Category Archives: Food

I spent the early-afternoons of many a summer in front of the television, watching the NBC soap opera line-up of ‘Days of Our Lives’, ‘Another World’ and ‘Santa Barbara’. My grandmother had gotten me into ‘Days’ ~ the rest just naturally followed suit. They appealed to my ingrained love for all things dramatic. It also offered a cool respite from the hottest part of the day, and even as a kid I could appreciate the luxury of lounging in air-conditioned splendor, sipping languidly from a tall glass of sweetened iced tea, popping in a raspberry flavored piece of hard candy in-between sips.

These days, I’ve switched from soap operas to Real Housewives, from iced tea to prosecco, but the general idea of summer freedom remains. I paired this bit of bubbly stuff with a bowl of cherries, and it’s my new favorite thing. Sitting by the pool, lazily turning the pages of a book, and letting the day pass blissfully by…

Nobody wants to stand over a hot stove for anything more than ten or fifteen minutes during the warmer months, and that;s about the length of prep and cooking time for this easy summer pasta dish. I’m not going to bother with specifics – you can probably find it online, or Crotchety Carl can figure it out for you. This is just some olive oil, chopped onion, asparagus spears, a dose of prosecco, fresh parsley, then butter and freshly grated parmesan. It’s light, but surprisingly rich. Elegant and decadent. The very best parts of a coming summer. 

(Important recipe note: it is mandatory to drink a glass or two of the prosecco while cooking. It won’t taste as good if you don’t.)

It began with a little poll I posted on Facebook and Twitter:

Risotto in a slow cooker: blasphemy or brilliance?

On Twitter, 47% said it was blasphemy, 53% felt it was brilliance. The results on Facebook were almost diametrically opposite, with the majority considering it sheer blasphemy and extolling the stirring (and wine-sipping) process as an integral part of the whole experience. For the most part, though, it was a pretty even split. The only thing left to do was to try it for myself. I’ve only made risotto in the traditional manner a couple of times, and it was an exhausting, sweaty, and rather stressful experience, wine-sipping be damned. My arm was tired, my outfit was ruined, and it still wasn’t all that. If even a slight approximation could be achieved in a slow cooker, I’d consider it a success.

The initial prep work is similar. In a large frying pan, I sautéed two chopped shallots and a chopped bulb of fennel in ¼ cup oil. (The recipe called for basil oil, but all we had on hand was a wild mushroom and sage oil, so I used that and it worked wonderfully.) After they were soft and translucent, I veered slightly from the listed process and added 1 ½ cups of Arborio rice directly to this, coating the rice and listening for the tell-tale crackle (if you need your aural fix of rice pops, get it now). After the rice was heated and coated with the oil, I added about ¼ cup dry white wine (a Pinot Grigio) and let the rice take some of that in. I poured the whole mixture into the slow cooker and added two tablespoons of butter, stirring it around and coating the rice again. To this I added 4 cups of chicken broth (heated to boiling in the microwave) and another ¼ cup of wine. Then I set it on High for two hours. [Don’t stop reading at this point to run off and make it work – there’s a major caveat coming up.]

Since stirring was of paramount importance in the traditional method of preparation, I did stir the mixture about once every twenty minutes, and this turned out to be a blessing. A little over an hour after it had begun cooking, I went in for another stir and found the rice had soaked up the majority of the liquid and was dangerously close to being done. I sampled it and it was almost perfect – still firm and intact, but not the least bit chalky or overly chewy. I’d caught it just in time. I turned the slow cooker off just as it was going to the dry side. I added a few more tablespoons of the warm stock and wine mixture and stirred it in, along with some freshly-grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese.

It held until company arrived half-an-hour later, at which point we quickly served it up as an appetizer because it simply wouldn’t wait. That tricky timing issue is one reason I don’t do risotto for guests, but the ease of this slow cooker method may mean it’s on our personal dining schedule a bit more often.

