices with a little olive oil and shredded parmesan cheese before sticking them under the broiler for a minute or two. I think it was an excellent quick substitute for the homemade savory crackers, perfect for dunking into the asparagus puree.

The arrival of spring is often elusive, as a gorgeous day that teases you with warmer weather and budding trees is often followed by unceremonious snow flurries. But I’m always hopeful when I start finding beautiful asparagus in the markets. To me, asparagus is the vegetable more than any that seems to happily whisper, “Spring is coming!” This soup is the essence of spring: fresh and cheerful while polka-dotted with bright green peas. And even if I weren’t on the road right now not knowing when I’ll see my next fresh vegetable, this Asparagus Soup is definitely lovely enough to inspire many a daydream.

One Year Ago: Tuscan Kale with Olive Oil Fried Eggs
Two Years Ago: Asparagus with Poached Eggs, Radish Canapes with Avocado

ASPARAGUS SOUP
Adapted, ever so barely, from a recipe by Carla Hall in Food&Wine, March 2011.

I used vegetable broth to make this a vegetarian version, though the original calls for low-sodium chicken broth. I left out the flat-leaf parsley and garnished the soup with lime zest because that’s what I had on hand.

2 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 – ½ pounds asparagus, woody ends removed and stalks cut into 1-inch pieces
1 quart vegetable broth
¼ cup fresh tarragon leaves
¾ cup heavy cream
½ cup frozen petite peas, thawed
salt and freshly ground white pepper
finely grated lemon or lime zest, for garnish

Melt the butter in a large pot. Add the onion and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until softened, about 6 minutes. Add the asparagus pieces and cook for 1 minute. Add the broth and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until the asparagus is tender, about 10 minutes.

Remove from heat and let cool for a few minutes. Stir in the tarragon leaves. Working in batches, puree the soup in a blender until smooth. Reheat the soup in the pot, stirring in the cream and peas. Season to taste with salt and white pepper and garnish with grated zest. Serves 6.

Where I've Been...

2011-03-24T22:18:00.034-04:00

Each new year begins with verve and the determination to tackle the world. In setting new goals for the year, I always have an earnest desire to write/play/cook/exercise/photograph/blog/organize more. And eat more vegetables. I’m consistent in my goals, if nothing else.

I’ve been good with practicing and exercising consistently and I am eating more vegetables than ever, but I’ve had a hard time blogging in recent months. Perhaps you’ve noticed, if you’re someone who regularly checks this blog. Part of it is that life exploded after the big “60 Minutes: Endless Memory” story came out in December, and it’s taken me this many weeks to regain my equilibrium and discover what my new “normal” is as I’m being stretched in all sorts of different directions these days.

The other factor in my non-blogging is that much of my energy has been devoted to riding a major health&fitness kick the past few months, growing stronger and more confident while losing nearly fifty pounds in the process. I feel more comfortable in my skin than ever before, easily able to run five miles at a stretch or bound up the dozen flights of stairs to my apartment if I feel like it. I’m thrilled beyond belief that I can finally fit into clothes that have hung in my closet, unworn, since I was in my late twenties. I’m sitting on a plane while writing this, thinking how strange it was to haul my 48-pound suitcase onto the scale this morning, tangibly grasping the exact amount of extra weight I had been lugging around for far too long.

(Photo from a rooftop party last summer, at an all-time high weight. Let's just say that it was not my finest moment…)

People deal with pain in different ways, but throughout my life I always turned to food to comfort me. I know people who’ve dealt with professional disappointments and personal heartache in any number of unhealthy ways, whether it’s with chemical substances, workaholic tendencies or other addictions. My response to such challenges was always to raid the refrigerator as a form of self-medication. When the sting of rejection was particularly harsh, I dealt with it by starting my own chocolate truffle business to lift my spirits while satisfying my friends’ taste buds as well as my own. And when cranking out four thousand truffles in the space of a month wasn’t enough to drown out the pain, I eventually began Kitchen Fiddler, thinking that I could make myself feel better by writing about food as well.

Not that there’s anything wrong with enjoying one’s food, or writing about it or creating it for others. However, I was definitely out of balance, using food as a way of placating and sometimes punishing myself. I know that I don’t need to do that anymore, but it’s been a real challenge to redefine my relationship to food in these last recent months. I’ve done a lot of soul-searching as well as a lot of hard physical work over these past seven months, but thanks to Weight Watchers and some divine intervention, I’m feeling better than ever. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words.

(Spontaneous photo taken last night while I was packing and trying on clothes for my trip. I didn’t even bother to reapply lipstick, I was so happy that I could fit into this favorite skirt for the first time in eight years!)

I will always be someone who derives great pleasure from the art of eating, from the act of preparing it to enjoying the food itself, especially when it is a meal shared with others. I have genuinely missed writing about my kitchen discoveries in recent months, but as I discover what my new NORMAL is in this area of life too, I’m gradually finding a better balance in all things. Thank you all for hanging in there with me, and I look forward to sharing new kitchen adventures with you again in just a matter of time.

Chocolate Malt Ice Cream

2011-02-10T13:43:00.045-05:00

For someone who is as passionate about chocolate as I am, it’s a little strange that I actually prefer vanilla ice creams. Perhaps I’d rather enjoy my chocolate in more concentrated form, for I will invariably opt for a vanilla-based ice cream when given a choice. However, I just made a decadent Chocolate Malt Ice Cream this weekend that could make me a chocolate ice cream convert.

This malt ice cream has been in the works for a while, ever since Cenovia wanted me to make it for our Christmas dinner party. Unfortunately, my Christmas version was a little sub par as real malt powder is much harder to come by than I would have guessed, considering that it was once ubiquitous in every suburban grocery store ice cream section. After scouring grocery stores in both Manhattan and New Jersey with nary a jar of Carnation malted milk mix to be found, I resorted to using Ovaltine in that Christmas batch of ice cream. It was rather lackluster, missing the bold toasty malt flavor I was hoping for.

Oddly enough, I finally discovered that the Carnation malt powder of my childhood was readily available on Amazon.com where it comes three jars to an order. After all the trouble I had tracking it down, I had no problem with multiple jars of malt powder arriving on my doorstep at once. When Cenovia hosted a dinner on Monday while her parents were visiting, I was delighted for an excuse to make malted ice cream for everyone.

In researching chocolate malt ice cream ideas online, most recipes called for chocolate malt powder to be stirred into a vanilla custard base. However, I thought it might be a tad excessive to have SIX jars of malt in my cupboards at one time, so I had only ordered the vanilla powder. Trust me, I don’t need that kind of temptation. Instead, I decided to blend vanilla malt into a chocolate ice cream base, kind of a reverse Black&White. (A White&Black, perhaps?)

My trusty ice cream bible, The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz, has a beautiful chocolate ice cream recipe that served as the springboard for this project. My complaint with most chocolate ice creams is that they are not chocolaty enough, that the richness of the cream dilutes the cocoa flavor. But that was in no way an issue with this version, in which the custard base was deepened with both velvety cocoa powder and melted bittersweet chocolate.

I think it’s fair to say that it was a hit. The ice cream’s texture was incredibly smooth and so ridiculously thick that you could stand a spoon up in it. I felt this version achieved just the right balance of rich chocolate notes and toasty malt flavor. My friends certainly thought so too for even though I had made a double batch of ice cream, by the end of the dinner party there was absolutely nothing left.

One Year Ago: Black Magic Cake, Lavender Pavlova, Affogato
Two Years Ago: Tiger Cake, Sesame Kale and Rice Bowl with Poached Eggs

CHOCOLATE MALT ICE CREAM
An amalgamation of two recipes from The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz

Use real malt powder for this, such as Carnation or Horlicks. A brand like Ovaltine has lots of added sugar and other fillers that dilute the malt flavor, and you really don’t want that.

2 cups heavy cream, divided
3 tablespoons cocoa powder
4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 cup whole milk
¾ cup sugar
pinch of salt
5 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup malted milk powder

Combine 1 cup of the cream with the cocoa powder in a medium saucepan, and whisk together till there are no lumps. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 30 seconds while whisking constantly. Remove the pan from the heat and add the chopped chocolate, stirring until the chocolate melts and the mixture is smooth. Stir in the other 1 cup cream and pour the mixture into a large bowl, using a rubber spatula to thoroughly scrape out the saucepan.

Warm the milk, sugar and salt in the same saucepan. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Add a cup of the warm milk to the egg yolks, whisking constantly to temper the yolks, and scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula or wooden spoon, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula. Pour the custard through the strainer and stir it into the chocolate mixture until smooth. Stir in the vanilla and malt powder, whisking till completely blended. Chill the custard over an ice bath, then refrigerate till thoroughly chilled, at least 4 hours or overnight.

Pour the chocolate malt custard into an ice cream maker and freeze according to manufacturer’s directions. Transfer to a plastic container and place in the freezer to firm up. Makes 1 rich quart.

Cornmeal Arugula Soup

2011-01-28T22:21:00.041-05:00

Having been a hardcore night owl for most of my life, it’s fair to say that I do not respond well when my phone rings before 10 a.m. However, I totally didn’t mind yesterday’s 8:15 a.m. phone call informing me that my morning rehearsal had been cancelled due to the intense blizzard conditions. Hooray! I felt like a little kid being given a snow day, but rather than going sledding in the park followed by steaming mugs of hot chocolate, I took the opportunity to try out a new recipe with ingredients already on hand. Even if I’d had to make a special trip to the grocery store, it would have been worth braving the icy elements to have this rustic warming Cornmeal Arugula Soup for lunch.

You may be asking what the words “cornmeal”, “arugula” and “soup” are all doing together in the same recipe. Think of this as a very loose polenta that’s been prepared with much higher than usual ratio of liquid to coarse-grained cornmeal. Polenta is one of my favorite comfort foods, and it makes a beautiful golden side dish when it is finished simply with a rich bit of cheese stirred in. But I love the way it takes center stage in this recipe when amplified with a healthy dose of greens.

This recipe comes from Lidia Bastianich, and I always know that I’m in extremely reliable hands with her soul-satisfying recipes. The original calls for spinach, but I used arugula because that’s what I had. Frankly, I like the taste of arugula better than spinach anyway, and it contributed a welcome peppery bite to the soup. I added a generous spoonful of grated Pecorino Romano on top, and a final drizzle of olive oil tied the flavors all together.

I have a feeling that this Cornmeal Arugula soup will stay in my repertoire no matter what time of year it is. As for yesterday, this comforting bowlful of gold-and-green was a welcome splash of color on a blizzardy day. The cornmeal-based porridge warmed me up from the inside and the generous addition of greens made it seem especially healthy. After making such a nourishing soup, I could certainly justify enjoying a large mug of cardamom hot chocolate that afternoon, almost as much as if I’d gone sledding in the park beforehand. Happy snow day indeed!

One Year Ago: Spaghetti Squash With Sauteed Shiitakes and Greens, Ruby Port Cocktail
Two Years Ago: Louise's Perfect Martini, Chocolate Toasts

CORNMEAL ARUGULA SOUP
Adapted, barely, from a recipe by Lidia Bastianich in Bon Appetit, October 2010

6 cups of chicken broth or vegetable broth, or more as needed
¾ cup polenta (or coarse cornmeal)
3 tablespoons flour
3 tablespoons butter
2 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
5 ounces baby arugula leaves
sea salt and freshly ground pepper
grated Pecorino Romano, for finishing
extra-virgin olive oil, for finishing

Bring the broth to a simmer in a medium saucepan, and cover to keep warm. Combine the polenta and flour in a large heavy pot. Whisk in 1 cup of hot broth and combine over medium-high heat until the mixture is smooth. Add the butter, smashed garlic cloves and a sprinkling of sea salt. Gradually add the rest of the hot broth by cupfuls, stirring well after each addition. Cook over medium heat, stirring often to prevent the cornmeal from sticking to the pot, until the polenta is soft and the soup has thickened to a creamy consistency, about 25 minutes. (You can add more hot broth if you prefer a slightly thinner soup.) Add the arugula by the handful, stirring to combine. Simmer for another 5 minutes or so, until the arugula is wilted. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper as needed.

Divide among bowls and garnish with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and a sprinkling of grated Pecorino cheese. Makes 6 servings.

Orange Fennel Salad

2011-01-17T15:11:00.026-05:00

I don’t know about you but I’m ready for a little sunshine right about now. While Christmastime in New York is one of my favorite stretches of the year, I always feel very much in touch with my California roots around mid-January, ready for a break from the dreary winter weather. Unfortunately I’m not able to leave town at this time, and I’m more than just a little bit jealous of my friends who have plotted various escapes to Hawaii and other tropical climes. (You know who you are.) Since I have no beach vacation in my immediate future, I’ll have to get my sunshine in citrus form. My Orange Fennel Salad is almost as refreshing as a sunny holiday. Almost.

I love the wide variety of citrus fruits available at this time of year, and I always have a bowl of little clementines on my table. Floral Meyer lemons practically beg to be incorporated into decadent desserts, and I’ve been enjoying the most succulent ruby red grapefruits every morning. I’ve gone wild about these rosy Cara Cara oranges, also known as red navel oranges, and their pinkish-orange flesh is unbelievably sweet with hints of raspberry and cherry. Blood oranges may look like regular navel oranges on the outside, but their ordinary looking peels belie the brilliant purple fruit within.

I was getting in touch with my inner Top Chef, meticulously peeling the oranges by following the shape of the fruit with my knife so that there was no white pith left. But you don’t have to be that high-maintenance if you don’t want to. Peel your oranges any way you like, slice them crosswise into pinwheels and you’re on your way.

When you’re working with oranges that are bursting with natural sweetness, it’s good to have a contrast of flavors and textures to bring them into balance at the table. Crisp paper-thin shavings of raw fennel are the perfect foil to the juicy citrus flavors, adding a refreshing crunch and piquant licorice-like note to offset the orange slices. I had some Picholine olives on hand that added an extra zing to the oranges and fennel.

I’ve been enjoying orange fennel salads for lunch while sitting near my sunny windows each afternoon. The visual alone of these orange slices makes me happy, reminding me of spectacular sunsets I’ve enjoyed on some west coast beaches. I’m going to pretend that I’ll be experiencing those ocean sunsets myself soon enough, but for now I’m glad to have a salad like this that makes my taste buds smile.

One Year Ago: Scallops with Lychees and Champagne Sauce
Two Years Ago: Chorizo and Clam Stew, Sweet Potato and Peanut Soup

ORANGE FENNEL SALAD
This recipe is more of a loose guideline than anything, one of those salads in which the ingredients don’t have to be strictly measured. Sometimes I throw in a few paper-thin slices of red onion for additional bite.

4 oranges, peeled (I like to use a combination of navel oranges, Cara Cara oranges and blood oranges)
1 small fennel bulb, trimmed
¼ cup green olives (such as Picholine), pitted and cut in half
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Cut the peeled oranges crosswise into ¼-inch thick slices and place in a large mixing bowl. Use a vegetable peeler to shave the fennel bulb into paper-thin shavings. Add the fennel and olives to the orange slices.

Mix the extra-virgin olive oil and white wine vinegar together in a small bowl and pour over the salad. Season to taste with salt and pepper and divide among salad plates. Serves 4.

Baked Egg Custard With Gruyere and Chives

2011-01-07T13:01:00.034-05:00

I’m at my table looking out the window as I type, happily tucked inside my cozy apartment on this snowy day. The snowflakes are a riot of white confetti, falling fast and furious while buffeted by the wind. It’s a perfect day for something warm and comforting, preferably a dish that involves melted cheese and/or bacon. How about a Baked Egg Custard with Gruyere and Chives, with a little bacon on the side just for kicks? Yeah, I knew you’d like that.

I’m still flying high from New Year’s Day, on which the One-Year Plan Club gathered for our annual January 1st celebration. I’ve written more extensively in the past about the OYPC here and here. In short, for nearly a decade now this special group of friends and I have gathered each January 1st to take stock of the year gone by and map out our goals for the upcoming year. There was much to celebrate as many of us had a banner 2010, and everyone was particularly focused in his or her goals for this year, as though we’d definitely entered a more mature new chapter in the life of the OYPC. I am truly inspired by these friends, by their honesty and vulnerability as well as their determination to live their lives more fully as they realize their creative and professional dreams.

It was a brilliant sunny day, which seemed like a portent of good things to come in 2011. I was thrilled to host my first sit-down meal for EIGHT, a small triumph in my not-so-large apartment. I couldn’t have been happier to have everyone gathered around the table in my sun-drenched living room.

I made an enormous bowlful of the Winter Fruit Salad that had been such a hit at last year’s brunch, and a huge pot of steel-cut oatmeal kept warm on the stove so people could help themselves throughout the eight-hour (!) brunch meeting. We were obviously a hungry crew, for the scrumptious cranberry-orange scones that Alissa had baked disappeared in a flash, and I cooked up two pounds of bacon that were devoured before the platter made its way around the table a second time. And the Baked Egg Custard was the much-anticipated centerpiece of the brunch for the third year in a row.

I'm in danger of becoming a one-trick pony at these New Year’s brunches, but this recipe is so dumb-dumb easy that you can quickly throw it together even if you’re slightly hung-over or operating on very little sleep. Trust me, I’ve tested this recipe under both conditions, and it never fails. All you have to do is sprinkle of generous layer of grated Gruyere cheese and snipped chives on the bottom of a buttered baking dish. Toss a bunch of eggs, some milk and a few ounces of softened cream cheese into a blender, whip the mixture to a froth and pour it over the shredded cheese. Stick the whole dish in the oven while you go set the table, make yourself coffee or take a mini nap, whatever you need to do.

The baked custard is a cross between a quiche filling and a soufflé, and it emerges from the oven golden and puffed to impressive heights. The center will fall a bit, but the texture of the chive-flecked custard remains light and airy while the Gruyere imparts a delightful nuttiness. I find it is the perfect counterpart to a few strips of crispy bacon, especially when it is accompanied by great conversation with inspiring friends.

One Year Ago: Winter Fruit Salad With Ginger-Vanilla Syrup
Two Years Ago: Cranberry Ginger Pecan Muffins

BAKED EGG CUSTARD WITH GRUYERE AND CHIVES
From a recipe by Melissa Roberts in Gourmet, December 2008

2 cups grated Gruyere cheese
½ cup finely chopped chives
10 large eggs
1-½ cups whole milk
4 ounces cream cheese, softened and cut into pieces
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
¼ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper

Preheat the oven to 350° and position the baking rack in the center of the oven. Butter the bottom and sides of a 2-quart shallow baking dish.

Scatter the grated Gruyere and chives evenly over the bottom of the dish. Combine the eggs, milk, cream cheese, nutmeg, salt and pepper in the blender. Blend until smooth and frothy.

Pour the egg mixture over the grated cheese. Bake the custard in the middle of the oven until it has puffed up, set and turned golden on top. Depending on the size of your baking dish and idiosyncrasies of your oven, this can take between 35 and 45 minutes. Serve warm. Makes 8 moderate servings, or 6 more generous ones.

The Year 2010 In Pictures

2010-12-31T13:31:00.225-05:00

It’s New Year’s Eve! Many recent newspapers and magazines have been filled with photo retrospectives of the year. Since most of my photos throughout the year were taken in my kitchen and at my table, here is my own personal recap of 2010 using some of my favorite Kitchen Fiddler images from this year.

