

Next up in the Christmas line up of celebrity cookbook recipes to try . . . a sampling from Joel Robuchon's The Complete Robuchon. 

Next up in the Christmas line up of celebrity cookbook recipes to try . . . a sampling from Joel Robuchon's The Complete Robuchon.
I admit it. I am a bit of a restaurant fussbudget. Although I do love to try new places, with few exceptions (judging on a curve as I do), I generally think the food could be tastier, the service more thoughtful, the offerings better selected. And yet -- even after all these years, Campanile is a place that rarely (if ever) disappoints. Their regular menu is tastefully simple, rustic yet refined, and grilled cheese night is well, nothing short of genius and routinely the best dinner out in LA. Even the big man -- who usually greets the idea of eating out with " Why would we go out when the food is better at home" (and then goes anyway) -- is easy to move to Thursday evenings at Campanile. One Christmas a few years back I made a perhaps seasonally inappropriate but totally delicious home version of Campanile's Croque Monsieur with Mornay sauce to rave reviews.
After most present giving holidays I have a stack of chef centric cookbooks with a load of new recipes to try. This year, one I really wanted was bread genius Jim Lahey's "My Bread". I've rattled on about Lahey's no-knead bread before, but until this Christmas I only had two choices of Lahey recipes, crusty white rustic Italian bread and pizza dough, although the pizza recipe left out Lahey's method of stretching the dough for a super thin crust and offered none of his topping recipes. It's not just that Lahey's recipes require next to no effort and can make a more than credible baker out of any kitchen novice . . . but they are crusty and delicious and without fail provoke a stupefied, "You made this?' from guests and the big man alike.
This year we decided-- sort of by circumstance and sort of by choice -- to be just us for Christmas dinner.
A couple weeks ago James and I went to Thomas Keller's new LA outpost -- Bouchon, where the big man met and fell in love with Frissée Au Lardon. While thumbing through ideas and recipes for our Christmas Eve for two I thought -- why not try the salad at home (James gave me the Bouchon cookbook last year). It's not exactly Revillion, but I settled on a bistro style tasting menu . . . Kathy Cooks Keller.
I would think Oyster Stew would be the kind of thing Keller would revel in. It's mostly milk and cream and butter cooked together and called a soup, but his cookbooks barely acknowledge the joy of cooked oysters, so this one I have to credit to my grandmother. I tried to improve on her stew with a recipe form Antoine's in New Orleans (it is a French theme after all). Antoine's poaches the oysters separately and makes a soup base of butter, minced celery, onion, parsley, S&P, and cayenne cooked together for 25 minutes. Milk and cream are added to the soup base and then the oysters and their poaching liquid. Everything is simmered until just hot. Rich, creamy, and good -- yes. An improvement over the pure white Maryland style stew from childhood memories -- maybe not. But, the big man seemed pretty pleased.
Here's the dish that started the idea. And brought me to my very first (and not so beautiful) poached egg. To make the simple dish stand out I ordered slab bacon from Neuske's -- our favorite brand (and because the Hobb's bacon Thomas Keller favors is near impossible to find) and waited in line for the perfect pain de mie (okay I didn't bake it myself) to serve on the side. To make the dressing I cooked the lardons (slab bacon cut in to sticks about 3/4 inch x 3/4 inch) over medium heat for about 10 minutes to render the fat and crisp the meat. I set the bacon aside for a bit and added 5 tablespoons of the rendered bacon fat to sherry vinegar (2TB), whole grain (1 TB) and Dijon mustards (2 tsp) to make the dressing. While I re-crisped the bacon and reheated the poached egg I tossed the frisée with finely chopped shallot, parsley, chervil, chives and basil (TK uses tarragon but -- well, we grow basil and there was no tarragon at Whole Foods). I added in the hot lardons and dressing, tossed again and served with the gently (but not so beautifully) poached egg on top. His Highness has declared this salad our new Christmas Eve tradition. So much for the Cioppino of years past.
There was another course but we just couldn't budge. So now the Christmas question is "How well does Thomas Keller's Coquille St Jacques freeze?"
Merry Christmas To Me!
