Week 1 of the Sport Hill Farm CSA

Nicole and I decided to invest in a farm this year, support local organic produce via a CSA, or community supported agriculture, so we signed on with Sport Hill Farm in Easton.  For the next 21 weeks we'll eat what the farm provides, although truthfully we'll need to supplement some because one basket a week isn't quite enough produce for our growing family.  But the idea in doing this was to learn to work with what is available seasonally in our land of southwestern Connecticut. We'll try to utilize the vegetables in such a way that we need not mix them up with other produce from, say, California or something.  Seems like it would kind of defeat the point of highlighting local agriculture to adulterate it with too much non local stuff, but I won't make any promises yet.

When we got our first haul Friday afternoon, the stuff looked impeccable.  Verdant, healthy greens without a lot of blemishes or wear and tear that might occur if it was being trucked in from far away.  We knew in advance what we'd be getting, so we had time to think of some dishes to use.  Some of the things were new to us, so we had to take the farm's advice on how to eat them, as well as doing research online.

We had 1 head of oakleaf lettuce, 1 head of red romaine, 1 napa cabbage, 1 bunch of dandelion greens, 1 bunch of spigariello and a bag filled with bok choy.

First up Friday night we tried the dandelion greens and the spigariello.  The latter is in the broccoli family, and has a mild flavor of broccoli with the texture of the little green leaves that sometimes come on broccoli stalks familiar in grocery stores.  We cooked the dandelion greens with some sweet onions in butter to counter their natural bitterness, and then we cooked the spigariello with garlic and some spicy chorizo in olive oil.  Even though dandelion greens are considered bitter, they are pretty mild in flavor, and they become tender easily, though the stalks retain a nice crunch even after 5-10 minutes of cooking.  The spigariello wilts easily but has a nice texture, reminiscent to me of collard greens.

For sauteed dandelion greens, simply cut 1 bunch of them into strips crosswise while you heat 2 tablespoons of butter over medium low heat in a frying pan.  Slice a medium onion into thin strips and saute in the butter until soft and beginning to caramelize, about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Add the greens and toss in the pan to coat with the butter and wilt.  Season with some salt and add about a quarter cup of water or stock to the pan to help steam them, then cover and let cook for about five minutes.  Season to taste with salt and serve.

For the spigariello, take the leaves and cut the stalks out because they can be tough.  Heat two tablespoons of olive oil over medium high heat and when shimmering add 2 links of chorizo sliced into half inch rounds.  Cook, tossing occasionally, until the chorizo is browned and has exuded some of its fat.  If there's too much fat in the pan, drain some off.  Add 1 clove of thinly sliced garlic and let cook for one minute, then add the spigariello and toss to allow it to begin wilting.  After a couple minutes add about a quarter cup of water or stock and cover, allowing it to steam for five minutes or so to get tender.  Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve.

Saturday we had company for wood fired pizza, and we used the two lettuces, oakleaf and red romaine, in the best way I know how; simply tossed with good olive oil and sea salt.  The oakleaf is like bib lettuce, very tender and buttery, but a little more curly and I think even better.  The romaine has a familiar texture, and dressed with just a little bit of fresh tasting olive oil allows you to really enjoy them as simple as they are.

The napa cabbage was a no brainer for us, coleslaw all the way.  It's more leafy than the firm cabbage most often used for the summery side dish, but it works.  We used Sport Hill's own recipe for slaw dressing and doctored it up a bit.  Take 1 head of  napa cabbage and shred it or cut it into thin slices.  In a mason jar place 1/2 cup of mayonnaise, 1/4 cup olive oil, 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar, 1 tablespoon celery seed, 1-2 tablespoons good brown mustard, 1 teaspoon raw agave nectar and a few pinches of salt.  Shake to combine, then toss the cabbage with it.  Refrigerate for at least an hour and serve.

Finally, we had the bok choy, and it was Monday.  Only Monday...we'd need to go 3 days without more Sport Hill produce until the next bounty, oh well.  Since we got the basket I was thinking of some won ton wrappers I had in the fridge.  So I decided to do pot stickers, or Chinese steamed dumplings with pork and bok choy in them.  It was a bit ambitious on a Monday night after work with the two boys needing dinner and baths and play time, etc., but we made it work.

The cooked bok choy was chopped and mixed with ground pork and seasonings like scallion and ginger, then wrapped up and steamed/sauteed.  Not quite as good as tasty as Chinese takeout let's say, but it definitely had a fresher appeal.

To prepare the pot stickers, blanch 1 bunch bok choy leaves and stalks for two minutes in boiling water, then shock in an ice bath, drain.  Squeeze and press in the best way you know how to get as much liquid out as possible.  Chop it up into pretty small pieces.

Mix 1 lb. of ground pork in a bowl with 1 tablespoon of finely chopped fresh ginger, 2 chopped scallions, 2 teaspoons rice vinegar, 1 tablespoon of soy sauce, and salt to taste.  Mix in the bok choy and then assemble the dumplings by placing tablespoons of the meat mixture on the won ton wrappers, wetting the edges and then sealing them.

Heat 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil over medium high heat in a frying pan and when shimmering add the dumplings, and let brown for 2 minutes without disturbing.  Then add enough water or stock to a depth of about 1/4 inch, turn the heat down to medium low and cover.  Let them cook for 5 minutes or so, then remove the lid and let the water evaporate.  Serve with soy sauce with a little rice vinegar mixed in.

Week one in the books, looking forward to this Friday to see what's next!