There were cold beverages in varying degrees of intensity.

Salads came in a variety of textures and vibrant colors, building me up with each bite.

The Roasted Cauliflower Soup was probably the MVP of 2010 and my personal favorite addition to the Kitchen Fiddler recipe index this year. But the Savory Oatmeal with Parmesan and Olive Oil definitely gave it a run for its money.

I also went wild over a Monkey Cake.

Pasta was always nice, especially when it was shaped like rice.

I rekindled my love affair with vegetables.

And cake.

There were unexpected tastes, such as Scallops with Lychees and Champagne Sauce, and Smoked Salt Caramel Ice Cream.

Frozen desserts made everyone happy.

So did chocolate, of course.

2010 was worth remembering on so many levels. I am filled with unspeakable gratitude when I think back over the past 365 days, knowing that I’ve been richly blessed to have such incredible people walking alongside me through all the ups and downs of life. It was a colorful year filled with ever-deepening relationships, inspiring music-making and fantastic culinary adventures.

I wish you all a happy and healthy 2011, one that is full of creativity and beauty. And of course, may you have a year filled with memorable meals that you enjoy with the favorite people in your life. Happy New Year!!!

Poached Pear Cheesecake Loaded With Happy Memories

2010-12-27T00:19:00.083-05:00

If you are anything like me, you have a mile-long list of recipes that you’re dying to try. In fact, there aren’t enough meals in the year to work my way through all of the recipes on my Must Make list. But sometimes life spins wildly out of control and I need to go back to an old familiar favorite to feel anchored again. My Poached Pear Cheesecake is one of those recipes that make me feel that all is right with the world again.

It’s been one of the most unusual weeks of my life, largely because of the “60 Minutes” story that aired last Sunday, featuring me and the small handful of others with a rare and extreme autobiographical memory. The filming began more than a year ago and was completed in the spring, and though the story was expected to air in the fall, we wouldn’t actually know the exact airdate until just a few days before. Fall came and went without incident, but December 19th turned out to be the big day in which the two-segment “Endless Memory” piece was finally broadcast to an audience of nearly 19 million viewers. (You can check it out here and here, if you'd like.) I was thrilled out of my mind but, not having been allowed to see it ahead of time, I was also a nervous wreck.

Yet dear friends and family surrounded me when I saw the show for the first time, and we turned the whole evening into a celebration. Julie threw a viewing party for me in her beautiful apartment, and when she offered to host the party, the first thing she did was plan a menu composed of dishes that had particular emotional significance for me. (And you wonder why we’re great friends?!) I was on dessert duty, as per usual, and I knew I wanted to do something involving poached pears. Julie was an angel and made all of the savory party food using Kitchen Fiddler recipes, especially those loaded with great memories for me.

Among other dishes, there was Marinated Goat Cheese with Lemon and Thyme, always a huge hit when I’ve served it at some hilarious birthday parties over the years. A single bite of my Sweet Potato and Peanut Soup conjures up the amazing January 2006, a month in which I was fueled by endless bowls of that vibrant soup while I radically transformed my apartment and, subsequently, my life. And I really wanted to serve my Arugula Fennel Salad with Pistachio and Toasted Breadcrumbs inspired by the one I had at Zuni Café in San Francisco in August 2009. I had sat alone at my table that afternoon with my notebook and wrestled with the question, “What would I do if I were unafraid of failing?” The first thing I wrote was, “I should contact the UC Irvine neuroscientists who are studying people with superior autobiographical memory, for I think they need to know about me too.” As I ate my arugula salad and drafted a letter to the memory research team, I had no idea what was in store for me. In my wildest dreams, I certainly could not have imagined that writing that letter would set me on such an incredible path of discovery and deep affirmation, not to mention having an opportunity to share this memory gift on such a huge scale as I did last Sunday night.

It was an absolute trip to finally watch the “Endless Memory” program for that first time, and I was so impressed by the way the producers wove our countless hours of filmed interviews into a cohesive narrative piece. I think my happiest memory of the evening was watching my Little Chef staring at the large television with saucer-wide eyes and then looking back at me with his mouth agape, as though he couldn’t believe his baking buddy Aunt Louise was actually on television while also being in the same room with him.

After the show was over and the bubbly was flowing freely, I whipped up some Chocolate Toasts and brought out the Poached Pear Cheesecake that I’d made for the party. This stunning cake has been in my repertoire since 1993 when I acquired The Book of Cheesecakes by Steven Wheeler, a slim little volume of fantastic recipes that really pack a punch. The poached pear cheesecake was one of the first recipes I tried from that book, and it quickly became a major favorite amongst my college friends.

The cheesecake itself is a light affair, made with a modest quantity of cream cheese and brightened with plain yogurt and fresh lemon zest too. But what elevates this graham-cracker-crusted cheesecake to new culinary heights are the wine-poached pears on top. Oh, they’re gorgeous. Deeply suffused garnet on the outside, pale and cream-colored on the inside, these drunken pears are simultaneously bold and bashful, and they will make your taste buds smile.

Once upon a time, this was the cake that made me truly excited about creating memorable desserts, as though it said to me, “You are capable of doing something very unusual that will fill many people with unexpected great delight.” I know that’s a lot to ask from a cheesecake, but seriously, it’s not one you’re likely to encounter on an average day. It has the distinction of being the first cake I was ever paid to make once upon a time, and I’ve been commissioned to create it countless times since for many festive occasions. I even made this cake for my brother’s wedding celebration. And it felt particularly right to make this poached pear beauty on the night in which millions of people discovered that I was capable of doing something else far more unusual too.

One Year Ago: The 2009 CocoaRoar Report
Two Years Ago: The 2008 CocoaRoar Report

POACHED PEAR CHEESECAKE
Adapted from a recipe in The Book of Cheesecakes by Steven Wheeler

This is definitely one of my most requested cakes. Not only is it stunning to look at, it isn’t a dense sugar bomb that lands in your stomach with a thud the way some traditional cheesecakes do, and therefore it can provide an elegant ending for a rich meal. I’ve experimented with several varieties of pears for this cake, and I have found that D’Anjou pears are ideal for this recipe, as their texture holds up well in the poaching process. Make sure to use pears that are ripe but still a bit firm. If they’re overly ripe, they will fall apart when you poach them and it will be a big slippery mess trying to arrange them on top of the finished cheesecake.

For the poached pears:
2-1/2 cups full-bodied fruity red wine (I usually use a zinfandel or shiraz)
2-1/2 cups water
3/4 cup sugar
1 cinnamon stick
several whole cloves
the zest of half a lemon, peeled with a vegetable peeler into long wide strips
5 medium-sized firm pears, peeled (preferably D’Anjou)

For the crust:
1-3/4 cups graham cracker crumbs
6 tablespoons melted butter

For the filling:
12 ounces cream cheese, softened
2 eggs
1/3 cup sugar
2/3 cup plain yogurt
2 tablespoons lemon juice
finely grated zest of half a lemon
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
a pinch of ground cloves
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

Prepare the pears at least 3 hours before starting the rest of the cheesecake. Combine the wine, water, sugar, lemon peel and spices in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, add pears and simmer 25 minutes or until pears are just tender. Cool pears in syrup until ready to use for the cake. The longer the pears sit in the poaching liquid, the more they will have a chance to soak up the flavors and rich plummy color of the red wine syrup. This will make for a more dramatic presentation.

Lightly butter the bottoms and sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Combine the graham cracker crumbs and melted butter in a large bowl and add the melted butter, stirring until the crumbs hold together. Press the crust onto the bottom of the prepared pan; set aside while you make the filling.

Preheat the oven to 350°. Beat the softened cream cheese in a large bowl until smooth. Add the eggs, sugar and yogurt, beating well until smooth. Beat in the lemon juice and zest, cinnamon, cloves, and flour. Cut 2 of the poached pears into 1/2-inch pieces, and stir into cheese mixture. Spoon filling into prepared crust. Bake in preheated oven 50 minutes or until set. Cool completely.

Quarter and core the remaining poached pears. Make several lengthwise slices in each pear quarter, making sure not to cut all the way through the top so that it will be easier to work with. Arrange the pears in a fan shape on top of the cooled cheesecake. Remove the sides of the springform pan before cutting the cake into slices. Makes 8 to 10 servings.

Project X Revealed

2010-12-17T23:03:00.023-05:00

I’ve made occasional references to a certain “Project X” over the past fourteen months, promising you that I would share more about it when the time was right. Well, the time has come, and I have some big news. I would like to invite all of you to tune into "60 Minutes" on CBS this Sunday evening, December 19th. I will be featured in a two-part story about people with an extraordinarily rare memory condition classified as Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory.

Some of you know about my unusual memory that causes me to remember every day of my life with intense clarity. For example, if you ask me about a random date from 1985 onward, I know what day of the week it was and what I did on that day, what the weather was like, possibly what happened in the news, etc. I have written on Kitchen Fiddler about some of my culinary time-travel experiences where my awareness of the current date—and the memories of what happened on that day in any given year—is the actual trigger itself for some very insistent cravings based on meals I’ve had in the past on that particular date.

For the past year I've been involved with memory studies at University of California, Irvine at their Center for the Neurobiology of Learning and Memory. I've been working with Dr. James McGaugh and Dr. Larry Cahill, the neuroscientists who are the first to ever study this extreme autobiographical memory condition. I'm thrilled to be part of this unusual research that is writing a brand-new chapter in the field of memory studies.

I am one of five subjects—along with Brad Williams, Rick Baron, Bob Petrella, and Marilu Henner—who participated in group interviews with Lesley Stahl and in exhaustive memory tests with the UCI researchers throughout the year. The “60 Minutes” film crew also came to a solo recital I gave in New York earlier this year, and they also filmed me in my apartment during CocoaRoar season while I was making Peanut Butter&Sea Salt Truffles. I doubt that the chocolate-making clip will make it into the finished story—I haven’t seen the piece yet—but even without that, I hope that you will tune in on Sunday night and share this crazy and exciting memory adventure with me!

Photo op with Lesley Stahl! This was taken after our big group interview on December 7, 2009.

CocoaRoar Has Its Own Webpage!

2010-12-10T19:09:00.048-05:00

Greetings from the chocolate trenches! CocoaRoar is in full swing this month, and I have recently created a separate webpage for my chocolate endeavors. You can click here to check it out. Or you can just stay here for a moment, if you’d prefer. Either way is fine with me.

I am enjoying my time in the chocolate kitchen more than ever. I thoroughly reorganized my kitchen in November and am able to be more efficient than ever in this small space. Believe it or not, this is where the magic happens, people.

I’ve discovered that using the food processor is a foolproof way to mix up large quantities of chocolate with infused cream, creating the silkiest most luxurious chocolate ganache imaginable. Isn’t that gorgeous?

And for the first time in CocoaRoar’s 3-year history, I have a dream of an assistant. My wonderful sister-in-law, Alison, has taken over most of the packaging duties so that I can focus on making the truffles. She has an artist’s eye and makes everything look beautiful, not to mention that she is the loveliest person to have around on a regular basis. We slip into an easy rhythm working together in my little chocolate factory while favorite movies play in the background, and I’m so grateful for her help and for her company. It makes me wonder how I ever did these big Christmas rounds of truffles by myself.

We did truffles for a wedding earlier this month, boxing up four different varieties as wedding favors for the guests. The bride requested white and purple, in place of the signature CocoaRoar red boxes with gold ribbons, and while at first it felt bizarre putting my truffles into totally different packaging, I loved the way it looked when it was all finished. It felt like wearing a radically different shade of lipstick and feeling very strange at first but then really enjoying it in the end.

But even with my streamlined kitchen, efficient mixing techniques, and Alison’s invaluable assistance, I’m still struggling to do much in the way of savory foods. I am making a lot of Steel-Cut Oatmeal with Parmesan and Olive Oil, and I have a bottomless pot of Roasted Cauliflower Soup going, mixing up yet another batch as soon as I’m running low. Both of those foods warm you up from the inside, which is important on these frigid days. I am making endless bowls of Raw Kale Salad, substituting grated romano cheese for the toasted breadcrumbs because it not only is quicker but it also tastes good. Being surrounded by this much chocolate make me crave all things GREEN, plus this recipe also contributes very little to my dishwashing load. That is a critical factor these days, especially since my small kitchen has a tiny sink and limited counter space and I still have a thousand more truffles to make in the next ten days. To be continued soon…

One Year Ago: Louise and Her Chocolate Factory

One truffle at a time...

Roasted Brussels Sprouts With Bacon And Garlic

2010-11-24T21:10:00.044-05:00

I have just finished a round of CocoaRoar for Thanksgiving, and seven hundred truffles later, I’m happily catching my breath with a pre-holiday cranberry-ginger daiquiri. When friends come to my apartment to pick up their orders, they’re greeted by the sight of large containers filled with truffles and multiple 6-pound bags of Valrhona chocolate pieces. I can’t count how many times I’ve been asked how I keep from gorging on chocolate all day. But the weird thing is that while I’ve been surrounded by an obscene amount of chocolate this past week, the foods I’ve been most hungry for are cruciferous vegetables. More specifically, I’ve had wicked cravings for Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Bacon And Garlic.

I think Brussels sprouts often get a bad rap, unjustifiably so. I’ve never had an issue with Brussels sprouts, but maybe I just love miniature things, especially baby vegetables. These always look like adorable tiny cabbages to me.

Perhaps my cheerful relationship with Brussels sprouts evolved naturally because my initial introduction to them occurred when they happened to be roasted with some bacon. I am absolutely convinced that you can make anything taste better with bacon. Everyone knows that.

I can imagine that merely boiling these little green globes does not present them in their best light. Roasting them with a little olive oil at high heat shows them off to much better advantage. Tossing them with some minced garlic and a bit of chopped up bacon thrown in for good measure ensures that this story has a happy ending. The outer leaves get impossibly crispy while the centers become fork-tender. And did I mention that everything tastes better with bacon?

As someone who might willingly give up eating meat as long as bacon wasn't off-limits, I am happy to make a meal out of a large bowl of these roasted Brussels sprouts. They seem to say, “I’m small but I'm mighty. While I may look like a little bruiser, I think you’ll find that I’m actually rather sweet inside. I don’t fall apart under pressure, and in fact I truly shine when the heat gets turned up under me. And since I am also great vehicle for smoky bacon, how could you not love me?”

One Year Ago: Fiery Sweet Potatoes
Two Years Ago: Smoky Roasted Eggplant Dip

ROASTED BRUSSELS SPROUTS WITH BACON AND GARLIC
Adapted very slightly from a recipe in Gourmet, January 2001

I like using applewood smoked bacon for this, though Gourmet’s version of the recipe calls for pancetta. The original recipe also asks you to pour in a little water at the end of the roasting process to help scrape up the brown bits that stick to the pan. But I am lazy when it comes to dishwashing and I line the pan with foil or parchment paper to make the clean-up process easier, thereby making it unnecessary to add the water at the end. I like a modest splash of red wine vinegar over the roasted Brussels spouts, which adds a welcome acidic note to the finished dish.

1 pound Brussels sprouts, washed well
2 slices thick bacon, cut into ¼-inch thick pieces
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon olive oil
salt and pepper
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar

Preheat the oven to 450°. Position the oven rack in the top third of the oven. Line a rimmed baking sheet or a 9x13-inch roasting pan with parchment paper or aluminum foil.

Cut the Brussels sprouts into quarters. (Be sure to cut lengthwise through the root ends to keep their shape intact.) Spread them in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet, and add the chopped bacon and minced garlic. Drizzle the olive oil over the top, toss to combine, and season with salt and pepper.

Place the baking sheet on the top oven rack, and roast the Brussels sprouts for 25 minutes, stirring once halfway through the roasting time. They should be crispy on the outside and tender inside. Toss with the red wine vinegar and serve while still warm.

Serves 4 as a side dish. (If your name is Louise and you’re in desperate need of greens, this makes only 1 or 2 servings!)

Salted Caramel Ice Cream (With or Without Smoke)

2010-11-16T10:19:00.055-05:00

I am obsessed with salted caramel these days. I don’t see anything wrong with that, for I can think of far worse things to have on my brain.

Caramel can be cloying on its own, due to its high sugar content, but I love the way a healthy pinch of sea salt tempers the sweetness and enhances the flavor. I’m gearing up for a Thanksgiving round of CocoaRoar truffles featuring my Caramel & Sea Salt truffle, and I’m excited for an excuse to make these again. These bittersweet salty caramel delights are a major favorite among my CocoaRoar customers, and already this truffle is the best seller among the flavors I’m offering this round. I wrote about this divine little bonbon in my first month of Kitchen Fiddler and this salted caramel truffle post still makes me salivate, even two years later.

I made a Salted Caramel Ice Cream earlier this fall, in which I used an alderwood-smoked salt. It seemed like a really good idea at the time, but it was mighty powerful and not for the faint of heart. My little vial of smoked salt was a gift from someone whose presence in my life is exciting but somewhat perplexing, so I suppose it’s highly appropriate that this smoky salt’s effect in the ice cream was equally intense and bewildering.

This crazy salt took hold of the caramel, transforming and deepening it to a whole new level of crazy. When I tasted my first bite of the ice cream, it literally grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to sit up and pay attention. While I loved it, I could only handle a few spoonfuls. I nicknamed this Dunhill Caramel Ice Cream for it was sophisticated, smoky and complex, but probably not something I should make a regular habit of doing.

The next time I make this, I'll decrease the amount of smoked salt so that it adds just a hint of that bonfire-on-the-beach quality. But the recipe works beautifully with regular sea salt, and that is the recipe I’d like to share with you tonight. I have made this version multiple times and have found it utterly beguiling, so much so that I have completely forgotten to take a photo of it each time. With Thanksgiving on the horizon, I think you need to have this ice cream in your repertoire. It would be beautiful with pumpkin or apple pies, and I am excited to enjoy it again with the pear tart I’m planning to make for my holiday feast.

And if you happen to have access to some smoked salt and are feeling a bit daring, I think you should definitely make this ice cream with it at least once, just to see what happens.

One Year Ago: The Ten Bells
Two Years Ago: Creamy Polenta with Sauteed Wild Mushrooms

SALTED CARAMEL ICE CREAM
The recipe for the Smoked-Salt Caramel Ice Cream came from Gluten-Free Girl and The Chef by Shauna James Ahern & Daniel Ahern, but originally the recipe was one by David Lebovitz.

Be vigilant when making the caramel, for it can quickly go from a beautiful deep amber color to a burnt sugary mess. Please make sure to use good salt for this recipe, for the quality of the ice cream depends on it. I use fleur de sel, but you can also use fine grey salt or even kosher salt. Just don’t use ordinary table salt. If you’re feeling adventurous and want to make this with smoked salt, I would only use a ½ teaspoon of it, for its flavor is potent.

2 cups whole milk, divided
1-½ cups sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
¾ teaspoon sea salt, such as fleur de sel
1 cup heavy cream
5 large egg yolks
¾ teaspoon vanilla extract
additional flaky sea salt, such as Maldon Salt, for garnishing

Prepare an ice bath in a large metal bowl, filling it a third of the way with ice cubes and adding enough water to make the ice cubes float. Nestle a smaller metal bowl in the ice bath, and add 1 cup of the whole milk to this bowl. Have a small fine-mesh strainer nearby.