Usually when I make spaghetti it's for one or sometimes two servings. I rarely take the time to make an old-time checkered tablecloth red sauce -- the kind of Sunday gravy characters on The Sopranos would eat by the bowlful. But His Highness had a friend coming to dinner and I had to work late so I wanted to be able to walk in and have dinner ready in a jiffy. And, believe it or not, I had a world of leftovers just perfect for a slow cooked sauce.
This dinner is out of order for sure -- and probably for most nights wouldn't be considered a real dinner -- more of a side-dish I guess. I whipped it up one night last week when James wasn't very hungry and time was shorter than usual.
I tend to make this dish after I have had a party where I served dip. I always seem to have more celery sticks than anyone eats -- or than I feel like eating ever, so I pull out this recipe for a warm easy leftover (the oyster party lives on) dinner.
As I was leaving for work, I took a glance around the kitchen and I saw a way to make a ready-to-pop in the oven dinner perfect for a California winter night. I mixed some slightly stale bread cubes with chunks of taleggio cheese (one of those party leftovers I warned you would surface soon), chopped salami (that was down by the Raclette at the party), bits of ham, and sliced endive (I forgot to cut that for the dip). When those ingredients were assembled in the baking dish I poured in 4 eggs whisked with about 2 1/2 cups of milk and cream combined (more leftovers). The finished dish baked, covered in tin foil, for 45 minutes at 375º. Fifteen minutes of assembly and "His Highness" went back for thirds. Not bad
More adventures in crock pot cooking.
Pasta cooking water is often referred to as kitchen gold-- well, at least in our house it is. Warm spaghetti, a few sautéed vegetables or aromatics (or even not), a little cheese, a dollop of the starchy liquid and a pasta sauce is born.








The second Sunday in December -- a holiday tradition.
I can't believe it's happened to me, just when I least expected it, I've become a crock pot cook. A product of the 70' s somehow wrapped up in the Women's Day magazines I read as a child -- those were the days before I discovered Gourmet (sigh -- I can't believe it's gone), getting dinner on the table in a timely manner even if I've been at work all day is a daily accomplishment I relish. And, take on as my solemn obligation.
Pizza is one of our "go-to" options. And James always love its. Since the big man is not such a fan of tomatoes I try to spread around the topping choices -- tonight's effort? Italian salami, red onion, yellow squash, chili flakes, olive oil, mozzarella and for a twist, i the last 5 minutes r so I tossed some shredded radicchio with sweet balsamic vinegar and parmesan and layed it on top to get a bit toasted in the hot oven. Pizza and salad in one. A new favorite.
Okay girls --as they say, you can't win 'em all.
Writing a blog is somewhat like being a radio DJ -- or the way I've imagined being a radio DJ must be. Sending slightly vapid thoughts about the minutia of the day out into the universe wondering (I suppose until the Neilsens come out) if anyone is listening or amused -- and yet I feel a compulsion to complete my daily on-line meals. Sigh.
I'm trying to expand my repertoire of 10 minute dinners. By the time I get home from work His Highness is starving and I'm not feeling at my most imaginative. This simple pork scallopini (James won't even think about eating veal) was a small sidestep from the quick pastas that are usually our dinner in a hurry solution -- and a quick way to use up a fairly affordable "managers special"from the butcher counter. I simply dredged the cutlets in seasoned flour and laid them in hot oil for about 2 minutes per side. When the pork was cooked I added a good bit of butter to the skillet and added in equal parts of red wine vinegar and rinsed capers (we buy ours packed in salt) and cooked while scraping up the brown bits form the bottom of the pan. The pork slices went back in to warm in the sauce, and with roasted potatoes and sauteed broccoli rabe it was a weeknight dinner without spaghetti -- fairly rare these days.
I'm not sure how it happened. I read all the food magazines, flip through "food porn" cookbooks, search out the finest local and seasonal ingredients -- and still, the most school cafeteria of entrées has made regular rotation on our table.
Another easy dish that's good enough for company -- well company that doesn't mind getting messy.
Last night James (well, me too) was so hungry by the time I got home from work, there was no waiting for pictures. So, here is the aftermath of a parmesan made with violet eggplants from our front yard garden (they are still going strong even in November!) and tomatoes we grew and canned over the summer.
I guess you can't have spaghetti every night.
Everyone has little kitchen chores he/ she tries to avoid. I admit it -- I don't like to shuck corn.