Pasta alla Norma

I often think of Sicily, though I've never been there.  From scenes of Corleone in the Godfathers (scenes I think were actually shot in Savoca on the other side of the island), to books on the burgeoning scene of reactionary wine makers going back to contadino roots, I really want make a trip of it some day.  For now though, I keep reading up and drinking the island's biodynamic wines, allowing me to sip what Sicily might taste and smell like, now or 50 years ago.

Norma's pasta is comprised of elements you'd find from Rome to Tunisia, but in the romantic way Italians like to identify time honored dishes, it's an ode to Bellini's heroine from the opera of the same name.  I won't pretend to know much about that though. I used to think it was called pasta all nonna (grandmother), which would have probably had a nicer back story for me, but maybe some day I'll be more into opera.    

Anyway, something kind of wonderful happens when the strands of pasta, just thinly coated with tomato in my version, dance in your mouth with the bitter/sweet fried eggplant and the bold creaminess of good ricotta salata, or fresh feta, which I used.

My advice would be to get smaller eggplants, Japanese, graffiti, something without too many seeds.  And, for me at least, good ricotta salata can be hard to come by around the shire...the brands I often find are chalky and dry, not akin to my fond recollections of what it should be, which is a little moist and not too crumbly.  So I opted for a fresh goat's milk feta recently, which I thought worked beautifully; tangy and salty, a little going a long way.  Look for fresh stuff, often packaged in brine.

Fry eggplant, 3 smallish ones, in the usual way: cut them, skin on, into 1 inch cubes, toss with an abundant amount of salt, and lay them out on something perforated, or in a colander, for instance, for 45-90 minutes so that some of the brown water drains out.  Then rinse them with cold water and pat dry to eradicate any excess liquid.  Heat 1 1/2 to 2 inches of frying oil of your choice in a heavy pot, and fry the eggplant, in batches, until golden brown, then drain on absorbent paper.  You shouldn't need to salt them since they retain some from the initial salting, but season as you feel necessary.

Make a quick tomato sauce by sauteing 2 medium cloves of garlic, thinly sliced or minced, in abundant olive oil (I don't know a measurement, so I'll say like 4 full gyrations of the bottle into the fry pan) with a few pinches of hot pepper flakes, and before the cloves even begin to brown, add 1 32 oz. can San Marzano tomatoes, by hand, separating the whole pieces and breaking them up, reserving the excess liquid.  If you like a saucy sauce, something that will coat the pasta to a degree beyond salad dressing to greens, then add the tomato liquid previously reserved (remember though that you can increase sauciness at the end of the dish with pasta water).  This only needs to cook 15-20 minutes, then season to taste with salt, and pepper if you like.

Cook 1 lb. of pasta in well salted water (almost any kind of dried pasta will work except for really small shapes), and when al dente, toss in the pan in which you made the sauce, or in a serving bowl to coat, adding pasta water if necessary, for the right consistency.  Throw in a good handful of fresh basil, torn by hand, and some glugs of extra virgin olive oil for good measure.  Then either gently fold the delicate eggplant into the pasta, or just serve it atop each plating, allowing the diners to mix it in themselves.  Grate or crumble ricotta salata or feta on top and serve.

Thinking About Nusco: White Bean & Escarole Soup with Spicy Polenta

I often think about my stint at La Locanda di Bu...It was this exact time of year in 2005, days after I'd rung in the new year back home in the States.  Jetted off to Italy, right into my first "stage" in a town I had never heard of before, some damn place about sixty miles due east of Napoli.  Little did I know that the hills of Irpinia, on which the little hamlet of Nusco is perched, are nothing like the sunny and palm tree replete scenery of the coast.  To be fair it was winter when I arrived, and apparently the worst one in fifty years for Europe.  It snowed pretty much every week of January and February, making it impossible for patrons to undertake the hike required to come from more populated places to the little forty seater Chef/Owner Antonio Pisaniello runs.   

Being snowed in with nowhere to go more often than not, coupled with my work for food and board arrangement, not much else to do but be in the kitchen.  It was tough to be so isolated, lacking the freedom of movement I am so used to back home, and I never got used to it.  An overnight to Rome between storms seemed like an escape from prison.  But the experience was a good one, mostly in hindsight; incredibly fruitful in learning about the kitchen, the principles of that area's cooking, and southern Italian culture.  I realize now how fortunate I am to have done that in my lifetime, because it was a profound experience, something I'll never forget. 

Toward the end of my Winter in Nusco, all of us from La Locanda went up to Rome, paid for by wine producer Mastroberardino, to cater a wine and dine event showcasing what Irpinia had to offer in those respects.  We were set up at the Cittá del Gusto, which is a big event center run by Gambero Rosso, who, in Italy, is the equivalent of Zagat, Bon Appétit and Wine Spectator rolled into one.

The dish I am talking about here was our restaurant's primo course for the evening.  It was an interesting concept because polenta is not historically a part of southern Italian food.  But it was signature Locanda di Bu in the application of the ingredients, the simplicity but expert marriage of flavors and textures.  Despite not requiring any serious technique, it does involve several steps and separate elements eventually brought together, but it is easily manageable.            

        

'Tonino is a great chef; creative, ballsy and deeply connected to the land from which he derives his cuisine.  What strikes me about his dishes is the paucity of ingredients he uses.  When you get things like ridiculously fresh mozzarella and ricotta, animals raised by people you know personally and produce that's almost exclusively local, it makes so much sense.  But we urbanites and suburbanites here have access to increasingly good products, so we can come close with the right amount of restraint and technique to create dishes that are almost as satisfying.

Chef and I had our differences, stemming primarily from my lack of credentials in the kitchen and my culture shock, but toward the end of the experience I was able to show him that I had absorbed a lot of what I was immersed in.