Make the caramel by pouring the sugar into a large heavy saucepan over medium-high heat. Stir gently but constantly with a wooden spoon or other heatproof utensil. The sugar will gradually turn clear as it melts and clumps together, resembling crunchy snow. Be patient and keep stirring. As it dissolves, the color will darken and turn a deep caramel color. Watch it closely, taking the saucepan off the heat the moment it reaches a deep amber color.

Stir in the butter and sea salt until the butter melts. Carefully whisk in the cream. The caramel will probably sputter and seize up, but return the pan to the low heat and stir until the hard caramel bits melt. Stir in the remaining cup of milk.

Whisk the egg yolks together in a small bowl. Slowly pour about a cup of the warm caramel mixture into the egg yolks, stirring constantly. Scrape the warmed yolk mixture back into the milky caramel and cook this custard over medium heat, stirring constantly until the mixture thickens. If you have an instant-read thermometer, it should reach between 160° and 170°F.

Pour the caramel custard through the strainer into the milk set over the ice bath. Add the vanilla and stir gently until the mixture cools down. Refrigerate the custard at least 8 hours or until it is thoroughly chilled.

Freeze the salted caramel custard in your ice cream maker according the manufacturer’s directions. The finished ice cream will be soft as the salt prevents it from freezing hard. Transfer to a plastic container and let it chill in the freezer until firm. Serve with a good pinch of flaky sea salt on top. Makes 1 generous quart.

The Black Pearl Cake

2010-11-07T23:04:00.079-05:00

Allow me to introduce you to The Black Pearl Cake. Isn’t it a beauty?

I was not a kid who wanted the same cake for her birthday each year. From the age of ten, I began using my birthday as an opportunity to try out the most elaborate and decadent new dessert to catch my eye in the previous months, but I have people in my life who make the same annual request when it comes to their birthday cake. Jorge has eyes only for my Frozen Ginger Key Lime Pie every year since he first encountered it several years ago, and Rob will have no other birthday carrot cake than mine. Cenovia, who appreciates a great black-and-white in all forms (cake, cookie, milkshake, cat, etc.), has proven consistent in asking for my Black Pearl Cake for several years in a row. I was more than happy to oblige this request for her birthday dinner last week.

This particular study in black-and-white is inspired by one of the exotic chocolate bars from Vosges Chocolates. Their popular Black Pearl Bar is 55% bittersweet chocolate that gets its kick from both ginger and wasabi plus a little crunch from black sesame seeds. This flavor combination doesn’t strike me as unusual now, having experienced chocolate paired with all sorts of wild ingredients over the years, but it seemed very daring when I first made its acquaintance in 2003.

How do you translate the flavors of this exotic chocolate bar into cake form? It starts with an excellent deeply chocolate cake, one with a firm crumb that is not at all cloyingly sweet. The cake layers are first moistened with ginger syrup and then perfectly complemented by a ginger-and-wasabi-spiked chocolate ganache that I could easily eat by the large spoonful. The light-as-air whipped cream icing has just a touch of ginger in it, and a sprinkling of black sesame seeds adds an elegant visual to the finished cake. And you just can’t believe how beautifully the flavors blend together, creating a harmonious and satisfying whole.

This recipe originally came from the January 2005 issue of Bon Appetit, and I first made it for a post-concert party I hosted for my friends after a Riverside Symphony performance that month. I have a major soft spot in my heart for that orchestra, for it was while playing in that group that I first met the violinists who became some of my closest friends in New York. Cenovia, the very warm and engaging concertmaster, introduced herself at my very first rehearsal (thirteen years ago today!), and I became friends with Sylvia, Lorra and Kristina shortly thereafter. Not only are these beautiful women talented and inspiring in so many ways, they are also some of my most enthusiastic food buddies, and I treasure their collective presence in my life.

Our Riverside Symphony program included Kurt Weill's haunting theater piece “The Seven Deadly Sins” on the night that I first served this Black Pearl Cake to a dozen friends. I always associate this particular recipe with that music, for this cake certainly encompasses many of those sins! Gluttony, Greed and Lust are definitely inspired every time a Black Pearl Cake is on my horizon. I will admit that my own Pride gets puffed up each time I make this stunning dessert, for it never fails to dazzle people’s taste buds and always inspires a wide variety of enthusiastic responses. Sloth doesn't figure into it, for the cake is a bit labor-intensive albeit well worth it, though I do experience major Envy when I watch the friends who can eat a big slice of this without looking like the cake went straight to their hips. (Grrrr....)

There have been many Black Pearl Cakes since that first awesome encounter. Whether it’s a dinner party, a birthday celebration, or a post-concert soiree—you name it—I’m happy for an excuse to create one of these unusual cakes. Lorra, who once commissioned me to make a Black Pearl Cake to feed 80 people for a big birthday party, summed it up perfectly after her very first bite of this. “Why would you ever need any other cake in your life?” I may have musical associations with the Seven Deadly Sins whenever I eat this, but as far as the actual taste is concerned, this Black Pearl Cake is sheer heaven.

One Year Ago: Lemon Chiffon Cake, Passion Fruit and Lime Bavarian Cake
Two Years Ago: Chocolate Mascarpone Praline Cupcakes

BLACK PEARL CAKE
Adapted slightly from a recipe inspired by Katrina Markoff's Vosges creations in Bon Appetit, January 2005

I made a few tweaks to the original recipe, reducing the amount of sugar in the cake and not adding the chopped fresh ginger to the cake batter because I think it interferes with the final texture. I’ve increased the ratio of cream-to-chocolate to make a more generous and spreadable ganache. I’ve also amped up the amount of ginger and wasabi in the ganache, just because the quantities in the original recipe were rather timid and barely discernable. Depending on your tastes, you could add an additional teaspoon of ginger and half-teaspoon of wasabi if you like an extremely bold flavor, but I think I have the proportions well-balanced here. I used a bittersweet chocolate that was about 60% cocoa, which was definitely bittersweet but not so dark that it overpowered the ginger and wasabi notes in the ganache.

For the cake:
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups boiling water
2-3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
4 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

For the ginger-wasabi ganache:
2 cups heavy cream
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon wasabi powder
10.5 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
2 tablespoons black sesame seeds

For the ginger syrup:
1 cup water
½ cup sugar
a 3-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and cut into thin rounds
1 vanilla bean, split in half lengthwise

For the icing:
1-3/4 cups heavy cream
¼ cup confectioners’ sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground ginger
black sesame seeds, for finishing

Make the cake:
Preheat the oven to 350•, placing the racks in the center of the oven. Butter the bottoms of three 9” round cake pans. Trace circles of parchment paper to fit the bottoms of the pans. Line the bottoms of the pan with the parchment paper circles, then butter and flour the papers and sides of the pans.

Combine the cocoa powder and boiling water in a small heat-resistant bowl, whisking to beat out any lumps. Set aside to cool to room temperature.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt, combining thoroughly.

In another large bowl, use a mixer to thoroughly blend the softened butter and sugar together. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla, and scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Use the mixer to alternate adding the flour mixture and the cocoa mixture, gradually adding the flour in four additions and the cocoa in three additions, beginning and ending with the flour mixture.

Pour the batter equally into the three prepared pans, smoothing the tops of the batter. Place the pans in the oven and bake for 30-35 minutes. Unless you have a convection oven that will circulate the air throughout the oven, switch the pans’ positions on the racks about halfway through the baking time so that they have a chance to bake evenly. Check the cake layers after 30 minutes of baking time; the top should spring back when touched with a finger, and a tester inserted in the center should come out clean.

Let the cake layers cool in their pans on a cooling rack for 10 minutes. Using a small knife, cut around the side of the cake to separate it from the sides of the pan. Invert each layer onto a greased plate, then place it right side up on the cooling rack. Allow the cake layers to cool thoroughly.

Make the ganache:
While the cake layers are baking, make the ganache. Place the finely chopped chocolate in a large mixing bowl. Whisk the heavy cream with the ground ginger and wasabi powder in a small heavy saucepan and bring the mixture to a boil. When the mixture begins to boil, immediately remove from the heat and pour the hot cream over the chocolate. Cover the mixing bowl with plastic wrap and let stand for 15 minutes, allowing the steaming cream to melt the chocolate. Remove plastic wrap and gently stir with a large whisk, thoroughly incorporating the chocolate with the hot cream. Stir in the black sesame seeds till blended. Cover again with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours until thoroughly chilled.

Make the ginger syrup:
Combine the sugar, water and ginger in a small saucepan. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean into the pan and add the vanilla bean itself. Stir over medium heat until the sugar dissolves, and let the mixture simmer for 2 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and cover, letting the mixture steep for 1 hour. Strain the syrup through a fine-meshed strainer into a small bowl, and let the syrup cool to room temperature before using.

To assemble the cake:
When cake layers are cool, use a serrated knife to slice off the very top layer of each cake so that the layers are even. Using a pastry brush, generously brush the ginger syrup over each of the layers.

Remove the chilled ganache from the refrigerator and beat with an electric mixer on medium speed for about 30 seconds, just until the ganache is fluffy and easily spreadable.

Smear a dab of the ganache on the bottom of serving platter or cake plate; this will anchor the cake so it will not slide around. Place one of the syrup-moistened layers on the plate, and gently spread with half of the ginger-wasabi ganache, leaving a half-inch border around the edge of each cake layer. Smooth out to form an even layer, Top with another cake layer and spread with the remaining ganache. Place the remaining cake layer on top and place in the refrigerator to chill while you make the icing.

Whip the cream, confectioner’s sugar, ground ginger until soft peaks form. Add the vanilla extract and continue whipping until firmer peaks are formed. Spread the whipped cream icing evenly over the top and sides of the cake. Sprinkle the finished cake with black sesame seeds. Chill in the refrigerator at least 1 hour before serving.

This cake is tall and rich, and it can easily be cut into thin slices to serve anywhere from 12 to 16 people.

Savory Oatmeal With Parmesan and Olive Oil

2010-10-31T23:07:00.037-04:00

Oatmeal has always been big in my family, and like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, each of us has a distinct way of personalizing his or her bowl.

My mom always adds fruit to her oatmeal; sliced bananas, frozen blueberries, chopped apples and dried apricots are all fair game. Dad prefers steel-cut Irish oats and takes an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach to breakfast. He mixes in protein powder for extra nutrition, granola and toasted walnuts for additional texture, and then he’ll add golden raisins as well as whatever leftover fresh fruit Mom has cut up for hers. As kids, my brother and I used our oatmeal as a vehicle for heaping spoonfuls of brown sugar, as that was the one of the few times our nutritionally-conscious mother allowed us to add sugar to our food. I loved the soft consistency of the brown sugar, reminiscent of slightly wet sand on the beach only to melt into dark rivers once it came into contact with the hot steaming porridge in our bowls. My brother is now more of an eggs-and-potatoes man at breakfast so I don’t know how he doctors his oatmeal these days. However, I definitely have something totally new to bring to the table, for I have just discovered the joys of Savory Oatmeal with Parmesan and Olive Oil. Say whaaat?

The springboard for this was a recipe for a savory oatmeal with smoked Gouda cheese that I saw on Stephanie Izard’s blog the other day. I did a double take when I read this, having never considered oatmeal outside of a sweet context. But leave it to Stephanie, the winner of Top Chef Season 4 and one of my all-time favorite contestants in the history of Top Chef. Her recipe indicated that the combination of oatmeal and cheese was not as strange as one might think at first, for as long as the dish stuck to a savory profile, the end result would be similar to grits with cheese. And I couldn’t see anything wrong with that.

I didn’t have Gouda cheese on hand but I did have a crumbly knob of real Parmigiano-Reggiano. I started thinking about pasta dishes finished simply with grated cheese and good extra-virgin olive oil, and it occurred to me that those ingredients might work well in the context of a savory oatmeal too. I began my own riff on this dish, opting to use nutty steel-cut oats as their texture is toothsome and a little chewy, not dissimilar to al dente pasta. A spoonful of peppery olive oil ran like liquid gold over the steaming porridge, which I then topped with a snowfall of freshly grated cheese and a healthy pinch of flaky sea salt. And then, the moment of truth.

Whoa… I think it’s fair to say that I haven’t giggled at breakfast for a while quite the way I did when I tucked into this first bowl of savory steel-cut oats! It was totally satisfying in a most unusual way, for the nuttiness of the cheese beautifully enhanced the oats while the olive oil added richness and tied the flavors all together. I have found a new favorite way to start my mornings with this savory oatmeal, and I’m definitely going to have to make this for my family the next time we’re all together for breakfast.

One Year Ago: Arugula Fennel Salad with Pistachio & Toasted Breadcrumbs, Lemon Chiffon Cake
Two Years Ago: Bittersweet Caramel Truffles with Sea Salt, Escarole Salad

SAVORY OATMEAL WITH PARMESAN AND OLIVE OIL
Loosely inspired by a recipe by Stephanie Izard

I use Irish steel-cut oats because I love the way their sturdy texture stands up to the bold flavors of the olive oil and cheese. I haven’t tried this with regular oatmeal, though I would suggest using old-fashioned oats rather than quick-cooking or instant oatmeal. I haven’t provided exact quantities for the toppings, as this isn’t so much a recipe rather than a guideline. Let your taste buds guide you. If you are anything like me, you may feel compelled to add more olive oil, cheese and salt as you work your way through the bowl.

4 cups boiling water
1 cup steel-cut oats
good quality extra-virgin olive oil
a wedge of Parmigiano-Reggiano or an aged Gouda, such as Dutch Parrano
flaky sea salt (such as Maldon salt)
freshly ground pepper

Bring the water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Stir in the oats, and then reduce the heat to low. Let the oatmeal simmer for about 30 minutes, stirring often, until the mixture has thickened and the water has absorbed.

Divide the oatmeal between four bowls and top with a spoonful of olive oil, a generous grating of cheese, a healthy pinch of salt and a few grinds of fresh pepper. Enjoy immediately. Serves 4.

Raw Kale Salad

2010-10-22T18:19:00.049-04:00

When I was growing up, there was a salad on our table every single night, without fail. My mother assembled salads that were a riot of colors and textures, in an attempt to give us as much vegetable variety as she possibly could. Though I don’t think I complained about my mom’s ultra-healthy creations at the time, I know I appreciate her efforts much more in retrospect. I was a kid who definitely preferred making my own salads at a restaurant salad bar when I could drown my lettuce in thick blue cheese dressing, croutons and baco-bits. If you had told me when I was little that someday I would be truly excited about eating a kale salad, I would have laughed in your face. However, it’s never too late to surprise yourself, for I have been eating some version of a raw kale salad all week long.

This kale craze started a week ago after I had a great play date with the Little Chef last Friday. We were celebrating the end of his school week on 18th Street, one of our favorite blocks in Manhattan. You feel like you've hit the jackpot when you're on this singular block that contains one of the greatest children’s bookstores ever (the ever-delightful Books of Wonder) in addition to City Bakery, which proffers serious treats for kids of all ages.

As one might expect, City Bakery’s pastries are worth the trip to Chelsea, and Mac and I have debated between many a chocolate chunk cookie and a passion fruit tart over the years. But their savory output is also rather compelling, and with their proximity to the Union Square Greenmarket, the salad bar’s offerings are seasonally appropriate and are often quite inspired. (No gloppy dressings or fake bacon bits here!) While Mac enjoyed his usual—the killer City Bakery macaroni and cheese—I was equally delighted with my kale salad as part of our after-school snack. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I knew I needed to make a version for myself at home.

Coincidentally enough, when I got home that night I found a link in my inbox to Heidi Swanson’s Raw Tuscan Kale Salad on 101 Cookbooks. Her recipe features Tuscan kale cut into thin emerald green ribbons, glistening with a thin film of garlicky olive oil and lemon juice. Hot chili flakes give the salad pizzazz, while a bit of grated pecorino cheese lends just the right note of richness. I’ve become a big fan of putting toasted breadcrumbs in salads, especially after last year’s epiphany at the Zuni Café, and this salad encourages me to do that too.

This kale salad is nourishing and tasty, and I confess that I’ve been eating it at least once a day for the past week. (Nine-year-old Louise would have never believed that!) The ingredients come together very easily, and sometimes I swap out the crunchy breadcrumbs for some toasted chopped almonds or hazelnuts, a la the City Bakery version. Regardless, it’s something that I can happily eat a whole bowlful of and then not feel the least bit guilty about having dessert afterwards.

Kale Recipes on Kitchen Fiddler: Tuscan Kale with Olive Oil Fried Eggs, Sesame Kale and Rice Bowl with Poached Eggs
One Year Ago: Arugula Fennel Salad with Pistachio & Toasted Breadcrumbs
Two Years Ago: The Birth of CocoaRoar, Easy Chocolate Cupcakes with Very Vanilla Frosting

RAW KALE SALAD
Adapted, hardly, from a recipe by Heidi Swanson on 101 Cookbooks, which in turn was adapted from a recipe by Melissa Clark's In The Kitchen With A Good Appetite

1 bunch Tuscan kale (also called black kale, lacinato kale, or dinosaur kale)
1 small garlic clove
½ teaspoon sea salt
several pinches of hot chili flakes
a few grinds of black pepper
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (from 1 large lemon)
¼ cup grated parmesan cheese
2 slices whole grain bread, toasted and pulverized into crumbs in a food processor

Remove the stems from the kale and cut into thin ¼-inch ribbons. Place in a large mixing bowl.

Make the dressing by pounding the garlic with the salt in a mortar and pestle until it forms a thick paste. (Alternately, you can use the flat blade of your knife to really smash the garlic, sprinkle it with salt and chop the garlic until it begins to resemble a garlic paste.) Transfer to a small mixing bowl and add the hot chili flakes, black pepper, olive oil, lemon juice and grated cheese. Stir till well combined.

Pour the dressing over the chopped kale and toss thoroughly to coat all the leaves with the thick dressing. Add the toasted breadcrumbs, a sprinkling of salt and pepper, if needed, and serve. Makes 4 generous servings or 6 more modest ones.

Fig Chutney

2010-10-14T23:09:00.082-04:00

In my recent quest to cut down on my refined sugar intake, I am rediscovering the joys of the fruit-and-cheese plate for dessert. It’s an interesting experiment, as I’m discovering that fruit tastes sweeter and more flavorful to me now that I’m off the sugar treadmill. Pairing the fruit with a bit of decadent cheese offsets any chance of my feeling deprived.

You can’t beat a snowy round of Bucheron goat cheese accompanied by inky concord grapes, and I am partial to creamy gorgonzola dolce served alongside juicy slices of a ripe Bosc pear. I am a sucker for honeycrisp apples, utterly delightful on their own and especially so with extra-sharp cheddar or an aged Gouda such as Prima Donna or Dutch Parrano. I have been taking advantage of the end of fig season, enjoying them fresh with both blue and goat cheeses. As of this week, Fig Chutney is my happy new discovery.