I’m told that corned beef and cabbage is a traditional St. Patrick’s Day dish, but I don’t like being traditional so I had this a few weeks ahead of schedule. (People scoffed at the notion of having it outside the safe window of St. Paddy’s Day because no one likes anyone to move into uncharted territory. Not even by a few days.) Too damn bad, I say. And I ate this like a beast. (Extra flavor bonus courtesy of this insanely-good Maine Crafty Ale Mustard, courtesy of Stonewall Kitchen.)

A few mistakes were made in this virgin voyage into corned beef territory. The first and most important lesson I learned, sadly a little too late, was that there’s no need for additional salt in a corned beef dish. Whoopsie daisy. (I’m still bloated.) The second, not as egregious mistake, was adding all the cabbage and potatoes and carrots into the slow cooker at the same time. According to the Martha Stewart recipe I used, the cabbage should be save for the latter part of the cooking process. This was not so bad – I cooked it all to the point that it all kind of blended together in the end. This is not a terribly-refined sort of dish. There’s room for roughness, space for spillover.

There was barely enough for a sandwich the next day – which is the third lesson I learned: the original size is going to shrink down quite a bit, so err on the side of more rather than less when picking out a cut (and go for the flat cut instead of the point – unless you like things really fatty). A next-day sandwich is the best part of this whole deal. The meat is tender enough to melt into whatever you use it for – added to some rye bread, a healthy layer of Thousand Island dressing, and some sauerkraut (used sparingly), it made for a fantastic meal.

My winter obsession with cooking dishes that have some heat to them continues with this post of a Chipotle Chicken Pasta Casserole courtesy of Pati Jinich. A short while ago I tweeted Ms. Jinich for any ideas on what to make with chipotles in adobo sauce and she came up with a trio of dishes – for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The Senor Breakfast sandwich was an instant success (and I’ve made it a few times since then). Her recommendation for lunch was this Chipotle Chicken Pasta Casserole, recipe here. 

It’s a little more involved than I’m accustomed to making, but Ms. Jinich makes it doable and user-friendly enough even for someone like me. It begins with tomatoes and onion, which get cooked and blended with chipotles and adobo sauce to form a pungent sauce. Chicken thighs get browned in oil, then the dry pasta itself gets fried – an interesting twist that lends color and flavor and a delicious toasty smell to the proceedings. 

Once fried, the pasta then cooks in the sauce and some additional chicken broth, at the end of which it becomes a perfectly-rendered consistency and firmness. The chicken gets nestled back into the casserole dish, your choice of cheeses is added to the top, and it goes into the oven to slightly solidify. 

After it’s cooled for a bit, the all-important garnishes come into play – in this case some avocado slices, sour cream, and cilantro leaves for color. This casserole is so full of flavor, however, you need not indulge in anything other than the basic ingredients – they come together that beautifully. 

Many thanks to Ms. Jinich for pointing me in the direction of all these chipotle recipes. If I’m feeling especially brave, I may have to give her dinner recommendation a whirl: Honey Chipotle Ribs. 

As for this casserole, it’s perfect for a cold winter day, hearty and scrumptious and rich. Confession: I ate it for lunch, then dinner, and then again for breakfast the next morning. It’s that good. 

When I was a kid, our family always went to the Ko’s for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and everyone would come to our house for New Year’s Day. It was an odd holiday – sort of a throwaway day that fell at the end of Christmas break – but my family hosted it religiously, and my Mom’s side always attended no matter how rough the weather. At those New Year’s gatherings, at least in the first few years that I remember, there was always some sort of sterno or fondue dish that required heating to keep it warm. We’d eat whatever good thing was in it using cocktail toothpicks, assembling a little collection of goodies on small paper plates and square cocktail napkins, the kind that didn’t absorb anything and were just thin paper underneath it all. While the food was good, it was the precious serving process that appealed to me, and that retro throwback of the chafing dish.

In recent years, I’ve started a new tradition around New Year’s involving fondue. It’s returned in some fashionable circles, and when done properly it’s a delicious hoot – perfect for small parties when you want something to do prior to dinner. Suzie and her family joined us for fondue the other day; we’d recently returned their fondue pot (a wedding gift that Suzie had loaned to us and never bothered picking up again) since Andy got me an electric one for Christmas. It worked like a charm, heating up almost instantly, then keeping things at the proper temperature throughout the evening.