The recipe from bonappetit.com

Notes on the recipe: I feel fairly certain that when we executed this dish in Rome the beans were completely pureed.  That will yield something like the picture above, but you can partially puree or not puree anything, as the linked recipe suggests.  Whatever you do with the beans, keep the escarole in whole form.    

As for the polenta, in Italy we used and the recipe calls for the instant kind.  I almost never use it, just because.  Real polenta will take significantly longer than the five minute instant kind, but don't be fooled into the myth that it needs to be stirred incessantly like the rice in risotto.  In fact, once you've whisked the cornmeal into the liquid and prevented lumps from forming, just leave it be on the lowest heat setting you can, adding and stirring a ladle of liquid in every ten minutes or so, and let it go.  It can stay like that for an hour or three hours without any problems, in the background while you do other things.  Just make some extra prosciutto broth the recipe calls for.   

Age Old Cure For Cauliflower Ear: Cauli Soup

I'm big on what I consider "essence" soups...derived from few ingredients, intended to let the natural flavor of the primary element shine through.  When designed around vegetables, it usually means cooking with dry heat to concentrate flavors, then liquefying with mild vegetable stock, and pureeing to finish so as to give the impression of a cream without actually adding any dairy. 

In this recipe it's the mild but distinct flavor of cauliflower, with a small amount of potato added for body, along with an apple thrown in for a just discernible touch of sweetness.  Whereas you could take it to another level with some spices reminiscent of faraway lands, or some actual cream, I like the close-to-the-earth simplicity of this method.  I do often garnish such soups with some game changer though, like polenta croutons with squash soup, and in this case I used some American bacon.  It obviously tastes good, but I suggest having a light hand with it, otherwise the abundant flavor will mute the delicate cauli it's really all about.  Try some nice crusty bread though since this is a full bodied recipe and requires some zopping.  You'll probably find the consistency is quite hearty per this recipe, so it can easily double as a sauce served with a protein for a complete meal.        

  

Ingredients:

2 medium heads cauliflower

1 onion

1 apple (granny smith or something good for baking)

1 lb. potatoes

3-4 sprigs fresh thyme

About 2 liters vegetable stock, recipe follows

Extra virgin olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

Optional: 1/2 lb. bacon, cooked and roughly chopped

Preheat the oven to 400 F.  Heat the vegetable stock to a simmer in a pot.

Trim the green stalks and leaves off the cauliflower, then roughly chop the florets and hearts into pieces and place in a large mixing bowl big enough for it, the onion and the apple.  Cut the onion into segments and add to the bowl, along with the apple, peeled, cored and roughly cut into segments.

 Toss in a bowl with enough olive oil to coat and salt and pepper to taste.  Turn out onto baking sheet(s) in an even layer without overcrowding, and cook in the oven 30 minutes, until the edges of the cauliflower are brown and everything is tender.

Peel the potatoes and cut into 1/2" dice.  Heat olive oil to coat the bottom of a medium or large saucepan over medium high heat.  When the oil shimmers, add the potatoes and 1/2 the thyme leaves, and let cook a couple minutes to release the fragrance of the thyme. 

Add the ingredients from the baking sheets and then begin ladling stock to just cover everything.  Cook about 10 minutes at a gentle boil, or until the potatoes are tender.  

Transfer everything to a blender, in batches if necessary, and puree, adding stock as needed to achieve the desired consistency.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Return the puree to the saucepan and heat through.  Serve with some fresh thyme leaves for garnish, some crusty bread and/or pieces of bacon.

Vegetable Stock:
1 onion, peeled and quartered
2 ribs celery, cut into a couple pieces each
2 carrots, peeled and cut into a couple pieces each
A few whole peppercorns
Salt to taste

Place the vegetables and peppercorns in a large pot and fill almost to the rim with water. Bring just to a boil, then lower to a gentle simmer. Let it cook an hour, more if you'd like, then season to taste with salt. Can be stored several weeks in a refrigerator or several months in a freezer.

Autumnal Sunday Dinner: Pork Shoulder Porchettata

I know it seems like whenever I propose a meat dish, it's something involving pork shoulder.  But I don't think I'm getting repetitive yet, so I'll keep going.  I'll take slow cooked pork cuts like belly and shoulder over a beef steak six days out of seven.  In so doing I pay $4.99 to $6.99 a pound or so instead of $15.99 to $19.99 a pound to feed myself and others, and enjoy the layers of flavor from slow cooking.  I actually worry now that "lesser cuts" like pork belly and shoulder and beef short ribs are becoming the in meats such that their prices will skyrocket as consumers demand more of them and leave loins and steaks on the shelves.  We'll see.

I've already gone into what porchetta means to me and along that train of thought this is a dish that feels right in the first chills of Autumn...aromatically roasted meat, vegetables cooked underneath so as to gather the drippings and obtain wonderfully browned edges.  "Porchettata" meaning in the way of porchetta, involving fennel and garlic.  I threw in some grapes to this recipe, befitting harvest time in wine countries everywhere, and cooked with the whole they added a welcome sweetness and acidity to the sauce derived from the bottom of the pan.  The sauce is the culmination of the roasted vegetables and what they catch from the meat as it oozes fat and juices that carry the seasonings with them.  