This fig chutney recipe comes from the brand-new cookbook, Gluten-Free Girl and The Chef, by Shauna James Ahern and Daniel Ahern. I’ve been following Shauna’s Gluten-Free Girl blog for several years, inspired by her lyrical writing and evocative photographs as well as the recipes she and her chef-husband have developed together. One bookcase in my living room is devoted solely to cookbooks, and I had to issue a temporary moratorium on cookbook purchases as the shelves were groaning under the weight of all of my cooking volumes. However, I couldn’t resist buying the Aherns’ new book last month, and I’m so glad I did. If the rest of the recipes are as satisfying as this fig chutney, I think you’ll want this book in your collection too.

Danny was a chef at Gramercy Tavern years ago, which is one of my favorite restaurants in New York, and apparently this recipe originally was one that he learned from then-head chef Tom Colicchio. Sign me up, please! Figs are glorious enough on their own, but they are transformed to a different kind of lusciousness in this chutney. What starts out as a colorful mosaic of purples and greens soon becomes something altogether different in a matter of minutes. The figs take on a burgundy hue when cooked down in port, while sliced shallots along with fragrant herbs and spices add another layer of flavor.

This chutney is a versatile player, complimenting both savory and sweet dishes, and it makes a lovely new addition to my fruit-and-cheese platters. Who needs cake anyway?

One Year Ago: Marinated Goat Cheese with Lemon and Thyme
Two Years Ago: Softly Scrambled Eggs with Goat Cheese (AKA Christopher Walken and the Goat Cheese Souffle)

FIG CHUTNEY
Adapted, barely, from a recipe in Gluten-Free Girl and The Chef, by Shauna James Ahern and Daniel Ahern.

In addition to being an excellent accompaniment to a cheese course, I can imagine that this chutney would be delicious over pork tenderloin or grilled chicken. The original recipe calls for Saigon cassia cinnamon, which is highly fragrant with a bit of gingery heat. If you can find this Vietnamese cassia cinnamon, now is the time to use it. I found a jar of it at Fairway, and I know that Penzeys Spices carries it too. But for those who might not have access to that, I’ve modified the recipe by adding a bit of ground ginger to replicate the spicy heat of the cassia cinnamon.

3 pints fresh figs (I used a combination of black mission and green figs)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 large shallots, peeled and thinly sliced into rings
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves, chopped
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
salt and pepper
1 cup ruby port

Remove the stems from the figs and cut them into quarters.

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over low heat. Add the shallots and cook, stirring continually, until they have softened and are translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the fresh thyme, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger, cooking for another minute until the mixture is toasty and fragrant. Season with a healthy pinch of salt and a few grinds of fresh pepper.

Add three-quarters of the fresh figs to the skillet and stir in the port. Raise the heat to medium and cook the mixture for about 15 minutes, stirring frequently, until the chutney begins to reduce and thicken. Add the remaining figs and cook for another 3 to 4 minutes.

Chill the chutney in a long shallow casserole dish so that it cools evenly. Makes approximately 2 cups.

Eggplant Parmigiana Without Fuss

2010-10-06T21:38:00.065-04:00

There are certain dishes that I love but rarely make myself, given the realities of my kitchen. I often feel I’m juggling at a three-ring circus when cooking in my little Manhattan kitchen with its tiny stove and lack of counter space. I engage in a lot of creative rearranging, usually balancing a large cutting board over the sink to create more surface space while negotiating multiple pots on the burners as well as resting on the open oven door. If a dish requires me to have several pans bubbling on the stove AND have the oven preheating at the same time, I’m screwed.

For example, I’ve always loved Eggplant Parmigiana. I think you could convince me to eat just about anything if it were smothered in tomato sauce and blanketed in melted cheese, but I’ve always had a particular fondness for this Italian classic. However, eggplant parm is one of those dishes I’ve never felt compelled to tackle at home, preferring to order it in a good restaurant where their kitchen is presumably bigger than mine. I’ll let a professional with more counter space and a bigger cook top coordinate frying the eggplant and draining it on paper towels while also whipping up a killer tomato sauce, and I assume that a restaurant kitchen doesn’t have to empty their oven of a dozen skillets and cookie sheets every time they want to bake something.

However, I’ve found a scrumptious recipe that I can easily manage in my little kitchen without breaking a sweat. This version of Eggplant Parmagiana comes from Mario Batali in his Molto Italiano cookbook. The beauty of this recipe is that it is lighter than most eggplant parm dishes I’ve had, for the eggplant slices are oven-baked rather than breaded and fried. The flavors are vibrant and clean, for the baked eggplant disks are layered with a lively tomato sauce and slices of fresh mozzarella, while a few slivered fresh basil leaves provide a dash of color as well as a fragrant note. Toasted breadcrumbs on top give a nice crunch, almost making you forget that the eggplant wasn't fried for this version.

Eggplant has a reputation for being high-maintenance. Many recipes ask you to liberally salt the eggplant slices and let them drain in a colander for a good hour or so before proceeding with your recipe. This technique, known as purging, leaches out some of the bitter liquid around the eggplant’s seed pockets. The flesh of a large globe eggplant is like a sponge, capable of soaking up vast quantities of oil during the cooking process, but this salting/purging step helps the eggplant to firm up and not absorb as much oil while it cooks.

However, I find that this pre-salting technique usually isn’t necessary if I’m using smaller eggplants, as they tend to be firmer and less bitter than their larger siblings. Nor do I find it necessary to drain the eggplant according to this method if I’m oven-roasting it before incorporating it into the rest of the recipe. That translates into less prep time and fewer dishes to wash, a particularly appealing prospect when every cooking experience in my kitchen feels like an exercise in clever stage management. It also means I can more quickly get down to the business of eating what I prepared. When that involves an Eggplant Parmigiana as satisfying as this one, you really don’t want to delay your enjoyment a moment longer.

One-Year Ago: Amaretto Truffles
Two Years Ago: Last Hurrah For Tomatoes, Frozen Ginger Key Lime Pie

BAKED EGGPLANT PARMIGIANA
Adapted, barely, from a recipe in Molto Italiano by Mario Batali

I’ve adjusted the quantities so that my version serves two as a main course, or four as appetizer portions. If you have more people at your table, go ahead and double the recipe and bake the eggplant medallions in a larger 9x12 baking dish. You won’t be sorry. Use your favorite marinara sauce, whatever kind you like. I’ve also provided links to my two favorite tomato sauce recipes here on Kitchen Fiddler.

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large eggplant (about 1-½ pounds)
1-½ cups of your favorite marinara sauce, lightly seasoned with salt and pepper (click here for my Quick Tomato Sauce with Lemon or here for my Perfect Pomodoro)
a handful of fresh basil leaves, stems removed and leaves cut into thin slivers
an 8-ounce ball of fresh mozzarella
¼ cup lightly toasted breadcrumbs

Preheat the oven to 450°. Line a baking sheet with foil and drizzle the olive oil onto it.

Cut each eggplant into ½-inch thick slices. (You will probably end up with 8 to 12 slices, depending on your eggplant.) Arrange them on the oiled baking sheet and season the slices with salt and pepper. Bake for about 13 to 15 minutes, or until the eggplant slices are golden brown. Transfer the slices to a large plate to cool, and lower the oven temperature to 350°.

Place the four largest eggplant slices in the bottom of a 9-inch square baking pan. Spread each with a heaping spoonful of marinara sauce, sprinkle with a few basil slivers and top with a slice of mozzarella cheese. Top with four more slices of eggplant and repeat this layering process until all of the remaining eggplant, sauce, basil and cheese have been used to make these little eggplant towers. Sprinkle the toasted breadcrumbs on top and season with salt and pepper.

Bake the eggplant medallions, uncovered, for about 20 minutes or until the cheese is melted and is starting to turn lightly golden. These can be enjoyed straight out of the oven or served at room temperature. Makes 2 main course servings, or 4 appetizer portions.

Monkey Cake, No Joke

2010-09-30T23:57:00.068-04:00

When you have a friend who has devoted an entire wall of his living room to photos and postcards of monkeys and apes of every variety—not to mention a hanging display of more stuffed chimps and gorillas than you could possibly count—it only makes sense that you should make him a birthday cake like this:

I personally have a thing for lions myself, but my dear friend Jorge truly loves all creatures in the simian family. In fact, he is the only person I know who, in all honesty, has claimed a serious need to “finally organize my monkeys this year.” No joke. His monkey wall is truly beyond the scope of what my camera lens could capture without switching it to a panorama setting. However, this photo does give you a slight indication of what’s going on.

I mean, really. With a wall like this, how could I NOT make him a banana cake with chocolate frosting, complete with cutout little ears and a sweet monkey face? Come on.

I’ve written in the past about how I often find myself baking on the afternoon of a big concert, and Monday was no exception to that ritual. I played a recital that evening of all solo violin works by Bach and Ysaye, the second in a series of three concerts I’m doing here in NYC. (Shameless plug: Recital #3 is on Monday November 1st. Email me at kitchenfiddler (at) gmail (dot) com for details!) I worked hard this month to prepare for this monster program, but on the day of the recital, I knew that I needed to conserve my energy for the actual performance. After warming up with slow scales in the morning, I went straight into the kitchen and spent the rest of the afternoon finishing this Monkey Cake. If that didn’t make me giggly and take the pressure off of what I had to do onstage that night, I don’t know what else would.

These bananas won’t win any beauty contests, but they were perfect for this cake. Keep in mind that the riper and more speckled they are, the more fully they’ll blend into the cake batter, flavoring it with sunshine and sweetness.

This brilliant cake comes from Deb Perelman who is the author of Smitten Kitchen, one of my favorite food blogs. She created this recipe to celebrate her son’s first birthday this month, and she provides elaborate instructions for making a multi-layered cake with separate cupcakes to form the monkey’s ears, in addition to an individual “smash cake” for the birthday baby to smear all over his face. I encourage you all to click here and see what she did, for it is truly too adorable for words.

I opted to make a simple 2-layer cake, as there was obviously no smash cake required. My oven is so small and I didn’t have time to bake the little-ear cupcakes in a separate batch. Instead, I simply carved away the sides of the cake to make my own version of little ears.

The cake itself was incredibly moist and full of banana flavor, but the chocolate fudge frosting was outrageous. TO DIE FOR, actually. I’ve never made icing in a food processor before, but I think I’ll be doing it this way from now on. I have sent powdered sugar absolutely flying all over my kitchen on many an occasion when making frosting, forgetting to mix it in on low speed at first. The food processor kept all the ingredients contained and it came together in a snap.

It’s a good thing that the Little Chef and I had some cake decorating practice this summer, for I was a little more comfortable with the piping tube this time. However, if I were doing this professionally, my decorating attempts might still wind up on Cake Wrecks. I think I’ll stick to playing the violin and instead make the cakes just for fun.

The recital was a blast, but I think the Monkey Cake was an even huger hit at the post-recital/birthday party. Not only was it Jorge’s birthday last weekend, it was also Carol’s and Kathe’s birthdays too, and I managed to snap a photo of the three of them with the cake before my camera battery died. There was much laughter when I unveiled the cake, sending Jorge’s jaw dropping to the ground, but as my friends began to taste it, the laughter turned into variations on “Good Lord, this cake is outrageous!” I couldn’t have agreed more, and luckily for me there was a little bit leftover the next morning. When enjoyed with an iced double espresso, it made for a very festive post-recital breakfast.

I am so excited to share this recipe with you, and I cannot wait for an excuse to make it again. This Monkey Cake needs to be a standard in my repertoire, and I think you’ll feel the same way once you try it for yourself. Even if I make it as a simple banana cake with fudge frosting without the specific decoration, this is a cake that is capable of making people blissfully HAPPY. And that is a beautiful thing.

One Year Ago: Pasta Pomodoro
Two Years Ago: Cardamom Hot Chocolate, Lemon Verbena Poached Plums

MONKEY CAKE
Adapted, ever so barely, from a recipe by Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen , which was inspired by a recipe in Sky High Cakes by Alisa Huntsman and Peter Wynne

I’ve cut back the tiniest bit on the sugar and punched up the quantities of vanilla and cinnamon in the batter, but otherwise I’m following Deb’s recipe. Please don’t let the extensive instructions deter you from making this awesome cake for yourself. This is actually a very simple cake to make, as long as you have very ripe bananas and an electric mixer to beat everything together. If you don’t feel inclined to do monkey decorations, by all means just bake two simple 9-inch layers. Skip all the steps about carving out ears and decorating a face with vanilla frosting, and instead just fill and frost the cake layers entirely with the chocolate fudge icing. You won’t be sorry.

For the banana cake:
3–½ cups cake flour (not all-purpose flour)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1-½ teaspoons baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1 scant cup sugar
1 scant cup golden brown sugar (not firmly packed)
4 large eggs
2 cups mashed very ripe bananas (about 5 or 6 large bananas)
½ cup plain yogurt
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

For the chocolate fudge frosting:
4 – ½ cups confectioners’ sugar
1 – ½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
½ cup whole milk or half-and-half
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
5 ounces unsweetened chocolate, melted and cooled

Make the cake:
Preheat the oven to 350°. Line the bottoms of two 9-inch round cake pans with parchment paper cut to fit, then butter and flour the paper and the sides of the pan.

Combine the cake flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon in a medium bowl, whisking to blend well.

Place the butter and both sugars in the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment; combine on medium speed until blended. (Alternately, you can do this with a hand-held mixer and a large bowl.) Beat in the eggs one at a time, then add the mashed bananas, yogurt and vanilla. Beat in the dry ingredients in two additions until just combined.

Divide the cake batter between the two prepared pans. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. (If you have a small oven and have to bake the cakes on two separate racks inside the oven, as I do, switch the pans to the opposite rack halfway through the baking time so that they cook evenly.) Let the cakes cool in their pans on a baking rack for 15 minutes, then turn them out of the pans onto the rack to cool completely.

Make the frosting:
Combine all the frosting ingredients EXCEPT the melted chocolate in a food processor and blend until it turns into a smooth frosting. Reserve a generous ½ cup of the vanilla frosting which you will use for decorating the cake. Add the melted chocolate to the rest of the vanilla frosting and pulse until smooth.

(If you don’t have a food processor, you can do this in a large bowl with an electric mixer. Start by beating the butter till fluffy, then gradually beat in one cup of sugar at a time on low speed. When all the sugar has been incorporated, add the milk and vanilla and beat until the mixture is smooth. Reserve ½ cup of vanilla frosting, then beat in the melted chocolate to the remaining frosting until smooth.)

Tint the reserved ½ cup of vanilla frosting with a small spoonful of the chocolate fudge frosting. You will use this to make the monkey’s face.

To assemble the MONKEY CAKE:
Start by trimming the cake layers. This is easier if you’ve let your cake layers firm up in the freezer for a bit, making them less fragile and easier to cut. I like to level off the top of the cake if it has domed a bit while baking, and I use a serrated knife to create an even flat surface on the top of each layer.

Carefully trim the layers into a round monkey head with two little half-circles for ears on the sides, at the 9 o’clock and 3 o’clock positions. I didn’t trust myself to do this free form, so I traced the ear shapes on parchment paper, but you might be more skilled than I and not need tracing paper for your little ears.

Place one layer on a serving platter. I like to put strips of wax paper underneath the cake to protect the platter from errant blobs of frosting that might go astray while decorating. Top this bottom cake layer with a thick layer of chocolate frosting. Put the second layer on top, lining up the little ears with each other.

Pipe some of the reserved vanilla frosting into a piping bag fitted with a round tip or into a small plastic baggie with the tip snipped off. Outline the shape of your monkey’s face with the vanilla frosting, then use an angled icing spatula or a small butter knife to fill in the rest of the face with a smooth layer of the vanilla frosting.

Coat the remainder of the cake and the sides with a very thin layer of the chocolate frosting. This creates a “crumb coat”, which seals in the crumbs so that they don’t stray into the final frosting. Place the cake in the refrigerator to firm up the frosting, about 15 minutes. Once the crumb coat has chilled, generously slather the rest of the cake with more chocolate fudge frosting. Put a few spoonfuls of the chocolate frosting into a piping bag fitted with a small round tip or into a small plastic baggie with the tip snipped off, and use it to create your monkey’s eyes, nose and mouth.

Makes one very rich 9-inch tall layer cake which can serve at least 12 people, and even more if you slice it thinly.

Quick Tomato Sauce With Lemon—Who Knew?

2010-09-24T15:39:00.051-04:00

Boy oh boy, I have something fun to share with you today. How would you feel about a bright kicky tomato sauce that dances on your palate, tastes like sunshine when combined with a tangle of noodles, and only takes about five minutes to make? Yes, I just knew you’d like to know more about it.

This is the time of year when I regularly crave simple bowls of pasta adorned with tomato sauce and fresh basil leaves. I find that a good bowl of pasta pomodoro is a natural way to transition from ripe tomato season to heartier cooler weather fare. I’m not ready to give up the classic summery tomato-and-basil combo just yet, but I don’t mind turning on the stove now the way I did a few weeks ago.

My long-time favorite pomodoro sauce is based on a recipe from Mario Batali. It starts with a base of chopped onion and garlic cooked down in olive oil along with shredded carrot and thyme leaves, and it’s a sauce that benefits from a long lazy simmer once the tomatoes are added. I love the concentrated tomato sweetness of this sauce, especially when you use real Italian San Marzano tomatoes, and it’s certainly going to remain a staple in my repertoire for a long time.

But I just tried a fabulous quick-cooking tomato sauce from Heidi Swanson’s delightful blog, 101 Cookbooks. I may have a new favorite, or at least a serious crush that will distract me for a while. Heidi’s sauce starts with chopped garlic and hot chili flakes cooked in olive oil just long enough to take the edge off the garlic. Once you add the canned crushed tomatoes, the sauce only needs to simmer for about five minutes. It was pretty straightforward until I added the magic ingredient—freshly grated lemon zest—and I immediately began to giggle the moment it hit my taste buds. Genius.

I don’t know why I never thought to add lemon to tomato sauce, since I frequently add grated lemon zest to practically everything else when I think it needs a little lift. Fruit or vegetable, savory or sweet, there’s a good chance that I’ll reach for my trusty Microplane rasp to shave a lemon’s peel into a pile of fluffy zest to add to the dish. It never occurred to me that a tomato sauce could also benefit from a bright citrus kick, and the lively combination of the hot chili flakes and the zesty lemon makes for a sassy pomodoro sauce with attitude. It definitely winks at you as it's giving you a bit of lip.

This quick-cooking sauce is totally my speed right now, for I am getting ready for another big solo recital next week. My energy is focused on practicing Bach and I feel like an athlete in training, spending a lot of time at the gym as well as in the practice room. One needs major stamina to get through this 80-minute program of challenging solo violin works, so I’ve cut back on my wine intake and am making a concerted effort to get eight hours of sleep each night. But I’m also using this opportunity to cook healthy food for myself, trying out new recipes that are fast and easy to prepare so that my practice time doesn’t suffer. And with a recipe like this quick lemony tomato sauce, I definitely hit the jackpot. I’m sure you’ll feel that way too once you taste it.