I made a simple cheese fondue – lots of gruyere and swiss cheese – both freshly grated by my own hands, thank you very much – along with a Pinot Grigio. Any good dry white will work – though I was warned to stay away from Chardonnay as that overpowers the cheese. I rubbed the inside of the fondue pot with a clove of garlic, added a few teaspoons of corn starch to the cheese, and once the wine was bubbling slowly stirred it all together. It coalesced beautifully, and in quick fashion. I added a couple tablespoons of kirsch and it was complete.

The kids wanted it to be chocolate, but we’re not there yet. Baby steps.

The less said about this cold snap, the better. 

The less said about this wind, the better.

The less said about the early days of this winter, the better.

Instead, I’ll focus on what we do when the world turns too cold to enter. In my case, it was a day of cooking and lounging, with quick excursions just to pick up some fresh mint and bread. One of the best meals I’ve found for a cold day is the shakshuka you see being assembled here. I’ve already extolled its virtues here, so I won’t repeat what a treat it is, but I’ll reiterate what a simple but powerful dish this is. The smoky spices lend an added heat to the proceedings, which is perfect for such a frigid day. 

To counterbalance this, and the early staleness of a winter that’s only just begun, there is a plentiful heaping of fresh herbs, including that aforementioned mint. Coupled with cilantro and parsley, it’s a bold bit of green freshness that proves itself more important than just a pretty topping. That’s something I’ve only learned in the last year or two. I used to think of fresh herbs and dollops of sour cream as rather precious and ultimately unnecessary accoutrements; in fact, they are integral to most dishes. Forget that sprig of parsley that we were raised on in American restaurants. This is so much more. 

So much of cooking is in the details, and I’m just beginning to learn that. Luckily, it’s never too late to get better at something, and to better yourself. So I chop up my herbs, I sprinkle my salt flowers, and I toast the bread, brush it with olive oil, and toast it slightly again. There’s nothing precious about it when the results taste so good. On a winter day, there’s a beauty to all of that. 

Outside, the wind raged. The snow drifted in cruel and vicious fashion. Inside, the oven glowed. When the eggs were finished I left the oven door open to seep into the rest of the house. It was a cozy day. 

My obsession with all things CreateTV continues with this post on the fantastic host of ‘Pati’s Mexican Table – Ms. Pati Jinich herself. Because of her, I keep a bowl of avocados on the kitchen table and now a stash of chipotle peppers (in adobo sauce) piled in the cupboard. Better than that, however, is the indefatigable spirit she puts forth on her show (available on Amazon as well). That spirit and grace is like a balm in these crazy times. I can’t tell you how many hours Create has spared me from watching the news – and it’s proved far more valuable in ways both practical and spiritual. Such as the Senor Breakfast Sandwich that Ms. Jinich personally recommended for my first time at the chipotle rodeo, and seen in these photos.

On a frigid morning right before the turn of the year, I stumbled into the kitchen looking for something hearty and warm, with a little extra kick to get me going. This breakfast sandwich, seen on Pati’s site here, was the perfect item. While I’ve always been a big bechamel fan, it was usually of eating them, not making them. This version used the chipotles in the sauce, and that made it infinitely more interesting. It was also super easy. While the sauce was coming together, I turned on the oven and began the sandwich assembly line. At this time of the year we have baked ham overflowing from the fridge, so I used two thin slices of that (so much better than anything found in the deli), then substituted Muenster cheese for the elusive Oaxaca. I added the bechamel and into the oven it went. A couple of quick fried eggs, some avocado, and a sprinkling of salt flowers later, and the sandwich was complete.

The taste that results from such a simple recipe is nothing short of astounding, and while I’ve never been a prodigy in the kitchen, this was definitely a showstopper. And so easy! I’m still in awe that such a thing of delicious beauty came out of our oven.