For the Meat:
1 4 lb. pork shoulder, butterflied by your butcher if possible, otherwise directions below
1 teaspoon fennel pollen or fennel seeds
1 teaspoon black pepper corns
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
2 medium cloves garlic
2 sprigs rosemary
1 tablespoon salt
1-2 tablespoons white wine
Baker's twine

For the Vegetables/Sauce:
2 onions, peeled and cut into eighths
2 lbs. carrots, peeled and cut into 2 inch segments
1 lb. celery, cut into 2 inch segments
2 lbs. potatoes - fingerling, red, yukons, whichever you prefer for roasting, partially peeled and cut into pieces equivalent to the other vegetables
1 lb. grapes, preferably seedless - can be wine grapes or table grapes
2 sprigs of rosemary
2 cups or so stock, plus another 2 or so for the sauce (recipe for veg stock below, or use a good meat stock, homemade if possible!)
1 cup or so white wine
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Salt and pepper to taste

To butterfly the meat yourself, get a very sharp knife, preferably one for filleting, and make an incision about an inch above the surface you're cutting on from one end of the piece of meat to the other, about an inch deep.  You want to basically unfurl this hunk of meat into a slab, so continue to slice across the piece of meat from that first cut while pulling the rest away from you as you'd unroll a rug.  What you should end up with is a rectangular slab of meat, roughly an inch thickness at every part.  It's ok if there are areas thicker or thinner, even some holes are fine.  You can pound the meat if you'd like to make it more uniform and/or tenderize, but it's not imperative.

Make the paste by grinding the rest of the meat ingredients except the wine in a spice grinder.  Then

mix in a bowl with the wine to form a
rough paste.  Take the paste and smear it all over the surface of the meat, covering as much as possible.

No need to massage or really work it in, although you could and let it marinate overnight.  Roll the meat up and tie off every couple inches with twine to secure it like a jelly roll.  Season the outside liberally with salt and pepper.

Preheat a convection oven to 275° F or a conventional oven to 300° F. 

Place the carrots, celery, onions, grapes and rosemary in the bottom of a deep and heavy roasting pan, season with salt and pepper, and toss with olive oil to coat.  Add enough stock and wine to cover the bottom of the pan and come maybe half way up the vegetables.  Place the meat on a rack suspended above the vegetables if possible.  Otherwise just rest it on top.

Roast in the oven 2-2 1/2 hours, then remove from the oven and add the potatoes, and a little stock if the pan is dry (it's ok if in the first couple hours the liquid evaporates and there's deep coloration, that'll be good for flavor and the sauce).  

Continue to cook another hour, then remove the meat from the pan (it should be nicely browned, fat cap crispy).  Tenting will take some crispiness away from the outside edges, but it's good if you're not serving the meat immediately.

Remove all the potatoes and some of the vegetables and grapes from the pan (enough to make a contorno for everyone).  Then place the roasting pan over a burner at medium high heat until the juices begin to sizzle.  Add some stock to deglaze, and using a spoon, loosen up all the browned bits stuck to the bottom and sides.

Transfer the contents to a blender and puree, adding stock to your preference to achieve the desired consistency.  Place back in a saucepan to heat through for serving. 

Slice the meat into half inch thick pieces and serve over a bed of puree, with the potatoes and vegetables on the side. 

Vegetable Stock:
1 onion, peeled and quartered
2 ribs celery, cut into a couple pieces each
2 carrots, peeled and cut into a couple pieces each
A few whole peppercorns
Salt to taste

Place the vegetables and peppercorns in a large pot and fill almost to the rim with water.  Bring just to a boil, then lower to a gentle simmer.  Let it cook an hour, more if you'd like, then season to taste with salt.  Can be stored several weeks in a refrigerator or several months in a freezer.

Stretching Leftovers Into Week Two (Maybe): Arancini

At the Zeoli household when risotto is made there are inevitable leftovers in significant quantity...even chipped away at for days afterward, a good portion remains.  Still perfectly serviceable, this aged food is often taken for granted, pushed further and further to the back of the fridge to may way for fresher things.  But there's a much better end to risotto's life cycle and it involves a pretty quick treatment, virtually reinventing and assuring it gets eaten quickly.

Arancini mean little oranges, so called because they are the shape, size and color of the fruit that drop from tress along sidewalks of many warm European cities...perhaps planted for the bonus effect of preventing scurvy among the gypsy population.  In Sicilian tradition they are filled with meat ragu and mozzarella.  In Rome they're called suppli, and more often than not shaped like croquettes, filled with prosciutto, mozz and peas.

I say maybe they'll last into week two in the title because breaded fried foods seem to trigger a human impulse to continue eating beyond normal satiation, so once made these may not last long at all.  So even though these are quite satisfying and not exactly light, I find that I can just keep eating them, knowing they don't get better than a minute or two out of the hot oil.

The batch of risotto which we used to make the balls pictured here was a simple one of grape tomatoes and mozzarella, basically a risotto "caprese".  Conveniently, the mozzarella was already there for us, and the tomatoes added a nice touch of sweet and tart to the end result.

Fried rice balls can really be made with any type of risotto I can think of, as long as, after sitting several hours or overnight, it becomes tight and easy to mold.  You can simply take the leftovers, form them and fry, or you can stuff them with new ingredients like melty cheese, meats, etc.  Even a seafood risotto would make for some good arancini, for instance.    

Not that there's a law I know of stating fried rice balls must be made from a batch of risotto previously consumed in original form...arancini can be the intended result from the beginning, just give the rice several hours in the fridge to firm up after initial cooking.  You can also do this with farrotto, or farro cooked in the method of risotto, for an earthier and healthier rendition.  