One Year Ago: Dutch Baby Pancakes
Two Years Ago: Summer Fruit Salad with Arugula and Marcona Almonds, Coffee with Cardamom and Orange

QUICK-COOKING TOMATO SAUCE WITH LEMON
Adapted, barely, from a recipe by Heidi Swanson of 101 Cookbooks
Heidi’s recipe calls for a full 1-½ teaspoons of hot chili flakes. Believe me, that amount adds a serious punch. I’ve reduced the amount to 1 teaspoon, but please feel free to add that additional ½ teaspoon of chili flakes if you’re inclined towards spicy food. Look for crushed tomatoes, for it won’t have the same effect if you use diced or whole tomatoes. I’m always partial to the Italian San Marzano tomatoes, though I also like the taste of the Muir Glen organic tomatoes. And please don’t skimp on the lemon zest, for it is an essential part of the sauce. Serve this sauce tossed with your favorite pasta and a bit of grated cheese and fresh basil leaves.

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon crushed hot chili flakes
¾ teaspoon sea salt
3 large cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 – 28-ounce can of crushed tomatoes (see note above)
the finely grated zest of one large lemon

Combine the olive oil, hot chili flakes, sea salt and chopped garlic in a medium saucepan. Turn the heat to medium and stir constantly as the saucepan heats up. Cook for about a minute until the garlic becomes fragrant, but be careful not to let it burn. Add the crushed tomatoes and simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove the sauce from the heat and taste for seasoning, adding more salt or pepper as needed. Stir in most of the lemon zest, reserving some for sprinkling on top. Makes approximately 1 quart of sauce.

Kitchen Fiddler Turns Two

2010-09-17T23:29:00.026-04:00

Kitchen Fiddler is two years old today!

Whether you are a relatively new reader or if you’ve been here with me since the beginning, I want to say a special THANK YOU to all of you for your enthusiasm and support in joining this online extension of my kitchen. I’ve taken great delight in sharing these favorite recipes and photos with you over the past two years, which is the next best thing to having an extended dinner party together. While we don’t always get to enjoy a meal together face to face, I am glad for a way to connect with you in your own kitchens. It gives me great joy to know that some of these favorite recipes of mine have now become your favorites too, the kind of dish that puts a smile on your face each time you recreate it for yourself and your friends.

I wanted to invite you all to a party today, and I had grand plans to make celebratory cupcakes worthy of a food blog’s birthday. But then I began thinking about one of the very first recipes I posted on this blog. Remember the Oatmeal Raisin Cookies inspired by the extraordinary ones from the late Columbus Bakery? Suffice it to say, any thought of cupcakes lingering in my mind were totally eclipsed by those oatmeal creations. They were crazy-good: perfectly crispy around the edges while moist and chewy in the centers, studded with dried apples and raisins as well as toasted walnuts and coconut for depth. In short, these were cookies with LAYERS. We’re talking layers of textures and flavors, layers of intensity. They even made me an oatmeal cookie believer and actually compelled me to abandon my chocolate chip ways.

I know that many of you have joined me in this Kitchen Fiddler adventure in more recent months, so unless you’ve been combing the KF Index of Recipes, it’s probably unlikely that you would have come across this particular oatmeal cookie post from September 2008. But I thought it was definitely worth mentioning again because you'll really want to have these cookies in your repertoire. Trust me. And if you’re inspired to make these yourself, I’ll be very excited to find out what you think. (I love reading your comments!) I suppose I could have baked a giant version of this cookie and stuck two candles in it for today’s post, but instead I’ll leave you with links to both the background story surrounding these outstanding oatmeal treats and the recipe itself. (Click here and there.) I think that’s festive enough for a blog’s birthday!

Asian Cabbage Slaw To Start A New Season

2010-09-14T19:26:00.050-04:00

I’ve been out of school for more than a decade but every September still feels like a slap in the face, for vacation has ended and it's time to get down to business. My Augusts tend to be rather indulgent anyway since it’s Birthday Month, and while I’m all for celebrating for extended periods of time, even I can admit that this most recent birthday month was a tad excessive. If nearly every meal in August included some form of cake, pastry, or ice cream, is it any wonder that my clothes are now too tight?? Just call me Murder She Wrote, but it’s not too difficult to figure that one out.

After the rude awakening of unsuccessfully trying to squeeze into my clothes this September, I knew I had to buckle down and make some changes. I wasn’t going to do anything drastic like permanently eliminate sugar or never eat a smidge of dairy ever again, for I don’t respond favorably under the threat of “YOU CAN NEVER DO THAT AGAIN FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!” especially when my relationship with chocolate or cheese might be put at risk. But I knew I needed to cut down on those things and make a daily commitment to eating more fresh fruits and vegetables. Two weeks into this vegetable-friendly eating plan, I must say that it’s been relatively easy to stick to, especially with this Asian Cabbage Slaw in my repertoire.

I’ve never been a fan of traditional coleslaw, and I get really skeeved out by a bunch of shredded green cabbage sitting around in a puddle of watery mayonnaise. However, in my version the typical mayonnaise is swapped out for a sesame-ginger-soy dressing, and substituting purple cabbage for the traditional green already makes it much more appealing to me. In fact, I can actually get excited about eating purple cabbage, a variety I’ve always found more interesting than its pale green sibling. Its vibrant color alone makes me happy.

Sometimes I’ll throw finely diced cucumber or yellow peppers into the mix, but my recipe always includes a healthy dose of thinly shredded carrots and is flecked with emerald green in the form of slivered scallions and chopped cilantro. I often make this slaw with a spicy peanut dressing, but since I’m trying to get back into my smaller-sized jeans, I think I’d better stick to this lighter PB-free version of it. Tamari and neutral grapeseed oil form the base of the dressing, punched up by a little fresh ginger and zingy lime juice, while a bit of sesame oil lends a toasty note.

This Cabbage Slaw is so satisfying that I’ve been eating it practically every day, and I’m happy to report that my clothes are fitting better again. And while it’s certainly not a piece of decadent cake, it’s fair to say that I would have enjoyed eating this during birthday month too. I’ll have to remember that for next August.

One Year Ago: Table For One

ASIAN CABBAGE SLAW
This is my own ad hoc recipe, falling under the category of “Stuff I Like To Eat”. I always look for the smallest heads purple cabbage when making this recipe. Not only are the smaller cabbages easier to chop finely, their taste is also sweeter. Lately I’ve been chopping extra scallions and cilantro and making extra dressing to mix into shredded cold poached chicken which, when paired with this slaw, makes an excellent healthy meal.

For the sesame-ginger dressing:
2 tablespoons reduced-sodium tamari or soy sauce
2 tablespoons lime juice
2 tablespoons grapeseed oil or other neutral vegetable oil
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon hot chili oil (you can also substitute the same amount of chili paste or a generous pinch of crushed hot pepper)
1-inch piece fresh ginger root, peeled and grated (about 2 teaspoons grated)

For the slaw:
3 cups finely shredded purple cabbage
1 cup finely shredded carrots
1 English hothouse cucumber, unpeeled, seeded and cut into small dice
2 scallions, thinly sliced
½ cup cilantro leaves, coarsely chopped

Combine all the ingredients for the sesame-ginger dressing in a small bowl and whisk together. Taste for seasoning and balance, and adjust according to your taste. (If you like it a bit zingier, add more lime juice or grated ginger. If you want a stronger nutty flavor, add another splash of the toasted sesame oil. Add a drop more hot chili oil if you’re bold and like extra heat.)

Combine the vegetables in a large mixing bowl. Add half the dressing and toss lightly to coat. Taste for seasoning, adding salt and pepper if necessary, and add just enough dressing so that the slaw is lightly coated with the sesame-ginger mixture. Serves 4.

San Francisco Inspiration

2010-09-06T23:11:00.102-04:00

When your job comes to an end, the best way to ease the transition is by taking a trip to a favorite place. My beloved show “South Pacific” closed on August 22nd after a 2-½ year run, and there were many tears mingling with all of the hugs and glasses of bubbly during that bittersweet final week. However, I think the prevailing sentiment amongst the company and orchestra was one of intense gratitude for having been part of this truly extraordinary production, and a few days later my sadness began to lift when I boarded a plane for San Francisco. After a summer of working hard and sweating it out in the concrete jungle of NYC, I treated myself to a week of balmy Northern California sunshine and crisp fresh air, not to mention a good dose of culinary inspiration.

I stayed at the Harbor Court Hotel, a lovely boutique Kimpton Hotel located right on the Embarcadero just a block away from the Ferry Building Marketplace, home to one of the greatest food halls and farmer’s markets I’ve ever encountered. Arriving just in time for lunch at the Thursday farmer’s market, I was properly welcomed to SF by one of the greatest sandwiches ever to cross my lips: a thinly-pounded pork chop crisped to perfection, nestled in a tender brioche roll along with slices of luscious heirloom tomatoes and a chopped fresh herb salad, slathered with spicy mayo to tie it all together. Talk about street food at its finest!

As though I didn’t already have a big enough grin on my face, I followed this soul-satisfying sandwich with an equally mind-blowing cupcake from a neighboring food stand. This outstanding little creation was studded with cocoa nibs, filled with fresh huckleberry jam and topped with a violet-infused icing. Welcome to San Francisco indeed!

The late summer San Francisco trip has definitely become a tradition for me by now, having spent late August there three years in a row. I took my first solo vacation there last summer, and I wrote my way into a semi-permanent writer’s cramp throughout that week. I was trying to write my way out of deep melancholy, as though I would collapse in a heap if I didn’t prop myself up with incessant and furious scribbling. But it was a pivotal week for me as I began some significant work on Project X during that SF solo week, penning a letter that set the whole project in motion and which will come to fruition soon.

I was much calmer this trip, not feeling the same desperation to reach for my journal the moment I sat down somewhere. I’m in a much happier place than I was a year ago, and I don’t think I had a single twinge of regret that I had come on vacation alone this year. I thoroughly enjoyed my sunny hotel room, often crawling into bed early to read just so that I could spend as much time as possible in the luxurious Italian sheets. I had a delicious morning at San Francisco MOMA, taking in the new exhibit with the Alexander Calder mobiles and the newly acquired Warhol prints. I went for long walks all over the city, soaking up the vibe of radically different neighborhoods and enjoying vivid color juxtapositions.

Sometimes you need a friendly little blue lion to welcome you home.

Who needs cable cars to get to the top of ultra-steep hills when you are in good cardio shape and are strong enough to climb them on your own two legs?

Seriously, when you pound those hills the way I did, you can justify eating desserts like these strawberries with marsala-laced whipped cream in between thin meringue discs at Zuni Café:

You can also rationalize eating something like this:

Believe me, this luxurious lemon cream tart at Tartine was worth scaling the sharpest inclines.

Tartine Bakery is one of the main reasons for going to San Francisco. Located in the Mission district, the line always stretches out the door of this establishment, and justifiably so. It was actually painful to peer into the pastry display cases without being able to try everything. The tarts alone were dazzling—lemon cream, coconut cream, raspberry, fresh black&blueberry, to name a few. The devil’s food cake was adorned with pulverized cake crumbs, and the shaggy coconut rectangles contained a lime & passion fruit Bavarian cream in between sponge cake layers. Lord have mercy.

I did finally decide on almond frangipane croissant, and I wasn't the least bit sorry. In fact, I enjoyed it to a ridiculous degree, for most almond croissants can't lay claim to layers of shattering flaky pastry encasing a brandied almond cream filling the way this one did. Oh my...

How did that banana caramel chocolate tart get back to my hotel room? Hmmm... (The diet officially started today, by the way.)

My spirit feels revived after this week away, as though the golden California light warmed me from the inside out. My culinary imagination is brimming with ideas that I want to try and my creative juices are kicking into overdrive, both musically and writing-wise. While it still feels strange not to have a theater to go to each night, I am ready to embrace this new chapter in my life and I am truly excited to see what will happen in these next months.

Top Ten Highlights of Summer 2010

2010-08-31T16:26:00.062-04:00

10. Farmers markets teeming with heirloom tomatoes, bundles of fresh herbs, and every variety of zucchini and squash imaginable.

9. Restaurant Week in NYC, especially at places that don’t condescend to their diners by offering a dumbed-down menu. The Red Cat was so lovely I had to go back twice, and the sage-infused panna cotta at Maialino was a revelation. (Why did I not have my camera that day?)

8. Endless glasses of iced earl grey tea and cold-brewed iced coffee, which definitely took the edge off of the extended July heat wave.

7. Going to Museum Of Modern Art with my parents an hour before the museum opened for a members-only preview of the special Matisse exhibit. It was a rare treat to have the museum practically to ourselves, giving us the luxury of space to absorb Matisse’s delicious canvases without fighting to see through the crowds. When the doors opened to the general public, swarms of people made a beeline for the Matisse rooms while we repaired to the Terrace 5 Café for cappuccinos and the most exquisite croissants with apricot jam that I’ve had this side of Paris. (Why didn’t I have my camera that day either?!)

6. Hosting and attending multiple rooftop parties with friends, both old pals and new ones. Summer evenings in NYC are especially magical when enjoyed from a high-in-the-sky vantage point.

5. Playing three weeks of concerts in July with Harry Connick Jr., who looked and sounded like a millions bucks night after night. Talk about inspiration on multiple levels!

4. Upgrading my kitchen with new white dinnerware. I’ve had my eye on this clean and elegant Crate&Barrel Essential pattern for two years ever since I started photographing my food, so another huge THANK YOU to my parents for the perfect birthday present!

3. My Little Chef and his parents moving back to NYC after a three-year absence. Not only do I have my little buddy in the kitchen with me on a regular basis, I’m grateful to have my sister-in-law nearby, as she is my dear friend as well as my decluttering/home improvements expert. And with my brother here, the world’s greatest bartender has come back to town. Hooray and hurrah!

2. The final week of “South Pacific” at Lincoln Center. It was truly a joy and a genuine honor being part of that beautiful production, and I was so proud to be in that orchestra night after night. I was thrilled that our August 18th performance was filmed for the “Live From Lincoln Center” broadcast, giving so many more friends and family around the country a chance to see this magical show. Sadly, all good things must come to an end, but it was heartening to end the run on such a soaring high note.

1. Taking a vacation to San Francisco to ease the transition from my “South Pacific” life to my new post-“South Pacific” life. I’ve flown the coop for one of my favorite cities in the world and a good dose of California air, not to mention some serious culinary inspiration. I will report back!

Birthday Cake Week

2010-08-19T13:31:00.036-04:00

It’s Birthday Week for the Little Chef and me, and it should surprise nobody that I have spent a lot of this birthday week baking decadent cakes. But lest you think that everything that comes out of this fiddler’s kitchen is a starry-eyed triumph, I must disabuse you of that notion. I do try to share my most successful dishes with you on this blog, presenting them at their most photogenic whenever possible, but sometimes my best efforts are a total flop. While my baking efforts haven’t been exactly unmitigated disasters this week, I do know that my kitchen rhythm is just OFF. I’ve been making stupid mistakes in my baking, such as forgetting to add key ingredients to the batter, only to realize the omission after the pans are in the oven. The perfectionist in me is smacking her head against the wall, but the chocolate/whipped cream/caramel-loving side of me is still pretty happy.

The Little Chef’s birthday was first, and we got very excited looking through some of the hilarious posts on Cake Wrecks, the website devoted to professionally decorated cakes gone horribly wrong. We were inspired to try our hand at decorating, and with two little Wilton cake decorating tips and some disposable icing bags, we were ready for action. I made a basic buttercream and we practiced on a piece of waxed paper while the cake was in the oven.

Writing with icing is harder than I thought it would be, but we both started to get the hang of it. I was impressed with Mac’s icing-printing, and I found that my icing-cursive resembles my good little 5th grade schoolgirl handwriting.

We both enjoyed making icing dots. I created a small lattice, and then we played tic-tac-toe. (The Little Chef won.)

For those of you familiar with my CocoaRoar truffles, try to imagine the beloved PeanutButter & Sea Salt truffle expanded into an icing and lavished all over vanilla buttermilk cake layers. Crazy-yummy, right? It seemed like a very grown-up cake for a 9-year-old, but then again this is the Little Chef we’re talking about, a boy who goes absolutely bonkers for my PB&Sea Salt truffles. We went out on the roof with the cake to sing to the birthday boy, and the wind was so fierce that it kept blowing out the candles. Finally, my brother grabbed all the candles in his fist, lit them all at once, and Mac had a 2-second window to make a wish and blow them out. I think it’s a major understatement to say that this cake was rich. Maybe even TOO rich, and you know those are unusual words coming out of my mouth. I love the idea of a chocolate-peanut-butter-sea-salt cake, but I’ll have to do some tweaking to this experiment to get the balance better.

I made my favorite Chocolate Praline Cupcakes to bring to my “South Pacific” orchestra on Sunday afternoon to celebrate my own forthcoming birthday. This is one of my all-time favorite recipes as this chocolate-buttermilk cake is moist and not too sweet, and it lends itself very well to being capped with a swirl of amaretto-spiked mascarpone and a chopped candied almond praline. Moments before I whipped up the cupcakes, I’d had an animated online chat with my cousin Jenna about using buttermilk in chocolaty baked items. Recipes were exchanged, ideas for future baking projects were swapped, and I was all fired up to go make my cupcakes. It wasn’t until the cupcakes were in the oven that I realized that I completely forgot to add the buttermilk to the batter, even after all that discussion! The buttermilk-less cupcakes were definitely a little more dense than I would have liked, but they were still okay enough to be absolutely gobbled up by my whole orchestra.

For my rooftop birthday party the next night, I did another experiment, trying to reinterpret another favorite CocoaRoar truffle into cake-form. Next to my PB&Sea Salt truffles, the Caramel&Sea Salt truffles are another huge crowd-pleaser, and I decided to expand that filling into a more spreadable ganache to go between layers of vanilla cake. Learning from my mistake with Mac’s cake the week before—making a cake so rich that everyone had to go lie down for a nap before they even finished their entire slice—I opted to fill the layers with the salted caramel ganache and then frost the cake with a caramel-laced whipped cream.

Once again, the concept was good but the execution fell a little short in my estimation. I overbeat the chocolate ganache, rendering it grainy instead of silky smooth. (Yet another major rookie mistake for someone who has mixed up thousands of batches of ganache in her lifetime!) I didn’t handle one of the cake layers carefully and it split into three pieces, but I thought the ganache would hold it all together. However, you can see where the cake sections slid apart, leaving large pockets of grainy salted caramel ganache inside! But I guess there are worse things. I’m going to fine-tune this recipe too before I share it with you so that the proportions are just right. The Little Chef took one bite of the caramel whipped cream and said, “Louise, can I have THIS cake for my birthday next year?”

My actual birthday dinner was at Ouest, my favorite restaurant in the neighborhood. Dinner was superb, the company was sparkling, and my birthday dessert was pitch-perfect: the most elegant little mascarpone cheesecake topped with bitter orange sauce and strips of candied orange zest. After my baking mishaps that week, I was all the more appreciative to be served such a beautifully balanced dessert. It was definitely the right way to end a week of birthday cakes on a very high note.

Balsamic Strawberry Shortcake At Its Finest

2010-08-07T07:04:00.081-04:00

I don’t think I’ve ever met a version of strawberry shortcake that I didn’t like. I love it in its most classic form: a tender biscuit split in half horizontally and filled with sliced berries and softly billowing whipped cream. I’ve made variations on berry shortcakes too many times to count, and I find myself experimenting with each new batch. Sometimes I invite blueberries and raspberries to join the fun, thinking that strawberries shouldn’t have exclusivity at this summer dessert party. I often brighten the berries with grated lemon zest, and I recently made a delightful version in which I tossed the strawberries with a bit of lavender sugar. I’ve spiked the cream with Grand Marnier, whipped it with crème fraiche for a tart contrast to the sweet berries, and I’ve made it like this and that. As long as there are berries, some kind of biscuit-type base and a generous amount of whipped cream, I am a happy camper. But my latest version is a Balsamic Strawberry Shortcake, and I have to admit that this is one of the best I’ve ever tasted.