Spaghetti everyday and yet we never get tired of it.
By now it's old news that the big man loves bitter greens, what probably isn't as obvious is the effort I make to find new and interesting ways to cook them. While cruising along the internet "tubes" I happened upon a recipe for collard green cobbler -- there's something I hadn't considered.
Late night -- quick and easy dinner.
Is it just too boring that we eat spaghetti so often? Do we eat more pasta than anyone else in the world? Or is spaghetti just the most versatile, comforting, delicious food ever invented?
I'm a sucker for Thomas Keller. I buy his cookbooks (okay . . . James bought them for me), I dream of eating in his restaurants, I cook his recipes at home.
Spaghetti is my everyday fallback position. I can always find something in the house to turn into a credible sauce even if it's just olive oil, garlic, red pepper, and pasta cooking water. A little cheese -- even better.
The other day while reading food magazines at the gym (I know it's perverse but I do it all the time) I saw an article for roasting a butterflied (it's really called spatchcocked for whatever reason I am not sure) turkey. Even though I have done this in the past (usually it's the second turkey on a big Thanksgiving) I suddenly could think of nothing else but roast turkey for dinner. I was probably pushed on a little by a pair of articles in last week's New York Times debating if turkey or the side were the stars of the Thanksgiving table -- But then, as the turkey cooked, I thought maybe Moskin didn’t have it all wrong. While the bird roasted I cut some peeled sweet potatoes into cubes, popped them in a pot of cool water and boiled gently until tender. I mashed those with some cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, butter, vanilla extract and cream. The flavored mashed sweet potatoes went into a small casserole dish and I topped the puree with a mixture of chopped pecans, brown sugar, and butter. I let the
potatoes cook through in the oven at 375º for about half an hour (I would have let it go maybe 15 minutes more but we were hungry and the bird was ready to serve).While the turkey rested I made a quick gravy with pan drippings, flour and white wine instead of the stock or water. I let the gravy, which, dare I say it, James called “exceptional” cook until nicely thick while I put green beans over a pot of boiling water to steam.
Super easy mid-week turkey. Hmm, why don’t people roast turkey more often?
PS: One trick Martha didn’t give her readers was a great way for a quick cooking bird and tasty stuffing. Years ago Cooks Illustrated published a recipe for a butterflied turkey roasted over a pan of stuffing. Prepare the bird as described above, put your favorite stuffing recipe into an oiled roasting pan big enough to support the turkey (CI suggested 12” x 16”) – lay a cooking rack or slotted broiler pan top (I’ve used a wire cooling rack that I use for baked goods) across the pan and place the turkey (skin side up) on the wire rack so he is supported above the stuffing. Brush the turkey with melted butter, S&P, and whatever seasonings you fancy. As your bird roasts the drippings fall down and flavor the stuffing. While the bird rests you pop the stuffing back in to the oven for the crispy edges fans of baked-outside-the-bird stuffing love. The best of both worlds in about an hour and a half.
A couple of you might remember, though I'm not sure why you would, that a few weeks ago I tried a risotto experiment. When I accidentally made risotto for 8 instead of for 4 (that's me, James and lunch the next day) I took half of the half-cooked recipe out of the pan, cooled it on a baking tray, and tossed it in the freezer.
James loves scallops. I love chestnuts. When fall comes around I am constantly looking for an excuse to stir in a few chestnuts. Yes, I usually use vacuum packed chestnuts (except for Christmas eve when I generally try to roast a pan for us to nibble), and yes I could get those any time of year . . . but somehow autumn (into winter) is the only time that seems right. A stab for seasonality in our round the year, ship anything, anytime world.
I have a love hate relationship with Trader Joe's. I love how cheap it is. I hate the parking lot. I love the organic maple syrup and stuffed olives. I hate their pizza dough. Mostly because it's (at least) as good as mine. I hate being shown up by the -- what does Michael Pollan call it . . . "the industrial food complex?" . . . "the military industrial complex?" . . . I hate that anybody's pre-packaged anything is as good (at least) as my home made. I used to make batches of dough and package them in the freezer for unexpected pizza moments. These days -- though I am loathe to admit it -- we usually have a package of Trader Joe's fresh pizza dough (white or garlic herb) in the fridge. The shame of it all. Sigh.