Ingredients:

A portion of risotto already made (at least 2 cups worth of leftovers I'd say)
Optional: favorite cheese to stuff the balls with, preferable one that melts well, as well as diced prosciutto, ham, bacon, etc. or leftover meat sauce
Bread Crumbs: for 2 cups of risotto, 1 cup bread crumbs and go from there
Eggs: for 2 cups of risotto, 2 eggs and go from there
1/2 to 1 liter oil for frying
Salt to taste

Take the risotto straight from the fridge and form into balls; the size of a clementine or small orange works well.  If you're stuffing them, take your finger and press into the ball, making an indentation in which to place stuffing, then close the ball up around it.  Dip the balls into the egg wash to coat, draining excess, then roll around in the bread crumbs.  Set aside on a sheet tray until all the risotto is used up.

Heat the oil in a heavy bottom pot to 375° F or until a small bit of the risotto sizzles and floats to the surface.  There should be enough oil to cover the balls by 2/3 at least.  Gently place the arancini in the oil, a few at a time so as not to overcrowd the pot, and fry, turning once or twice for even cooking, about 5 minutes overall.  Drain to a sheet pan with absorbent paper and season with salt.

Serve immediately and watch them disappear.

Quick Dins: Sea Scallops Over Tomato Relish

Quick meal, nutritious, summery...just what's needed sometimes.  Sweet, tender scallops atop a fine dice of roasted plum tomatoes seasoned with the "aroma" of garlic but mainly left to their natural sweetness derived from dry heat.  This would probably work as well as an app or tapa as it does an entree, since it lacks a little bit of carb component, but you can get creative on that.  The tomatoes can be made a day in advance or so and probably improve for it.  Once you have them relished like this, you'll see they're good underneath or on top of a lot of things.    

Ingredients For 2

1 lb. sea scallops (little membranes on the sides removed if not done by fishmonger)
3 lbs. plum tomatoes
Extra virgin olive oil
3-4 cloves of garlic, smashed
2 tablespoons white wine
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste
Couple sprigs fresh thyme
Optional: aged balsamic for garnish
Basil to garnish

Preheat an oven to 350.  Slice the tomatoes in half, then remove the seeds and inner flesh.  Place all the scooped out halves in a mixing bowl, and toss with the thyme sprigs, wine, vinegar and enough olive oil to coat nicely. Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Drizzle some olive oil on a couple large baking sheets, then place the tomatoes on, cut sides down.  Arrange the smashed garlic on the pans and bake for an hour.  Let them cool to room temperature once out of the oven, then remove the tomato skins, which should come off easily.

Dice the tomatoes finely and try to keep them uniform in size.

Season the scallops with salt and pepper.  Heat a frying pan over medium high to high heat and add just a little oil to coat the pan.  When it smokes, add the scallops in one even layer, not over crowding the pan.  Cook in a couple batches if necessary.  Cook about two minutes per side, until there is a nice brown crust on each, and they turn from translucent to opaque.

Serve the scallops over the relish with some basil leaves and a conservative drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and aged balsamic if you like.

Summery Corn Risotto with a Dash of Pancetta & Fennel

Why eat carbs with carbs, like rice with corn?  Or pizza with potato?  Because who's really counting if it tastes good?  Sweet corn, even local, is around early in the Summer now, and when it's good I walk an ever thinner line of under cooking so as not to mess with it, just something so I can say it's not completely raw.  Here it's just barely altered at the end of the risotto cooking process, staying crunchy and accented by the familiar flavor of butter, like the stick of which I used to roll ears in growing up.  

The addition of the sauteed fennel and pancetta is optional...what I like is that anise complexity of fennel quickly sauteed yet still sort of crunchy, and the porcine salinity of unsmoked pancetta.  I think they play well off the buttery, sweet corn and the creamy rice. 

You don't necessarily need a rich broth or stock with which to craft fine risotto, water itself is a perfectly good vehicle.  When I made this I had a rind of parm leftover, so I put it in my simmering water shortly before I began the risotto process, to good effect. 

2 cups Carnaroli, Vialone Nano or Arborio rice

1/2 cup dry white wine

2 ears of sweet corn, kernels cut off

1 head of fennel, medium diced

1/4 lb. pancetta, medium diced

1 liter water or stock

optional: Parmigiano Reggiano or Grana Padano rind to flavor broth

1 small onion, finely diced

Salt and Pepper to taste

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, plus 2 for the pancetta and fennel

2-3 tablespoons butter cut into 1/2 inch or so cubes

Parmigiano Reggiano to taste

Handful of fresh parsley, roughly chopped

Bring the water (rind or not) or stock to a boil, then let it simmer.  Season, if need be, so it's very mildly salty. 

Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat in a saute pan, and add the pancetta while the pan is still heating up.  Allow the pancetta to render some of its fat and when it begins to brown, add the fennel and raise the heat to high.  Cook, tossing or mixing occasionally, for about 5 minutes or until the fennel has taken on some color and is soft but not mushy, and the pancetta slightly crispy.  Remove from heat and set aside. 

Heat the remaining olive oil over medium heat and when it shimmers add the onion, sweating for a couple minutes until translucent, then add the rice.  Cook it, stirring frequently, until it begins to brown ever so slightly, mindful not to let the onions burn.  At this point add the wine, letting it almost completely dissolve, then begin adding ladles of broth to just cover the rice.  Stir or shake the pan occasionally, adding more liquid when it looks like it needs it. 

Check for doneness at around 20 minutes, and assuming it's close, add the raw corn kernels to the risotto.  When the rice is pleasantly al dente, turn off the heat and stir the butter in.  Begin grating the Parmigiano in and taste it after a few tablespoons' worth to see if it's to your liking.  The risotto at this point should be creamy and not too dry.  Add a little broth if it seems too tight.  Season to taste with salt and pepper and add the parsley. 

Serve the risotto with some of the fennel and pancetta on top, allowing diners to mix it in themselves.  Serve with extra Parmigiano Reggiano to garnish.       