The shortcakes themselves—a sweet variation on a classic biscuit—are easy enough to make. Some shortcake recipes call for a variety of dairy products to bind the dry ingredients together, producing a base that could range from flaky-layered biscuits to tender-crumbed scones, and I’ve even seen recipes that incorporate finely chopped hard-boiled egg yolks into the mixture. But this recipe plays it clean and straight, requiring only chilled butter and some cream to transform ordinary flour, sugar and baking powder into extraordinary little shortcakes.

Aren’t they pretty? I think so.

As for the strawberries, I know that the thought of balsamic vinegar mixed with ripe berries might give some of you pause. I assure you, this is truly a magnificent combination. It’s as though the tangy balsamic vinegar echoes the tart sweetness of the strawberries in a lower octave, adding depth of flavor. The Italians have long been onto this flavor combination, knowing that drizzling fresh summer berries with a few drops of syrupy aged balsamic creates a dessert that is infinitely greater than the sum of its parts. If you are lucky enough to have some high-quality aged balsamic vinegar in your kitchen, this is absolutely the time to bring it out and show it off.

My family tends to favor desserts that aren’t overly sweet but instead have layers of flavor and involve fresh whipped cream, and I was all the more excited to share this balsamic strawberry shortcake recipe with them. On Tuesday night, the six of us sat down to eat together at my table, something that hadn’t happened since my parents last came to New York together three years ago. Since it was the first time in ages that we were all together under the same roof, it was definitely cause for a celebratory meal. My strongest memory of the evening was my mother’s beaming smile, her eyes twinkling as she sat at the table next to my dad and surrounded by both of her children, her daughter-in-law and grandson. I will carry that image with me for a long time.

But I must say that this balsamic strawberry shortcake will also linger in my mind for quite a while, for this quintessential summer dessert was positively devoured by all. Even the nearly-9-year-old Little Chef wasn’t the least bit deterred by the balsamic-laced strawberries, and he wasn’t the only one disappointed that nothing was leftover for seconds. I don’t know when our whole family will all be together next, but if it’s anywhere near strawberry shortcake season, I’ll be sure to make a double batch, especially if there’s balsamic vinegar involved.

One Year Ago: Honey-Saffron Ice Cream; Summer Bread Salad with Cherries, Arugula and Goat Cheese; Mint Chip Stracciatella Ice Cream

BALSAMIC STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKES
Barely adapted from a recipe in Bon Appetit by Cindy Mushet, June 2010
The original printed recipe claims that this yields 8 servings. But if your family and friends are anything like mine, you know that this really serves 6!

For the biscuits:
2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
5 tablespoons sugar, divided
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 cup chilled heavy whipping cream

For the filling:
2 pounds fresh strawberries (about 8 cups), hulled, sliced into quarters
6 tablespoons sugar, divided
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 large pinch of freshly ground black pepper
1 cup chilled heavy whipping cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Make the biscuits:
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat baking mat.

Place the flour, 4 tablespoons sugar, baking powder, and salt in a food processor. Using on/off turns, process the dry ingredients to blend. Add the butter, pulsing with on/off turns until the butter is cut in the size of large peas, about five 1-second intervals. Pour in the cream and process just until moist clumps form. (If you don’t have a food processor, you can make the biscuit dough by cutting the chilled butter cubes into the dry ingredients with a pastry blender until the butter is the size of large peas. Stir in the cream quickly and be careful not to overwork the dough.)

Transfer the dough to a lightly floured work surface. Gather the dough into a ball, then flatten into an 8 x 4-inch rectangle, about 1-1/4 inches thick. Cut lengthwise in half, then crosswise into 3 equal strips, forming 6 square biscuits. Transfer the biscuits to the prepared baking sheet and chill for 20 minutes. (You can make the biscuits up to this point as much as 1 day in advance. Cover and keep chilled.)

Sprinkle the biscuits with the remaining tablespoon of sugar. Bake until the biscuits are golden brown, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a rack to cool. (These can be baked up to 8 hours ahead of serving time.) Let stand at room temperature.

Make the filling:
Mix the strawberries, 5 tablespoons sugar, balsamic vinegar, and the black pepper in a medium bowl. Let the berries macerate for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

When the berries are almost ready, prepare the whipped cream. Use an electric mixer to beat the cream, vanilla, and remaining tablespoon of sugar in another medium bowl until soft peaks form.

At serving time, cut biscuits horizontally in half. Place the bottom half of each biscuit, cut side up, on a plate. Divide the strawberries among biscuits, letting some of the balsamic/strawberry syrup soak into the bottom of each biscuit. Spoon a generous dollop of whipped cream on top of the strawberries, and cover each with the top half of biscuit.
Serves 6.

Cold-Brewed Iced Coffee

2010-07-27T23:09:00.054-04:00

My dad came to visit this past Saturday, which I think was officially the hottest day of the summer. It was a brief visit but I was so excited to have him here, and I planned an itinerary that allowed him to take in more culture and great cuisine in 36 hours than most people do in a month. He arrived late Saturday afternoon when I was home between performances, and I made my killer Summer Bread Salad with Cherries, Arugula and Goat Cheese which we devoured with lots of bubbly. On Sunday I introduced him to A Voce Columbus, my favorite restaurant discovery this summer, and we went to Sarabeth’s on Monday morning when there were no weekend brunch crowds to battle. I decided that Sunday was “Bring Your Father To Work” Day, for I got tickets for Dad to see my matinee of “South Pacific” at Lincoln Center followed directly by my evening concert with Harry Connick Jr. at the Neil Simon Theater. Talk about a jam-packed day! But brunch reservations and theater tickets aside, the one thing I did to truly prepare for his visit was make Cold-Brewed Iced Coffee.

I’ve written in the past about my dad’s coffee devotion. From the time I was a little kid, the man sought out great coffee beans before such a thing was commonplace. While my friends’ parents all drank coffee made from pre-ground beans in a can, one of my happiest childhood memories is the sound of Dad’s Krups grinder whirring away at any time of day or night, immediately followed by the most exquisite coffee aroma wafting from the kitchen as he made his rich brew in a French press pot. My dad and great coffee are indelibly linked in my mind.

I’m more of an espresso drinker myself, but I was recently introduced to the joys of cold-brewed coffee. Until this summer, I figured that the best way to make iced coffee was by brewing it at double-strength and letting it chill before serving it over ice. But the logic behind the cold-brewed method—which has you steep the coffee grounds in cold water for 12 hours before pouring it twice through a filter—is that the resulting coffee is much smoother and more aromatic. There is no bitterness in this brew, for the inherent flavors of the coffee beans are much more pronounced by not having come into contact with boiling water. My espresso consumption has gone way down this summer, for I have instead made myself endless batches of iced coffee by this cold-brew method, especially now that my nearby Whole Foods is carrying beans from the Brooklyn-based Gorilla Coffee Company.

While most people sip iced beverages and frozen blended drinks in the summer, my dad still orders a large extra-hot coffee, even in July. However, as we are in the middle of the most unbearable heat wave here in New York, I knew that even my extra-hot coffee-drinking father might enjoy drinking his favorite beverage over ice, if only for this weekend. Always eager to share my new culinary discoveries, I was very excited to pour Dad a glass of Cold-Brewed Iced Coffee immediately upon his arrival in my apartment.

“Honey, this iced coffee is fabulous!” he’d said. “Is there any more of it left? Can we make more?” I’d made a double recipe of the cold coffee concentrate, thinking that it would be enough to last us through the weekend since he’d probably end up making regular coffee for himself anyway. I couldn’t have been more wrong! I immediately began mixing up a triple batch of coffee concentrate as I started to tell Dad about the restaurants and shows I had planned for us. It felt undeniably RIGHT having him there in the kitchen with me, as my own little Krups grinder buzzed away and the heady aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled my home. It was an animated start to a memorable weekend fueled by great performances and much laughter, not to mention a LOT of iced coffee.

One Year Ago: Olive Oil Granola, Chocolate Granita

COLD-BREWED ICED COFFEE
Adapted from a recipe in The New York Times, published on 6/27/2007.

2/3 cup ground coffee (medium-coarse grind)
3 cups cold water
milk (optional)

Stir the ground coffee and cold water together in a jar or a large glass measuring cup. Let sit at room temperature for at least 12 hours or overnight. When it has steeped, strain the coffee concentrate by pouring the mixture twice through a coffee filter or a fine-meshed sieve.

When ready to serve, fill a tall glass with ice. Add equal amounts of the cold coffee concentrate and cold water, adding milk and/or sugar to taste. Makes enough coffee concentrate for 4 drinks.

The Quickest Zucchini Saute

2010-07-14T23:58:00.137-04:00

How are you all holding up in the heat? I don’t know about you, but I am struggling to ward off severe heatwave-induced crankiness, and I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. However, one of the few things that this brutal summer heat has to recommend for itself is that it coincides with zucchini season. And that means that you can make yourself a Quick Zucchini Sauté over and over again, and you’ll only have to turn your stove on for three minutes to make it.

It is the ideal summer dish, one that won’t cause you to break a sweat. It’s pretty too, for the zucchini are cut into pristine little matchsticks: pale in the centers but tinged with dark green on either end. These matchsticks are practically perfect already, but once they spend less than a minute in a skillet with a bit of olive oil and garlic, they become quite special. And when these tender-crisp zucchini are crowned with a scattering of slivered almonds and chopped fresh mint, the whole dish truly sings.

I was first introduced to this recipe at The Red Cat, a favorite restaurant in the Chelsea neighborhood, and it definitely changed my attitude towards about this vegetable. It’s not that I hated zucchini as a kid, but I preferred it mixed into dishes where there were lots of other vegetables to disguise it. When it was served on its own, I usually experienced it overcooked, steamed within an inch of its life which rendered it mushy, bland and totally unappealing. But The Red Cat made me rethink—dare I even say, CRAVE—this vegetable once I experienced their Quick Zucchini Sauté. And I was happily reminded yesterday of how much I love this recipe when I had lunch in Chelsea with my violinist friends Kristina and Ming.

The girls and I were in all-day rehearsals with Harry Connick Jr. in preparation for his 15-concert run at the Neil Simon Theater, and suffice it to say, we were all very excited about embarking on this new adventure this month. I realized that The Red Cat was conveniently located around the corner from our rehearsal studio, so as soon as the morning session ended, the three of us packed up our violins and made a beeline for the restaurant. Neither Kristina nor Ming had ever been there before, so I was happy to introduce them to a new place that they both loved.

We had just enough time for a most delightful lunch before going back for more rehearsals with Harry, and even the extreme heat seemed a little more bearable after that lovely meal. Maybe it was the zucchini sauté that cheered me up, though it also could have been the scrumptious risotto with fresh corn and basil that changed my attitude. Perhaps slurping down a grown-up version of an Orange Julius float for dessert made me feel like a kid again, one who was happy to be on summer vacation and didn’t care one bit that it was ridiculously hot outside. My attitude change could have been directly related to my excitement knowing that I’d get to spend the next three weeks playing old standards like “It Had To Be You” and “The Way You Look Tonight” with Harry Connick himself. But regardless, it was truly a delicious day from start to finish.

One Year Ago: Smoky Guacamole, Rococo Variations

QUICK ZUCCHINI SAUTE WITH ALMONDS
Adapted from a recipe by Jimmy Bradley of The Red Cat

The Red Cat does their sauté very simply with just the zucchini and almonds and topped with a bit of Pecorino cheese. I love the original version, but I also love my take on it that omits the cheese and substitutes a little garlic and fresh mint to give it liveliness.

4 small zucchini, washed and patted dry (try to find ones that are the same size)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint leaves
salt and pepper

Prepare the zucchini by cutting into matchsticks using the following method: slice off the ends of each zucchini, then make several long lengthwise cuts, about 1/8-inch thick. Stack these lengthwise pieces on top of each other and cut them crosswise into ¼-inch long matchsticks.

In a very large sauté pan or heavy skillet (preferably non-stick), heat the oil and butter over medium-high heat till very hot. Add the garlic and zucchini to the pan and toss to coat all of the zucchini with the hot oil. Quickly sauté for 45 seconds, then remove from heat. You want the zucchini to be tender-crisp; do not overcook. Sprinkle with the chopped mint leaves, season well with salt and pepper, and serve immediately. Serves 4.

Grapefruit Ginger Coolers For A Heat Wave

2010-07-05T01:55:00.042-04:00

If I may just state the obvious, it is unbearably HOT. I am subsisting on cold soups and endless glasses of iced coffee these days, and I’m sure that many of you are doing exactly the same thing. I shouldn’t bother to apply make-up anymore because it melts down my face the moment I step out the door, and I have resorted to sleeping on the couch in my living room because that’s where the air conditioner is. Since I don’t know when the heat is going to break, I must not delay a moment longer in sharing this Grapefruit-Ginger Cooler with you.

In honor of my brother's birthday today, it makes sense that I should post a cocktail recipe. As I have written in previous posts, Peter is a true artist, not only with a pen and brush but also with a cocktail shaker. I’m not just a biased big sister saying this, for my brother has had new customers come into his restaurant, order two cocktails and leave a hundred dollar bill telling him to keep the change for “this was the best martini I’ve ever had in my life”. In short, the man knows what he’s doing behind the bar.

It’s one thing for me to go to Peter’s workplace and have him create an inspired drink with a fully stocked bar at his disposal. It’s another thing for him to come into my kitchen with its hodge-podge of spirits and liqueurs plus whatever is in the fridge, and he still works cocktail magic. When I asked him last week to make me a refreshing drink, I watched him blend vodka with fresh grapefruit juice and a healthy glug of ginger liqueur. He added a dash of orange bitters and a large spoonful of the Apricot Sorbet that his son and I had made together, then shook the living daylights out of it in a cocktail shaker before straining it into a chilled martini glass. As if that weren’t enough, Mr. Virtuoso Bartender then flamed a lemon peel over it to release the fragrant lemony oil into the drink, creating an additional layer of citrus flavor. I was in heaven after a single sip.

Now, I realize that most people don’t necessarily have ginger liqueur or orange bitters on hand at all times, and unless you’re making every Kitchen Fiddler recipe along with me, you probably won’t have apricot sorbet kicking around in your freezer. So here is my easy version of the Grapefruit Ginger Cooler, which uses a ginger-infused simple syrup instead of the ginger liqueur. Mine may not be quite as glamorous or as potent as my brother’s creation, but it features the same delightful combination of spicy gingery heat tamed by the zippy citrus notes of the grapefruit. And when you are suffering through a massive heat wave, it is vitally important to have a thirst-quenching recipe like this to help you stay cool.

One Year Ago: The Wise Peach

GRAPEFRUIT-GINGER COOLER
For a more potent drink, you can serve it straight up in a chilled martini glass and omit the splash of soda. For a non-alcoholic version, omit the vodka, add an additional ounce each of the ginger syrup and grapefruit juice and an extra splash of seltzer water.

For each drink:
2 ounces vodka
1 ounce Ginger-Infused Simple Syrup (see below)
3 ounces fresh grapefruit juice
dash of orange bitters (optional)
splash of club soda or seltzer water
a twist of grapefruit peel, for garnish

Fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Add the vodka, Ginger Syrup, grapefruit juice and the optional orange bitters. Shake well for 30 shakes and pour the entire mixture into an old-fashioned glass, ice and all. Add a splash of club soda and garnish with a grapefruit twist. Makes 1 refreshing drink.

Ginger-Infused Simple Syrup
This syrup is a great thing to have on hand, not only for these Grapefruit Ginger Coolers, but you can make a refreshing ginger spritzer by combining a tablespoon or two of this syrup with lemon-lime seltzer water and plenty of ice. I also love drizzling the ginger syrup over fresh fruit—berries in the summer, apples and pears in the fall and winter—and it is also lovely spooned over vanilla ice cream.

2 ounces fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced
1 cup sugar
1-½ cups water
1-½ teaspoons whole black peppercorns

Combine all the ingredients in a medium saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and stir until the sugar dissolves. Simmer for an additional 30 minutes until the ginger has thoroughly infused the syrup. Cool completely, then strain the mixture through a sieve into a glass jar. This will keep in the fridge for up to 2 weeks. Makes about 1-¼ cups ginger syrup.

Apricot Sorbet For Kids Of All Ages

2010-06-30T08:10:00.137-04:00

I think of apricots as the blushing baby sisters to peaches and nectarines, all of them stone fruits that reach their peak at various points throughout the summer. Peaches become more glorious as summer progresses, growing impossibly succulent by the time August rolls around, and nectarines follow a similar curve. But in the same way that little ones have an earlier bedtime while their older siblings are still out on the town, rosy apricots bow out by late June or early July. Since apricot season is rapidly coming to an end, I am especially happy that I had a chance to make Apricot Sorbet with my Little Chef this week.

I had a movie date to see “Toy Story 3” with my nephew Mac (aka The Little Chef), an event we both had been looking forward to with great anticipation, and we hit Whole Foods together to get snacks before the movie. En route to the chips aisle, I was stopped in my tracks by a lavish display of golden apricots. When I casually mentioned that we could buy some apricots to make sorbet, my suggestion was greeted with a very enthusiastic “YES!!!” from the Little Chef.

So that is why we took two pounds of dewy apricots—as well as two pints of fresh raspberries and a large bag of Pirate’s Booty—to the Ziegfeld Theater in midtown Manhattan on Friday afternoon. In this day and age of cookie cutter multiplexes, it is always a thrill to see a film at the historic Ziegfeld, New York City’s last single-screen movie house with a monster sound system. Mac actually gasped with delight when we walked into this majestic theater with its plush black-and-red velvet décor, out of his mind with excitement that we were seeing this eagerly awaited movie on such a mammoth screen.

It would be an understatement to say that we loved the movie. Actually, WE LOVED IT, in capital letters and boldface print. It is a movie that appeals on multiple levels to kids and adults alike, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried at the end. Mac, an eight-year-old with an insatiable curiosity who has created some little stop-animation movies of his own, could not stop talking about the movie afterwards. We discussed the hilarious characters in great detail as we walked all the way home, apricots in tow.

In fact, the Little Chef and I were still talking about our favorite scenes in “Toy Story 3” as we pitted the apricots, sliced them into sixths and cooked them down with a bit of sugar and water. We tried to remember the funniest lines as I pureed the cooked apricots in the blender and quickly chilled the mixture in an ice bath. Trying to prolong the magic of the movie for as long as possible, we were STILL doing a comparative plot analysis between the three Toy Story movies by the time we poured the apricot puree in my ice cream maker, letting the Kitchenaid work its own brand of magic.