As for ‘Pati’s Mexican Table‘ I highly suggest you give it a viewing if you need an escape, a delectable recipe, or simply a friendly smile. Her enthusiasm for family, food and friends is absolutely infectious, and her passion for cooking is a joy to behold. On to my next chipotle adventure…

Who cares about the soul when your stomach is the one that’s growling? You’ve got to feed your body before you can feed your heart and mind. Even babies know this. Thankfully it’s soup season, and I’ve got the burner ready and the holy trinity chopped. Toss in some cheap chicken parts (bones intact) and you’ve got yourself a meal. I’ve been a homemade soup convert for several years – the ones you get in a can are too filled with unnecessary sodium and soggy noodles or rice. Try it on your own once or twice and you’ll make the switch too. (A hint from Lidia Bastianich on how to thicken soups: use leftover stale bread and pound it into a powder, then add to any soup for a thicker broth.)

When browsing the Asian Supermarket the other day, I came upon a quartet of duck eggs that I quickly snatched up and put into Andy’s shopping basket. (Hey, I did my part in carrying the 25-lb bag of jasmine rice, thank you.) Since happening upon a dish that utilized a fried duck egg, I’ve been on a subconscious hunt for them. Their richness is intoxicating, their yolks the stuff of sunny golden legend. They’re also a bit bigger than the average chicken egg, which surprises some people. Personally, I’ve never compared a chicken to a duck, and I have no plans to do so in the near or far future. I’m just glad I found a few of the unfertilized quackers for this culinary experiment.

When one needs inspiration on how best to make use of an ingredient, one cannot do any better than taking the advice of the guy who runs dp: an American Brasserie in Albany. It’s one of our favorite restaurants, so when Dominick suggested I make a Shakshuka with the duck eggs, I thrilled at the idea, then promptly looked it up online. I’m incredibly thankful I did.

Opting for this version from the New York Times (but omitting the feta cheese because I wanted my first time to be more simple), I assembled the simple recipe starting with an onion and green pepper. It seems that one of the tricks is to saute them for a good 15 to 20 minutes, until they just begin to brown, and not stirring them much. A little burn on the veggies only adds to the flavor that will later be brought out by some of the spices (and another recipe I found suggests a heavier browning on all sides). Before things got too crazy, I parted the veggies and let the garlic do a quick mellowing in a hot spot. To this, I added the spices – (using smoked paprika instead of sweet), cumin, and cayenne pepper. This trio is key to the whole affair – that smoked paprika really brings out the browning. Once things were nicely blended, and the aroma turned heavenly, I added a can of tomatoes and simmered for another fifteen minutes until everything thickened.

Carving out pockets in the sauce for their placement, I added the duck eggs (and a standard chicken egg or two to compare and contrast) and let them simmer a bit before putting into the oven to finish up. They firmed up perfectly, with just enough runniness left in the yolks to spill out later on – my favorite part of any egg dish. Topped with freshly-chopped parsley, cilantro and mint (the latter lending it exquisite vibrancy), it was ready to be served. I took a bite with a bit of bread and my tongue had an instant orgasm. Try it and see.

It’s one of those places I pass en route somewhere else, in the go-through walkways linking Copley Place Mall with the Westin Hotel. When planned correctly, it’s possible to walk a great length in such covered fashion – a gift in the colder months of the year (and the hotter ones too). On this day that bled into evening, it was a way of escaping the rain and storms, which came hard and heavy in my last hours in Boston.

We’d had a filling lunch on Newbury earlier, so I just wanted something light, and I recalled a little place where they served Japanese hotpot dishes, but also some sushi. As the rain pounded down upon the windows, I sidled up to the bar and ordered two rolls – a Spicy Tuna and a Golden Lotus. I don’t even remember what the latter was about, only that it tasted good.

A rainy dinner, secluded from the bustle of the city, safe from the driving wind and wet, was the perfect ending to a brief Boston stay.

This simple summer dish has a secret ingredient that more people need to know about: white balsamic vinegar. Coupled with a drizzle of olive oil (extra virgin, no sluts), some freshly ground pepper, a bit of sea salt, and topped with some lightly-toasted almond slices, it’s a glorious taste of the season. I garnished the plate with some herbs from the garden, but used them for scent and sight only: the vinegar, oil and tomatoes deserve to stand alone.

Summer demands such simple pleasures, and this one involves little to no work. My kind of dish.