Feeding The Legions

From what I read, farro preempted the strains of wheat we're familiar with for mass consumption in Roman Italy and the reaches of its empire.  The legions, properly nourished on this plump and chewy grain, were thus able to conquer many a foreign land.  Then somewhere down the road they started cultivating higher yielding strains of wheat, and we all know what happened after that.    

Artichokes are among my favorite vegetables to eat; I think maybe the work involved to get to the edible parts makes them more alluring to me.  It's hard to put my finger on exactly what it is about the flavor I find so pleasing, but I know part of the enjoyment is the texture...eaten raw and sliced thin they are bitter but fresh, and cooked through they are tender yet firm enough to cut with a knife, mellow but distinct.  

Baby artichokes are considerably less labor-intensive than mature ones because the leaves are not as fibrous to begin with, and the choke is not developed enough to be needly and bad for eating.  They also tend to be cheaper by weight.  The name though is misleading; these "babies" are full size when brought to market, just plucked lower on the plant than bigger ones.  

This recipe might sound minimal and lacking pizzazz to some...if so, you could add olives and/or some fresh herbs like mint or parsley to liven it up, but for me just the aroma of good olive oil hitting the still warm farro as I mix it in gets me...adding artichokes, crispy and salty on the outside while sweet and tender within, is abundantly pleasing for a meal or at least a side. 

2 lbs. baby artichokes, or equivalent in full size artichokes
16 oz. to 20 oz. Whole Farro
Hard, not too mild cheese like Pecorino Romano or Parmigiano Reggiano
3 to 4 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil, plus more to dress the farro
Juice of 2 lemons
3 cloves of garlic, smashed
Salt & pepper to taste
Hot pepper flakes to taste

Prepare the artichokes by peeling away the toughest outer layers of leaves...for mature artichokes this will require more work than baby artichokes, but they'll be tender enough when you reach the yellow/pale green layers.  Cut away the outer flesh of the heart and stalk if it is intact.  Then cut the artichoke in half, and if using mature ones, remove the thistles of the choke with a pairing knife or spoon.

Place the artichokes, cut side down, in a frying pan in one layer, along with the garlic, then add the olive oil and water to a depth of about a quarter inch and bring to a boil, covered.  When the water boils, remove the lid and let the water evaporate as it steams the artichokes.  Allow it to continue as the water disappears and the oil sizzles, browning and cooking the artichokes through.  Cook until they are golden and crispy on the outside.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

You can choose to cook the farro per package instructions like a pilaf, but I just put it in a sauce pan and add cold water to cover by about 3 inches, then bring it to a boil (I don't pre-soak it either).  I cook it at a moderate boil and taste for doneness about 30 minutes after initially turning the heat on, not from when it began boiling.  I find it cooks in 30-40 minutes, start to finish.  A couple minutes before it's done to your liking, add salt to the water, letting the salt dissolve and get absorbed by the grain, then checking for taste.

Drain the farro in a colander and let sit a 5 to 10 minutes to cool somewhat.  Then place it in a serving bowl and add a few tablespoons at least of extra virgin olive oil.  Add the artichokes and the lemon juice, and season to taste the salad with salt, pepper, and hot pepper flakes, tossing to mix everything in.

Serve with shavings of cheese and another generous drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.

Pulling The Pork One Way Or Another

I took it for granted that picnic roasts, or pork shoulders with the bone in were readily available these days, what with so many foodies about and bbq firmly established as an American pass time.  Maybe it's not until Memorial Day though that they start stocking them on supermarket shelves. So the Friday before our Pre-Memorial Day Weekend Party I was scrambling, and like Santa Clause in a blizzard on 12/23, thinking perhaps this year there would be no pulled pork for the party. 

But I went back to the friendly neighborhood butcher, who sold me on a couple nice pork shoulders instead.  Granted, no bones, and the sum of two of them equalled the tonnage I needed, but it's still pork, so how big a difference could it be?  The answer, I think, is not much.  I'm still going to look for the big hunk with the bone in the future, but in a pinch this will do. 

Although I admire those who have trailers the size of my house in which they smoke and slow cook meat for prize money, I don't believe there's much mystery to this dish at all.  What can be achieved at home and even in a conventional oven is a very good imitation if not a distinguished dish itself. 

The rub, which goes on in one layer, just enough for every millimeter of surface area usually, penetrates the meat overnight and more during cooking, caramelizing in the final hours and crusting up as fat is rendered out...the whole deal basically. The natural flavor of the pork comes out and it goes from tough to falling apart as connective tissue disintegrates.  From there very little is needed as the meat will remain quite moist despite the internal temperature going way beyond medium rare.   

I got me some "Bone Suckin' Sauce" from Stew Leonard's, and that became the dressing for my pork out of the oven.  I like it with a current of vinegar and tomato, then a good contrast of sweet and spice, and this one worked well.  It wasn't too thick or molasses dark, more fit for pouring and a rusty red color.   

So maybe the end product wouldn't stand up to a pitmaster's results after being smoked in his or her well seasoned apparatus...but this recipe is for the home cook with basic instruments, and you'll fool a lot of people who may well render effusive praise upon you for making this.    

So I encourage people to take up the very undemanding effort of getting yourself a big roast, and through the simple process (basically leaving it in an oven all day without touching it) you'll have an utterly succulent and crowd pleasing plethora or pork that seems so fitting for the outdoor party season.