By the time we concluded that this third movie was definitely the best of the three, our apricot sorbet was ready. And for the first time in hours, our conversation finally shifted from the latest Pixar movie to how much we love making ice cream together, especially this apricot sorbet. Luscious yet light with an incredibly smooth texture, it was the purest essence of apricot in a most refreshing form. I don’t know who was more excited about how well our sorbet tuned out, but the Little Chef and I gave each other a high-five as we scraped our bowls clean. Talk about a fabulous end to a great movie date!

One Year Ago: Key Lime Cupcakes

APRICOT SORBET
Adapted, barely, from a recipe in The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz

This book has become my ice cream bible in the past year, and this simple recipe is yet another winner. Cooking the apricots with a little sugar and water somehow intensifies their apricot-ness, though I used a little less sugar than the original recipe called for. Instead of vanilla or almond extract to finish it, I added a squeeze of fresh lemon juice to brighten the flavor. Don’t be dissuaded from trying this recipe if you don’t have an ice cream maker in your kitchen, for you can easily make it by following the instructions given in the link below.

2 pounds ripe fresh apricots, cut in half and pits removed
1 cup water
1 scant cup sugar
a generous squeeze of fresh lemon juice (or a few drops of vanilla or almond extract)

Slice each apricot half into thirds and place in a medium non-reactive saucepan. Add the water and sugar and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the apricots have softened and are cooked through, about 10 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and let the mixture cool to room temperature.

When it has cooled, puree the apricot mixture in a blender or food processor until perfectly smooth. Add the lemon juice (or vanilla or almond extract, if using), and chill the mixture at least two hours or until it has chilled to 40°. (You can speed this process up by placing the bowl of apricot puree inside a larger bowl filled with ice water.)

Freeze the apricot puree in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s directions. Alternately, if you don’t have an ice cream maker, you can freeze it according to these directions. Makes about 1 quart.

Avocado Grapefruit Salad To Win Your Heart

2010-06-26T14:15:00.186-04:00

It has been said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. If there is any truth to that claim, then credit must be given to an Avocado Grapefruit Salad for bringing my parents together once upon a time. Since today is their wedding anniversary, I’m compelled to share this particular recipe with you this afternoon.

My dad was in college when he met my mom. His father was the chairman of the music department at Mankato State University in Minnesota, and it was he who hired my mom to be the new piano teacher on their faculty. Dad, a double major studying music and pre-med at that same university, was away at a summer music festival when Mom came for her interviews, but he remembers a letter from his mother shortly afterward saying, “We hired a new piano teacher. I think you’ll really like her.”

Mom was fresh out of grad school when she landed that job, and I like to imagine the impression she must have made when she first arrived at the university. Incredibly lovely and kind-hearted with an Audrey Hepburn-type grace, she was also a beautiful pianist, and my dad was completely smitten with her right away. Though they didn’t date until later, they did have a lot of built-in time together those first two years of knowing each other. Dad asked her to be the pianist for his cello recitals, just as an excuse to spend more time with her, and his parents often invited her to join them for social gatherings and faculty events. My mom loved their whole family, especially my witty dad who made her laugh a lot.

Now here’s a juicy bit of background information. My grandfather, a very honorable and proper man, hired Mom to replace the previous faculty piano teacher whom he’d fired for having an affair with a student. So you can only imagine his distress when he realized that his college-aged son was clearly swept off his feet by the new faculty pianist! Granted, Mom was only 24 when she met my 20-year-old dad and they were just friends for those first two years—obviously a very different scenario than a 50-year-old professor taking advantage of a young female student—yet it was the principle of it that I think was so upsetting to my grandfather. But eventually Dad graduated from college, rendering the student-faculty barrier obsolete, and it all worked out in the end.

Dad likes to tell about one of the first dinners that Mom cooked for him. Having grown up in Minnesota where most people ate a traditional meat-and-potatoes diet supplemented by canned or frozen vegetables, Dad was not accustomed to meals being an experience in epicurean adventure. But Mom, who was from the west coast and grew up working with produce straight from her garden, knew how to conjure up some serious magic in the kitchen. She really pulled out the stops the first time she cooked for him, beginning the meal with a salad involving avocado and fresh grapefruit. While those two ingredients are fairly commonplace for any of us cooking today, you have to appreciate how rare that would have been on any dinner table in 1960s Minnesota. I don’t know if my dad had ever even tried an avocado before that fateful evening, but apparently this salad totally blew his mind.

Dad claims that it was the most unusual thing he had ever tasted. And by extension, my mother was therefore the most exotic and remarkable woman he had ever encountered. If he had been merely smitten with her before, he was now a total goner after that salad. The combination of tangy-sweet grapefruit segments with the velvety avocado made a direct beeline towards his heart, for by the time he had finished that salad, he knew that he was going to marry her. And he did.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!

One Year Ago: Limoncello Floats

AVOCADO GRAPEFRUIT SALAD
While I can’t guarantee you any marriage proposals with this salad, I can promise that you will certainly make your guests happy when you serve this to them.

2 ruby red grapefruits

1 small shallot, finely minced
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar (I like to use champagne vinegar for this)
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
½ cup olive oil

2 ripe avocados, halved, pitted, and cut into ½-inch chunks
1 head of Bibb lettuce, leaves washed and spun dry

Prepare the grapefruit by cutting a thin slice off the top and bottom. Stand the fruit on one end and carefully follow the shape of the fruit with a sharp paring knife, cutting off the peel and the white pith. Holding each grapefruit over a bowl and carefully cut in between the membranes to remove the segments of fruit in between. Reserve the juice and discard any seeds that may have fallen in.

Combine the minced shallot with the vinegar, 2 tablespoon of the reserved grapefruit juice, and a pinch of salt in a small bowl. Let this sit for 5 minutes; this allows the vinegar and citrus to take off some of the sharpness of the shallot. Stir in the Dijon mustard, then gradually whisk in the olive oil in a thin stream until emulsified.

Tear the lettuce leaves into bite-sized pieces and place in a large salad bowl. Add the grapefruit segments and avocado cubes. Add half the vinaigrette and toss gently to combine. Add more vinaigrette if necessary, so that all the ingredients are lightly coated with the dressing. Taste for seasoning, adding salt and fresh pepper as necessary. Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Chocolate-Raspberry Bars To Blow Your Mind

2010-06-11T14:49:00.000-04:00

Today is your lucky day for I am about to share one of my all-time favorite recipes with you. These Chocolate-Raspberry Bars are nothing short of divine, and you’ll be grateful to have a trick like this up your culinary sleeve. To give you an idea of the powerful effect this dessert can have, a magician friend of mine was once so blown away by this that he actually divulged the secret to one of his card tricks in exchange for this recipe. Since magicians never reveal their secrets, you have to appreciate the enormity of this.

They are ridiculously easy to make but the pay-off is huge. Chocolate and butter are melted together and blended with raspberry jam. Eggs and sugar are whipped into a billowy cloud, and the tiniest bit of sifted flour and baking powder give more structure to the batter. The chocolate-raspberry goodness is gently folded into the egg mixture before being baked in a square pan for 45 minutes. The final texture is somewhere in between that of a dense flourless chocolate cake and a fudgy brownie, and you could certainly enjoy it straight from the pan without any embellishment. But when the finished cake is covered with a raspberry-laced chocolate glaze and topped with fresh berries, you may be tempted to reveal your deepest secrets to the person who serves this to you.

I always develop an overwhelming hankering for these Chocolate-Raspberry Bars in early June, and this year was no exception. As I’ve mentioned in previous Kitchen Fiddler posts, I have a highly unusual memory that causes me to remember every day of my life with extreme clarity. When it comes to food, most people relive memories when triggered by specific tastes, but I usually experience the opposite. My awareness of the current date—and the memories of what happened on that very day in any given year—is often the actual trigger itself for some very insistent cravings.

Chocolate-Raspberry Bars are embedded in my early June memory database, as I first made these in 2002 for a friend’s baby shower (June 1st). I’m continually reminded of this particular recipe each June while mentally scrolling through my previous June 1sts. This memory invariably prompts a severe craving, but I can usually find some excuse to whip up a batch of these decadent fudgy delights on any given each year. Over the past eight years I’ve made them for birthdays (June 2nds and 6ths) and for anniversaries of moving to New York (June 4ths), and my friends and I have devoured them at post-recital receptions (June 4ths and 7ths). Regardless of the occasion, I always find myself with an uncontrollable appetite for this dense chocolate cake topped with bright jewel-like berries at this time of year. And once you taste these magical Chocolate-Raspberry Bars for yourself, you may find yourself regularly craving these too.

CHOCOLATE-RASPBERRY BARS
Adapted, barely, from a recipe in Bon Appetit, August 1997.

I’ve reduced the amount of sugar from the original recipe, but otherwise I follow it faithfully. I like using different kinds of chocolate within the recipe, choosing a milder bittersweet chocolate for the cake and an extra-bittersweet chocolate for the glaze, such as one with at least a 70% cocoa content. I am partial to Scharffenberger or Valrhona chocolate—Lindt will do in a pinch—but you should use the best chocolate you can afford. I love presenting this beautiful creation as a whole cake and then cutting it into appropriate-sized pieces. Sometimes I'll cut small bite-sized squares for people to enjoy without utensils, but for an even more festive occasion, I’ll cut larger squares and serve it on plates with generous dollops of lightly sweetened whipped cream.

For the cake:
10 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped
¾ cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/3 cup seedless raspberry jam
generous ¾ cup sugar
5 large eggs
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder

For finishing:
¼ cup whipping cream
¼ cup seedless raspberry jam
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 6-ounce baskets fresh raspberries, rinsed and patted dry

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a 9x9x2-inch baking pan with foil. Butter the foil and dust with flour.

Combine the chocolate and butter in a heavy medium saucepan and melt over low heat, stirring until smooth. Whisk in the jam until it melts. Remove from heat and cool slightly.

Beat the sugar and eggs in large bowl with an electric mixer until the mixture triples in volume, about 6 minutes. Sift the flour and baking powder over the egg mixture and gently fold in. Gradually fold in the chocolate mixture; do not overmix.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until the top of the cake begins to crack and a tester inserted into center comes out with moist crumbs attached, about 45 minutes. Cool for 5 minutes, and then gently press down any raised edges of cake to form an even surface. Cool the cake in the pan, then invert onto a platter. Peel off the foil, and trim a ½-inch off each edge of the cake.

Prepare the glaze by stirring together the cream and jam in a heavy small saucepan over medium heat until the jam melts. Bring it to a boil and then remove from heat. Immediately add the chopped chocolate and stir until the chocolate has completely melted. Let the glaze cool slightly but is still warm enough to spread easily, about 15 minutes. Spread glaze over top of cake. Immediately arrange berries over the glaze. Chill until glaze sets, about 10 minutes. (This can be made 1 day in advance, if covered and kept in the refrigerator.)

Depending on how you cut it, this makes 12 rich servings, or many smaller bite-sized ones.

An Orzo Salad To Make Repeatedly

2010-06-01T16:30:00.012-04:00

I have a big honking crush on an Orzo Salad right now. Yes, that’s right, I’ve become smitten with a salad and I can’t get enough of it. It’s a little like falling in love with someone new without enough hours in the day, for you want to spend as much time as possible together while discovering what makes this new person in your life so compelling. At least that’s always been my own experience, but I must confess that I also do this with food to a similar degree.

When I first encounter a new magical combination of ingredients, I often wind up making the same dish repeatedly for days or even weeks on end. For example, I have no shame in admitting that I made Chocolate Toasts every day for MONTHS after my initial encounter with them once upon a time. (If you’ve ever tried this divine combination of toasted baguette slices topped with melted bittersweet chocolate and drizzled with olive oil and a pinch of flaky sea salt, you’d probably have a similar daily compulsion yourself.) Those who know me well might expect me to be particularly obsessive that way when it comes to desserts. But oddly enough, I actually get into more of a tape loop with savory recipes, especially when a great salad is involved.

I became totally infatuated with a Sliced Spring Salad last April. There were weeks on end in which I kept a bottomless bowl of these particular veggies prepped at all times, needing only a splash of tangy vinaigrette and a few cubes of velvety avocado to tie them all together on a moment’s notice. I switched gears when I fell hard for a Arugula Fennel Salad that I encountered in San Francisco late last summer. This love affair continued well into the fall as I shaved countless bulbs of fennel, tossing them with untold handfuls of wild baby arugula and a lively scattering of grated orange zest, chopped pistachios and toasted breadcrumbs. I was utterly beguiled, unable to tear myself away from this flavor combination for months. But then this Orzo Salad came along and swept me off my feet.

I love orzo, the rice-shaped pasta, which provides the backdrop for this summery salad. Diced cucumber gives the salad crunch while slivered scallions and red onion contribute a welcome bite. If you throw in a few petite peas with a handful of chopped dill and mint before adding a snowfall of crumbled feta cheese, then all you need is a bright lemony dressing to bring it into delicious harmony. This is a flexible recipe, one that leaves room for lots of variation, and I’ll share my take on it with you in the hopes that it will provide a springboard for your own imagination.

I first made this orzo salad a few weeks ago for a little party I threw to celebrate my twelve-year anniversary in my current apartment. Life is very different now than it was when I first moved into this space, but happily so, and my mind is on overdrive whenever I think of all of the incredible experiences and amazing people who have come into my orbit in that time. I am filled with unspeakable gratitude for the dozen years I’ve spent in this small-but-sunny corner in the sky, especially one with a view like this out my living room windows.

A handful of us gathered on the roof deck on an absolutely gorgeous night, the perfect kind of late spring evening to sit outside and enjoy the twilight while quaffing celebratory glasses of bubbly. There were cheeses and olives, a chilled sweet pea & lettuce soup, and a lemon tart which warrants its own separate post at a later date. This orzo salad ended up being the centerpiece of the meal, and I knew I’d have to immediately make another batch since there were no leftovers. A powerful happy memory associated with a particular recipe will also prompt me to recreate a great dish over and over, perhaps as a way of prolonging the original memory. Maybe that’s another reason why I keep making this orzo salad, in addition to the fact that it’s just downright yummy. How could I not keep making a dish now permanently linked in my mind to an evening celebrating with dear friends who have made the past dozen years far richer and livelier than anything I could have ever dreamed of once upon a time?

One Year Ago: Northwest Seafood Ceviche, Chocolate and Coffee Baked Alaska

ORZO SALAD
Adapted from a recipe in The Barefoot Contessa At Home by Ina Garten.

The original recipe includes oven-roasted shrimp, but I omitted that for the sake of my vegetarian friends. I know that peas are not exactly a comparable protein substitute for shrimp, but I thought that they would amp up the vegetable quotient of this salad, and I found that I quite enjoyed their presence here. I tossed in some fresh mint that I had on hand, even though the original recipe calls for only dill and flat-leaf parsley. But honestly, I think you could throw in just about any combination of vegetables and herbs within a Mediterranean profile and you would have happy results.

½ cup olive oil
½ cup fresh lemon juice (grate some of the lemon zest in for good measure, if you like)
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon pepper

1 lb. orzo pasta
2 cups frozen petite peas, thawed
1 hothouse cucumber, unpeeled and seeded, cut into ½ inch chunks
1 cup scallions, thinly sliced
½ cup red onion, finely diced
2 cups mixed fresh dill/mint/flat-leaf parsley (I use equal parts of these three herbs, but feel free to adjust the proportions according to your taste)
1 cup feta cheese, crumbled

Make the dressing by mixing the olive oil, lemon juice and zest (if using), salt and pepper together in a small bowl.

Cook the orzo in boiling salted water according to the package directions. About two minutes before the end of the suggested cooking time, add the thawed frozen peas to the pot. When the pasta is al dente, drain the pasta and peas in a colander and place in a large mixing bowl. Add the lemon dressing while the mixture is hot and toss well to coat.

Add the diced cucumber, scallions, red onion, and mixed herbs. Toss well to combine, and then add the crumbled feta cheese. Taste for seasoning, adding salt and pepper and/or more olive oil or lemon as necessary. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled. Makes 6 main course servings or 8 smaller servings.

Chocolate Chunk Cookies With The Little Chef

2010-05-15T13:29:00.028-04:00

A Recipe For A Very Happy Afternoon With A Little Chef

Step One: When your 8-year-old nephew Mac (aka The Little Chef) is staying with you all week and keeps begging you to bake something together, it helps if you have a great recipe to start with. The chocolate chip cookie recipe in David Lebovitz’s mouth-watering new book, Ready For Dessert, became our new BFF this week.

Step Two: Make sure you have all the ingredients on hand and at the correct temperature. The butter will be pliable once it softens to room temperature, though you can quickly get the eggs to room temp by placing them in a bowl of warm water for a few minutes. Your brown sugar should also be the soft consistency of warm sand so that you can easily pack it into the measuring cup.

However, our brown sugar was spectacularly rock-hard and might have done serious damage had we thrown it at something. If I were a microwave-owner, I could have easily softened the block of sugar by nuking it for a few seconds. But since I am not, the Little Chef and I employed a series of questionable techniques to get that sugar to the right consistency and packed into the measuring cup. We grated the sugar-rock on a box grater (not very efficient), and we placed it in a Ziploc bag and swung it against the edge of the counter (fun, but also not so efficient). We also smashed it into larger bits with a hammer (getting better) and finally resorted to pulverizing those rocky bits in a food processor. By the time we finally ended up with a packed cup of light brown sugar, we might as well have run out to the corner deli for a fresh box, but Mac and I laughed a lot more by doing it this way. (We also avoided having to take twelve flights of stairs on a day the elevator was being repaired in my building!)

Step Three: Give your Little Chef a chance to show off his measuring and whisking skills. Bribe him with extra chocolate pieces if he can keep most of the dry ingredients in the bowl and off the counter, especially if he tends to whisk dry ingredients together quite vigorously as a rule.

Step Four: Come to a compromise if one of you likes cookies with nuts and the other one does not. Promise a few more extra chocolate pieces for your little buddy if he’ll agree to divide the batter in half, letting you stud your half of the batter with a generous scattering of toasted pecans while his half remains pristinely chocolate. (Chocolate can be an incredibly persuasive bribe.)

Step Five: Do not panic when the recipe instructs you to chill the batter for 24 hours, but do try to be patient. In reading the recipe aloud to me, my poor Little Chef’s face visibly fell when he came to the suggestion to let the dough chill for at least a day, practically crying, “You mean we’re not even going to get to try our cookies until TOMORROW?!” Instead, we did a taste test, baking one tray of dough that only chilled for two hours and obtaining perfectly satisfying results. But when we baked off the rest of the cookies the following afternoon, both of us agreed that the cookies tasted even better the second day.

Step Six: Recalculate the total cookie yield depending on how much batter you ate before baking the actual cookies. Instead of worrying about the negative effects of eating eyebrow-raising quantities of raw dough, use this as an excellent way for your young friend to work on his math skills. “The recipe says that it makes 48 cookies, but after all the times you’ve stuck your little fingers in the batter, how many cookies do you think we’ll actually get out of this?” I asked Mac. There were many giggles as we repeatedly stuck our spoons into the mixing bowl throughout the whole process, after which he would proudly announce the changes. According to the Little Chef’s final tally, “This recipe makes only 27 cookies!”

CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIES
Adapted, barely, from Ready For Dessert by David Lebovitz

This recipe produces soft chewy chocolate chunk cookies that are slightly crunchy on the outside. I happen to prefer my cookies this way, as opposed to the flat crispy kind. The advantage of using chopped chocolate rather than standard chocolate chips is that the chopped chocolate will melt as the cookies bake, streaking the entire cookie with bittersweet chocolaty goodness. I added a pinch of flaky salt to the top of each cookie before I baked them, just because I love the combination of salty and sweet.

2-½ cups flour
¾ teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup packed light brown sugar
¾ cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs, at room temperature
12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped into ½-inch chunks
2 cups pecans or walnuts, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped (optional)
flaky sea salt for finishing, such as Maldon (optional)

Whisk the flour, baking soda and salt together in a small bowl.

Place the butter, the two types of sugar and the vanilla in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. (If you don’t have a stand mixer, use a hand mixer and a large mixing bowl instead.) Beat on medium speed until just smooth. You don’t want to beat too much air into the mixture or else the dough will spread too much when it bakes. Add the eggs one at a time until thoroughly combined. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula, and stir in the flour mixture. Add the chocolate chunks and the toasted chopped nuts, if using.

On a lightly floured board, divide the dough into four parts. Shape each quarter into a 9-inch log, and wrap well in plastic wrap. Refrigerate the dough logs until firm, at least two hours and preferably up to 24 hours. (I know this is the hardest part, but try to be patient, for it’s worth it to let the dough chill thoroughly!)

Preheat the oven to 350°F and position the baking racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. (If you have those fancy French silicone baking mats, use those instead.)

Slice the dough logs into ¾-inch thick rounds and place them 3 inches apart on the baking sheet. Sprinkle with an optional generous pinch of flaky sea salt.

Bake, rotating the baking sheets halfway through the baking, until the cookies are lightly browned in the center, about 10 minutes. The cookies will seem very soft but they will firm up as they cool. Let the cookies rest on the baking sheet until they are firm enough to handle, and then transfer them to a cooling rack.

Makes approximately 48 cookies, although if your names are Mac and Louise, there’s no telling what the final baked cookie count will be!

Asparagus Pasta To Woo You Back

2010-05-03T16:30:00.012-04:00

Hello everyone! I’m very happy to be back here on Kitchen Fiddler, and I am truly sorry that I dropped off the face of the blogosphere these past two months. There wasn’t a day that passed in which I didn’t think, “I want to crank out something for the blog today, and I just have to find the time to cook and write today!” But obviously it didn’t happen. For those of you who have been following Kitchen Fiddler for the past year, you may recall that I had a similar period of blog inactivity last spring when my cooking and writing fell by the wayside during a bout of extreme musical busy-ness. I will try to make it up to you with this treasured recipe for my favorite Asparagus Pasta.

I don’t know about you, but I really struggle with being disciplined in multiple areas of my life simultaneously. I CAN focus extremely well, but that focus is usually confined to one activity at a time. The fire has been cranked up under Project X, something that has demanded a hell of a lot of mental energy on my part as well as a willingness to travel like never before, but the recent developments are exciting and I look forward to being able to share it with you soon. I also spent all of April practicing like a maniac, as I played a chamber music concert with the great pianist Menahem Pressler on Friday night in LA. In preparing to play with one of the major giants of the classical music world, I thought it was wiser to focus on being a serious Fiddler at the expense of the Kitchen aspect of my life. So while I may not have cooked very much this spring—writing and blogging even less frequently—I’m glad in the end that I did spend all of those countless hours in the practice room because Friday’s concert was a true joy to play.

I have had the privilege of playing chamber music with Mr. Pressler for the past four years when he comes for an annual visit to Biola University, where my parents teach. It is always an incredible week of intense music-making and master classes, being totally inspired by THAT SOUND that I grew up listening to on recordings and in concerts. In between rehearsals, everyone comes to our house for breakfast/lunch/dinner where all three Owens take turns whipping up a storm in the kitchen while Mr. Pressler regales us with stories from an amazing musical life.

Unlike last year when I did the lion’s share of the cooking, this year I had more on my proverbial plate as I was playing the Schubert A Major Duo with Mr. Pressler as well as the Schumann Piano Quintet, so I left the cooking to my parents for the first few days. Mom is the gracious hostess extraordinaire who makes everything beautiful while Dad, who spent much of his sabbatical last fall honing his culinary prowess to an impressive degree, totally blew me away with his remarkable knife skills and his beautifully balanced layers of flavor. Once the concert was over, I was in the kitchen the next day, creating a festive spring lunch for everyone to enjoy on the break during an extended day of piano master classes at the university. What better way to celebrate a gorgeous first day of May than with a Sliced Spring Salad with Avocado and Feta and a lively Asparagus Pasta?

This dish has been in my repertoire for a decade now, one that joyfully declares, “Spring is here!” to all who taste it. The asparagus stalks are blanched before being pureed with sautéed shallots, fresh lemon, olive oil and a bit of the asparagus cooking water. The resulting sauce is at once velvety yet light, binding the cooked pasta and blanched asparagus tips together in a delightful and unexpected way. A healthy scattering of grated parmesan cheese ties it all together in the end.

This is a terrific pasta recipe for all sorts of occasions. Not only is it the perfect way to herald the official arrival of spring, this recipe is also going to be your best friend if you’re tired from playing a big concert the night before but want spring-y comfort food. If you happened to make a post-concert run to In-n-Out Burger with your pianist (!!!) and are trying to eat a little lighter the next day, I can tell you from first-hand experience that you’ll want to make this. And when you’re trying to appease your readers and give them a recipe that will let them know how much you appreciate their patience with you while you were MIA, I think that this Asparagus Pasta will be just the ticket. You'll have to let me know.

One Year Ago: Puerto Rican Chicken with Saffron Rice, Spring Risotto with Asparagus and Wild Mushrooms

ASPARAGUS PASTA
Adapted from a recipe by Faith Heller Willinger, Gourmet May 2000.

I’ve adapted the recipe slightly from the original I read years ago, adding sautéed shallots and garlic to give the sauce a little more flavor. Make sure to taste the sauce for balance, as you may want to adjust the salt&pepper or add more lemon for brightness. Choose a short tubular pasta that is similar in size to the asparagus tips, such as penne or gemelli twists.

4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 large shallots, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 pound asparagus, woody ends trimmed and discarded, cut into 1-inch pieces
the juice and finely grated zest from 1 lemon
1 teaspoon sea salt
freshly ground pepper

½ pound penne or gemelli pasta
½ cup grated parmesan cheese, plus more for serving

Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium heat in a nonstick skillet. Add the minced shallot and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly, until it has softened. Add the minced garlic and cook for an additional 30 seconds, but do not let the garlic brown. Remove from heat and set aside.

Cut the asparagus into 1-inch pieces, reserving the tips separately. Bring a large saucepan of heavily salted water to a rolling boil. Cook the asparagus stems until they are very tender, about 5 to 6 minutes.

Turn of the heat and remove the asparagus pieces from the water with a slotted spoon, reserving the cooking water, and transfer to a blender or food processor. Measure out ¼ cup of the cooking water and add that to the blender along with the remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil, the fresh lemon juice and zest, and the sautéed shallots and garlic. Add a teaspoon of salt and a few grinds of fresh pepper, and puree until smooth. Taste for seasoning and adjust as needed, adding more salt and pepper and/or lemon to suit your taste.

Return the pot of water to a boil. Cook the asparagus tips separately, about 2 minutes, just until barely tender-crisp. Remove from the water with a slotted spoon to a colander and rinse under cold water. Drain well and set aside.

Return the cooking water to a boil and cook the pasta until it is just al dente, which will probably be a minute or two less than the recommended package directions. Reserve 1 cup of the cooking water before draining the cooked pasta in a colander. Return it to the pan and add the pureed asparagus sauce. Stir in the reserved asparagus tips and the grated parmesan and heat until the sauce is warmed and the cheese begins to melt. If the sauce is too thick, add a little of the pasta cooking water, ¼ cup at a time, until it is to your liking. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper as needed, and serve immediately in wide shallow bowls. Serve with additional parmesan to pass at the table. Serves 4

Tuscan Kale with Farm-Fresh Eggs

2010-03-12T19:02:00.015-05:00

I went to Frank Music Company in midtown yesterday to pick up some chamber music parts, and it was a successful trip as I found everything I needed. I came away with scores and parts for a Shostakovich quartet as well as the Schumann Piano Quintet. I also walked out the very same door with a dozen farm-fresh eggs. No joke.

I always love going into Frank Music Company. Located on the 10th floor in an old pre-war office building on West 54th Street, this was one of the first New York addresses I ever knew since I used to order most of my sheet music from Frank’s during my college years in Boston. Their stock of available music is comprehensive, so I’m always confident I’ll find exactly what I’m looking for and so much more. And yesterday, that happened to include some of the best-tasting eggs I’ve experienced in a long time.

Heidi Rogers, the delightful proprietor of Frank Music, has a farm upstate where she keeps 70 chickens who produce fabulous eggs. She sells them at the music shop for $8 a dozen, keeping them in a little refrigerator in the back of the store. I opened my dozen to find eggs with dove-grey and pale ecru colored shells mingling with the more typical brown-shelled specimens, and I immediately transferred a few to a bowl for a little photo session while I decided what to make for dinner.

I wanted to make something simple that would take advantage of my having these oh-so-very-fresh eggs with their marigold-colored yolks. Sautéed greens topped with an egg and served with a hunk of toasted crusty bread is year-round comfort food for me, and this definitely suited my mood last night. I love Tuscan kale, a variety which is also referred to as dinosaur kale, lacinato kale, and cavolo nero, or black cabbage. No matter what name they go by, I find that these tender flat leaves don’t need much more than a simple sautéing with garlic and olive oil with a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes to keep them lively.

If you’re in midtown and are in need of fresh organic eggs with deeply golden yolks, it’s worth the trip to Frank Music. You may also make some significant additions to your music library while you’re at it, which is never a bad thing.

Frank Music Company
250 West 54th Street (between Broadway and 8th Avenue)
New York, NY 10019
(212) 582-1999

One Year Ago: Asparagus with Poached Eggs, Radish Canapes with Avocado

TUSCAN KALE WITH OLIVE-OIL FRIED EGGS
Tuscan kale, also known as dinosaur kale or lacinato kale, cooks a little more quickly than regular curly kale, making it ideal for an easy yet filling supper when you’re short on time. You can top this with poached eggs if you prefer, but here’s a fast no-fuss version for olive oil fried eggs. When cooked over low heat in a covered pan according to this method, the whites will go from being transparent to a beautiful opaque creamy white without getting overly browned and crispy on the bottom.

1 medium bunch Tuscan kale, washed and tough ribs removed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large garlic clove, minced
a pinch or two of crushed red pepper flakes
1/3 to ½ cup chicken broth (you can also use vegetable broth)

2 large eggs
1 tablespoon olive oil
salt and pepper

Coarsely chop the kale into bite-sized pieces. Heat the 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and hot chili flakes and cook for 30 seconds, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Add the chopped kale and broth and cook, stirring constantly, for about 8 minutes until the greens have darkened slightly and are tender and the broth has mostly evaporated. Divide the kale mixture between two wide shallow bowls.

While the kale is cooking, heat a 9-inch non-stick skillet over medium-low heat for several minutes. When the pan is hot, add the tablespoon of olive oil, swirling to coat. Crack each egg onto a separate saucer, taking care to keep the yolk intact and removing any bits of shell. Carefully slide each egg into the hot skillet, season with a sprinkling of salt and pepper, and cover the skillet to cook. The yolks will be softly set after about 3 to 3-½ minutes of cooking time, so cook them a minute longer if you like firmly set yolks or a little bit less if you like your yolks runny.

When the eggs are cooked to your liking, use a flat spatula to transfer from the skillet, placing one egg on top of each bowl of kale. Makes 2 hearty servings.

Roasted Cauliflower Soup

2010-02-24T22:23:00.014-05:00

I’m getting a major jumpstart on my spring-cleaning, even though it’s still February with more snow threatening to blanket the east coast. Unlike the previous few months in which I whipped up a massive solo recital (January) or handcrafted and packaged over two thousand chocolate truffles (December), I think I was feeling antsy without a main focal point for my excessive energy this February. Instead, I am overhauling my apartment with the invaluable help of my sister-in-law Alison, who is a miracle worker in the decluttering department, not to mention the bartending expertise of my brother Peter who kindly makes me killer martinis to ease the upheaval process. We’ve rearranged furniture, pruned my bookshelves and combed through my closets more thoroughly than ever before, and after hauling seventeen bags of STUFF off to the thrift store, I feel as though I’ve instantly lost a ton of weight and that my home is now much healthier. And because I’m in apartment purging mode, I’m craving food that is nourishing and simple to prepare. This Roasted Cauliflower Soup totally fits the bill.

I think cauliflower is underrated. This chameleon of the crucifer family is always a willing vehicle for delivering complimentary flavors, unlike cabbage, which is often bitter, and bracing, or broccoli which always asserts its individual broccoli-ness no matter what other flavors it is paired with. However, cauliflower gets to be the star while all the other ingredients are the supporting players in today’s recipe. The flavor of the soup comes from roasting the cauliflower with olive oil till it caramelizes to a deep golden brown, bringing out an inherent nuttiness that don’t always have a chance to shine on its own. Its slightly smoky rich taste might make you think that it contains bacon or a lot of cream in it, but in fact this a dairy-free soup that can also be a vegetarian one if you prepare it with vegetable stock.

I first encountered this delightful Roasted Cauliflower Soup at a very memorable dinner party given by my friends Roger and Vicki earlier this month. The memory of each course is making my taste buds giggle, even weeks later, as the entire meal was a joy from start to finish. And while I may not have the means or expertise to smoke my own duck breast, make my own puff pastry, or prepare an exquisite rack of lamb dish the way Roger did that night, I definitely have the wherewithal to recreate the cauliflower soup that he made for us.

In fact, I’ve made this soup at home three times in the past ten days. It is so easy to prepare and is totally satisfying, and I know that you’re going to love it too. I usually make up a double batch of this healthy and beautiful soup so that I can enjoy it for days in a row. And I love that it gives me even more time and energy to devote to making my apartment more healthy and beautiful too.

ROGER’S ROASTED CAULIFLOWER SOUP
Barely adapted from a recipe by Roger Wagner, February 2010

Roger said that this recipe was inspired by a soup he experienced once upon a time in a restaurant (name unknown), and he’s been making it at home ever since. The important thing is to really hammer the cauliflower in the oven, making sure that it roasts to a deep golden brown because that is what gives the soup its complex flavor. I added the thyme leaves and a little more carrot and garlic, but otherwise I'm following Roger's recipe on this.

1 large head cauliflower
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for roasting and drizzling at the end
1 medium onion, diced
½ cup diced carrot
2 to 3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
4 cups chicken stock (you can also use low-sodium chicken broth or vegetable broth)
salt and pepper, to taste
freshly grated Parmesan, for serving

Preheat the oven to 425°. Cut the cauliflower into small florets and place on a rimmed baking sheet lined with foil. Coat them liberally with olive oil, season with a few grinds of sea salt and fresh pepper. Roast until deep golden brown for about 45 minutes, stirring several times to make sure they brown evenly.

While the cauliflower is roasting, heat the 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add the diced onion and cook for about 10 minutes until it begins to soften. Add the carrots, garlic and thyme leaves, lower the heat to medium-low, and continue to cook until all the vegetables have softened, another 10 minutes or so.

When the cauliflower has finished roasting, add it to the pan with the onion mixture. Pour in the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and let the soup cook at a gentle simmer for about 25 minutes, giving the flavors a chance to get to know each other. When the cauliflower is very soft, remove from the heat and puree till smooth with an immersion blender. (Alternately, you can puree the soup in batches in a food processor or a standard blender.) If the soup is too thick, add a bit more water or stock to reach the desired consistency. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper, as needed.

Ladle the soup into bowls. Top with a a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and a sprinkling of fresh thyme or a bit of freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Serves 4.

Here's a picture of my little kitchen, which is definitely going to be my next project!

I Heart A Great Affogato

2010-02-15T12:07:00.012-05:00

If my mother’s birthday post was devoted to her favorite dessert—chocolate cake with whipped cream—then today’s post in honor of my dad’s birthday would have to involve both coffee and ice cream. And what better way to combine two of his favorite things than by making an affogato? Even though Dad usually enjoys both things separately, I know he has absolutely no objection to gelato with hot espresso poured over it.

My dad is serious about his coffee. And I mean SERIOUS. From the time I was little, I remember him constantly seeking out substantial dark roasts long before gourmet coffee was widely available. While my friends’ parents usually had Folger’s or Maxwell House percolating in their countertop coffee makers, my dad would grind his beans fresh and make a heady brew in a French press pot. I used to sneak sips of his coffee when he wasn’t looking, trying to figure out why he was so crazy about it. My 8-year-old palate couldn’t understand how something with such an intoxicating aroma tasted like hell, but eventually I learned to love coffee—maybe not as much as my dad, but appreciatively well enough.

Dad also had a cappuccino machine when I was a kid, something I also never encountered in any of my friends’ houses. Long before the proliferation of Starbucks on every street corner, my dad’s college students used to show up at our home late at night, desperate for espresso. They always came bearing gifts of Haagen-Dazs, knowing that they could easily bribe their way in with pints of rich ice cream. On those nights when I was awakened by the doorbell, the sound that invariably followed was the buzzing of the coffee grinder. Even though I usually didn’t join these impromptu parties as I was supposed to be asleep, it always made me happy to hear Dad cranking up the espresso machine for his students. I found it comforting to hear the milk frother screeching and steaming away amidst the animated voices that came bubbling from the kitchen, as though all was right with the world.

Affogato is the Italian word for “drowned”, which is what you do to the ice cream by flooding it with a shot of espresso. I think this dessert is appropriate in any season, and I’ve been known to happily enjoy one of these in winter or summer alike. I suppose it’s gilding the lily a bit to top this simple creation with a dollop of fresh whipped cream and a few chocolate covered espresso beans, but it is my dad’s birthday after all...

AFFOGATO
This is such a simple thing to prepare, I feel slightly foolish writing down a formal recipe for it. Use your favorite premium vanilla ice cream or gelato to combine with the espresso, though you could also substitute chocolate ice cream for a mocha version. A few weeks ago, the affogato that got me on this big kick was made with grappa-raisin gelato. I sometimes recreate this Italian version of rum raisin ice cream by plumping some raisins in grappa brandy before stirring it into the vanilla gelato.

½ cup heavy cream
1 pint vanilla ice cream or gelato
4 shots hot espresso (or see Note below)
chocolate-covered espresso beans, for garnish (optional)

Whip the heavy cream in a medium bowl with an electric mixer until soft peaks form. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Scoop the vanilla ice cream into each of four glasses or small dessert bowls. Prepare 4 shots of espresso and pour one over each dish of ice cream. Top with a generous dollop of whipped cream, garnish with the optional espresso beans, and serve immediately. Serves 4.

Note: If you don’t have an espresso machine at home, you can approximate it by mixing ½ cup boiling water with 1 tablespoon instant espresso powder in a glass measuring cup. When the espresso powder has dissolved, proceed with the recipe, dividing it equally among the four dishes.

Happy birthday to the man who introduced me to the notion that quality is well worth seeking out, especially when it comes to ice cream and coffee!