Rub Ingredients:
1 tablespoon cumin, ground
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 tablespoon cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon black pepper, ground
1/2 tablespoon pimentón (if using regular paprika, which is more bland, double it)
1/2 cup light brown sugar

Meat & Sandwich Ingredients:
1 7 lb. "picnic roast" or "Boston Butt" bone-in pork shoulder (substitute de-boned shoulder(s) if you can't find them with the bone intact)

16 oz. good, spicy barbecue sauce (preferably without high fructose corn syrup and with apple cider vinegar high on the list of ingredients)

Cole slaw, recipe follows

12 Potato buns

Mix the rub ingredients together in a bowl and set aside.  Rinse the meat with cold water and pat dry with paper towel.  Score the fat cap of the meat with a sharp knife in a broad cross hatch pattern, but don't cut below the fatty layer into the meat.  Take the dry rub and massage it into the meat sensually and with reverence, getting it on every part of the surface and into the crevasses that you scored with the knife.  Cover the meat with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

The next day remove the meat from the fridge an hour before cooking.  Preheat the oven to 225° F with the rack in the middle bottom of the oven.  Put the meat in a roasting pan at least a couple inches deep.  When it's time, place the meat in the oven and let it cook, undisturbed, until the internal temperature reaches 200° F, which requires 1.5 to 2 hours per pound of meat.

When it's finished cooking, remove it from the oven and let sit uncovered for an hour prior to pulling.  If you plan on leaving it out longer, cover with foil.  When it comes time to pull, it might still be hot in the center, so beware.  You may also want rubber gloves, although the feeling of the tender, well lubricated meat between your fingers is an experience not lost on most people.  You can use two forks to do the pulling, but I find hands are still the best tools of the trade.

Remove the large pieces of fat that have not rendered out first and discard.  Then pull the meat into morsels fit for eating with a fork or on a sandwich.  Keep the crispy and crunchy ends intact--they have a nice concentrated flavor courtesy of the rub and pork wonder.  When the meat has been pulled sufficiently, mix in some barbecue sauce; enough to dress it without drowning it.  People can add more to theirs when it's served.

To make a sandwich, pile some of the meat on a potato bun and top it with coleslaw, pressing the top down over everything to make it a viable sandwich, and enjoy.         

Cole Slaw:
1 medium head of green cabbage (if the green cabbage is much larger than the purple, halve the green)
1 head purple cabbage

4 carrots

1 tablespoon celery seed
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup sour cream
3-4 tablespoons white wine vinegar
2-3 tablespoons spicy mustard
Salt & Pepper to taste.

Shred the vegetables.  Mix all the ingredients together and then dress the vegetables.  This improves a lot if it's dressed several hours in advance and even refrigerated overnight.  Season to taste with salt and pepper before serving at room temperature or slightly below.   

Today We Have Disaronno On The Rocks With Breaded Chicken Thighs

You don't always have to go flour-egg-crumbs with a piece of meat or fitch...when frying it's necessary to glue the coating on, but if you're engaging in a less contact method like baking, oil alone will do to adhere the crumbs and seasoning to the protein and maintain moisture. 

For instance...some well-aged bread, hard as can be, I think, processed to little crumbs, seasoned with fresh oregano, salt and pepper.  I used boneless chicken thighs because, although breasts pounded out are just fine, thighs pounded out can be even better.  

It's worth using good oil...maybe not your best EVOO, but something you like the taste of.  It's quick, less messy than frying, and you're left with less lipid overall.  I did spritz the pieces with my olive oil mister just out of the oven to ensure they glistened and were abundantly moist, which they were.  We enjoyed it beside a crisp endive salad with bell pepper, picholine olives and chickpeas. This method works great on a firm white fish too.     

Serves 2

Ingredients:
1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1/2 loaf rustic bread, several days old and very hard
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Handful fresh herb of choice (oregano, basil, thyme, etc. or a mixture), finely chopped
Salt & pepper to taste
Pinch of hot pepper flakes
Optional: extra virgin olive oil applied in mist form

Equipment:

Meat pounder or tenderizer

Optional: spray mister

Heavy Duty plastic wrap

1 metal baking sheet

To make the bread crumbs, cut the bread into roughly 1 inch cubes.  Put them in a food processor and pulse to the desired level of fineness, ensuring they are somewhat uniform in size.  Place the crumbs in a bowl big enough to dredge the chicken pieces in and mix in the herbs, hot pepper, and salt and pepper to taste.  

Preheat an oven to 400° F with the rack in the upper middle.   

Lay a thigh out on a double layer of plastic wrap on a work surface that you can thoroughly clean later.  Place another double layer of plastic on top, and using the textured edge of the meat pounder, whack the chicken, not too energetically, going in a circular motion from the inside out, until it's a uniform thickness of about a 1/4 inch.  Set aside and repeat for all the pieces.  Alternatively you can use a tenderizer with spears and run over each side of the chicken twice in opposite directions.  Season to taste them all with salt and pepper.

Put the olive oil in a bowl that's also big enough to dredge the chicken in.  Prepare your assembly line; chicken, then oil, then crumbs, then baking sheet.  Dip the chicken in the oil to coat the entire surface, then drain off the excess.  Press firmly into the breadcrumbs, turning to coat fully and evenly.  The crumbs may not adhere that strongly at first, but by pressing firmly and then placing them gently on the baking sheet you'll be ok.

When all the pieces are coated, bake them for 20 minutes, checking midway to see how brown the bottom is, flipping if necessary.  If you desire them more brown after 20 minutes, turn the broiler on and broil them for 1 to 2 minutes, paying careful attention so the breading doesn't burn. 

HomeFood, Stratford, CT: Fettuccine con Ragu Finto

Before I knew about Homefood, I read an article in the New York Times several years ago about how people in Palermo have opened eating establishments in their houses (not entirely legal, but not offensive enough to warrant government intervention), their dining rooms spilling out onto the sidewalks of the city, allowing hungry people to walk in and enjoy a sampling of local cuisine, basically whatever the owner decides to put on the menu for that day.

Having my buddy over recently for a sort of short notice dinner made me think how nice it would be, maybe in simpler times, to have an informal establishment of my own that would welcome people in to dine on whatever offerings I thought of on a given day.  Not a full fledged restaurant with all its liabilities and constraints, just a little lunch spot like Louis' Lunch or something, albeit with more spontaneity, at least in the beginning.      

When Asher asked for some tagliatelle if I was up for it on a Sunday evening, the gears started cranking and this recipe is what I came up with.  Since he keeps kosher, the easiest option was to stay vegetarian. 

It's Spring now, but the weather wasn't exactly harbinger-ing Summer's warm breezes prior to this week, so I wanted to highlight some of the sweet green sprouting things of the moment but also stay hearty and satisfying for a one dish meal.  

Ragu Finto describes the application of mushrooms in this case, ground up prior to cooking to resemble in appearance and texture a meat sauce.  Never too liquidy when I'm at the helm, the sauce coats the strands of fresh pasta kind of like a thick pesto, but it's cooked and reduced some, so I think it qualifies as a sauce or ragu.    

To make the pestata or pasty base for the ragu I processed the onion, celery and garlic just as I would later do for the shrooms into tiny bits to make it homogeneous (leave a couple mushrooms just diced for the fun of it).  With some red wine and Thai fish sauce (just a tad) substituting salted anchovies, the end product had depth of flavor and earthiness that I thought would do well to support a final garnish of truffle oil, the inclusion of which Asher requested.  Anchovies or fish sauce you ask?  Why, yes...not to impart fishiness to it, just to add a curious element of flavor and salinity that you will appreciate but not easily discern as coming from the sea. 

To bring Spring into the fold, I cut the tips off asparagus and threw them in to just cook through in the ragu for a few minutes before plating.  I took the remaining portion of the asparagus and very thinly sliced them, mixing in at the last second without cooking because I wanted that raw sweetness and crunch against the woodsy sauce.  Some more fresh pop from parsley, along with Parmigiano Reggiano and truffle oil, and I think we hit most or all of the notes. 

We currently have seating for 6 and reservations 4 hours or more in advance are greatly appreciated...

Serves 4

Ingredients:

2 1/2 - 3 lbs. mushrooms (your choice, but try to mix in some more flavorful ones and even some dried)

1 bunch of asparagus

1 medium onion

2 cloves garlic

2 ribs celery

1 cup red wine (nothing too fruity)

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Pinch or two of hot pepper flakes

2 anchovy fillets, rinsed well, or 2 teaspoons Asian fish sauce

Optional: 1/2 cup light cream

Optional: 1 cup meat, chicken or vegetable stock

Salt & pepper to taste

Handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped

Parmigiano Reggiano to garnish

Optional: fresh truffle or truffle oil for garnish

1 recipe fresh egg pasta cut to fettuccine or tagliatelle, recipe follows

Pulse all the mushrooms, save a handful, until they are finely minced and set aside.  Dice the handful into 1/2" pieces.  Then process the onion, celery and garlic until it becomes almost a paste.  Heat the olive oil on medium and when it shimmers add the onion, celery and garlic and cook, letting the considerable liquid sweat out, 10-12 minutes.  When the onions begin to brown, add the mushrooms and turn the heat to high.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms have released most of their liquid, 15-20 minutes.  

Add the red wine a cup at a time and let it mostly evaporate.  Add the cream, then add the anchovies or fish sauce, the pepper flakes and some water or stock and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally and adding ladles of liquid to keep it from getting too dry, for about 40 minutes. 

In the meantime, cut the tough ends off the asparagus and remove the tips, setting them aside.  Take the stalks and slice very thin, using a mandolin if you prefer.  When the sauce has finished cooking, season to taste with salt and pepper, turn off the heat and add the tips of the asparagus. 

To finish the dish, cook the pasta 2-4 minutes in salted water, then drain and toss with some of the ragu in a bowl or frying pan, adding pasta water if need be to make it adhere well to the noodles.  Serve with Parmigiano Reggiano, parsley and some thinly sliced truffle or truffle oil for us wannabes.

Egg pasta for 4:
4 jumbo eggs
400 grams or about 3 1/2 cups 00 or AP flour
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

Mound the flour on a work surface and make a well about 8 inches in diameter.  Add the eggs to the well and scramble with a fork, then add the oil.  Using the fork incorporate the flour from the inner walls into the egg.  Be careful not to break the wall and lose the eggs before you have a fairly well composed mass of dough.  Put the fork aside when most of the wet and dry are mixed and form a rough ball.

Knead the dough for 8 to 12 minutes, adding flour conservatively if it's very wet and resting periodically, until the dough stretches and is supple and smooth.  Wrap it in plastic and let rest 20 to 30 minutes.

To make the tagliatelle or fettuccine, using a pasta roller or rolling pin roll out segments of dough until it's thin enough for light to pass through.  Cut it into a rectangle that's 10 inches long on one side (that'll be the length of the noodles).  Lightly flour the dough if it's sticky and roll it over itself from bottom to top.  Then take a knife and cut every 1/4 inch or thereabouts and unravel the noodles.  Alternatively, follow instructions for a pasta machine or attachment.  Form the noodles into little nests of about a serving apiece.  Lightly flour with semolina or cornmeal.  Freeze it if you don't place on using it immediately.  To cook it later do not thaw--go from freezer to boiling water.